Wake me up

   Martha Grayson woke up. The first thing she felt was the morning wind and its chill. In a second, she realized she wasn’t at home, as she was meant to be. Her eyes opened slowly due to the glare of the sun, which was just above the tree line. She could smell the humidity of the grass and could also hear the quaking of some nearby ducks. She realized, as soon as she opened her eyes, that she couldn’t move. She felt weak and overpowered by her own weight and by something in her head that acted as a restraint. Attempting to move her legs or arms hurt her but as she did, she realized another fact about her condition: she was fully dressed and covered with a big overcoat.

 She inhaled slowly and exhaled in the same way. Martha did this for a while until her legs and arms became responsive and she was able, very slowly and with pain, to seat on the grass. As she sat down, she felt tremendously dizzy and very thirsty. Her mouth felt very dry and needed to drink water badly. She realized that the humidity she had detected came from the grass, which was covered in sprinkles of water. Rain had fallen the night before. And, not very far away, there was a small pond were the ducks she had heard were swimming. But then something else kicked in: she realized she didn’t know the place she was in. It seemed like a park, with tall trees all around and no people. She felt the urge to vomit but held it in order to better understand what was going on.

 With the little strength she had inside, Martha was able to stand up and walk towards the trees. She stumbled against one of them but leaned on it and inhaled deeply, as if she was about to swim. Her mind was becoming clearer but only to think, not to remember. She tried but when she did so there was nothing there. She couldn’t say how it was that the last thing she remembered was lying down in bed in her Boston apartment and now she was in some park that she had never seen. Breathing slowly, she started walking and crossed a lot of lined trees until she reached a larger pong but this one had a particular shape and she realized she did know this place but from movies and pictures. She had never been there before.

 Martha was standing by a pong that had the shape of a cross. She was on the point of the cross and, on the other side; she could see people walking by. It was a bit misty but she could distinguish a palace beyond the people and some stairs. Anxious, she almost ran, passing some people who looked at her worried. She reached a big fountain where many people were taking pictures and looked up the stairs. Her head felt about to explode but once again, she decided to breathe slowly and move on. Martha went up the stairs and was faced to a magnificent building. Yes, she did know what building it was. It was a palace and she was in Versailles, in France.

 Again, she had the urge to vomit but contained it. An elderly woman and her husband came near her and spoke French. She had no idea what they said but the woman offered her a bottle of water, which she drank hastily and almost completely. She apologized in English and asked them where the exit was. They seemed to understand because they pointed towards the palace. She thanked them and left rather fast. She ran past some tourists and through a gift shop and a few moments after she was running down a square but she stopped suddenly, realizing she had no idea where to go. She checked her pockets and realized that she had no money, bank notes or coins. Nothing.

 She decided to approach some tourists and asked them in English to help her with some coins as she had lost her husband and wanted to call him to his cellphone. Of course, the story was a fake but many people, seeing the state she was in, decided to help her and in no time she had at least five euros in her pockets. She thanked her last helper and headed for a store but then she saw a sign pointing to the nearest train station and realized it was best if she got to the city, to the embassy if necessary. She didn’t want to overthink her situation, but it had to be something the authorities of both countries would be kind enough to discuss. So she headed for the station and bought a ticket for downtown Paris.

Martha didn’t have to wait much for the train. It was almost empty, as it was too early for anyone to go into the city. Tourists were just arriving and she was the only foreigner leaving the small town. She sat down far from anyone else and, as she saw the French village and some buildings, she tried to remember. Her name was Martha Grayson. She was thirty-four years old; she had a fiancée called Michael Gregson and a dog named Larry. Her parents had died several years ago in a car crash and she worked in a back as an accountant. The last day she remembered in full had been a great one: Michael had invited her to a very nice restaurant and had asked for her hand in marriage. She had cried and they had celebrated with champagne.

