Crumbling

   My head was spinning as I cleaned my mouth. I had emptied my bowels on the floor, completely. I didn’t feel relieved at all. There had been no food in my stomach, no liquid except some blood because of the punches he had given me in the stomach. I was still holding the pipe I had used to smash his head. However, I had used it way more than I should have and that’s why I had to relieve myself just there. I tried not looking at his body but it was impossible not to do so. It was too bad not to look at him.

 I looked around me suddenly realizing that I was there alone. Luckily, the power station in ruins near the ocean had been a perfect place for him to drag me into. He had been brutal and I think that’s why I did what I did. So I stopped thinking about it and just dragged his body closer to the ocean. I knew bodies would often float to the surface and people would come asking questions. So I just left him there, by the water, to let nature do what she had to do, no matter what it was.

 I washed myself in the water and then stepped out of the ruins, leaving him there. I had to walk down the road, back to the nearest place where I could get a ride back to the city. I had to pretend I was happy, being some sort of crazy college guy that had way too much alcohol the last night. I had to make jokes to the nice young lady that took me back to town and I had to ask her to leave near a university not too far from my home. She was nice with me and I would always remember her kindness.

 When I entered my apartment, I had to use the key on the plant next to the door, where I had always hidden a copy. When I opened, my cat almost jumped on top of me, meowing loudly, calling my attention and also demanding that I fed him right that instant. After all, he had been alone for a whole day or maybe two. The truth was that I didn’t really know what day it was, as I had lost my cellphone when the man had kidnapped me and taken me to the ruins. I fed my cat first and then took a long shower.

 I wanted to feel clean but I couldn’t really do anything to remove the whole stench from my skin. Not only he had been a beast to me, inflicting even more damage than what was visible, but I also bleeding and hurting inside and in my brain. My cat stood by the door, as if he was watching over me and, somehow, that made me cry. I cried so much right under the water, so much so that I felt drowned for a moment. I stepped out some time later, to watch myself in the mirror and face what I had done. I had killed someone, in my own defense anyway, but I had done it nevertheless.

 After coming out of the shower, I pulled out a suitcase from a closet and then started putting my favorite clothes in there. When I had the suitcase filled up, I called my parents and told them I had been invited by a friend to visit him abroad. I asked them for money for the plane ticket and they were kind enough to give it to me. It wasn’t that they had money to give away but they had been putting away some money for me, in case I wanted to study something more in life or put up a business or something.

 The plane ticket was not so expensive, though. So it was easy on their pockets. I bought it right then, with my savings, and I would use my parents’ money for the trip that would become a permanent thing. I also asked my mom to come for my cat, because I would not be able to travel with him. I think I kissed that silly animal like a hundred times and hugged him to the point he scratched in the face. He’s crazy like that but I do love him and I knew I was going to miss him a lot. I left him there, all alone.

 My plane would be leaving the country in just a few hours. I arrived just in time, running from one checkpoint to the other in order to make it to the boarding gate. Once inside, I felt a little bit at ease, writing on my cellphone one last message to my mother. I told her I would be leaving for a week or more and that I would tell her anything new when it happened. I hung up and then started watching the sky and the clouds through the window, as the plane began moving on the tarmac, on to the sky.

 I fell asleep fast and when I woke up, the flight attendant was smiling at me, handing me a tray of food. I took it and ate it in a few minutes, discovering how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten a piece of food in a long time, so I was in need of it. It was at the moment when I stood up to go to the bathroom, when a woman almost screamed at me, when I was reminded that that wasn’t a trip of pleasure but one to run away from everything. I wanted to be far from the place that reminded me of everything that had been done to me or by me.

 She had yelled because of the stain in my pants. I ran to the lavatory and closed the door, because I had felt the liquid blood beneath my thighs. I tried to clean it but the only thing I could achieve was to cry again, trying not to sob too hard. I didn’t want anyone to hear my voice; I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. All of it was going to haunt me forever that was more than clear to me. I wasn’t going to walk away from all of it and things, all those little things life is made of, would haunt me to my last day. That was more than obvious to me.

