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

miércoles, 2 de marzo de 2016

Tip of the iceberg

      The metal door opened up with a “bang”. Carter was holding her gun upwards. She looked to her right and to her left and walked slowly, trying not to miss whatever she was supposed to found there. The day was perfect, almost no clouds in the sky and a shiny sun glistening above her head. She was wearing the uniform and sunglasses, as she was very sensitive to light. As she walked, more like a crab than like a human, the sound of several police patrols could be heard on that rooftop. They were possibly trying to contact Carter but she had left Johnson downstairs and had made him promise he wouldn’t let anyone in until she was done with the criminal. Johnson was younger and eager to help. He was kind of the ideal partner.

 Finally, Carter saw Frost sitting on the edge, looking at the office building in the distance. As she grew closer, she noticed he had no gun, no weapon to defend his life. She had a bad feeling about all of it and made a full stop when Frost talked in a loud and clear voice:

     - Your gun is not necessary. You can come closer but leave your gun somewhere over        that vent. – He indicated one pipe that had a cubic shape.

 Carter held her gun for a few more minutes until she realized the best thing to do was to follow his advice. She left the gun on one side of the small vent and then, slowly, walked up to the criminal. He didn’t stand or looked at her, he just spoke from his seat.

     -  I guess you are aware that I lured you to this rooftop?

 Yes, Carter knew that. It had been obvious from the beginning that he wanted to be caught, that he wanted someone to notice where he was and Carter had been the first and only one to realize what he had meant. Frost had sent a letter to many newspapers, each one very different but having a secret hidden among the letters. Being an avid reader, Carter was able to break Frost’s code and know where he was going to be next. However, she had made the mistake of leaving a note on her desk about it and now every member of the police was there.

     - Poor Johnson. He’s not that strong. – Said Frost, looking down.

 Carter got nearer and looked over the edge. She could see a large group of men dressed in blue and they seemed to be arguing. Her eyesight was not so good but she thought they were talking about how to get in. Johnson had probably locked the door, blocking their entry for some time. Frost was right, Johnson was too young, to new to know how to handle these kinds of situations.

 Frost finally turned around and looked at Carter. She pulled back a bit, scared by his scar. He had a large scar running from the left corner of his mouth to his ear. He smiled, which made him look insane, much more evil than she knew he was.

     - I am sorry. Enemies try to make their marks you know?

 He didn’t wait for an answer from Carter, who was too scared o say a single word. The man stood up fast, putting his legs with agility over the edge of the building and standing up, revealing that he had been seating on a big envelope, the kind they used at office for reports and so on. Carter’s scared face changed to a curious one. She thought, for a moment, that he was inviting to grab the envelope but then realized he was just taking his time and letting her see what he wanted her to see. He took the envelope and pulled out one random paper. Carter could see it had a big seal on top of the page.

      - This is from Saint Mary’s hospital. No that you should feel bad, but I have an                   incurable disease. They told me I could live my life normally if I take pills forever and       have the life of a monk. And I won’t have that.

 Frost looked straight into Carter’s eyes. She felt a bit hurt by then, as they were bloody, as If he had been crying for a long time. Maybe he had cried a lot, maybe he was thinking about his chances and that’s why he had decided to leave the hidden message. He just wanted someone to join him and to know how bad he felt or how sad he was. Although that didn’t really corresponded to a man that had activated a bomb in a very crowded mall less than one year ago. His disease, whatever it was, didn’t change a single thing about him and the justice system.

     - I have to take you in. – Carter saw him straight in the eyes too. – You have done too         much. You cannot get away.

     - Yes I can. You know that.

     - But you wanted someone here with you. Why do that if all you wan is to keep                  vanishing?

 At first, Carter’s hands had been trembling. But that had disappeared. She was not nervous or scared anymore. She had a job to do and she was determined to actually do it, even if it meant running back to her gun and kill the terrorist right there. She was supposed to respect his life but she couldn’t allow him to keep escaping as he had been doing for so many years. He had fled so many horrible events he had caused, he was very insane and unstable, a person that could be trusted. Frost could not really believe he had the cards to come on top this time.

      - You’re done Frost. Come down with me, calmly.

