Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta escape. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta escape. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 2 de junio de 2017

Exilio

   El sonido del metal de las cucharas contra la pared de las latas era lo único que se podía oír en ese paraje alejado del mundo. Los dos hombres, jóvenes, comían en silencio pero con muchas ganas. Parecía que no habían probado bocado en un buen tiempo, aunque saberlo a ciencia cierta era bastante difícil. Lo que comían era frijoles dulces. Los habían calentado en las mismas latas sobre una pequeña hoguera que humeaba detrás de ellos. No muy lejos tenían armada una tienda de campaña.

 Apenas terminaron la comida, se quedaron mirando el mar. El sonido de las olas estrellándose contra las rocas negras y afiladas era simplemente hermoso. Los dos hombres se quedaron mirando la inmensidad del océano por un buen rato. Sus ropas, todas y sin excepción, estaban manchadas de sangre. En algunas partes eran partículas oscuras, en otras manchones oscuros que parecían querer tragarse el color original de la ropa. Pero ellos seguían mirando el mar, sin importar la sangre ya seca.

 Uno de ellos tomó la lata del otro y caminó cuesta arriba hasta el pequeño sector plano donde estaba la tienda. Allí adentro echó las latas en una bolsa que tirarían luego, quien sabe donde. La tienda era e color verde militar y no muy gruesa que digamos. Adentro debían dormir los dos juntos pero apenas habían espacio para dos personas y solo un saco de dormir. Tenían que vérselas como pudieran pues dos fugitivos no podían exigir nada y mucho menos darse lujos en el exilio.

 El que dejó la bolsa de la basura en la tienda se devolvió, quedando sentado al lado de su compañero. Tenía el pelo medio oscuro pero, cuando pasaba por el sol, parecía que se le incendiaba la cabeza porque los cabellos se tornaban de un color rojizo, muy extraño. Su nombre no lo sabía, lo había perdido en el lugar de donde habían escapado y no había manera de devolverse para preguntar. En lo poco que habían estado juntos, no había habido tiempo para darse a conocer mejor.

 El otro prefería que le hablaron por su apellido. Orson así lo demandaba de todos los que conocía puesto que su nombre de pila era demasiado ordinario y agradecía a su madre tener un apellido medio interesante para que él pudiese usarlo. El de su padre, jamás lo había sabido. Esa era la vida de él y jamás se quejaba porque sabía que no tenía caso. Tal vez por eso no le exigía a su compañero que le dijera su nombre, apodo o apellido. Cada persona tiene derecho a vivir como mejor le parezca, o al menos eso era lo que él pensaba desde hacía tiempo.

 En algunas horas iba a caer la noche pero el sol flotando a lo lejos sobre el mar era un visión magnifica. Era como ver algo que solo estaba reservado para unas pocas personas. Tener el privilegio de estar ahí, en esa ladera que bajaba abruptamente a una playa llena de roca y al mar salado, era algo que ninguno de los dos había pensado tener. Mucho menos el chico sin nombre que no había estado a la luz del sol en muchos meses. Por eso su piel era tan blanca, sus ojos tan limpios.

 Orson lo miró de reojo y se dio cuenta de que el chico estaba fascinado con el atardecer. La luz naranja los bañaba a los dos y era hermoso. Orson se dio cuenta, por primera vez, que el otro era un poco más joven que él, pero no demasiado. Lo exploró con la mirada, fijándose sobre todo en sus brazos. Eran largos y delgados pero tenían una particularidad: estaban marcados por varios rastros de inyecciones, quien sabe si para sacar sangre o para meter algo dentro de él.

 El chico se movió, diciendo que tenía frío. Era natural. Orson tenía la chaqueta puesta hacía rato pero el desconocido no, parecía que en verdad no se había fijado en la temperatura desde hacía tres días, cuando sus vidas se habían encontrado y los eventos que habían culminado con sus escape habían empezado. Desde entonces no se había fijado si hacía frío o calor. Se devolvió de nuevo a la tienda de campaña y sacó de ella una chaqueta idéntica a la de Orson.

