He doesn’t see Ernie. He runs to every room of the small house but all he finds are two dead gomeros, a neat hole in each forehead, lying by the windows. A wounded man sits propped against the wall. Another sits with his hands high above his head. Ramos pulls his pistol and puts it to the head of the wounded man. “¿Dónde?” Ramos asks. Where? “No sé.” Art flinches as Ramos pulls the trigger and the man’s brains splatter against the wall. “Jesus!” Art shouts. Ramos doesn’t hear this. He puts the pistol against the other gomero’s temple.