 But then, when she tried to remember what had happened after she had arrived home, she realized that nothing was there. Martha knew she had come home, called her best friend Ellie and then went to bed early in order to wake up early in order to go shop with Michael for their rings. But if that had happened at all, she had no idea. The next thing she remembered was waking up in that park, with different clothes that the last day she remembered. The train went into a tunnel and the lights flickered, which made her come back to reality and think about what it was she was going to do next. The smartest thing was to go to the local police and tell them she had been abducted… or something like that.

 The train stopped at Invalides station, which seemed to be an interchange. Martha supposed the police would have a post there or something. But maybe it was too early or she had made a wrong turn because the next thing she knew was that she was on the street. She started walking towards an avenue and tried to talk to people but they seemed much less receptive than the tourists in Versailles. If she was correct, it was a weekday and Parisians were getting to their jobs. So there was no wonder about way they were being so aggressive and not helpful. She tried to find a cop but there were no security agents nearby. She decided to cross the Seine and look for the embassy by herself. She supposed it had to be near all the central places and she thought she was just there.

 But as she crossed the Alexander II Bridge she saw someone that made her head hurt more than anything else before. It was a very blonde and tall woman and she looked lost too, even more than her. She felt she could remember her from somewhere but the memory had apparently being lost. Trying to focus on the moment, she walked towards the woman but before she did the blonde collapsed and was surrounded by scared people and then the police finally arrived. The only thing Martha was able to see was the fact that the women had some sort of foam coming out of her mouth and was convulsing before she finally stopped all movements. It was the most horrible thing Martha had ever seen.

 Shocked but scared, she walked to a cop and tried to make him understand. He didn’t know English but his partner did and she asked him, or better yet, begged him to take her to the embassy. She was so worried that her head began to turn wildly and blood started coming out of her nose. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a hospital bed, as weak as before. She looked at the window and realized it was night. She was scared again, thinking she might have been kidnapped again or that maybe it was all some sort of dream or a sick joke. Then the door flung open and a young woman entered, smiling at Martha.

 She sat down slowly and didn’t stop smiling. When Martha tried to talk, she was the one to speak first. Her name was Linda Hamilton and she worked with the American consulate in Paris. They had been called by the local authorities, which told them a woman who claimed to be an American national had fainted after witnessing the death of another woman. Then, Martha started telling her story and Linda didn’t stop her. She just listened and registered every word Martha said, as if she was a computer. She didn’t say a word until Martha was done and a nurse came in to check her pulse. Her heart was pounding and the nurse injected something in her IV. Martha calmed down immediately and Linda smiled again.

 The woman then told Martha that they had checked her identity. She had been reported missing three days ago in Boston. The woman she had seen on the bridge, and was now dead, was a Latvian national who had died from a compound also found in Martha’s blood but in a much smaller dose. Linda told her that police were suspecting of a serial killer that worked in an international level or maybe some sort of women trafficking ring. But she assured Martha that she had no signs of sexual assault. Linda left and Martha was left alone to rest. But she couldn’t. She had been dumped by someone in a park on the other side of the world and, now that she had woken up, she remembered something more that frightened her: she neglected to tell Linda that there was a face and a voice in her head and she knew who they belong to.

Afternoon in the museum

  The place was deserted, except for the small team of scientists that roamed the debris and walked tightly together, as if they were a single entity. They approached a square, where two members of the team that had guns stepped forward and escorted the others inside a big hole on the floor. There was glass everywhere and the stairs to go down where missing some of the steps. Everyone was very careful not to fall. When they reached the bottom, they reunited again. One of them, a woman, lit up a screen where she had a map of the place.

-       There.

 She pointed at a hallway and they all began to walk a little bit more relaxed, although some of their breathing equipment started making wheezing sounds. Yes, they had masks and tanks on their backs because the air had been deemed unbreathable. This was the consequence of the bombardment the city had gone through many years ago, during the Dark Wars. These battles and skirmishes had attempted to destroy every single trace of civilization in the world but it had been stopped just in time for that not to happen. Unfortunately, not every place in the world had been spared and cities such as this one lay empty and in ruin.