 Casi todo lo que tenían era nuevo. Con dinero sacado de su cuenta personal en un cajero seguro, Orson había decidido comprar todo lo que iban a necesitar. La tienda de campaña era la mejor que había podido conseguir y el dinero era la razón por la que solo tenían una sola bolsa de dormir. Las chaquetas eran una promoción y dentro de una maleta en la tienda tenían varias latas más de comida fácil de preparar. Habían tenido que hacer esas compras deprisa y sin atraer la atención.

 Hasta ese lugar habían llegado caminando, después de varias horas. Era un sitio alejando del mundo de los seres humanos que iban y venían con sus rutinas incansables. Allí nadie iría a buscarlos y, si lo hacían, tendrían que enfrentarse a dos personas que habían masacrado a por lo menos diez hombres adultos, entrenados y armados. No cualquier querría enfrentárseles y eso era una clara ventaja para su seguridad. El chico regresó con la chaqueta puesta y se sentó al lado de Orson, poniendo la mano muy cerca de la suya. Se miraron a los ojos un instante y luego al mar.

 Cada vez era más tarde pero algo hacía que no se quisieran meter en la tienda de campaña. En parte era todavía muy temprano pero también estaba la particular situación para dormir. Solo habían dormido una noche allí y Orson había decidido quedarse sin bolsa de dormir. Pero ya sabía lo frías que podían ser las noches en ese rincón del mundo y la verdad era que no quería pasar otra vez de la misma manera. Si lo hacía, seguro amanecería congelado o algo así, por lo menos.

 La hoguera no la podían prender. Lo habían pensado, para calentarse los cuerpos durante la noche. Además, proporcionaría una excelente oportunidad para hablar y conocerse mejor. Si iban a huir de las autoridades juntos, lo mejor era saber un poco más del otro, conocerse a un nivel aceptable al menos. Pero la hoguera era solo para cocinar en el día, cuando nadie notaría la luz. De noche, sería un faro para quienes quisieran hacerles daño o para curiosos no deseados.

 Cuando ya estuvo completamente oscuro, Orson se resignó: debía dormir fuera de la bolsa de dormir de nuevo. Al fin y al cabo, el joven había vivido mucho tiempo en un estado traumático y habría sido injusto hacerlo pasar por más situaciones de ese estilo. Así que se encaminaron a la tienda de campaña y Orson le dijo al chico que se metiera en la bolsa de nuevo. Este lo miró y se negó con la cabeza. Le dijo que hoy le tocaba a él. Era raro oír su voz, algo suave pero severa al mismo tiempo.

 Se quedaron mirándose, como dos tontos, hasta que Orson le dijo a su compañero que podrían intentar meterse los dos a la bolsa de dormir. No estaba hecha para dos pero era mucho más grande que una sola persona. Así que podrían intentarlo. Orson era alto pero no muy grande de cuerpo y el otro estaba muy delgado y parecía haber sido más alto antes. Intentar no le hacía daño a nadie y les arreglaba un problema que iban a seguir teniendo durante un buen tiempo.

 No sabían cuando podrían dejar de correr o si cambiarían de ambiente al menos. Así que arreglárselas con lo que tenían no era una mala idea. Se metieron en la tienda de campaña y, después de varios forcejeos, entraron los dos en la bolsa de dormir.


 No era cómodo pero tampoco había sido tan difícil. Podían al menos girar y dormir espalda con espalda. Pero eso no pasó. Nunca supieron si dormidos o no, pero se abrazaron fuerte y así amanecieron al otro día, con el cantar de las gaviotas.

miércoles, 5 de abril de 2017

Experiment

   Suddenly, it was as if all the oxygen in the room had been extracted. David started coughing and then his knees made his body collapsed to the floor, unable to hold him any longer. He felt as if his weight was three times as much. The room around him, well lit only seconds before, suddenly became a dark place, more like a cave than a normal hotel bedroom. He tried to inhale through the nose but it didn’t work. He opened his mouth wide but that didn’t do anything either.