 Someone then knocked at the door. I didn’t answer. Another knock and I was getting very nervous. Then, I heard the voice of the captain announcing that we were going to land very soon and that it was important for everyone to get back to their seat, as the descent was going to be bumpy.

 I head the knock again and then a soft voice, the same voice that have given me the food tray, asked me to open the door. I did. She had a pair of man’s pants on her hand and handed them to me. She asked me to be fast, smiling before closing the door.

 That’s another face I will never forget. Hers, the woman that drove me back home and his face. His face…

Survival

   Fire blurred my vision every single time I leaned over my right leg to run. It hurt like nothing else had ever hurt me, but I had no choice. Running required me to be agile, not minding what was happening with the rest of my body. Those legs that had carried me around all my life had to work at the top of their game, never minding anything else. I felt the taste of iron in my mouth and my mind seemed to leave my body for a couple of moments, but somehow I moved on through the night, like a wraith between rocks and chopped trees.

 When light finally broke the darkness of the night, there was not much to look at anyway. The fields had been almost carbonized and smoke filled every single corner of the once green and lush environment. I stopped and tried to hear the world around me. My ears were buzzing and my head was turning like crazy but I tried anyway but I couldn’t hear a thing. It was then when I noticed that my leg was in a horrible state, a large part opened and spilling blood all over. However, the pain was not as bad as it was supposed to be.

 I tasted iron again and realized I had bitten my tongue while running. There was blood on my head too but I didn’t touch myself to know where it was coming from. It was urgent to find a place to get the proper help I need because, after all that had happened, I was still alive. They had sent troops after me, I had been strapped to a torture table for days and yet there I was, in the middle of a field that they had apparently abandoned. I started walking once more, trying to find a proper exit to that horrible place.

 I might have wondered through the smoke for several hours. I knew it was still day because there was light but it was very hard to see where the Sun was exactly. I tried to identify it a couple of times but it was absolutely useless. So I moved on, walking through the scorched plains, hoping to find a place to rest for a while. I have to confess I never thought of anyone else during that time, I had only myself in mind. What would I be good for if I died? The only way to help others was if I made it alive to the other side.

 When light began to wane, I found the first untouched trees that I had seen in several days, maybe more. I had no idea how much time had passed since everything had started. But there they were, smelling like smoke, with the tips of their leaves burned, but alive nevertheless. I walked into the forest, with a frankly good mood. No one would enter the forest to only look for me. There was a lot more to do in the world than to go after one person that got away. Maybe they thought nature, or what remained of it, would finish the job and make my bones be food for the ground.

 In the dark, I eventually found something of use. It was a small village, made of about a dozen little houses. It looked like one of those places were people gather when they expect to be mining for something, one of those temporal towns that were built back in the day, when retrieving the remaining minerals was of outmost importance for the world. Now, all those miners and their families worked in the big factories in the cities. The old villages had been left to rot under the sun and the rain and everything else.

 Plants had overrun the place, flowers growing everywhere. The smoke around there was much less dense. I was able to breathe a little bit easier. I walked around and eventually found the little hut that had worked as the doctor’s office. Maybe they hadn’t been able to attract a proper doctor to that remote place, only a nurse or maybe someone that came once every two or three weeks to help as much as they could. As I expected, there wasn’t a lot to use around there but almost nothing was better than nothing at all.

 I cured my wounds with whatever there was around and I was lucky enough to discover a linen closet filled with clean sheets and other fabrics. I cut a large one in order to use as bandages for my wounds. My body felt a little better, especially when I lay down in a cot. There was only the light of the moon, which happened to be almost getting to its fullest state. The beautiful pearl color of its surface, visible past the sheet of smoke, made me think of the past, of simpler times that I had been lucky enough to live.

