lunes, 23 de diciembre de 2013

Good afternoon all, I bring you the third and final part of the story called schoolgirls, hope you enjoy the end. hug to everyone

Schoolgirls 3rd - FINAL part
    —Yes, Garcia — tells me, and this time the timbre of his voice sounds like unknown: thickness and sadico―. I'm here and you know what's best of all? That you will not arrive. Like others so many times, you will not get.
    ― Would also kill Rojas?-grito―. Don't lie to me, you accursed sack of shit... killed it!
    Invadido by attack of anger, of so great impotence for not being right there. Anyone who see me outside of the car would believe that I am mad.
    ―Jajajaja... — says Perez with tone sadico―. I set foot for the shirt, right? It did not leave me another option. I thought that it would come with you, but when I saw it only... Poor kid. Although I must admit that I had a future.
— you're a son of a bitch!-grito―. I'm going to pay for all this.
    ―Vos you got the guilt that the guy this dead - tells me and adds—. why hell left not the case with the of the prostitute? why shit had to continue stirring? You're like those hounds who say him basta and do not obey. Now put your disgusting nose, I will have to forward my calendar. Luck for next...
Communication is cut.
    ―No act as trash. Let's go... Grab the phone — yell him into the car, hitting the steering wheel, as wanting to make her understand that I am very rushed. Come on, faster faster.
    —Do central? — say—. Here the García officer, number plate 21543. This is an emergency. ¿Do you copy me, central?
    —Here central — responds the operador—. Copy, officer García.
    — Report: officer injured in Av. Garay 3220 3 ° C. repeat: wounded officer. Send ambulance, Av. Garay 3220 3 ° C. rushing. It's an emergency!
    —Copying, officer — responds the operator, with an almost abnormal calmness—. Sending ambulance to the place, time of arrival 15 minutes.
    Missing half a block to the House, brake by howling tyres. Low and I take my gun: a Colt. 32 mm, 6 shots.
I go to the window closer to the street and I see: at first glance there is nothing more than furniture. I move the eyes and I can see one of the girls sitting, bound and gagged to a Chair. Bloodied cheeks and hair. Look at the ground which, little by little, is dyed in red.
    — Apparently already were playing, Perez — whisper, seeing that the legs of the girl have cuts of various sizes and depths, some even still bleed.
    Of the other girl, or traces. Being wary that that damn could be expecting me, I kicked the door open it wide, but did not enter.
    —Perez...! Long the girls — I scream, trying to see the second floor of the House—. At any time this is filled with cops, do you understand? Give yourself and all happy. What I say?
    Hope a response, perhaps a cry or any puteada that tell me where is. But nothing, so I think I approached the girl.
As soon as I cross the door, I hear shooting. Then I warn you that the bullets bounce off very close to the frame. I answer with 3 shots, and threw me to the ground, falling near the girl. I approach a bit more and putting two fingers in your neck feel that he is alive.
    —-Well... Please, do not die.
    I joined. I take the clamp and discover that the lips of the girl are wildly tajeados. At that time, a scream at the top of the House makes me in me and, almost by inertia or automatism, I upload to strode up the stairs.
    At the top I find four rooms and again I hear moans of pain. I approach in a cautious way the third room where they came from those sounds of agony.
    —Pérez! — say, assuming that that type shit is there, waiting for me-. Perez! — again in the form of supplication, trying entering reason. For many years we worked together right? I don't want this to end as well, so. Please release the girl, Dale... Let that go.
    — So is that you want to go?—hear him say with a devilish tone, completely out of the path of sanity.
    —Yes, let it to go — I say, as I see his reflection holding a hunting knife in the neck of the girl, as I could see in his eyes was resigned to the worst. She is innocent, as it was Rojas
    — is not innocent! — shouts outrageous, the limit—.!.! None of these bitches is innocent. You the protect, say them the best thing for them and as they thank you... you leave. Desagradecidas cursed...