 If that was possible, his brain was hurting. It was as if someone was burning it inside of his skull. The coughing continued, with his hands against the floor, trying to breather once again. But nothing happened. That was what people in space must feel like when they have a bad space suit or when the ship is not working properly. His head started spinning and, in a matter of a few more seconds, David fell completely to one side, closing his eyes, stopping his attempts to breath.

 Hours later, he woke up. He wasn’t dead, which was good. He had a mask over his face, apparently supplying him all the oxygen he needed. His head was still spinning, but David tried to make sense of where he was. He looked to the right and saw nothing more than a table full of operating tools. The wall was made of metal and there didn’t seem to be any windows in the room. To the left, there was a door, also made of metal, in the middle of the wall. There was some sort of sound coming from the other side.

 In the right moment, David closed his eyes and tried to breath normally. The sounds he had heard were voices and they were apparently discussing him. As they entered the room, they commented on the health of the subject, that probably meaning him. For their tones, he could infer one of them was a woman and the other a man. They walked around him, probably staring at his body, sometimes saying something interesting and some other times just walking.

 One of them touched David in the head and it had required a lot from him in order not to scream. He didn’t really know why, but the touch of that person had triggered a horrible headache. It was as if he or she had fire on the tip of the chosen finger. They left after doing that, probably expecting to have an instant reaction and instead not getting anything. But as soon as they left, David opened his eyes, touched his head and realized it was still burning. Or at least that’s how it felt, as if he had been marked like cattle by however those people were.

 The point was, he didn’t want to know what else they had prepared for him. He stood up, got down the table he had been laid on and walked to the door. No sounds were coming from the other side so he opened it and ran out. There was a very long corridor but he just chose a direction in the moment and started running. Soon, he had to stop. All of a sudden, he felt very tired and the headache threatened to make a comeback, which wouldn’t help him at all right then.

 He was then more careful, walking along the hallway until he saw another door, which he opened. It was a closet. He was a about to close it when he realized there were several robes there, the kind doctors use. He hadn’t seen the people that had entered the room he was in, but they possibly had those robes on. So he entered the closet and put one over his body. He then realized that he wasn’t wearing his shirt, only his pants and shoes. It was very strange but he didn’t have an answer for that.

 David came out of the closet and started walking again, this time with a faster pace but without really running. He finally found a crossroads and it was there, from the distance, where he saw other people in robes, checking on some papers. The hallway they were standing on was much shorter, as on the other side there was a massive room, very white and bright. He would have wanted to know what that was all about but the real goal was to get out of there fast, before they noticed he had escaped.

 He checked at least five more doors along the way, finding only rooms just like the one he had been in and more closets. Finally, he ended up in a tiny open space, that had a very different door, this one made of glass, with one of those machines on the side were you put a card for the door to open. Obviously he had no card and he had no idea how to make the door open. His breathing started accelerating and, even as he tried to calm down, it didn’t work at all. It was as if something was inside of him.


 Suddenly, several men and women with robes surrounded David, as he collapsed on the floor completely. The headache was getting stronger. But instead of helping him to a bed or something, the people were just watching and using instruments to measure something over his body. They waved those things over him but then someone else appeared. Someone who’s voiced he recognized. But he couldn’t raise his head to look at the person, as the pain had grown too strong. David finally collapsed and the last thing he heard were the words “It was a success”.

miércoles, 22 de marzo de 2017

Owned

   Carmen had always been the most reserved of the four Duke sisters. Everyone in town knew that family, as they owned almost everything around those parts. Apparently, the great-grandfather had been the one to first set foot in the region, before mining teams settled too and the small town of Golden River was founded. What made them rich, of course, was gold. The Duke family became rich in a glimpse and now every person in town felt that family owned them.