 I fell asleep, dreaming about things that I remembered but mostly about things I had no idea how to understand. It was obvious that I had begun to forget things. Their attempts to make me less of a human had actually worked, as I didn’t feel like my old self anymore. My dream did not make any sense and everyone in it, or most of them at least, felt as a fabrication of my mind or maybe even someone else’s. It was so disturbing, that I woke up very suddenly, sweating profusely and damning my humanity.

 I realized I had slept much more than I had thought. It was morning already and the sound of birds reached me. For a moment, it seemed very normal. But then I realized there was no way. The plain had been destroyed or at least most of it. It was improbable that wildlife would have found a way to survive the destruction of the war and all other things that had happened. I stood up and went running outside, realizing I was not dreaming at all. There was a bird singing somewhere close, and I wanted to see it. I wanted to remember what a bird looked like, one that was real.

 I walked, slowly, out of the smoky cloud that had covered me for hours, maybe even more time. I seemed to be walking on the edge of the forest. The bird was chirping away, probably flying away slowly. I eventually arrived to a place where the trees began to be shorter and there were more rocks and reddish soil. It was then when I saw the little bird making the noise. It was small, brown in color and a little bit puffy. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was happy and talented and free. That was the most important: free.

 I wanted to go closer, to touch him, at least for a moment. But another sound cut me off from desire. The bird seemed to notice it too because it suddenly stopped singing. It stayed on its branch, silently staring right into a group of trees. Then, suddenly and very fast, a bullet rushed through the air and blew up the bird into oblivion. I saw its feathers fall slowly to the ground. I saw beauty being destroyed just because it was there. I felt enraged but also very much confused. I really didn’t like that at all.

 A group of two men and a woman came from the trees. I had walked back a bit just before, hiding behind the thickest tree I had been able to find. I trembled when I realized who they were: Ravagers. They were mercenaries that captured rebels in order to surrender them in exchange for money or food. Sometimes even more ammo for their guns. They didn’t care at all for the rights of others to live or to think differently. That was all done a long time ago. They had sold their souls for a cheap price.

 The woman grabbed the bird from the ground and did something I only heard, because I couldn’t make myself watch any of it. I only heard the crackling of bones and then laughter. I knew of their sadistic ways, identical to those of the people in power. There was no real difference between them. They had all been complacent in what had happened in the country. In the world, even. I only waited for them to go and they eventually did, walking back into the trees, their voices unable to hurt my ears anymore.

 When I felt better, I decided to go back to the village and grab everything I could find that might be useful. I used an old rag to make a sort of bag and put everything I could inside. I put that ball of stuff almost at the end of a thick stick I had found in the forest, getting ready for my next move.

 That night, I decided to walk in the opposite direction of everything that I had seen the day before. They had been the ones to almost kill me. My legs and feet walked on, hoping to move away from everything that had happened. Nevertheless, deep down, I knew that wasn’t at all possible.

No end

   As everyone celebrated on the streets and in their homes, Veronica wandered through the rubble trying to feel as happy as most people around her were. But it wasn’t possible or at least it was very hard to do so. Even smiling felt like a chore, like something you would do only to please people but not because you really felt it inside. There was a feeling of incompletion around, as if all the sacrifices of the war had not been enough to end every single type of hostility that many people harbored against one another.

 As she walked the streets, some lit and others not so much, she realized that the world after the war would be in chaos. Yes, everyone was cheering and celebrating right now, probably drinking stolen articles and launching fireworks that had been banned for so long. But after all of that happiness, a moment of truth and reflection would have to come and the atrocities of war would have to be addressed. For example, not everyone was on the same side, the winning side. Some people were not celebrating.

 Well, some of them were but just because they had to survive and keep on living. It was widely assumed that trials, of sorts, would emerge from the victorious side, condemning the losing side to many years in jail, banishment from the country or even death. Even if the maximum penalty had ever been enforced legally in the country, many of the victors would want the vanquished to be treated just as them treated others during the war. There were lots of executions, on the streets even.

