Driving to el Yunque, they went East on the new highway. They could see the rainforest, but they ignored it and drove through el pueblo de Luquillo. Up hills and tight streets, they went into the growing masses of trees, the air becoming a darker-blue and cooler the higher they went. On a wrong turn, they saw a crew of skinny, tanned boys wearing thin fabrics knock down a girl and kick her. Her older brother appeared. He was as big as the three boys combined, and he hooked one boy in the face, and the rest spread, running away. The sister got up and shouted after them, “¡Cobardes!” En el pueblo, it was dry, sunny, and hot. Once when they were parked inside el Yunque—past los kioskos—they drank agua de coco and ate alcapurrias y bacalaitos. Muerto left without paying and then complained about how nasty the girls at the kiosk treated him. “I wasn’t trying to rip anyone off,” he said. They had taken pictures of themselves as la Chupacabra. It was raining.