    In that he realizes that I am watching it. And, with a morbid smile, short neck to the girl.
    — NNNOOOOOOOO...!—I go shooting, and give him between the eyes, driving it back.!.! Falls by releasing the girl, which also falls as a puppet that cut you the threads.
    Grasp the body of the young woman. I bite the wound, although it is pointless. She looks at me trying to tell me something, his lips comes a sound that I can not understand. Meanwhile, his life fades. I cry, I curse expired.
    After a while, I dry my tears with the back of my hand, stained by the blood of the girl.
Low and release the other girl. I cover it with my jacket. And, sitting in my car, we hope officials.
    — Do I copy, officer Garcia?-hear.
    —Yes. Here, Garcia — answer almost without mood hold radio-. I copy, central.
    — We find the official Red — says the operator, had a cut in the neck up to the jugular. But when we arrived the officer had already died, sorry... — for when he stopped talking, I already not holding the device.
    At the beginning I did not understand a shit of what Perez said. Then I fell.
Some time ago, he told me that he had a teenage daughter gave to which everyone. But she did not want him for that was police. And something else: on several occasions, doing his job, Perez had arrested friends, even to her boyfriend. Linda gem, the boyfriend: sentenced him to 14 years for manslaughter and possession of drugs. After that, the relationship with the asshole went to hell. She became prostitute. At the beginning at the College, later on the streets, until led "customers" to his father's House, while he was on duty. And, to make things worse, drugs came to the life of this poor girl. Perez the interned a couple of times, but the girl managed to escape, again and again. So he decided to have it in the House. Input all went well, although discussions soon to return, as well as drugs
    The last one that the little girl was sent was that, after a fight, it locked in the bathroom to take drugs. He went and found it.
And, while the end of that is unclear, think that Perez ended up killing her overdose. We investigated, but as he is a COP and she a prostitute in rehabilitation — joined their backgrounds and their relationships, as the boyfriend—case closed as suicide. From then on the type was no longer the same: not working the hours that, not talking to anyone, I was drinking much. Terrible.
Is amazing how it changes to this work, I think. From one moment to another your life is not worth five cents.

For my part, I plan to continue one while longer on this, then I don't know. Maybe put me private detective, say that it is good, we'll see...
THE END...

sábado, 21 de diciembre de 2013

PART TWO SCHOOLGIRLS

   Good afternoon all, I bring you the continuation of the police "schoolgirls", and commented that in the next post will be the third and last part. from already thank you very much for reading. hug



  •  Even though Perez was angry, I'm going to follow my instincts, I thought, as I accelerated because of the eagerness to hear another view, the opinion of the coroner. Something tells me that the body, does not fit the profile of the killer. But and if I'm wrong? Better I hope to see what say me to those who know, before continue giving me machine.
  •     Once in the morgue, I go and look for Gustavo, the sector Manager. For my luck was not, as he watched the size of stainless steel tables, it appears. Carries a dust, which if I remember, once was white, completely unbuttoned. It brings a package that for stains on paper, was to be his lunch.
  •     —Hello, Garcia — me says, while eating a tuna sandwich, dropping crumbs in the sheets that covered a newly run client—. I heard you did pissed at Perez, although such anything irritates it
  •     —Shit — I say — they run fast the good news here. One thing you got right: this type is very irritable. Well, changing the subject, did not want to interrupt your lunch, but already did the body found behind the pizzeria?
  •     —Yes, and you inform that his name is lazar, Noelia. Says with a degenerate face — and was no Virgin. She was about 24 years, although due to its structure, it seemed much less.
  •     — And surely it wasn't even student— I say— at least in some school, but that was only dressed as such right?
  •     —Exactly. According to the police report, which we obtained by their fingerprints, she was a prostitute. They had arrested her several times. And if she was wearing schoolgirl, it would be for his work. Because apparently came with a client of perverse tastes, and they mistook it for a student of truth. How you realise?—tell me, holding the remains of his lunch, he gives you the last bite. With the other hand, browse the report.
