The Wanderers (37 page)

Aranda, Uriguen and Moses ran the distance that separated them from the infirmary. They surprised a wanderer, which was in a very advanced state of decomposition, passing through the broken glass door. Aranda, fascinated, thought that it was as if someone had scraped off its whole side; the ribs were exposed and a swollen and unrecognizable organ showed through like a foul purplish tumor. Uriguen finished the awful sight with one accurate shot.

They encountered Peter coming out to meet them.

“
Pi!” Uriguen said, surprised to see him.

“
Hey guys!” How is everything?” Peter asked.

“
More or less controlled, Pi. How did you get here?” Aranda answered, more than happy to see him.

“
I was keeping watch on the tower,” he answered, a little uncomfortable. “But everything happened so fast, I didn’t see... well... I came over here as soon as I could, right on time, I think. I was going out right now. We heard shots on the grounds.”

“
They’re shooting the remaining dead people on the fields. And Jaime? Dozer?”

“
Good, we’re all good,” Peter exclaimed, extending his palm. “They’re inside.”

They all breathed a sigh of relief, finally relaxing their posture, which had been tense up until that moment.

“
I just finished clearing the back rooms,” continued Peter, “so this area is also under control.”

He paused to look directly into Moses’ eyes.

“
And we have your priest, Moses. We have that son of a bitch.”

In scarcely three hours, the situation inside the Carranque encampment had returned to normal. The sports fields were cleared and the entrance gates had been temporarily closed by piling furniture against them, since the fire had noticeably affected the doors’ hinges and they were unable to make them work.

Susana had been transferred to the infirmary. Dr. Rodriguez cleaned the wound again and did an excellent job suturing it. The shot had cleanly passed underneath the hollow of the clavicle, without any complications, so they were even able to give her a transfusion thanks to the fact that Susana shared the same blood type as Dozer and several others. She remained stable and was dozing.

The day’s heroes were cheered and embraced by everyone once their small initiative was made known. They were radiant, although somewhat uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving. Andrea approached them and gave them each a phenomenal kiss right on the lips, which embarrassed them greatly. In fact, she also kissed Jose, Uriguen and many of the other shooters.

They quickly commenced the cleaning tasks as well, which went on for the rest of the day. Nobody wanted that rotting corpses infecting the building’s interior. The number of them in the lobby and on the stairway was shocking, and dragging them outside was a hard task for all of those who participated. It was like looking at death close up and personally. Once they had fallen, those unlucky beings did not look any less human than they themselves did. They formed large pyres and used an industrial solvent as an accelerator to ensure that the bodies would burn as they should. Columns of black smoke rose high into the sky that morning.

The electricity was also reestablished promptly. It turned out that the priest had only sabotaged the main panel, so changing a few cables, fuses, and reconnecting them was sufficient. It was also fortunate that there were enough materials to carry out the repairs without having to go outside for supplies, because no one had any energy left to make an incursion into the sewers.

Father Isidro was moved to Dr. Rodriguez
’s office, always watched by two armed guards. Although he never said a word, needless to say, they still had to have a long conversation with him. They needed answers.

Regarding their losses, there was one more. They found Julian and Pablo among the cadavers, both with a shot to their heads. They thought that it had been the priest, but the truth was that after dying from their respective wounds, they opened their eyes again and stood up, confused and with their minds clouded by a red-stained and primitive cloak. The sounds that reached their ears were distorted, sometimes muted. The rifle shots were like agonizing stabs of pain in their brains, and the shapes of the living attracted them like a good pile of shit attracts a bunch of old, fat flies. But they had not lasted long. They had both been brought down in the middle of the crowd of living dead without anyone noticing them. And this time yes, their brains disconnected as they sunk into the opaque mists of oblivion.

But nobody was able to locate Sandra, or Ivan. When they looked at the task board, they discovered that Ivan had been on watch in the sewers until two in the afternoon, so two of the men went down to the basement to see if he was still down there. They were joking with the idea that maybe Ivan had no idea and he was still down there, submerged in the putrid air of his own farts. When they arrived, they did not see Sandra, who appeared unexpectedly, jumping out of the shadows at the jugular vein of one of them. They managed to stop her in time, but they were still struggling with her, trying to subdue her, when the horrible white thing that had once been Ivan came running from the end of the corridor, its eyes white and a hair-raising scream streaming from its throat. The thing was able to achieve its objective, breaking into one of the men
’s necks with a violent movement.

Fortunately for his friend, who had ended up petrified on the floor with a burning urine stain on his pants, the racket of the fight had been heard from the floor above. One of the shooters from the grounds, who now had certain skills in rifle use, finished them off with consecutive shots. Ivan writhed in the air, gesturing with his hands before falling upon Sandra
’s body, which had already been deprived of any kind of breath.

At the end of the day, they served warm soup and some words were said about those who had fallen. And not just about them, but about all of the people who had lived before the infection and that had been returned that day to the eternal rest that they had been deprived of.

Moses
’ speech was particularly beautiful. He spoke with a clear, serene voice, and he had several memories of his fallen brother, Cripple, for Mary, Roberto and all the others. Many prayed for the souls of them all.

The night brought a silence so unusual, that it was not only hair-raising, but also unbearable.

Chapter 42

The new day brought the sun and ashes. A light breeze blew around the ashes from the still smoking remains of the body pyres. Aranda, looking out of one of the balconies, was reminded of the Nazi Holocaust, and wondered if the indescribable horror they had felt yesterday could be similar to what the Polish and Jewish people underwent in the Second World War. He decided that it was not; that that had to have been much worse.

