Gustavo and Roberto suspected gangrene, but Rafael never allowed himself to sink into self-pity. Instead he kept his courage and humor, even as the poison flowed through his system and the flesh of his leg rotted before his eyes. “I am Rafael Echavarren!” he would shout every morning, “and I will not die here!” There was no surrender in Rafael, no matter how he suffered, and I felt stronger every time I heard him say those words.