  •     —By the tattoo on his arm — I commented while I note the drawing in the skin — even though when I saw it in the container, I noticed only a part of the drawing, since I was torn, I had hope that when you review it you could build it, and thus know more where is.
  •     —Exact — says, and adds — that was the first thing I just did. Watching it with the magnifying glass and joining as the skin, could very torn as you well said, I discover that it belongs to a nightclub called burning Dove. A seedy nightclub, frequented by all kinds of varmints, located in the avenida Santa fe at 5600. I know, because I know him closely, you understand? hehehehe - and accompanies that last phrase with a wink.
  •     —Ok. But... the important thing is was not a victim as which they found previously. And that's a good track — at that time I feel there is still a chance to catch the son of a bitch and I said goodbye to carrying me a copy of the report-thank you for your time. Gustavo, each day more and again sorry for interrupting your lunch surprise me.
  •     — Don't do you problems, I'm already used to make me work while lunch - I said without looking at me, focused on the last bite of her sandwich — gives greetings to Perez if you see him.
  •     Returning to the station, with the head a little quieter, I had a chance to catch the miserable thanks to data collected in the morgue.
  •     Arriving at the police station I do my first stop in front of the coffee machine, bag one, I feel, and while I browse the report, they come to the mind clear images of what I saw in the alley. The position in which the body was mutilation, were details that threw me flashing in the retina: memories last a case that I had been assigned, where my partner died. It must be my imagination, I think, but the similarity is almost impeccable.
  •     — Come on, Garcia, concentrate — I tell myself, speaking aloud — not Musings, focus in the case—and, after serving me another rate of a coffee than this recontracalentado, I keep reading.
  •     —Good afternoon, officer Garcia — Rojas, said entering the office, pulling out his notebook of annotations—. What difficult case he had! Right? But if you allow me, have some details that I would like to do with you.
  •     — I hear you, red — I said while I served more coffee. Since we are going to work together, it is good to know the theory of everyone, including yours.
  •     —I read the record of all victims — me says, and I found out that they have something more common.
  •     —Let's see, desembucha, red — I say with little expectation that brings something new. And I leaned on the Chair, giving him a good drink to the Cup.
  •     —The previous victims were students of various schools, all were around 16 or 17 years — tells me, and I think to listen to myself, years ago, so I feel the need to not pay more attention.
  •     — Rojas — I say sin rodeos-everything I say already know it. Excuse me if I'm direct, but a damn are not helping me.
  •     — Forgiveness if how to tell it is something despelotada, what I want to go is that victims were... I don't know if you know it. But look, I mention it because maybe it is important.
  •     Garcia regarded it as measuring it.
  •     — I say — follow the other, — all were teammates for a very short time of the daughter of Perez — me concludes.
  • And listen to it closes me throat, preventing coffee making to my stomach.
  •    — Who you gave permission so investigate our? — say grasping his snowman cake trajecito, causing his cup of coffee spilling on your shirt color peach — moreover that already investigated it, fuck.
  •     —I spoke with the captain — I respond, taking off my hands up — and, in the circumstance that is the case, believed convenient to give me permission. I know it is hard, but it was necessary — then, with the gesture of someone who has ruined the day, went to change clothes.
  •     —Okay — I say in a tone of derision, as he browsed the record. Do what you want, what crap! But at least the information I shared... That if you don't mind, Mr perfect.
  • Rojas returned to the office, to half to ignite an electric blue shirt, and continued:
  •     — as said before, the daughter of Perez tube contact. A very brief contact with the murdered girls. So I think that Perez should know something more. I would go to the House and be able to chat with him.
  •     — For me it is OK...—answer you, without even looking at it—. go and tell him to not be so euphoric.
  •     Several minutes passed since Rojas was, but his words were circling in my head: the dead girls, the daughter of      
  •     Perez, the connection between them, everything began to have a twisted sense.