 Veronica was actually just passing a street she knew very well, not only because it used to be a prime shopping spot before the war, but because many people were forced to stand in front of the former storefronts in order to be killed with guns. It was horrible to think about those moments, the images that would never going to leave anyone’s mind. That could never be overlooked, the fact that a large amount of the people now alive had killed at least one person over the last seven years.

 Everyone’s hands were tainted with blood; there wasn’t a single innocent, not even the children. They were used so many times to lure the kindness out of people, that all of their innocence had vanished. Many children were now celebrating the end of the war, just like adults. And the ones that were too small were orphans or just dead. Every single person had done something horrible during the war and now they chose not to remember that because it was a clear image of how disgusting and vile a human could get. So many atrocities in such a relatively short period of time.

 Veronica reached the gates of the Compound just as the night was darkest. She had to use a pocket lantern she had found days earlier, in order to go inside and check out the place for herself. The prison or camp or however you may call it, had been liberated only a few months before the end of the war but it looked as if it had happened many years ago. The place was covered in ash and debris, and the gates, doors and windows had been torn apart or had simply disappeared from sight.

 She walked from the entrance to a large yard area were she knew people had been selected. You see, not everyone was imprisoned in the same place. They had categories and each category had their own building in the premises of the Compound. The differences between each building were in the treatment given by the jailers. For example, former members of state entities and such would receive a better treatment there than homosexuals or blacks. Just the same as it had happened so many years ago, elsewhere.

 The Compound had surprisingly not been built by the losing side, as one would think. It had been built by the so-called winners, by the so-called heroes of the war. In some parts of the country, people were already designing statues for them to be put in every single park, in every single town. They had been the ones fighting for justice and freedom but they clearly didn’t respect their enemies’ rights at all. They were just as vile and vengeful as all the other people. They were not different.

 Veronica walked through the large yard in order to get to the only building that had been kind of spared by the last bombs the “enemy” had dropped from the sky. That was how the prison got its freedom. It hadn’t been an act of kindness. It was just the result of the last desperate attack from the would-be losers of the war. They had sent the few planes they still had and just bombarded the jail were their family members and friends had been imprisoned. They believed it was better to be dead that a prisoner.

 So pride made them act on that last move. And they succeed in destroying the prison and liberating some of their people from it. But only days later they would realize their days were counted and that their fate had already been sealed, well before the attack on the Compound. Veronica saw on the floor of the building some bone fragments, as well as fabric that used to be made into uniforms for the prisoners. There were also several metal plates and bowls, and a large assortment of cutlery. Maybe the prisoners had staged a mutiny as the bombs lit everything on fire.

 After a short time, she decided to leave the Compound through “the back door”, which was actually a large gap in the tall wall of the complex. She didn’t want to stay there too long in case the “winners” were patrolling the premises looking for someone to practice shooting with. She adjusted her backpack and walked on, towards very dark park covered with grand beautiful trees. The place was covered in shadows but even that way it felt like somewhere one would feel at ease.

 The park was one of the largest in the city and it was used to process many of the prisoners of the Compound. But apparently cold heads prevailed and no one ever really destroyed it on purpose or tore the trees down. Some of them had received damage from the bombs that were dropped in the nearby prison, but the building between the two sites had prevented the fire to really destroy the last green place in the city. It had been a miracle that most people were ignoring in that precise moment.

 Veronica walked along the central path of the park, hearing her steps on the stone and the wind blowing through the tree leaves. Everything felt so peaceful, and she was very glad to be there but even then she felt all of that could not be forever. She knew things were going to be bad for a while and she was alone and no one could just come and be with her. Her family had died during the war and those were not times of real friendship, just of convenient relationships that no one knew how long they would last.

 The best thing to do, maybe, was to leave the country altogether. It was a difficult choice to make and also a hard thing to achieve, but Veronica had nothing else to loose. She was carrying everything she owned on the backpack: some pieces of clothing and a couple of objects she had rescued from her former house. She had also stolen some food from a ruined supermarket, but that was it. She could easily walk her way towards the border and attempt to cross it. Or maybe get into a boat and sail away.

