The Wanderers (21 page)

“
What... what happened then?” Cripple asked.

“
It was them, of course. The living dead. They had been growing in numbers from the city, and all of those people clinging on to their vehicles, trying to protect themselves inside them, were like cans of meatballs: ready to open and eat. Those who died came back to life a very short time afterwards, and they joined the savagery. It was a slaughter, and it happened so fast that many couldn’t even react. Some of them threw themselves down the mountain on the side where I was, but it was a scarped area with many slopes, and it was night; if there was a moon I can’t recall it, because the smoke of the fires had filled the sky in a thick layer, so I decided not to follow them. Instead I crossed the median strip and crossed the countryside back to the city.”

“
What the hell? You went back?” Cripple asked.

Roberto shrugged his shoulders.

“
I couldn’t go on running on the road to the north. That was the way almost all of them followed, but I knew they wouldn’t get too far, they were getting tired and gave up; lots of people were hysterical. No, I left the road. The hill I was following led straight back to Malaga, to the bypass. When I was going down the hill, I looked back for the last time... they were all...
running
zombies, you know, the fast ones, that had been drawn by the blood and screams. And they were so
strong
. They were shaking the cars, banging on the car windows – none of the windows could take more than one hard bang before shattering. The zombies were grabbing people out of their cars through the broken windows, or chased at speeds that no normal human being could maintain. Then I turned around and ran so fast that when I stopped I was dizzy, my temples were beating so hard that I thought I was going to have an embolism.”

“
Damn, Roberto. But I don’t understand, why did you come back? How did you get back downtown?” Cripple asked.

“
I lived through quite a few adventures,” he said with a forced smile. “The first night I hid inside an information kiosk of a construction site, behind a table. I was exhausted, both mental and physically. The next day things seemed to be a bit more calm, and I advanced as well as I could through a couple of streets. I saw a restaurant and I went inside to see if I could eat something, and there I met Arturo, a friend of ours who... died when the priest kicked us out of the Plaza de la Merced.”

When she heard him mention Arturo, Isabel took Mary’s hand; she seemed to be listening to the story with her eyes fixed on some spot on the floor.

“
We stayed in the restaurant for two days, looking outside and hiding when they passed. We still saw people on the street, they were all rushing somewhere,” continued Roberto. “Some people told us that there were boats being loaded with people at the port, and that they were trying to get there. We chose our own way, and it took us a long time to go a very short distance. It was complicated, because there were zombies all over the place and although we tried to avoid them, it wasn’t always possible. Finally, we found ourselves at the Plaza de la Merced, and we discovered that we would not be able to go any further. There were just too many of them. And...” he looked at Isabel, “that’s where we found David, signaling at us to get inside the house. Since then... we hadn’t gone back out, until you found us.”

When he finished his story, there was a solemn silence. Moses had remained silent the whole time, assimilating all the information. He and Cripple had not left their house much, and a large part of the events that had transformed Malaga into a hotbed of the living dead were unknown to him. There were more accounts that night, and Isabel added a few details of her own experience up until she arrived at the Plaza de la Merced, and of how John had fallen ill.

After everyone’s tale had been told, it was as if burdens were lifted from them all, and afterwards they were all able to speak more freely, as if the tense atmosphere had been finally eased. As the night wore on, there was more healthy conversation, livened with a round of jokes orchestrated by the master of ceremonies, Moses Bais. The laughter returned, although somewhat subdued, and they ended the day celebrating with extra rations. Mary, although better, had not yet recovered from the shock, and seemed to find the mackerel and hake rations particularly delicious, so they supplied her well.

Chapter 23

Some days had passed, kind days, without many complications. Mary finally broke down in tears, and she cried at length for John’s death, and Arturo’s. Moses celebrated a little mass to honor their memory, and his words were sympathetic and beautiful, and Mary, Isabel and Roberto as well felt comforted. After that, she felt better and in good spirits because she was in a new place, surrounded by people she liked. They took much care not to make any noise and retired to bed early to avoid using the light, a habit that had already become normal for them by then.

On one of those nights, insomnia plagued Isabel. Mary, at her side, had surrendered to the long and sorrowful snores. Desperate, after having tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours, she decided to leave the room. The three men slept in the living room, but she decided to go out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air.

She was surprised to find that the balcony door was already open. There was a figure, leaning on the railing. She was happy to see whom she had discovered there.

“
Hi,” she said in a whisper, going out onto the balcony.

Moses turned around.

“
Well good evening. You caught me,” he said with a smile.

Isabel returned the smile.

“
I don’t think anyone will find out anyway, with everything turned off, if we go on talking in a low voice I don’t think it’ll be a problem, right?”

“
I’d like to think so.”

Isabel leaned on the railing next to him. The night was cool but pleasant, in spite of the darkness. She did not want to look down, where the specters wandered in silence, and instead she looked towards the starry sky. It was an impressive spectacle. Thanks to the absence of the city lights, you could almost see the nebula, the magical substance than seemed to weave the stars together.

“
It’s beautiful.”

“
That it is.”

“
Don’t you sleep?” she finally asked.

“
I usually don’t sleep much, it’s some sort of a family curse.”

“
Huh, really,” Isabel said timidly. “I used to turn on the computer and look at things on the Internet when I couldn’t sleep. A bright screen was great for burning your eyes.”

Moses laughed.

“
Yeah... Internet... the peak of human communication. I wish it would still work, it would be extremely useful to know what’s happening out there.”

“
Yes, of course. But... you do think there are more people, right?”