 Deluded by his power, the leader of the family had always thought the people of Golden River adored him and his family. But Barnaby Duke was not loved but despised and I was all a really good acting scene, as the inhabitants of the small town preferred to avoid conflict that basically shooting themselves on the foot. It was the Duke family that gave them the jobs on which they based their survival, so any words against them wouldn’t be precisely wise. So lies settled in town.

 What was worse, Mr. Duke loved to give speeches every so often: on the first day of spring for example. It didn’t matter if it was raining like crazy, he made people reunite in the town’s square and talked for hours about how in Golden River people lived a better life than in other places. He had a point, as they had never starved or anything like that. Meanwhile, many other towns in the country were suffering and had been going through very tough times for at least ten years.

 As good as he portrayed himself to be, Barnaby Duke had instructed the mayor and the police, a group of less than five people, to stop any outsiders from settling in Golden River. They had to ask it formally first and the requests were mostly denied. That’s why no one really knew about what was going on in other places. They were shielded from everything that way. Gold was the only trade they had and it was done by the Duke family, so none of the workers had the need to travel beyond the forest.

 But even so, people hated the Dukes. They hated the pompous Barnaby and his stuffy wife Henrietta, who was rarely seen in town. And of course, his daughters were beyond despised because he exhibited them around, like prizes, wearing all the best but never letting them interact with anyone from town. The people despised the girls for perpetuating the wrong his father had done, paying them miserably. They knew their dresses and perfumes would have made Golden River a better town. But they decided hate was the way to go because they had nothing else.

 There’s where Carmen comes in. She was the youngest of her sisters, maybe the most beautiful of them all. Her elder sister Diana was getting ready to leave town, as she had been promised in marriage to a rich merchant with whom her father had business with. The man was much older than her and even so she was beaming with joy, as she was leaving town forever in order to have, what she thought, was a much better life, filled with excitement and many things to discover.

 Carmen was a bit jealous of her sister but only because she was leaving town, the first one of the sisters to do so. It was obvious that they would all leave sooner that later, as they were all getting close to the marrying age. Diana was sixteen and Colleen was fifteen. Then Marguerite was fourteen and, finally, Carmen was only thirteen. Few years under her belt but she was the most adventurous one, always curious about the world around her. She was the least loved one too, by her father.

 Her mother was largely absent. She had not raised them as such, the job having been assigned to a number of servants. They were the only family to have nannies and cooks in town, which made people hate them even more. Nevertheless, those servants loved the girls and had learned to teach them the things they needed to know in order to be good wives in the future. But that wasn’t enough for Carmen, who often left the house to walk around the woods, and even to the mine.

 She liked to watch the men coming in and out of there. They looked different in the morning and then in the afternoon, all covered in dust and dirt. She also visited the ones that worked in the river, looking for gold there. She would always walk at a safe distance, because she was a bit scared of all those men and women. They appeared to be suffering and she inferred that because of the facial expression they had. She was the first to learn how much people hated the Dukes.

 Not that anyone did anything to her; she just knew it one day. Her sisters left, with the passing of time. One day, waving goodbye to Marguerite, she realized how little time she had left there. Her parents had not chosen a suitor yet but the decision would be announced any day now. She didn’t wanted marriage or leave Golden River, even if people hated them. Carmen felt she could help them have a better life, maybe better conditions at work. She had spent so much time watching and hearing them, that she thought she knew what was best for them.

 Silly as she was, Carmen walked to her father one day and told him she would like to work with him, handling the family business. The only answer she got was a slap on the face, one so hard her father’s ring left a mark on her cheek. He didn’t say a word after hitting her, calling one of the servants and telling them to lock Carmen in her room. Her wound was not even taken care of. It was then she realized the hate that people had against them was justified and she hated herself for who she was.