 The team followed Calista, the woman with the map, through the hallway. They did steadily but not in a run, but fast anyway. They saw rooms in darkness but didn’t enter any of them. After many other dark hallways and a few stairs, they reached a long corridor, lit by the sunlit coming from the outside.

-       This is it. The rooms by this corridor.

 They entered a door to the left and they all did the same expression of amazement. The room seemed to be stuck in time as all the pieces where still exactly where they had always been. Their state, besides some dust, was just perfect so Calista and her time started unpacking everything they had brought with them. There were bags and plastic and some boxes. There was also a rod that could be extended and had wheels, to help with the transportation of the objects. In a little while, they had all the small objects wrapped in plastic and into small boxes. They did the same thing with two other rooms until the two armed men told them they should here if they wanted to leave the city before dark.

 The team was too amazed with everything to worry about time. Shiny little objects, aged thousands of years, where now in their hands. They had been ordered only to grab the smaller things, the ones that came from far away countries now to far to reach. The Hive needed every single thing to be rescued in order to preserve it forever in the fortress in the mountains. Cities like this one were toxic and people would not be able to live there for many decades or more if they weather kept being as unpredictable as always. They had actually decided to go for the objects during summer, as the other seasons were very unpredictable. In summer the only danger was the heat but the city was now covered in clouds so that wasn’t much a thing to worry.

 The rooms they were going through had objects brought fro m the Middle East, some parts of Africa and Asia. They had been taken away from tribes and other cultures so many years ago. Violence had made many museums great at some point in their history. And now, many of the cultures that had done those pieces of art had been dead for some time. One of the helpers was not only amazed by the small sculptures but by the paintings. Some were European and others where from across the Atlantic. Walking away from the others, he stared at an especially vivid portrait of a young woman, who seemed to be looking straight at him. Then, the eye moved and a whistle was heard.

 Calista’s assistant fell dead to the floor, bleeding heavily on the marble floor. The armed men told everyone to stay down but there was no use as they now so what the dead man had seen before dying: the eyes of the young woman where not there anymore and there was a hole in her mouth. Someone behind the wall had shot the assistant. But who was it? Then, more whistles were heard. The person that was shooting was using silencer. The armed men made everyone crawl out of the room and stay down as they stayed by the door and shot down some of the paintings with their guns. The whistles stopped but then, they heard steps moving away. Whoever it was, he or she was escaping.

 They all ran towards the sound and Calista took out her map and checked the corridors. There were no secrete passageways on the map but there was a service door by the next couple of stairs. She yelled this to the armed men and they ran for the door. They did so just in time, as a shadow stepped out of it and they shot it down. Calista screamed. She realized it was a bad idea to kill someone who had probably survived the nuclear holocaust. Although, the person might not be right of the head. A medic they had brought with them came fast and checked to body. The person was dead. The men pulled the body towards the corridor and then, not only Calista but everyone screamed in horror.

 The creature had been a human. That was obvious because of his body but his face… He was gravely disfigured. Everyone’s breathing machines were working at full, as terror had required much more oxygen for them to breath. Calista and the doctor grew closer to the creature to check on the details of their attacker. He had a gun with a silencer on his belt and some other gadgets that they didn’t know what they were for. He also had a handful of keys in a chain. He was wearing normal clothes, although he was visible bleeding from open wounds on his legs and arms.

 His face was striking because there were no eyes there anymore. He had a mouth but the body seemed to have grown over it, making it small and disgusting, oozing some foul odor now he was dead. Then, they all pulled back. His hand had moved. In a second, one of the armed men show the creature several times on the chest. When he was finished, everyone looked at him, as if he was mad but he said he had seen some of the movies in the archive and dead always return before they really die. Calista smiled and stood up. She asked the doctor to do every analysis he could in a short time as they were leaving soon.