 Whatever she did, she had to do it quietly and carefully, as she had no intent of driving attention onto herself. No one was looking for her specifically, but everything around there was going to become very unstable and she knew that’s when unlikely things tend to happen the most.

 She decided to leave the city that night, taking advantage of most people celebrating the end of the war. As they raised glasses, told jokes, remembered family and friends, Veronica would banish into the night and attempt to forever disappear from that other night, one that would never end.

El final es un comienzo

   Las explosiones se sucedieron una a la otra. Desde el otro lado de la bahía se escucharon potentes explosiones pero no se sintieron de la manera violenta como sí lo sintieron algunas de las personas que no habían querido dejar el centro de la ciudad. Los edificios altos, del color del marfil, se desmoronaron de golpe, cayendo pesadamente sobre la playa y dentro del agua. Las personas que quedaban vieron que ya no tenía sentido quedarse allí, si es que lo había tenido antes.

 Se formó una nube enorme de cemento y hormigón, que nubló la vista hacia la ciudad por varias horas. Todos los que estaban en el centro de comando dejaron de mirar hacia la ciudad y se dedicaron entonces a calcular otra variables que tal vez no habían tenido en cuenta. Pero la verdad era que ya todo lo sabían. Estaba más que claro que la armada del General Pico se acercaba a toda máquina hacia la bahía y que embestirían la ciudad con la mayor fuerza posible.

 De hecho, esa había sido la razón parcial para tumbar los edificios. El arquitecto Rogelio Kyel había sido el creador de esas hermosas torres y también había sido él quién había propuesto el colapso de las estructuras para formar una especie de barrera que frenara el ataque del enemigo. Por supuesto, todo el asunto era solo una trampa para distraer al general mientras la población y el comando central escapan hacia algún otro lugar del mundo. El tiempo era el problema principal.

Habían tenido el tiempo justo para tumbar las torres e incluso habían podido evacuar a la mitad de la población en botes especiales, muy difíciles de detectar. Sin embargo, mucha gente quedaba todavía en las islas y era casi imposible sacarlos a todos. Como se dijo antes, la ciudad misma seguía poblada por algunos que se había rehusado a dejar todo lo que era su pasado detrás de ellos. Simplemente se negaban a dejar que algún loco tomara su casa y, a pesar de todo, tenía razón.

 Pero la vida iba primero y, cuando se rehusaron a salir, el comando central decidió que la mayoría tenía prioridad y que si había gente terca que prefería morir, era cosa de ellos y no del gobierno. Muchos de esos tercos se reunieron como pudieron tras ver las torres caer, en parte porque pensaban que el enemigo había sido el causante de los derrumbes. Otros se quedaron en sus hogares sin importar la violencia de las explosiones. Ellos fueron los primeros que murieron cuando Pico embistió con fuerza contra la pobre isla, que se resistió pero al final cayó.

 Tras el derrumbe de las torres, el general solo demoró media hora en llegar a la bahía, con la nube de escombros todavía flotando sobre toda la zona. Dudó un momento pero luego dio un golpe con extrema fuerza contra la ciudad. Lo poco que había quedado de los edificios blancos desapareció bajo las bombas y las pisadas del ejercito del general. Tomaron cada casa y mataron a cada una de las personas que encontraron. Afortunadamente no fueron tantos como pudieron ser, pero igual murieron de la peor manera.

 La distracción fue todo un éxito puesto que la mayoría de las naves pudieron escapar lejos sin que el enemigo se diera cuenta. Solo cuando se fijaron en lo vacía que estaba la ciudad, fue cuando el pequeño general ordenó un bombardeo con naves pesadas sobre todas las islas. Según su decisión, ni un solo rincón de todo el archipiélago podía quedar sin arder bajo las llamas que crecían a causa de los poderosos químicos de los que estaban hechas las bombas.