  •     After several cups of coffee and several read for the record, I think have gotten a clue. The photos of the coroner showed lesions in the skin of each victim. There was also a tattoo, that so well described by Gustavo. And the mutilation and uniforms for students.
  •     —There is there something... — I say. I'll take the photo in hand and close of a hit record.
  •     I am struck the logo uniform that the prostitute had since at the time of being attacked.
  •     —Imitation — whisper.
  •     The logo of a high school in the area. He is read only "Sacred Virgin College". Looking for on the Internet. It is located in Cordoba and Santa fe, Catholic ladies College. But what strikes me now is another thing... the prostitute: lazarte, is called.
  •     — I need to take a look at your Department —whisper revisiting the last corpse photos.
  •     I grabbed my jacket and I turn to the place in search of any on the road track, I think why thought you the prostitute use that logo in particular, being able to use one of any College. I also think, and in the very background on how you will be going to red with fellow.
  •     Maybe the Department of this lazarte me any idea more concrete, I say to myself as I speed up.
  •     Walking down the hallway of the building looking for 1 C, I am aware that I need an order to enter, always and when it is not locked, otherwise I return to find a.
  •     A time in front of the door of the apartment of the victim, turn the latch and open the door without problems. I try to turn on the light and it does not work. I open the curtains.   
  •     The first thing I notice is that everything is in a complete mess. Bag my jacket a pair of rubber gloves, I turn on my flashlight and, thanks to this, avoid stepping on anything that can break.
  •     — Shit, that closure, hell — I think out loud — smell. It seems that does not walk anyone around here in several days. Above and to make matters worse, it's all scrambled.  
  •     Come on, lazarte, to see that you have in the wardrobe?
  •     Opened, I find suits that one look: LaTeX, police, goblins, damsel, Catwoman and even teacher. There are also whips, handcuffs and tacos all forms and brands shoes. There are pills of all colors in the drawers.
  •     In bath, clothes hanging everywhere. No indication that you would like to use clothing of schoolgirls.
  •     I'm sitting in bed thinking.
  •     After a couple of minutes, get out of the Department and I am writing to the College, with an idea in the head: took the picture of the logo.
  •     In this school, for girls, surely there must be someone who knows all the students.
  • While, noto that hours pass and still not a concrete track.
  • Arriving, gather to see the front of wide windows, and oak with detailed glass door, that the fee should not be anything cheap. Toco ringer and his bells sound I announce. I hope a few seconds while I see the neighborhood, then I realized that a silhouette of woman approaches the glass door.
  •     —Good afternoon. Who is? —I serves the voice of an elderly lady, without opening the door. And before listening to my answer, add — the parent meeting, it was not until 16:30 hours. Please respect the schedule — it says, serious and with its figure attached to the door, as avoiding to pass.
  •     — Good afternoon — I answer him imitating her tone of voice, I am the García officer, the sectional first Palermo.
  •     — How can I help you, official?— insists the woman.
  •     —Would chat with the head of the establishment — I said putting my hand in the jacket looking for the photo of the logo. I would like to ask you some questions about a case that I am researching. I don't want you to remove long.
  •     — I don't know what could help you — answer me, with derogatory tone. And secure with a gesture similar to its tone—. We have not had any matter that is the police business, in our establishment.
  •     — Do I would pass, please? They will only be a few minutes. It would not disturb it if you wouldn't believe to be important.
  •     Tired of being at the door, I feel like seller and not an officer for information.
  •     —Okay — tells me as giving me an order, as pointed out me the hall at the end of a corridor of very shiny and furniture mahogany floors — pass, take a seat. In a few minutes, the Director will attend.
  • A few minutes, when I was getting used to the comfort of the Chair, sounds like the cell.
  •     — Hi. who speaks?—say in a low voice: the place was too quiet.
  •     — Hello, Garcia, speaks the official Rojas. I'm coming to the official Pérez. He must be at home, I see the parked car. After talking, I call him again.