 An hour later, they had put several small boxes in three large boxes that they carried on the wheeled rod. When they reached the pint where they had entered the museum, the armed guys grabbed one end of the rod and three of the assistants grabbed the other end. They were careful not to fall down with it but that plan failed when several creatures appeared on top of them, looking down through the hole on the ground. The doctor and Calista replaced the armed men on the rod as these started shooting at every single creature they saw. They were all like the one they had gunned down inside: no eyes, some extra limbs, no mouth, … All mutated from the nuclear blast. These people had survived only to be transformed into something less than the most despised animal.

 The team finally reached the top and was able to create a circle. The men gave everyone a gun so they had even more chances to get out alive. The hovercraft that had left them there could not land so near the museum so they had to make a run for the nearest bridge. After passing it, they could as the pilot to bomb the bridge to prevent the mutants from crossing. One of the armed men called the craft as they ran with difficulty, both carrying the boxes and running and shooting at every disfigured face they saw. Then, they saw the hovercraft above them but this distraction cost the arm of one man, as one of the creatures grabbed him and broke it with ease. The wheeled rod fell on the ground and they had to put it up fast, kicking and shooting like crazy.

 No one knew how they really did it, but they ran across the bridge followed closely by the mutants, that moved incredibly fast. Of the armed men asked the pilots to shoot a missile at the bridge to blow it up. He did exactly that  rocks flew all over, making everyone fall to the ground. The hovercraft landed in front of them and opened the ramp. Shooting some mutants that had been on their side when the bridge exploded, they almost dragged the boxes into the craft and left fast. The machine went fast into the clouds and far from the city. Inside, they realized the assistant whose arm had been broken, was bleeding too much. The doctor tried to stabilize him went they realized his breathing apparatus had been broken in the run. They were both put in quarantine in a small room as they flew back to the Hive.

 Calista fell onto a seat and took off her mask. She was able to breath in calm, at last. She saw the clouds through the windows and asked herself if the mission had been worth it, if they the dead assistant had died for nothing and if both quarantined men were going to be ok. And then she fell asleep, never answering these questions.

Lady of the night

Brutal, bloody, senseless. Few words to describe the kind of horrors we have been living in Paris the past few days.

It all started with a corpse, floating on the Seine. They had tried to fill his guts with stones but the cut opened and the dead man floated back up.

As a member of the police, I'm responsable for the people of this town. It's not an easy task: these streets are filled with every single element of society: whores and thieves, society ladies and dandies, politicians and bakers. Every one walks these streets.

This first year of the new century has been disastrous for the force. I sometimes think 1900 is going to be the year that tears us apart, when this country will finally fall to the hands of brigands and opium smokers.

The city is less dangerous than in the past, that may be true, but what about this murders? Five men have been found floating on the Seine, in different parts of the city, always with a mark carved behind their necks: a spiral.

No one knew what that meant but, as policemen, we knew dead men would continue to come up. They all had some stones inside and we dismissed the idea the killer wanted them to sink. It was something else.

I visited Doctor Marteau, an old men that had studied in London and knew all about the procedures and tests to be done to a corpse, in order to find more about the death. Well, he did his job just fine. He found out every single one of these men had been sodomized with an object. The doctor was sure of it.

On the job, I had been to every part of town and knew about every aberration that lived in the city. Men sodomizing each other? No news to me. So there was more to it than just raping men and killing them. Someone was throwing them to the water, making them visible for us to get them. And that person, or persons, were branding these men like cattle.

After days of stalling, I went to have a glass of wine, a few glasses actually, to an old place I loved in the artists district, not far from the Moulin Rouge and the Sacré Coeur. All the girls knew me well and also knew I would be good to them if they didn't get into trouble. They greeted me on the street and I slightly bowed: they were women all the same.

I finally got to my joint and drank and drank and enjoyed myself for the first time in months. I liked talking to Michel, the bartender. A bald men that had seen enough of Paris and now only worked and lived in the same neighborhood, never traveling anywhere nor wandering around. But, as I did, he knew people.

He told me he had heard about the dead men and even about the state of the bodies, something we hadn't released to the press. I was rather surprised. He said a guy from the morgue came in the place a few times a week to brag about the horrible things he saw, drank a few ones and then left with a different chick every time.