“
No doubt about it. I think the situation caught us all by surprise; no one was prepared something like this. Think of the psychological factor; no one could combat the family member who had been infected and looked at you glassy eyed and open-mouthed. Not even the police were able to understand what was happening until it was too late. It was... I don’t know, too fantastic to possibly be interpreted.”

“
Yes, that’s true,” admitted Isabel.

“
But you know, I think there are survivors like us all over the world, people that are fighting and making plans to find other survivors. Like your rescue notes, Isabel,” he said smiling, looking into her eyes. “I firmly believe we’ll overcome this, we’ll control the situation again and learn to live with the problem. We will do it, and maybe then those of us who are left will appreciate more the gift of life; it will be a new era for the human being.”

Isabel remained thoughtful for a few moments. “I’d like to share your enthusiasm, but... I don’t know, I mean, cell phones don’t work, nor the Internet, electricity, or television. All of those things can fail, and they have failed many times in the past, but there have always been alternative plans and they would be put into functioning in case of crisis as fast as possible. It was a priority. But it’s been many months since any of that has worked.”

“
Listen to me, Isabel. At some point, I promise you, one of those things will work again. I promise you. Someone will make all of that technology work again. Someone will press the buttons and lift the levers, you’ll see. The human being doesn’t end here.”

Moses was smiling, and something in his eyes instilled a new wave of hope in her. Isabel thought it made sense, and then noticed a small radio device that waited on the little shelf next to the balcony door.

“
Like this... does it pick anything up?” she asked.

Moses looked at the radio, equipped with its rudimentary homemade antenna, with interest. He had forgotten it completely.

“
I’m afraid not. But try turning it on now,” he said, curious “it’s been a while since we listened.”

The device crackled when Isabel pressed the power button. Static erupted from the small speakers. She moved the dial slowly, first in one direction, then in the other, but the band was empty. Isabel could not have said what she had expected, but the confirmation that nobody was on the other side disheartened her in a way that she could not have foreseen. She imagined the studios from where programs used to be emitted, now empty except for a couple of specters, one of them still with a pair of headphones on its ears, ambling through the dark hallways forever after. An almost imperceptible shiver went through her.

Moses was not able to hide his disappointment either. The expression on his face betrayed him. He sighed and looked to the sky.

“
It’s like those stars,” he said. “Some of the lights we see are millions of years old; their light was cast when the first amoebas inhabited the earth. Many aren’t even there anymore. I’m going inside,” he said. “I’m tired of looking at the stars. Of looking at dead things.”

In the successive days, they began the preparation tasks for the van. A few journeys to surrounding stores were enough to stock up on the necessary tools. Other materials were obtained from abandoned vehicles in the street, like the new wheels, or the reinforced mudguard taken from an old
Nissan
model, which still had the metallic bar on the front. The three men got along very well, and they often stayed to chat in the garage after work, sharing some cans of beer. It was a hard job, mostly because they used an assortment of kerosene lamps for illumination, but each little screw reinforced their spirits and improved their attitude; they were working hard to construct an escape route towards greener fields.

One night, Isabel reconnected the radio. She had been checking it less and less over the last weeks. It was increasingly becoming an automatic process that doused her hope of finding other survivors. That night, however, Isabel started when a quiet voice suddenly sprouted from the device. Moses, who had been dozing off on the sofa, jumped to his feet.

“
...
nt to Carlos Haya, the Carranque sports center. We are able to guarantee your survival, we repeat: we can guarantee your survival. We have water, provisions, medical personnel, and sufficient infrastructure to maintain a small community of more than thirty people. A safe way of reaching us is through the sewers; as far as we know, they are safe from the area of El Corte Ingles up to the sports center. This is a recorded message that repeats itself every fifteen minutes on this frequency. We’re waiting for you.”

“
Jesus...” said Moses, feeling his temples buzzing, similar to a headache, although more intense and less painful. Isabel covered her mouth with her hands.

“
Don’t touch the dial!” Moses said.

“
N-no... no...”

They remained silent for a few seconds, staring at the small radio, trying to digest the words they had heard. Moses lifted his arms as if trying to embrace the magnitude of the news they had just received.

“
My God...” he said, “they’re... they’re really close by.”

“
Did he say a community of thirty people?”

“
Wait until the others hear this...” said Moses, running to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, they were all sitting around the radio, listening to the repetition of the message. They smiled and embraced each other, and talked about what they had heard, commenting on every detail in each pause. When the message started again, as punctual as promised, all of them became silent, taking delight in that deep and quiet voice.

“
The sewer... don’t you see? How come we haven’t thought about the fucking sewers before?” Moses asked.

Cripple was shaking his head.
“The sewers of Malaga are very narrow,” he said, “at least in the downtown area. They are not unknown to me, from time to time we used them to... well,” he made a vague gesture, “that was a long time ago, before I went to jail. They’re old, and I don’t think they can be traveled from one side to another without going out on the surface. It may have been like that in other times, but many of the tunnels are walled off, or blocked by the foundations of new houses. In other sections there are new tubes, so big that you can’t go on through them. In any case they’re dangerous. There are dark wells in which we could fall without noticing them, mostly because sometimes there’s plastic, trash and other debris accumulated in piles, and other things that cover the holes, without mentioning the rats, the cockroaches and such an enormous amount of shit that we’ll never find enough water to clean ourselves completely.”

“
Well I, for one, prefer the shit to those zombies,” interrupted Roberto, looking at him with a trace of perplexity on his face.