  •     —Ok — I say—. But I don't think that you get something new.
  •     Short, raise the view and see approaching a woman about 55 years, medium-sized and slightly plump stature.
  •     —Good afternoon, Sir...
  •     —Officer Garcia.
  •     —Garcia, well. My name is Elisa — tells me without many turns, sitting on the Chair opposite me—. I am the Director of the school. Patricia commented to me that it is investigating a case and that he wanted to talk about a track that had or something, right?
  •     —Effectively. I am investigating a homicide — I say—. At the scene of the crime found this logo, do you recognize it? —show you the picture.
  •     —It is the logo of our establishment, yes — I said. And I notice the panic in his face—. It happens something official, that need to know and thus put on notice to parents?
  •     —No why alarmed, Madam Director. It's just that I wanted to be sure to recognize the logo, nothing more.
  •     You had to lie. If it gave more details, it was likely to give notice to the parents. And that would be an incentive for the murderer is brought forward. Or worse, he fled.
  •     To see that his expression didn't change much, I decide to trust her and tell him, more or less, as it is all so far. After a few minutes of talk and, seeing her more calm, I took the dare to ask an order:
  •     —Mrs Elisa... It would need a list, if possible, of students who have not attended classes in the last two days. And also that they called to justify their absence.
  •     She agreed almost immediately.
  •     In that moment, the Director raises the desk phone and call Patricia.
  •     This enters, approaches to the Director, who whispers something in his ear. I imagine that I would be asking what I need.
  •     A while, the Lady returns with two envelopes. He hands them to me and to open them I realize that I have two lists.
  • Examined them: total of absences, 18; total of justified, 16. Well damn
  •      I think. One of the students is called Gonzalez, Adriana. It is 16 years old. I play it will be the next. Her parents are traveling, insurance there is the topic, I write addresses and I call by cell phone to Perez, but to my luck, attends the answering machine, leave a message.
  •     —Hello, Perez, speaks Garcia — I say—. I have a track of the next victim. Rather those who might be the chosen of the killer: two students from the "School of la Virgen sacred".
  •     What a son of a bitch!, I think, with list in hand. He murdered the prostitute with the clothing of one of the student posing as a customer. But it was only to leave a false track and thus have time to realize his plan.
  •     —Insurance which must be in the House of Adriana, one of the absent students — whisper while I go out running of the College.
  •     Ascend to the car and get a map of my glove box. I hope to arrive on time and thus end once.
  •     —A see... to see the fucking!... where the fuck is this address?
  •     A while find it: is in Constitution, near the square, six blocks to be exact. It is a dangerous area therefore decided to call at the station.
  •     — ¿Copy me central? — cry you at the car radio, as I speed up desperately— Speaks the García officer, number plate 21543. I report a 10-96 in progress. Potential victims: female youth aged 15 to 17. Location: Pichincha between Carabobo and Clai, six blocks from Plaza Constitución. I will continue transmitting.
  •     As I progress at full speed, and to not hear sirens anywhere, I grabbed my cell phone and called Rojas, knowing in advance that this useless is not the best option, but will support, where you have a confrontation with the murderer.
  •     —Hi — answering machine — says me. You comunicaste you with the official red cell. You can leave your message.
  •     Beyond that not atended, I said to myself that if Rojas continued to maintain that message on the phone, his days as an officer were numbered.
  •     —I can't believe it — I think out loud, pounding the steering wheel—. We are in a case where it is assumed that we must be all connected, and this idiot leaves the phone off.
  •     At that time, that tension was wreaking havoc on my nerves, sounds like the cell.
  •     —Garcia! — I hear from the other side of the line. It was Pérez, with cholera—laden voice—. Where shit are you?
  •     —Do Perez? — answer, between astonishment and bewilderment—. I left you a message half an hour ago or more.
  •     —Yes, I listened to it, but it was rather... busy — it tells me something nervous. Answer me, are where shit you?