 Alone and locked away, she felt herself sink into an abyss. The following day it was her mother who visited her. That never happened, as the woman was always busy trying new clothes and stuff she bought from the city. She entered the room, visibly having never been there. It seemed she was going to sit on the bed but, instead, she just said a suitor had been found and her marriage was settled to happen in just a couple of months. The man was elderly but extremely wealthy.

 That night, a storm broke over the small town. Rain and wind hit all the houses, making the windows crack and the doors tremble. Carmen had cried so much that she had fallen asleep as she was, on her bed. But the storm woke her up in the middle of the night and gave her an idea. The noise was so strong that no one heard when she broke the window. She removed almost all of her clothes, to be able to move faster, and just like that, she jumped outside and ran towards town.

 The idea behind what she had done was that someone there could help her escape her father, maybe giving her a horse to ride to her freedom. But when she got to the small town, she realized people were asleep and none was there to help her. Then, she did something very stupid: assuming no one would notice, she grabbed a horse from a stable and just tried to ride it. The horse didn’t let that happen and dropped her to the round. The racket attracted the owners to the scene.

 When they realized who the burglar was, their rage seemed to reach new levels. In their eyes, their owner was mocking them, sending his daughter to steal from them. So they did the only thing that made sense to them and that they wanted to do: they killed Carmen Duke.


 Soon, an angry mob was formed. They had grown tired and the intrusion of the Duke girl had been the last hey would take from the oppressor. So that stormy night, they marched straight to the Duke house and set it on fire. Everyone inside was killed in the sleep. There were Dukes no more.

sábado, 30 de julio de 2016

Paradise is not safe

   The sandstorm was slowly subsiding. For a couple of hours, every grain of sand in the desert had been lifted and sent several kilometers further from where it had been for months. Storms were not uncommon as the desert had them very often, especially in the summer month when the weather there got even worse.  It was a dangerous and unforgiving place, but it could also be beautiful and peaceful.

 There was a small oasis, containing a rather large pond, which had resisted to the wind and the forces of nature. To any traveller, it surely seemed like an illusion because it wasn’t very common to see all that water in the middle of the desert. A flock of orange birds arrived just as the sand settled, sitting on the palm trees and, from time to time, flying low over the pond to get their feathers wet in order to clean them.

 It was a small paradise. Some hours later, another creature came close to the oasis. It was a human and it was wearing a full mask over the face but, whoever it was, also had uncovered arms and tight pants that were smeared with mud and sand dust. The human was riding a camel, which was barely walking. As resistant as they were, it was clear this one had gone through a lot and really needed to get rest. Just a few meters away from reaching the pond, the came collapsed and the human hit the ground hard.

 For a long time, maybe a couple of hours, the person stayed there, with the face on the sand and the legs crossed in a very weird angle. The camel had stopped breathing the moment it collapsed. Whoever that person was, there was no ride that could take him or her back to civilization. Now, the desert had become even larger with the death of the camel. But nature and the orange birds ignored this. To them, it was all the same.

 When the human woke up, it ran to the water, fast, as if something was very wrong. It moved a lot in the water. Apparently, removing the mask was much harder that envisioned. After a few minutes of struggle, a shorthaired woman came out of the water and sat on the edge of the pond. She had to cut through the mask with her nails and she had hurt herself a bit by doing so as the material had become difficult to breath in because of the sand.

 She looked around, watching the orange birds and her dead ride, as well as some small twister far in the distance. The storm had not entirely died out. But that wasn’t really the problem. The real problem was being in the middle of nowhere with no way to survive. She looked at her reflection on the water and saw the small cuts she had given herself with her fingernails. She also realized how tired she looked and how her arms were burned by the very hot desert sun.

