The Wanderers (39 page)

“
Our priest.”

“
Our priest,” the doctor repeated with a smile. “The pathogen agent that we’ve discovered is latent, alive, active, but controlled by his immune system. It continuously replicates and settles in his cells, but his system destroys them at an amazing speed. This would generally finish off any system very fast, but at the same time, the virus acts as the stem cells we once spoke about. Do you remember?”

“
Yes, yes, that’s what keeps those things moving and living even with their vital organs destroyed.”

“
That’s it. So the system replicates constantly and keeps you stable. Furthermore, I suspect that the pathogen agent could be prolonging the man’s life in some way. Have you seen the way he looks? You surely haven’t seen his feces...”

“
Doctor?” Aranda suddenly asked.

“
Yes?”

“
Why do you always say ‘pathogen agent’, instead of ‘virus’? It’s much shorter.”

“
Son,” the doctor answered, “Social Security trivialized that word so much that no medical professional should use it under any circumstances.”

Aranda let out a sonorous guffaw.

Chapter 44

Early in the afternoon, the whole community was in the same conference hall as usual. They had been notified that Dr. Rodriguez and Juan Aranda were finally going to put the investigation results on the table.

Dr. Rodriguez appeared almost ten minutes late. Even so, he received a clamorous applause when he walked through the middle aisle heading towards the pulpit; they all knew too well how hard he had been working in his little laboratory and they were nervous and intrigued to hear his findings.

The doctor pled silence, raising both hands and smiling shyly. However, when he spoke, he did so with a clear, strong, and firm voice. He told them everything he had discovered about the virus, how it worked in keeping the wanderers active, and also his more recent discoveries about how Father Isidro carried a latent form of said virus. When he finished his presentation, there was a round of questions. Most of them were about matters that had already been discussed that required a simpler explanation using words that they could all understand. Aranda took care of those questions.

When there were no more hands raised, Aranda tactfully presented the next part of the plan. The strain of the debilitated virus had to be tried on one of them.

There was a tense silence.

Aranda continued, explaining that it would be done very gradually. They would inoculate controlled quantities to study, under Dr. Rodriguez
’s supervision, how the organism reacted to the infection. But he also pointed out that, naturally, the whole process was not exempt of danger, including the risk of death. Finally, he hurried to announce that they were not searching for a volunteer. This awakened a murmuring in the hall. With a smile, he communicated that they already had someone willing to try the strain.

“
I myself,” he said.

A new murmur covered the hall, and there were those who stood up with both hands covering their mouths, muffling an exclamation of horror. Someone shouted a flat refusal of the experiment and his publicized protest was joined by several applauses in different places in the hall, but Aranda cut the different reactions short as he continued speaking.

“
I know what you’re thinking, and I’m grateful for it, but I did not want to cause an unending debate about if it should be done, and afterwards about who should do it. It’s my prerogative. When I told you that I’ve volunteered, it wasn’t a lie: the doctor already inoculated me with the first dose of the strain,” he looked at his wristwatch, a simple digital Casio model, “ninety minutes ago.”

An astonished exclamation rose among the community members. Those who were on their feet let themselves fall on their seats as if they had been pushed. Aranda saw shocked expressions, of manifest terror, of sadness, as well as others; brave looks that watched him with a mixture of fascination and admiration.

“
I arrived here when Carranque was already a functioning encampment,” Aranda said, “an encampment that functioned, that
survived,
and you took me in with open arms and generous hearts. Since then, I have felt much loved here, and I want everything to go well for us. For all of us. That is why I’ve done what I have. Understand me, not too long ago I made a poor decision to send Jaime to disaster, and that decision was almost the end of Dozer as well. It was my turn to accept my part of the risks. Anyway,” he continued with sincere smile on his face, “I would like to add that for the time being I feel perfectly fine.”

There were a few nervous laughs, and they faded quickly.

“
From this moment on, I’ll be in the infirmary at all times, watched as our prisoner is. We do not know what could happen. Dozer, who by the way is feeling much better for all of those who have asked, has instructions to use his weapon if... well, if my eyes turn white and all that. But let’s trust that it won’t happen! I would suggest, in fact, trying to have a positive attitude about all of this. And that is all for today. Carmen and Dr. Rodriguez will keep you informed about the progress of this experiment, and if you want to come by the infirmary, you already know that you’re all welcome. Good afternoon to all of you.”

Most of those present remained in their seats, commenting amongst each other on the stunning news. Many approached Aranda and the doctor, full of questions and words of encouragement, worry and support. Aranda calmed them, making jokes, and generally, trying to make light of the fact that an unknown and lethal virus, which had caused the largest pandemic known to humanity in all of its long history, was running through his veins.

The next day, Aranda passed his complete medical examination with flying colors. The urine, feces and blood samples indicated a positive evolution of the action hypothesis the doctor had drawn out. During the whole day, he received several visits, and then they spent the afternoon playing cards with Jaime, Susana and some others. Their laughs could be heard from many feet away. In the night, before he went to sleep, the doctor inoculated him with another dose of the virus.

Father Isidro was moved to the false encampment that was located at the other end of the Sports Center. The windows were covered with bars, and the heavy metal door was solidly closed with strong padlocks. They at least gave him some reading for his hours of solitude, a copy of The Bible. Isabel, this time intentionally, sent him a second note. The note said:

I forgive you.

* * *

At around three-thirty in the morning, Carmen woke the doctor up.
“Doctor, it’s Juan... he’s burning up.”

Juan was shivering in his bed, affected by a sudden fever of almost 104 degrees. Carmen suggested a bath in the pool to lower his temperature, but the doctor firmly refused.