  •     —I'm going to the House of one of the potential victims — I say while I see how, because of nerves, I pass the stoplight is crossed. The girl's name is Gonzalez, Adriana. I am sure that should be with his partner. Two days ago that do not appear by the College, call your House and do not respond. Over, parents are traveling.
  •     —Great job, Garcia! Great job... — tells me with a cheerful, somewhat unusual tone on it—. Now we are going to put that son of a bitch behind bars.
  •     —Ok. I'm going to call red - I answer you—. Thus we find the three and ended up this disgusting case together.
  •     —No bother – says—. I call it, you reach in the House of the girl.
  •     —Strange — I say—. perhaps Rojas no you did?
  •     —No, I why? — says, and the noto rarer still.
  •     — Because the last time I spoke with him, he told me I was going to see you — I told you, waiting for a response to remove from my head that he is not a suspect. It may be that they have not found.
  •     ―Seguro spent that - he says-. Although, that blue shirt would be impossible to confuse.
  •     ―ok, are among us hold on to that type — say―. And if after Rojas, we tell the plant that helped.
  •     ―Me seems just. I hope you in the place, so at least you serve support ―me said between screams and puteadas―.  
  •     That son of a bitch, I want to catch so much as you. I'm coming, hurry up hell. I want to go. I can already see the dolphin.
  •     And fills with my patience with that last sentence. Finding myself at a crossroads on how tell them. Since he had no doubt that he was the worst thing that could be.
  •     —Do Dolphin? But... what say...? You're there right? —you say it with clenched teeth, doing the same thing with the accelerator, and by placing the blender on the roof and turning the siren. You're there, right? The son of a bitch were you!! Have you always been...
  • CONTINUED...

sábado, 14 de diciembre de 2013

Good afternoon beautiful people, today for the first time will upload a story already made but in English, if there are words poorly translated please know excuse, since it is my first time, greetings to all


SCHOOLGIRLS

Shit, are 3 o'clock in the morning and not being able to sleep—
whisper, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
After a while, I feel, grabbed the cigarettes of the light table and turn one. I look at the time. If I could stop time, I think.
    I think if I was assigned. This is really screwed up: schoolgirls from different ages, religions, shapes and race. Points are not in common. However, something I am struck: the places where we found the bodies. And also the form in which they were killed. Brutal, animal.
Appeared torn, all with various mutilations.
    The only clue, if you can call it that, is a coincidence that I found in the forensic report. Since the first victim, of 4 months ago; to the last, discovered 3 days ago, there are time differences of 15 minutes.
    One blast deep and I get to the filter. I get up and grab the report. I light another cigarette with tailpiece above. I know my memory memory what it says there.
    The killer acts every 3 weeks, and according to my calculations the next attack will be 29 this month, April. I left just seven days and even occurs to me in which College will unleash its fury.
Just thinking about it, my chest hurts. The case is going crazy
    Walking from one side to another, I turn the third cigarette. I feel like a caged animal, rub me head, and while taking a breath of smoke, it sounds the cellular.
    — Hello— I murmured, leaving to escape the smoke from my mouth.
    — They found another body, Garcia— said Perez, a companion of many years, and added— It is on 9 July and Pueyrredon, behind a pizzeria. The son of a bitch is advancement to your own calendar.
    —Are you sure that it is of the same subject?— I ask, eyes nailed in the report. Being wary.
    — We have no doubt— follow Perez, giving me the impression of a type to whom luck gave the first lottery prize— the victim is a student and brings the same pattern of injury and mutilation.
    — OK, Perez. He hopes that I go out there. In 15 minutes I am.
    — How many doubts, fuck— whisper feeling deep inside me, that the victim is not what you expect it to be, cannot be the same killer. Maybe it's just my wish, I would that it were not so, so I would give more time to follow the track to the son of a bitch.