I left the place, a bit dizzy but sure enough I could get home all right. It wasn't very far and I hated trains or cars. Nothing like the good air of Paris in the spring. Even late at night, it comforts you.

I walked down a steep road and among various buildings. I stopped to pee on a garden or something and moved on. Wine out of the system, I felt less drunk and very hungry. I had walked a lot and suddenly found myself near Madeleine. I knew a place around there so I could have something to eat.

But I never got to that. A man was screaming his lungs out, mad to the core or scared. I approached the screams, as I tried to dissipate any dizziness of my mind. Apparently, I was on duty.

The man was on the ground, leaning on a building. His eyes looked troubled, big and red. His leg was cut deep and bled profusely on the ground. The sight was enough to make me sick. And having had nothing to eat, it was worse.

I calmed down the man, telling him to stop shouting and to talk to me. I took out my ID and presented myself as a policemen. He ceased with the screaming but still trembled uncontrollably, as if he had seen a monster.

I looked all over my coat and finally pulled out my whistle. I carried it for emergencies and this was one for sure. I used it many times and minutes later two fellow officers helped me get the sick man to an ambulance.

The next day, I tried to visit him but couldn't. He had been put on strong medication, in order to cure his leg and to help him deal with the pain. It wasn't the appropriate time to question him.

I came back after two days. I wasn't feeling very good: another body had been found on the night I found my screaming lunatic. I visited him because I needed to know he was fine, at the moment, I never imagined he would be a pivotal part of everything.

A nurse pulled a chair close for me and I sat beside his bed. To be honest, this young man was handsome, which led me to believe he came of a good family. His clothes were expensive, for what the talkative nurse told me, and he had money on himself so he wasn't mugged.

He turned to me and greeted me kindly, as if I was a old friend. He told me he remembered me from that night and thanked me for my help. I told him that, as a policemen, that was my duty. I proceeded to ask what had happened and then his kind smile disappeared. And he began telling me.

He had escaped his parents house. He was the son of a duchess and a politician that lived in Lyon. He had come with a friend to Paris and started enjoying the night of the city. He went to parties with artists and whores and enjoyed both flesh and drinking. He smoked opium and had sexual relations with everyone he met.

Then, he said, he met a woman when coming out of one of many parties. She was beautiful and willingly went with her to her home. But there was nothing there, no furniture, no clothes, nothing. Only empty space. She said she liked to bring boys there and then proceed to tie him to a post. Then pulled out a knife and cut herself and him, on the leg.

She started talking about the pleasure of carving human flesh, of feeling the guilt of men when she did so and how weak they all were and women had to deal with their stupid attitudes and ideas. She laughed at moments and said it was precious to see them cry in front of her, as he was doing.

Then, according to the young men, she got near but he managed to kick her and release himself. As he was, he fled the building, almost getting caught by the woman. She didn't follow him but he ran fast and far and finally caved to his leg.

I stood there, hearing his words. While he was talking about being forced to drink and smoke by her, I was thinking I was closer to my murderer than ever before. A lady of the night, nonetheless.

The Gardens of Versailles

Windy and chilly. A typical parisian winter, or at least that's how it is at the beginning.

Today, Paul has got on a train to visit one of the most spectacular places in the world: the chateau de Versailles. A beautiful palace where the King once lived and the infamous Marie Antoinette lived her life, isolated from the rest of the people.

That's how you fell, after you've seen the museum and you start wandering through courtyards and gardens: you feel alone in the world, even if there are hundreds of tourists around

What Paul didn't expect was running into an old school mate. No, they were not friends. Far from that: they despised each other. Jonah was always the athletic jock, not that beautiful to be honest but always life of the party and center of attention. Paul was just the opposite.

Jonah was buying a sandwich from a lady in al old kiosk and then he saw Paul. And Paul saw him. It was one of those moments when time freezes because you don't really know how to react. It was too late to fake not seeing the other man and too strange of a situation to say anything.