      -  No. I need to tell you something first.

 She walked towards him and he didn’t move. Carter proceeded to taken his arm and made him kneeled before her. He didn’t really complain, he just seemed exhausted, tired somehow. His scar turned a little bit redder and she was disgusted to see it so close to her face. She took out some handcuffs she had on her back pocket but then Frost did a very fast move, pushing her by a vey loud punch on her chest, leaving her with no air on the floor. Then he got near her and asked her for silence.

 Frost took out a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. He waited for a bit and then someone answered in the other end. He asked for someone named Carly and then he waited again. Carter could hear he had called to a hospital or a hotel, somewhere where rooms were numbered. He talked with Carly for a while, smiling a bit and laughing. Maybe she was his wife or maybe a very close friend. Was she doing all of this for her? It didn’t make any sense. And if it was true he didn’t want to come in peace, then why bother doing all of this.

 When he finished his conversation, he told Carter to get up. He helped her but she let go of his hand as fast as he could. She demanded to know what was going on. And he complied explaining everything he had to explain. It was a long monologue, with precise details like times and days and even places and descriptions that made al seem so real. Carter thought he was playing her again but somehow he seemed honest, more than any other person she had witnessed confessing such a big part of his life.

 When he was finished, he just smiled at her and told her to keep the envelope. Downstairs, they were finally able to open the door but it was too late for that. A body crashed into one of the police cars, scaring ever-single man and woman there. Frost had jumped a few seconds ago, running towards the edge and not even doubting for a second. He had planned it like that all along and he had chosen that building because he knew how the police would park, how long they would take to bring the door down, how much time his body would take from top to bottom and so many other variable that he had loved to unravel. That had been him, through and through.


 A few weeks later, Carter visited Saint Mary’s. She met Carly there. She happened to be only nine years old and suffering a very rare disease. The best doctors in the world treated her and Carter was told it had been a difficult process but that the child would live. She was Frost’s niece, his only living relative. The envelope also revealed his disease, which was revealed by the police in the media creating a wave of hatred and proof, the irrefutable kind, that he had been forced to do every single one of his evil deeds. So his death was just one step of many on a game no one knew they were playing.

sábado, 8 de agosto de 2015

On the rubble

   At first, the sounds were like thunder. Once and again they repeated themselves, a little bit louder each minute that passed. People were hiding in their basements or in any other structures below ground but were still very close to the bombs. They normally fell for hours, at least two, and then they would stop for another two hours until they came back. It was particularly awful at night, because people had no electricity and they feared something worse could happen in the dark, even worse that a foreign force dropping bombs on their heads. They just stayed there and prayed, if they believed in something. If they didn’t, it was a lot harder to imagine a way to go back outside alive.

 Every single person, even children, now knew that the world had been crumbling down for at least fifty years but no one had really noticed. That was until, all of a sudden, the most powerful country in the powerful got very extremist and started killing their own. People around the world saw it happening and they couldn’t believe their eyes. But as many times before, they did nothing, as they were scared they would get a blockade or some sort of attack just because they wanted to defend the lives of so many that had been massacred. And what the TV showed was only the tip of a very bloody iceberg. If people had known, they wouldn’t have feared, they would have done something. But that didn’t happen and it was only two years after that that the war starter. Ironically, it had nothing to do with mass murders but with a fishing boat.

 Since that happened, the world had seen five awful years of fire, misery and death. People talked about safe havens around the world but they all sounded so perfect, so ideal, that the general population thought they were only a fantasy created by those who didn’t want to realize what their reality was. They were prisoners in their own country, having to eat whatever they could find and surviving as animals, as rats. Some escaped to the countryside but things were supposed to be worst there because of the open spaces and the use of more horrible weapons that one could ever imagine.  The country was dead.

 Besides, they had been cut off from the rest of the world, so heading to the borders was useless as they were all under surveillance. And the truth was that even beyond those fences, life was exactly the same. So why bother in running, escaping and hurting the shitty body one had only to be in a place where things were exactly the same or maybe worst? People survived and they openly welcomed death, but on their terms. No one died of old age anymore but it was the objective of many to die that way. Most people died in the streets, with a shot to the head and probably not even fired by enemies but by other hungry people.