    While I upload to the car, I think of what was said by Perez, and if he is right that the son of a bitch went ahead, by God, if so, fuck you with the few tracks that I had.
    —What attracted you to come on, son of a bitch?— I say to myself— Surely after several "jobs", you feel more confident, I just hope that this time you've trusted more, and let some miserable track
    I speed up, taking with me the last homicide record.
    Reaching the alley, I find the picture always, many patrols and a truck of the channel 26.
    Me approach to perimeter line, I show the plate and me receives the official Pérez, who spoke with another officer. One that had not been in my life.
    — Good, Garcia— Perez tells me in a tone of mockery—What face! He is the official Red, they moved the sectional 4th for a day or two.
    At this time am Perez you note the 50 years and twenties service. It is no longer the same that I met when I joined the force. Light post Street, in addition to blenders of patrols, accentuates her gray hair, tanned skin, dark circles. But there was something unalterable, your mood for anything funny, in my opinion at least.
    — Good morning, officer Garcia— said the such Red— Perez told me of the case, and told me that you were in charge of the investigation.
    Rojas, a boy of about 35 years, medium stature, sunglasses, combed to the side. Rookie air. It was the idea of wanting to fall well everyone, what they call a "bootlicker".
    — Good— answer them, with very unwillingly—What do we have?— and I shake my lighter, intending to ignite my fourth cigarette.
    While Perez and his partner, teach me the place where the body was found, my eyes observe the environment: streets, sidewalks and parked cars. And, above all, anyone in suspicious attitude
    — Young— I tells Perez, while I duck to closely observe the body, trying to find similarity with other victims— about 18 years. He was apparently returning from school. With signs of wound with a sharp object, mutilation in several parts.
    —Who found it?— I say lifting the look, seeing how Perez points out of the alley
    — Some boys were— Red, the head pointing at four young punk, painted hair and piercing everywhere, gets an urban tribe—safe to that they were going partying.
    — With those things in metal painted hairs and skin, they seem ill— Whispers Perez, at the same time, which regarded them with contempt— I get sick, cursed drug addicts.
    —They interrogated them?— I say as I take my log book, looking for a few seconds to Pérez.
    —yes— keeps telling me Perez, reading his own book— They said that only passed by here and saw something strange. They approached and noticed the legs of a person, protruding from the dumpster. It seems that a couple of them were stiff from the fright, a third vomited up what you ate last week and the fourth call 911— He closed his notebook, he put it under his arm to light a cigarette. And he returned to open it— The rest is what you see. Currently, it is becoming the coroner. They will take the body to the morgue for autopsy.
    —ok, ok— I tell you, while I check the scene from the fact— I don't find anything concerning the case we follow. I don't know, something does not fit.
    The alley: certificate of rats, garbage and apparently place chosen by some drug addicts, since there are some syringes thrown in several places.
    I looked at the container, where it protruded the body, to its around garbage has not even had gathered, it was evident that it had recently had left him there. In addition, it was practically empty, except gift left by the murderer. A detail: the phone number of the company
    — Please contact this Lumber— I said, pointing at it—
    Find out what time left it. They must know, according to the route of the trucks that brought them and leads them. Also ask the neighbors if they saw anything suspicious.
    And I was standing watching both the container as a victim.
This body, as the victims found earlier, presented mutilations. This time what was missing was an ear: right ear more precisely. Up there you could say that it was consistent with the others. The killer wore is a part of each. A finger, an eye, anywhere. It must be your fetish, I thought.
    — Shit— I susurré, realizing that there was something different—What is I happened by high? Why was this time used a container? Other victims only the "fit" on the ground, in a particular place. This alley fit well, but the container...— I looked at Perez and added in a loud voice— That you take to look for fingerprints, fibers, anything that we can serve. Though as it is very clean, perhaps without meaning.
    —Something, Garcia about you? —I said Perez, while still scoring in your book — when you have that look, something you bring between hands. Come, say it for.