At about nine-thirty, Moses and Aranda were entering the doctor
’s office. Dr. Rodriguez was already there, looking at the priest. Father Isidro received them with a disdainful look on his cadaverous and haggard face.

“
Good morning, Doctor,” Aranda greeted him.

“
Hello Juan, Moses.”

“
Has he said anything?”

“
He’s as quiet as that wall.”

Aranda nodded, took a chair and sat down in front of the prisoner. He did not say anything immediately, taking his time to study the priest, to look at his worn cassock that was stained with what looked like the remains of blood and dirt. His face was also blackened and his hair was filthy, giving it a plastered appearance. A white lock was stuck to his forehead.

“
What’s your name?” Aranda finally asked.

There was no answer.

“
You are a murderer,” Aranda continued. “You’ve done more harm than those living dead people of yours.”

Father Isidro smiled at him.

“
How do you do it?”

There was no answer.

“
The dead don’t attack you. Why?”

Father Isidro pondered his words, gradually widening his smile. A row of perfect teeth showed behind his thin lips. “Because I am a righteous man.”

“
What does that mean?”

Father Isidro looked towards the ceiling and recited, slowly:
“We thank you Lord God Almighty, who you are, who you were, and are yet still to come, because you have taken your great power and have reigned. The nations have angered you, and your wrath has come: the time to judge the dead, to reward your servants, the saints and those who fear your name, the small and the great, and to destroy those who destroy the Earth.”

Aranda leaned back, exhaling.

“
Is that what you believe? That we’re facing the Apocalypse as told in the Bible?”

“
Unconscious... he still doubts,” the priest said, suddenly looking him in the eyes. “But it does not surprise me. The Bible has already told us about it: The men that were not killed in the plagues, not even then would they repent for the work of their hands nor did they cease to adore demons. They did not repent for their homicides, or their witchcraft, their fornication, or their thievery.”

“
Enough with that!” Aranda exploded. “You’re the only murderer here.”

“
You dare judge me? You, who flee from the Divine Judgment hiding with these men and women?” He let out a strident and high-pitched laugh that brought a repulsed grimace to Juan’s face.

“
Unbelievable,” said the doctor, who had been listening to the conversation with one eyebrow raised.

Father Isidro turned to him, irate.
“Do not let yourselves be called Teacher,” he said, hissing, “because you only have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. You should also not call yourselves Doctor, because Christ is your only Doctor.”

“
Titles are just words,” said Rodriguez, “the words don’t matter, what backs them does. I am a doctor. I cure people. Do you have a problem with that?”

Aranda picked up the thread of the conversation.

“
What is your name?”

“
I am Abaddon, keeper of the well.”

“
Bullshit. What is your name?”

“
I am Malak Hamvet.”

Doctor Rodriguez grunted. “Malak Hamvet... it’s Hebrew,” he explained, “it means ‘King of Death’ or ‘Angel of Death’.”

“
You’re very clever,” continued Aranda. “Why don’t the dead attack you?”

“
Because I am a righteous man.”

“
Must the righteous assassinate the godless? For God’s sake, Father, what happened to you?”

Father Isidro’s features hardened as his eyes were blurred with barely contained rage. “God came to me!” he screamed. “He called me to his side. I saw him there in his glory, surrounded by the immaculate light of eternal salvation, and he told me that it was not my moment, to come back, that he had plans for me. And may He forgive me, for some time I did not see it, I did not understand. I did not know what He wanted until one day I finally understood. I went out, to encounter His soldiers to be Judged, and” he began to cry, overcome by his own words. “... and I was found innocent, I was named as one of the Saved and then He sent me a sign, a message. It was a note that was brought by the wind. And it came to me! Directly into my hands! Do you understand? And I knew what my mission was. Oh yes! I knew...”

Aranda had half-closed his eyes as if trying to decipher the priest’s words.

“
What did the note say?” he asked. Moses, who was at his side, unconsciously clenched his fists.

Suddenly, the expression of pious revelation on the father’s face disappeared. The malicious and twisted look that they already knew so well reappeared. “The note said,” and he added in a mocking tone, “oooh please save us, oooh ooh... we don’t have any water... we’re here at the Plaza de la Merced...” he laughed again. Underneath his laughter there was a faint sound of asthmatic wheezing.

Moses felt his blood rushing to his head. Although he had considered the possibility in the past, finding out in such an unequivocal way that Isabel
’s notes had managed to bring such horror upon them still caught him off guard. He clenched his teeth until his gums hurt to prevent himself from attacking the priest. Aranda looked at him briefly with a quick movement of his head; he had also understood the significance of the note to which the priest was referring.

“
You receive a plea for help, and interpret that God is asking you to try to kill them?” Aranda asked. “You are a crazy nutcase.”

“
I know who I am,” the priest spat coldly. “I also know who you are. And I know what will happen, oh yes.”

Aranda looked into his eyes for a few seconds.
“How many people have you killed?

As with every response, the priest made a vague gesture with his eyebrows.

“
How many have you taken out of their hiding places and thrown to your... resuscitated soldiers of the Lord? Huh? How many?”

Again, there was silence.

“
Why don’t the dead attack you?” Aranda asked again, without any hope of receiving an answer.

“
You don’t want to understand, do you?” Father Isidro answered. “You would know if you had listened to the words of the Lord before it was too late. But you were all—all of you!—so occupied with your personal fortunes, your spiritual decadence, concealing the very concept of sin in the name of social prosperity, that you had forgotten that He was watching. Do not make me recount it all—the drugs, the fiscal inequality, the hypocrisy, the fornication... Now the Lord is weary. He will begin a new world, taking the Righteous with him, separating the wheat from the chaff. It’s too late for everyone! God’s forgiveness is over! The-”