EXTERIOR. FIELD OF TALL GRASS. DAY.

Champiñongo walks slowly through the tall grass reaching his waist. As he moves, he recalls what Gordon wrote in his letter.

GORDON (en la carta): DEAR CHAMPIÑONGO. AGAINST ALL ODDS, I AM ALIVE. AND, AS YOU WILL ASSUME, I AM IN TROUBLE. I TRIED TO HIDE IN DENMARK. ONE WEEK. ONE LOUSY WEEK WAS ALL THOSE DAMNED BASTARDS NEEDED TO FIND ME… I AM IMPRISONED AGAIN. AT LEAST I AM NOT IN THE EXCLUSION ZONE. ALTHOUGH MEETING YOU WOULD BE GOOD, YOU KNOW I WOULD NOT SURVIVE FOR LONG OVER THERE… IN EXCHANGE FOR KEEPING ME HERE, I HAD TO WRITE THIS LETTER. THEY PRESUME THAT YOU WILL FOLLOW DIRECTIONS IF I GIVE THEM… THEY WISH.

CHAMPIÑONGO (thinks): GORDON… YOU CAN BE CLEVER WHEN YOU WISH… DENMARK… THAT MEANS I HAVE TO FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS TO THE LETTER.