disease, hunger—all the normal causes of death—were just lurking in the shadows, waiting for their chance. If I weren’t careful, they’d catch me. I’d only been thinking about my stalkers. I’d forgotten something very basic: man is a fragile being.
I’m now anchored in the port of Bueu, a safe distance from the dock, while the storm rages on. The coast is dark and silent, jolted by flashes of lightning that light up the buildings’ ghostly silhouettes. The roar of thunder shakes the entire boat.
I know they’re there, on the shore. I think they know I’ve arrived. But that’s not the worst part. I’ve realized I need something basic. To get it, I’ll have to go ashore tomorrow. Right where those things are. Into the mouth of the wolf.
ENTRY 54
I’ve never liked rain. That’s a pretty futile way to feel, since rain’s a regular part of life in Galicia. However, as I watched the rain fall on the small fishing village of Bueu, I decided, in the end, it was not so bad. It might even help me.
The storm lasted for nearly twelve hours. Rain and wind lashed the coast. The sea, shaken and stirred, was an ominous steel gray. Normally the fleet would stay moored in the harbor and sailors would drink a hot toddy in the bar. But as far as I can tell, there’s no fleet and no sailors. Not living, anyway.
Despite being sheltered behind the Port Bueu breakwater, the
Yet this weather gave me the edge. The wind and rain would cover up any noise I made on land. And visibility was really low. This time, the weather was my ally.
I had to go ashore. I badly needed nautical charts. The fugitives who attacked the
Besides, my supplies were getting really low. I could stand a couple of days on half rations, but Lucullus looked at me indignantly each time he got a whiff of the meager rations I served him.
I don’t know what Lucullus thinks of all this, but I’m sure what really bothers my little friend more than being scared and bounced around and getting wet is the catastrophic state of our pantry. I don’t want a cat mutiny. I’ll give him credit, he’s holding up like a champ. He’s the only company I’ve had for almost a month. If it weren’t for him, I’d be half out of my mind.
I’d made a decision; now I had to come with a plan. The prospect of going ashore was really frightening. I didn’t know what I’d find beyond what I could see from the deck. So my plan was just to reach the shore, get what I needed with as little hassle as possible, and get the hell out of there. I’d have to wing it the rest of the time.
I put on my wetsuit and grabbed the Glock, its two magazines, the speargun, and four spears. I strapped on the empty backpack and climbed down into the
As I rowed, I noticed that the usually muddy, oily water at the port was strangely clean. The environment had changed amazingly fast after just a couple of weeks with no humans. I hardly saw any animals except birds. There are hundreds of them, especially gulls. I shuddered when I recalled that, besides eating fish, gulls are scavengers. Lately they must’ve had all the carrion they could eat.
I finally reached the steps to the dock. I tied up the lifeboat and quietly climbed the stairs. I glanced around. The storm was still raging over the deserted dock. The pounding of the rain and the wind whistling through the streets combined with the rhythmic din of thunder. The wind lashed my face, dragging rain across my eyes. I couldn’t see or hear anything more than five yards away. It was perfect.
I crossed the dock on high alert. When I reached the fish market, I pressed my back to the wall and poked my head around the corner. I saw two of those creatures, a young man and an elderly woman. They stood stock- still in the middle of the walkway, looking strangely desolate. The pouring rain plastered their clothes to their bodies. After nearly a month out in the elements, their clothes were starting to wear out. Now they really looked like something out of a horror movie. As if they hadn’t before.
Flattened against the wall, I started forward, with the speargun and Glock ready. I came within four yards of them, but they didn’t see me; the storm, the growing darkness, and the rain hid me. Yet I was sure they sensed I was there. As I passed them, my nerves taut as piano wire, they snapped out of their trance. They began to stir, turning in every direction, trying to get a bead on me. Their senses may have diminished when they crossed the threshold of death, but they’d developed another “sense” that allowed them to detect beings. They knew I was close. Very close. It was just a matter of time before they located me. I had to hurry.
Slithering along walls, crouching between cars abandoned in the road, I made it to a nautical supplies store I knew of. Then I realized two things. First, the store’s wrought iron gate was down. I’m such an idiot. I hadn’t thought about that. How the hell was I going to get through the gate with no electricity and no key?
Second, about a dozen of those things were coming down the street toward me.
I needed a solution. Fast. Suddenly, I saw it. Parked in front of the store was a delivery van. I crawled across the hood of the van onto its roof. The rain was harder than I expected, and I almost slipped a couple of times. I became hysterical as those things got closer. Shit!
I finally managed to climb onto the roof of van. From there, the second-story balcony was less than three feet away, right above the store. I took a deep breath and jumped. Almost slipping on the moss growing on the ledge, I let myself fall inside the railing. The glass balcony door was locked, so I broke it with the handle of the gun. The pouring rain muffled the noise of breaking glass.
The balcony door opened quietly and smoothly. Inside the enclosed balcony, I could make out heavy wooden furniture. A musty smell assailed my nose as I stepped inside.
I eased up to the bedroom door. I reached for the glass doorknob, took a deep breath, jerked the door open, and jumped back.
Nothing. Just a dark room. Fumbling around in the backpack, I pulled out a flashlight, lit up the hall, and entered the dark room. A monstrously large antique canopy bed loomed out of the dark. The place smelled musty from the damp and from being closed up. But behind that smell, in the background, I detected a faint smell of decay. I pictured the worst.
I heard rain pouring through the downspouts in the background. From time to time, a powerful clap of thunder shook the house. The storm was right on top of the town. I admit I was scared to death.
Next was the dining room. On the other side of the room a staircase led downstairs. I figured this house and the nautical supply store on the first floor had been owned by the same person. As I started down the stairs, I heard a noise totally unrelated to the storm. It was a constant, rhythmic beat accompanied by…bells?
The noise was coming from the floor I was on, not downstairs. From the back of the house. I could have ignored it and gone downstairs, looted what I needed, and left the way I came in. But I’m human. Besides being irrational, stupid, and unpredictable, humans are really curious. I needed to know what the hell was making that noise. Shaking, scared shitless, holding the Glock in my right hand and the flashlight in my left, I walked to the other end of the house.
I walked through a small living room with a TV, a couple of sofas, some two-month-old magazines, and a lonely kneesock left on a table. I came to another door at the other end. The noise was louder here. I was getting