It was Paul that came closer and bought a hot beverage from the same lady. It has to be said that he had being trying to change his elusive and shy self in order to be more assertive and spontaneous. So, when he saw Jonah, what would be more spontaneous than just greeting him, as if he was better than all that had happened in school.

To be honest, only discomfort happened. There were never awful jokes or nasty discrimination: it wasn't a movie high school or an american one for that matter. They just disliked each other and that was it.

Anyway, Paul greeted Jonah and Jonah responded. They asked for their respective lives: Paul was in Paris in a holiday. He lived in Berlin, working in a restaurant as an apprentice of the main chef. He had always loved food. On the other hand, Jonah lived in London and was working in a big advertising company.

They fake smiled and had small talk, walking along the path that lead to the Grand Trianon. They ate and drank their respective foods.

 - Did you come here by yourself? - said Jonah.
 - Yeah. You?

Jonah nodded. Paul didn't know but Jonah had a nervous crisis a year earlier. He had being in a relationship with a girl from school and realized he was bored to death by her. They had come together because of their "status" in life but that faded fast when they moved to London.
The separation broke Jonah as he didn't know where he stood. With difficulty and thanks to some friends and his work, he seemed to come back to life.

But he didn't say this to Paul. Only that he always wanted to visit the palace and see its grandeur at least once. Paul agreed: it was a personal dream of his to visit Paris, a well regarded place for food, and specially to walk through places so charged with history and beauty as these gardens.

After watching the furnitures and art inside the Trianon, they walked through the village created by Marie Antoinette to recreate a fairytale town, with animals and beautiful houses and even a pond.

There, Paul told the truth: he had suffered to much when caring for people and keeping the truth hidden, about his feelings and thoughts. So about six months ago he had decided he would change that and try to be more open and bold.

Jonah was curious.

 - Like what would you say then?
 - I had a crush on you in high school. I thought you were so perfect. I knew I could never be like you. It was weird.

And the Jonah kept asking why and how and when and Paul answered every questions as they fed some bread to the ducks and walked through narrow paths.

 They walked closely but never too close. They didn't say a word for several minutes as they walked to the front gate.

 - Would you take a drink with me? - asked Jonah.

Paul was confused. He hadn't had the intention of making Jonah feel bad or obliged somehow by his story. He expressed this to him as they neared Versailles-Rive Gauche train station.

 - It's not that... I'm just here 'till January 2nd and it would be nice to see the city with someone else. Don't you think so?

He certainly had a good point.

 - Ok. You're right. I was planning on scouting the left bank neighborhoods tomorrow.
 - That's great. But first a drink.

An hour later they were drinking wine in small bar were they chatted for several hours. So many hours that the owner had to ask them to leave as he had to close the establishment.

A bit drunk and all talkative, Jonah confessed to Paul he was glad to find him in Versailles. Paul only thanked him and abruptly changed the subject, a little bit annoyed to feel good about revisiting his past.

Paul invited Jonah to his hotel were they ate bread and jam and two more bottles of wine.

It wasn't strange when, after two bottles and only a few hours until sunrise, Paul kissed Jonah and the former jock stood still. Paul was ashamed and Jonah was speechless. He decided to grab his coat and leave.

Paul barely slept, all alcoholic intoxication lifting from his body by the thought of his mistake. He had gone to far and he had to learn from it. So much for the walk around the Rive Gauche.

After lunch time, he decide that walking would be better than staying at home. As he put on his coat, the phone rang. It was the front desk lady stating someone was waiting for him downstairs.

Indeed, waiting by the travel brochures, there was Jonah.

 - We should visit Montparnasse Tower. They say the view is great.

And there they went. The day was gray and gloomy but it went perfect as they slowly became friends. No mention was made of the kiss, not once all day.

But the truth is that when they parted in the airport days later, Jonah eyes were watery and Paul had memorized Jonah's scent. They shook hands, as if they had always being great friends and then went on with their lives, each one changed a bit by a casual and random encounter in a place full of magic.