 Unwilling to stay put, she decided to dig with her own hands a grave for the camel. It was not only out of respect, but also because she didn’t want certain animals to come there looking for a meal. Burying her camel was hard, as it had been a gift from a person that had saved her some days ago and now that gift had left her stranded in the middle of nowhere. She actually had no idea who that person was because, as she was, the person also had a covered face. But the woman felt it had been another female prisoner back in that place.

 All kinds of memories were rushing back to her head and dug the grave: she had been a long time on a prison right there in the desert. It was run by legionnaires, men that were dedicated to the preservation of those colonies, places where they had no place to be in but there they were. Besides, she knew they hated woman because female prisoners always had worse punishments if they did something wrong. For stealing a loaf of bread for example, a woman would be flogged in the yard twenty times. A man would only get one punch in the stomach and that was it.

 But one night, something had happened. Apparently the prison had been attacked by desert dwellers and it the chaos, the woman that had given her the camel had appeared and liberated her from her chains. She helped her getting some clothes too and the mask in order to survive the harsh conditions of the desert.

 The shorthaired woman dragged the camel centimeter by centimeter, being a very heavy creature. She knew it was a waste to bury it and not eat it but she had no knife or a way to make fire. She couldn’t keep the creature’s milk and grease anywhere so there was no point in letting the camel there for the scavengers to eat. It took her several hours to get the animal in the hole she had done and some more time putting sand all over it. Finally, she rested on top of the mound she had created, shocked by the fact that she was hopeless.

 She really tried to remember her name, something that was so essential and obvious but she had no idea what it was. She had no idea either of how she had arrived to that prison. It was possible that the woman had been a thief or some sort of criminal but she really had no recollection of anything before the prison. The only image she had very clear on her mind was the one of the whole compound burning as the night became darker and she rode of on the camel. For a moment, she had wanted to go back and pick up the person that had saved her but, whoever it was, had disappeared in a matter of seconds. She wanted to thank that person, do it with her voice because she hadn’t spoken a word. But it was too late.

 Looking at the water again, she decided to take off her clothes and have another swim, this time to really clean herself up and feel like a human being again. Not that she remembered how to feel like one, but maybe she could have a revelation while in the middle of the pond. She left the tight and brown clothes near the camel mound to dry and then walked the few steps that separated her from the water. As her feet got wet again, she felt better than in any other moment in the past few months. When her whole body was in, she felt new.

 The woman sunk her head in the water and stayed there for a few seconds, realizing how great it felt to have the sun on her skin and her body all wet at the same time. She felt like a person, very different from what she had felt like in prison. She tried not to think about that, not to remember the atrocities she had lived through but it was impossible. It was the only life that she knew: the mistreatment, the dark cells, the lack of food and water, the laughs of the guards and the feeling that she was never going to see anything else than that awful place.

 A howl was heard on the wind. All thought of the prison vanished. She stood still in the water, waiting to confirm if what she had heard was real or if she had imagined it. No, there it was again. She got out of the water fast and realized it would take a while to get dry. Besides, she had no ride so she couldn’t go far. Another howl made her desperate, looking all over the place for an answer that didn’t seem to be coming fast enough. What should she do?

 The howling creature was a man, the leader of the guards in the prison. He rode a stallion, as well as the two other men that came with him. He arrived at the oasis at very high speed, which scared the orange birds from the palm trees. The three men descended from their horses and let them have a drink of water as they had a drink from the bottle they had on their waist. They also had a gun each on their belts and one of them used it to shoot a bird that had not flown. The little body dropped into the water, almost silently.

 The three men walked around the oasis and took random shots at the ground and the water. Then, their leader howled again, as they came full circle around the pond and reached their horses again. They left in a huff, the orange birds arriving shortly after.


 It was then when the woman stood up from the sand, having been breathing through a small whole which the men had ignored. They were obviously looking for escaped prisoners, which meant she wasn’t far enough from them. She unearthed her clothes from the ground, put them on and started walking. Maybe she had no chance but she couldn’t stare there forever. Paradise was not safe.