Tears ran down my face as I listened to my mother’s voice. She’d been trying to reach me for three days. They’re okay, there in my father’s hometown with some neighbors. They begged me to meet them there. I convinced my parents that that option hadn’t been feasible for days. I’m safer here than I would be traveling forty miles on roads clogged with checkpoints, with who knows how many maniacal gangs on the loose. Plus, Lucullus doesn’t like the country, I tell my mother, trying to take the sting out the situation. She’s really worried. My sister made it out of Barcelona before they sealed off the city and declared martial law, but my mother doesn’t know where she is now. The last she heard, they were headed for Roger’s place in the country.
There wasn’t much news about the rest of my family. Most of them are probably at a Safe Haven, like 80 percent of the population. Human beings are social animals and tend to cluster in dangerous situations; only an insignificant few don’t follow this pattern. I fall squarely in that latter group. With a kiss, I said good-bye to my parents, promising to call at least once a week, if I can get a line out.
That calmed me down a little and let off the emotional steam that’s been building. My head is clearer. I’ve started thinking of practical things I can do.
First, the news. TV’s disappearing. Of the eighty channels I used to get, almost every one has gone off the air. I can only pick up Channels 5 and 3 and one that now broadcasts where Channel 2 used to air. Scheduled programming has been reduced to the bare minimum; basically it consists of uninterrupted movies, prerecorded series, and a mini report every forty-five minutes that consists of telling where the Safe Havens are and the best ways to reach them. They insistently repeat that in no way should you try to make contact with the infected. If they attack you, avoid being bitten or scratched.
A tired-looking soldier has come on to say they can’t guarantee the safety of anyone outside the Safe Havens. In case of attack, try to crush your attacker’s head. “Use a stick, a machete, a bullet, anything—just smash their head. Nothing else works.”
I was taken aback by that message, but things’ve been out of control for so long that nothing surprises me too much. Anyway, the news blackout seems to be relaxing. I guess there’s nothing to hide. Or almost nothing. Gangs of thieves are now a minor concern compared to the main problem of those who are infected and extremely violent.
There’s no agreement on those things’ real physical state. Some say they’re healthy, just deranged. Others say they’re at death’s door. More and more people claim they’re dead, incredible as that may seem. I haven’t seen any, but I guess that’ll change in the coming hours. For now, I’ll stay right where I am and take things as they come. I’ve gotten calmer since I realized that’s the closest thing I have to a game plan.
The Internet is also coming apart at the seams. Hours ago Google and Yahoo stopped working. The servers must be down. The same goes for a lot of other websites. Of the over a hundred contacts I have, only two dozen are still active, almost all in Spain, where there’s still electricity. Given what happened in northern Europe, the Internet won’t last long here either.
Military radio frequencies crackle constantly, reporting more clashes with “those bastards.” It sounds like there are lots of casualties. The fifty-two original forces have been consolidated into forty. The attacks are concentrated around the Safe Havens. Two Safe Havens, one in Toledo and one in Alicante, were attacked by hordes of infected people and have fallen. Tens of thousands of people died. Will thousands more die in the coming hours? You can bet your sweet ass I won’t be one of them.
ENTRY 30
Sweat trickles down my back as I sit here, writing this. My hands are still shaking from the adrenaline rush. I’m scared out of my mind.
By midday, I realized I had to do something or I’d have a heart attack. I’d been cooped up for almost twenty-four hours, pacing like a caged animal. I had to do something. I had to get out of here. I had to take a look around. I had to know what was going on. Lucullus has been staring at me, wide-eyed, all day. He knows something’s up. I don’t know if his cat brain can grasp the enormity of the situation. The world’s going to hell by the minute—if it isn’t there already. Eventually it’s going to grab up everyone in its path. It’s not joking around.
I went up to my bedroom and put on heavy, thick-soled hiking boots. Winter nights in Galicia are wet and cold, so I bundled up. It was late; the curfew had been in force for hours. I didn’t give a damn. I was going out. It wasn’t like I was going to run into a cop around the corner. Forty minutes before, I’d heard several vehicles on the main road. From the upstairs window I saw a collection of police cars, army trucks, and armored vehicles pass by, filled with exhausted, frightened soldiers headed to the Safe Haven downtown.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those soldiers were the last line of defense against the infected people. They’d held their position until all civilians were evacuated. Now they were retreating. That means there’s nothing between the Safe Haven and those things. They must be hot on their heels. I had to hurry.
I moved aside the posts bracing the door and cautiously stuck my head out. The street was deserted, the way it’s been for the last several hours. Newspapers, plastic bags, and trash went flying down the pavement. In the middle of the street lay a beige sweater. One of my neighbors must have lost it in her hasty evacuation. Seeing that sweater brought it all home. They’re gone for good. All of them.
I climbed into my car, which I’d parked right outside the door. As I sat behind the wheel, I remembered I hadn’t changed the oil. The can of oil had been sitting in the trunk ever since I bought it. Shit. This was not the time to be a DIY mechanic, so I turned the key, hoping my car wouldn’t leave me high and dry.
In the dead silence the motor sounded like a cannon. You could probably hear it for miles. I didn’t care. No way was I going to walk. I drove to the main road and headed for the gas station about half a mile from home and just over a mile from the Safe Haven. The gas station was in the middle of the evacuated zone, but I hoped someone was still there. I realized I didn’t have a decent road map. If I ever took to the road, I’d definitely need a map. Every gas station sells them. That’s what I was after.
The absolute silence on the road was shocking. Not a living thing in sight. I could be the last person on earth.
When I got to the gas station, I let out a sigh of relief. The lights were on. It looked open.
I pulled up to the pump and went in cautiously. I’m not ashamed to say I was scared shitless. There was no one was in sight—no customers, no employees. Where was the fucking manager? The cash register was open. I could’ve reached in and made off with all the cash. I grabbed a couple of road maps and all the candy bars I could stuff in my pockets. I also grabbed some two-week-old magazines. Their covers reported things that now seem completely surreal. Everything seems so absurd in this chaos! As I left the money on the counter, I thought I heard a noise. My blood froze in my veins. Someone—or something—was out there. Fuck.
Trembling, I grabbed some snow chains hanging on a display. They weren’t much of a weapon, but at least I had something sturdy in my hands. I spotted a man about a hundred feet from the station. He was too far away, and it was too dark to see him clearly, but he seemed to be staggering. I wasn’t going to hang around to find out. I jumped in the car and headed for home. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the guy stumbling along, trying to follow my car. Fuck that. I didn’t want to know anything more about him.
A few minutes later, I was back home with the door secured again. My legs are still shaking. I was gone for less than twenty minutes and only went about half a mile, but I feel like I’m back from a tour in Vietnam. This is really fucked up. I thought I’d feel like the hero of an action movie. Truth is, I feel like prey who doesn’t know where the hunters are.
I turned on the TV. There are only two channels left, Channel 3 and the public station, Television Espanola, which is displaying the royal coat of arms and playing military marches. Very reassuring. There’s static on all the other channels. CNN is all that’s left on the satellite; it’s broadcasting images recorded a few days ago. News scrolls across the bottom of the screen: Atlanta has fallen. Denver. Utah. Baltimore. Cedar Creek, Texas. And on and on…damn, the list is endless. “Do not go to the Safe Zones. Seek safety elsewhere,” the message says. Is that what will happen here, too? Millions of “infected people” attacking millions of refugees in Safe Havens?
The Internet is almost nonexistent. Most servers are down. The only search engine still operating is the Spanish affiliate of Alexa. How the hell are they keeping it up and running? Backup batteries, I guess. They can’t
