“You’re serious… you’re from Galicia?” The Catalan girl turned to Lucia, with the same doubt in her voice.
“Of course we are!” Lucia exploded. “I flew over two thousand miles in that fucking Russian blender, crossed the Peninsula and the Sahara desert. I’ve had it up to here! Got it? I want a hot meal, a long shower, and I want to sleep for three days in a real bed! So don’t ask me if I’m serious, because I don’t feel like fucking around! Okay?” The pressure was too much. She broke down and sobbed.
I threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, stroking her hair. For all her tough-girl posturing, she was just a seventeen-year-old kid, robbed of her entire world. She had every right to explode.
“Where’re we headed?” I asked.
“Tenerife,” the Argentine guy replied, calmer. “One of the last safe places on the face of the earth.” He looked deep into my eyes. “We’re going home.”
10
The searing midday sun glinted off the Atlantic Ocean in a million flashes of silver. The silence was broken only by the cries from flocks of gannets and the clatter of the helicopter flying low. The salt-laden wind whistled through the open side doors and tore through our hair.
“How’re things in Tenerife?” I asked loudly, to be heard in the cabin.
“Sorry. Can’t say,” said the tall Argentine tersely. “Until the authorities make a ruling on you, the less you know, the better.”
The petite, thirty-something woman with the Catalan accent chimed in, “Even if you pass the quarantine, immigration services’ll have to approve you. It’s not up to us.”
“Immigration Services? What’re you talking about? I’m a Spanish citizen. So are the two ladies. And Prit’s papers are in order. We don’t need permission to be on European soil… at least we didn’t used to.”
The woman’s intelligent eyes glistened and she shook her head. I was puzzled to see her pull on latex gloves. “Things have changed a lot since the Apocalypse. The situation is very complicated. Rules, regulations, and laws from before have gone out the window. The Canary Islands are no paradise—they’re the Wild West.” There was a thick silence in the helicopter as her words sank in. “But we’re always thrilled to come across humans in the midst of all this shit,” she said with a broad, sincere smile, as she stuck out her latex-clad hand. “My name’s Paula Maria, but everyone calls me Pauli!” she exclaimed in a lively voice. “Welcome back to civilization!”
“Thank you, Pauli.” I shook her friendly but prudently gloved hand. “This is Lucia. In the corner is Sister Cecilia, and the charming guy with the dashing mustache is Viktor Pritchenko, from the Ukraine.”
“Well, the scowling guy next to me is Marcelo. As you’ve probably guessed from his accent, he’s
Marcelo gave a quick nod, his grim expression unchanged. He was as stern as Pauli was congenial. They made a very odd couple.
“What’s the procedure?” Pritchenko spoke for the first time.
“It’s a no-brainer,” Marcelo said with a dismissive shrug. “We leave you on the quarantine ship. Once medical tests verify you’re clean, immigration officers will take care of all the paperwork. Quick and easy.”
“Marcelo makes it sound so cold-hearted, but we can’t be too careful,” intervened Pauli. “I imagine Alicia will oversee your case.”
“Alicia?” All those names were making my head spin after being cut off from the world for so long.
“Commander Alicia Pons is the head of transit and immigration services in Tenerife.”
“Oh! The Commander! To what do we owe the honor?”
“Very simple,” Marcelo replied. “If your story is true, you’re the first living beings to make it here from Europe in over eight months.”
A heavy silence filled the cabin, broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio. The silhouette of Mount Teide appeared on the horizon. We’d reached Tenerife.
We were returning to civilization.
Whatever
11
The conversation died out. We were mentally and physically exhausted after what we’d been through over the last several hours. Most of our new
In a matter of minutes, we were flying over land: the island of Tenerife. The crew on the helicopter said it was totally free of Undead, but after fighting those monsters for so long, I found that hard to digest.
The first buildings on the outskirts of Santa Cruz de Tenerife came into view. The sun was sinking slowly, casting the first shadows of night. The air had cooled considerably; heavy yellow clouds were forming in the distance. The drone of a half dozen conversations over the radio broke the silence in the cabin. Most were military transmissions, but chatter occasionally came over the airwaves, too.
Suddenly, over the loud speakers came a catchy song that had been popular about a year before. The radio operator must’ve liked it, since he let it play for a while before switching over to a military frequency for landing instructions.
“What’s wrong?” Lucia asked, alarmed, grabbing my arm.
“With me? Nothing. Why?”
“You can’t fool me.” She took my head in her hands. “You’re crying.”
Embarrassed, I wiped my hand across my eyes. Fat tears were rolling down my cheeks, leaving long streaks in the cement dust that still covered my face.
“It’s nothing. It’s just that that song…” My voice broke.
“Makes you think of someone, right? That happens to me a lot.” Lucia’s face darkened. “We all lost loved ones.”
I slipped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. I stroked her hair, inhaling its sweet scent.
“That’s not it. For the first time in nearly a year, I’m listening to music. I’d forgotten what that was like.”
Prit broke in. “You’re right. I hadn’t realized that until just now. A year without music. That’s strange… really strange,” he murmured to himself.
Just then, I detected movement on the ground below. My hand instinctively reached for the sheath strapped to my leg. Then I remembered they’d confiscated my spears when I got onboard.
I peered into the fading light and tried to make out the scene below. A group of about fifteen people was walking slowly up a hilly, winding road. That was all I saw since the helicopter was flying at full speed. I did notice that they were all armed.
As we rounded one last hill, the port of Tenerife appeared before us. The helicopter flew swiftly over city streets, where thousands of people were going about their daily lives. Ecstatic, we crowded around the helicopter doors, gazing down at a scene that was rare in the world now.
“Look, Prit! People! People as far as the eye can see!”
The Ukrainian laughed loudly and a smile spread across his face beneath his immense mustache. “We did it! We did it!” A childlike joy lit up his face as his eyes darted from one place to another.
Sister Cecilia laughed like a little girl, giving thanks to God and to a long list of saints. Lucia pointed out everything, trying to absorb the images forever.