 Los árboles ardieron en segundos. El comando central y su gente vieron desde lejos como una gran nube negra se cernía sobre lo que había sido su hogar por mucho tiempo. Algunos lloraron y otros prefirieron clavar sus ideas y su mente a lo que tenían por delante y no a lo que había detrás. Esto ayudó a que las naves pudieran alejarse de una manera más precisa, que pudiese evitar una hecatombe global de ser detectados por el ejercito enemigo, que de pronto parecía volcarse en un solo propósito.

 Al otro día, las islas eran solo una sombra de lo que habían sido desde tiempos inmemoriales. Ya no eran de agua clara y playas prístinas, de deliciosa comida y gente alegre, de palmeras enormes que parecían edificios y animales que solo se podían encontrar allí. Todo eso terminó después de varias horas de bombardeos. A la mañana siguiente, no había nada vivo en ese lugar del mundo, a excepción de los soldados que se comportaban más como androides, dando pasos al mismo tiempo, sin razón alguna.

 El general Pico, del que tanto se burlaban sus enemigos por ser un hombre de corta estatura, de bigote espeso y de tener tan poco pelo como una bola de billar, fue el único que soltó una carcajada mientras pisaba las cenizas de lo que había sido uno de los lugares más felices que nadie hubiese conocido. Mientras caminaba, viendo lo que había hecho, pateo cráneos carbonizados y animales retorcidos por el calor de las bombas. Después solo sonrió y al final subió a su nave y se alejó de allí, sin decir nada más. Retomaría pronto su caza del comando central.

 Este grupo se refugió en una pequeña isla remota pero todos sabían bien que no podían quedarse allí mucho tiempo. Seguramente el general decidiría también destruir todas las islas aledañas, por ser un escondite general para gente que nunca se había alejado mucho del mar. Esa, al fin de cuentas, era la verdadera clave. Debían ir a un lugar lejano, en el que nadie esperaría ver gente que se había dedicado toda su vida a pescar y a vivir vidas tranquilas y sin preocupaciones.

 Las naves enfilaron al continente y cuando tocaron la playa se reunieron todos y decidieron dividirse. La mejor manera de escapar era no concentrarse todos en lo mismo sino perderse en la inmensidad del mundo. Formalmente dejarían de ser el comando central y pasarían a ser grupos aislados de personas que, con el tiempo, podrían integrarse a otras comunidades alrededor del planeta sin que nadie se diese cuenta. El general Pico podría perseguir por donde fuera, pero nunca los encontraría, al menos no como los había conocido.

 Algunos se dirigieron a las montañas, un lugar completamente desconocido para ellos, escasamente poblado y con un clima difícil de manejar. Pero como buenos seres humanos, se terminaron acostumbrando después de un corto tiempo. Aprendieron a cazar los animales propios de la región, inventaron aparatos y máquinas para hacer de subida algo más fácil e incluso crearon obras de arquitectura amoldadas a las grandes alturas, todo gracias al arquitecto Rogelio Kyel que había llegado hasta allí.

 Otros, muy al contrario, decidieron que jamás podrían alejarse demasiado del mar. Se adentraron solo algunos kilómetros dentro del continente y se asentaron en el delta de un gran río que regaba con sus agua una vasta región donde pronto pudieron cultivar varios alimentos. Estaban cerca de la selva y sus ventajas pero tuvieron que aprender a vivir también con los animales salvajes que destruían constantemente sus esfuerzos para crear algo así como una nueva civilización.

 El general Pico buscó por todas partes pero lo único que pudo encontrar fueron culturas indígenas que creía inferiores a si mismo y a animales que disparaba por el puro placer de verlos estallar. Murió muy viejo, todavía obsesionado con acabar con todos sus enemigos.

 El arquitecto Kyel murió antes, habiendo dejado su última creación en planos ya listos, que la comunidad decidió construir en la frontera con la región del río. Sería algo así como un puente, construido exclusivamente para unir a los hombres de nuevo, después de tanta devastación.