 Rumors were always heard. People had begun a rumor, maybe based on the truth, that a group of rebels had been working before the invasion had happened. You see, before the country was attacked daily, there used to be what people call a “puppet government”. A crazy military man, as they all are, had formed an alliance with the extremist nation that attacked them. He sold the country to them in exchange of letting him live and rule. And they did let him do that but only for some years until he was killed and the occupation really began. It was during that time that several “terrorist” attacks took place. It was them, the rebels.

 But now, it seems, the rebels didn’t existed anymore. Apparently, the government killed them all and then the government itself was killed so nothing remained from the past. News came every so often, from people that had managed to salvage radios or television sets. They said they had heard other countries been taken or an uprising somewhere very far. But even if all those things were true, people knew that they weren’t enough. Those things were happening so far away that they would never get any help. They just knew how their lives would end and they didn’t want to do anything about it. Why change what is inevitable? They just waited for the end and that was it. No more believing in miracles, or in any fantasy about rebels and war on the other side of the world. They were dead and that was the only truth.

 People survived eating small rodents that they found among the rubble after the airplanes had stopped bombing. There was no building standing and it made no sense for them to keep bombing them but they did it anyway. Some people believed that they didn’t want to use real soldiers in order to keep in line people that were already scared and enslaved, in a way. Another rumor was that soon they would come and build factories and that all those people in the basements would be made to work there, making uniforms, guns, helmets and so on. It was the normal thing to do by any foreign oppressive power, or so said the elderly. But no one knew and no one cared enough to think about it.

 A person’s day consisted of hearing the bombing all day, trying to sleep at least two hours and then go out of the hiding place in order to find food. That was it. There was no entertainment or time to be happy or joyful. Those things had died with the war. Any kid who laughed was severely spanked by their mother and learned, the hard way, that there was nothing to be happy about in this world. Some people moved around the city, trying to get more food and it sometimes worked. Some of the ponds and lakes still held water and some fish so it was only a question of how to get them. That would have been a nice way to spend an evening but these people saw it as a way to survive so there was nothing nice or good about it. It was just something they had to do.

 Suddenly, one day the bombing stopped altogether. It was not that they had decided to do less bombings; it was that they just stopped. People were scared then, more than ever. The invasion, the full scale one that they had feared for so long, was finally at their doorstep. Mothers decided to teach their children how to be obedient and how to lower their head before the foreigners. They wanted them to live, even if they had to be submissive and enslaved. Nothing could be worse than been a human rodent. They waited, and waited, and waited, but the invasion never came. They never saw a single soldier come their way but that didn’t make them calm down. Maybe they had decided to test a new weapon on them… Maybe they were going to be destroyed for good.

 But that never happened. A year after the bombings stopped, when the grass started to grow again, as the trees and crops, a battalion arrived to the ruined capital city. People were scared and ran away but they soon noticed those soldiers weren’t wearing the flag used by the extremists. They were wearing a white patch only which many remembered as a sign of peace. That week, five battalions arrived to help the people and teach them how to rebuild and feed themselves. The community was alive again and people, for the first time in many years, felt good about smiling and dreaming. The children were especially happy and their parents could finally have a calm heart.

 Many bodies were buried in huge mass graves. And it was then that they realized that their liberators were locals. Not all of them but many and they told them their story. Apparently, they were the ones called rebels back in the day and they had to flee the country before it went to shit. They said that many stayed behind but were killed. Those who remained hid in boats or planes bound for other parts of the world. Their stories were then so different and fantastic but they untied again at what they called the Big Battle. It had happened about a year ago and it had been the turning point for the war. The extremists were cut off of their resources and then their capital was taken. Their leader was hanged.

 That’s why the bombings had stopped. For all effects and purposes, the war was over. The rebels talked about the sacrifice that many had done in order to get their freedom back and that’s why now they wanted every country to stand up again and become a better version of themselves, to become something that people could look up to in the future. War had to be a thing of the past, something only mad men would think about and those mad men had to be put away, their freedom taken before they could take anyone else’s.


 The world had died but then, it’s heart started beating again. Will there be another chance? Will we survive again to our own demons and stupidity? Let’s hope this time it sticks.