“
Fever is a natural protective agent against microbial aggression, Carmen. At such high temperatures, our defenses are activated much more quickly and they become more efficient.” He did, however, give him a dose of ibuprofen.

At midday, Aranda was still suffering from fever, although it was somewhat lower. He was feeling dizzy, he was sick to his stomach, and he couldn’t hold down any food.

“
Is that a good or bad sign?” Moses asked him when he and Isabel visited.

“
I don’t know,” the doctor answered, his head bowed.

But that night, after much deliberation, the doctor inoculated him again with the programmed dose.

On the third day, Aranda
’s temperature was hovering a few decimals above 104 degrees. This time, the doctor prescribed him acetaminophen and forced him to drink water and several juice boxes. The urine he left in the bathroom had the pestilent smell of mold.

At nightfall, with tears in his eyes, Dr. Rodriguez inoculated him with the fourth dose. When he finished, he let the syringe fall to the floor; his hand trembled like it had the day he had to wield a desk lamp to save his life at Carlos Haya Hospital. It seemed to him that a whole lifetime had passed since that fateful day.

Aranda had horrible dreams. In them, he was in a cradle and his parents came dragging their feet down a long hallway, whispering unknown words that sounded as if their throats were filled with seaweed. He tried to escape, but the bars, rusty and wet, were strong and solid and did not move an inch. Then the room began to fill with black waters as dark as an oil stain and he tried to climb up the bars. He pleaded for help with his childlike voice but his parents were not there anymore, they had disappeared, and from the darkness of the poisonous water that filtered through every single one of the floor tiles, emerged putrid and tensed hands that rushed towards him.

He awoke screaming, with his mouth as dry as a rock in a wasteland, and Carmen whispered affectionate words to him, gave him water, and moistened his forehead with a wet cloth.

“
My parents...” Aranda said, still half-submerged in the dark dream realm he had built.

“
Shhh
. Sleep, little one, sleep.” She kissed him on his sweaty forehead.

The morning brought better news. Aranda had returned to a more or less normal temperature, although it occasionally spiked higher. He slept most of the day.

At dawn on the eighth day, Carmencita jumped awake on her armchair located next to Aranda
’s bed: it was empty.

She ran to call the doctor. They searched unsuccessfully for Aranda throughout the whole infirmary. With tears in her eyes, Carmen went out to the sports field area to search for him, but the fields were completely empty. They also searched for him inside the building, and wherever they went, they knocked on doors to sound the alarm.

Dr. Rodriguez knocked on the door of Moses
’ room, and he went out to receive him, alarmed. In the background, barely visible by the light that entered through the window, was Isabel, naked between the sheets.

“
It’s Juan... we can’t find him anywhere. I can’t...” but he could not continue.

In a short time, almost everyone was running all over the facility. Jose, dressed only in a pair of old underpants and a rifle, accompanied Moses through all of the corridors of the building. They could not find him in the pool, the kitchen or the dining room.

It was Jose who finally spotted him. He sat on the ground, incapable of supporting himself. Two warm tears slid down his face.

“
There...” he said, pointing to the fences.

Moses looked in the direction Jose pointed. His heart pounded. There was no doubt about it; Aranda had used the sewers, as he had the first time he arrived at Carranque, to go outside.

He was outside, the first of many, resting against the grounds’ fence, completely naked and smiling with the innocent joy of a child.

The zombies crowded around him, but none of them seemed to notice him.

THE END

Afterword

No one writes a book on his own, and this one is not an exception. I would like to thank my family and friends for the unconditional help and moral support that they have given me; without their inspiring words, I would have abandoned the story on several occasions. Maybe none of this would have begun in the first place without the note my father left on one of my first short stories, and that read, in beautiful handwriting: “fantastically good,” in reference to the animosity with which the characters would all say very often: “fantastic!”. That note secretly encouraged me to continue writing. My sisters Inma, Sonia and Raquel and my brother Kiko wrote down several mistakes and discovered inconsistencies that arose due to writing the novel in pieces (including a mysterious blank page). My wife, Desirée, managed to pull me out of more than one mental block and suggested a large part of the final plot, not to mention the countless nights she endured me being glued to the screen of my laptop, patiently weaving the story. All of my love goes to her. My brother-in-law, partner and friend Luis Pérez and his wife Aurora gave me several books on how to write and edit a novel when I barely had written a few pages; that gesture (and many others they have had) I will always remember. Doctor Kurii revised the part in which Doctor Rodriguez reveals his discoveries to Aranda in Carranque’s infirmary, and he made sure that I did not write too much nonsense, always keeping in mind that I was facing the task of trying to reason the unreasonable; that the dead were coming to life. A big hug also goes to my editors, Jorge and Vicente, to whom I owe much gratitude for trusting me and for putting this book into your hands. And I will not finish without mentioning the marvelous team of geeks and characters that are on somosleyenda.com and who have helped me with their words of encouragement and the special way they are: Athman, Horas, Oink, SkasS, Dragoon, Lulú... you’re all great! For all of them, my gratitude and love.

A special hug goes to the real priest of the Victoria Church in Malaga, who was nothing in common with the deranged Father Isidro of the novel.

Most of the places in the novel exist, and I have tried to describe them with as much exactitude as possible; the distances between those places are also quite consistent with those that have been mentioned. However, I have never had the opportunity to visit the sewers of Malaga and I do not know if they are practicable, although I doubt that it is possible to walk through them from one end of the city to the other as the main characters do.

Malaga, October 26th, 2008

Notes

[1] Canal Sur 2 and Canal Sur are regional television channels from Andalusia, in the south of Spain. Antena 3 and Telecinco are national channels.

[2] S.A.M.U.R. Municipal Emergency and Rescue Assistance Service