    — Nothing, is only is a feeling. Nothing important— you say thoughtful— And if this is not the victim who we believe that it is?
    —What shit are you saying, Garcia?— Bark Perez— What we find here complies with all that the killer showed us so far: body, mutilations, place where can move it easily. But you always go out with your "shit". You always have to define something, hell— it pulled the book to the ground, with the dislocated and completely red face.
    Go to shit, Perez, say between my.
I rather not close with this body— whisper, as I turn on my fifth cigarette—We are going to see that he has to tell me the forensic— I say, leaving the crime scene, heading towards the car....
CONTINUED

sábado, 29 de junio de 2013

Buenas tardes gente, Sé que ha pasado bastante tiempo desde la última vez que subí un cuento, fué debido a que otros proyectos tienen mi cabeza ocupada, No voy a prometer una actualización continua, pero si estaré subiendo material periodicamente. ahora les traigo la segunda parte del cuento apocalíptico "SOLO", espero lo disfruten y por favor... comenten



SOLO Y PERDIDO
    En un sector de la ciudad de Buenos Aires, las calles están atestadas de muertos que caminan, gruñen y pelean. Incluso se podría decir que al haber muchos de ellos en un mismo lugar llegaron a realizar canibalismo. Al parecer ya no hay seres que estén vivos, y si los hay, seguro deben estar escondidos, asustados y sin esperanzas.  
    El problema más grande de seguir con vida es ser menor de edad y solo, por lo que no hay quien pueda hacerse cargo de cuidarlos como debieran. A eso se suma el sitio donde se ocultan, lugares infestados de muertos caminantes, algunos con movimientos torpes, solo se la pasan buscando comida, metiéndose en cada agujero, callejón o casa incluso negocios una y otra vez. Se abalanzan contra las paredes cuando escuchan cualquier sonido buscando el origen de este. 
    Mientras todo eso sucede con una naturalidad monstruosa, son observados desde una distancia prudencial por un par de sobrevivientes que no les quitan los ojos de encima. Ellos con sus reservas de alimento y agua escasos, saben que a medida que pasan las horas, las posibilidades de llegar vivos a mañana se desvanece. En cambio, en otro rincón la ciudad, la esperanza renace.
    — Gustavo — dice una señora mayor recostada en una improvisada cama — hace días que estamos en este lugar, estoy enferma y casi no tenemos comida.
    — Lo sé mamá, pero vamos a salir de esto  — le responde Gustavo pero con un gesto de desánimo — aunque primero, hay que conseguir comida, por lo que debo salir de nuevo.
    — No, no salgas Gustavo — Le dice la madre — Podes morir afuera, está cayendo la tarde, pronto se va a llenar de bichos, y si te llega a pasar algo por mi culpa, no me lo perdonaría nunca.
    — Tranquila mamá — responde el muchacho — No me va a pasar nada, además sé como hacerlo, ya lo hice antes.
    — Por favor Gusti — insiste la madre — No vayas… no vayas.
    A pesar de la insistencia de su madre, Gustavo se prepara para salir en busca de comida. Se viste con un mameluco empapado en sangre. Enrolla un intestino que pertenecía a su mascota a modo de bufanda y completa su extravagante atuendo con un par de guantes, botas de construcción, capucha negra y antiparras, todo embebido en sangre de apenas un día.
    — A ver cómo están los muertitos — susurra Gustavo, asomando la cabeza por la puerta entre abierta a la vez que agarra un morral de cuero marrón — Al parecer, todo está tranquilo
    El muchacho se voltea y observando a su madre sobre el catre y sintiendo mucha impotencia al verla enferma su mente trae recuerdos de su infancia donde a ella se la ve tan vital, no pudiendo dejar escapar una lagrima. Respira hondo y  agarrando sus dos cuchillos decide salir de una buena vez.
    Estando ya en la calle, Gustavo saca de un bolsillo un papel con la lista de las cosas que debe conseguir, el nombre de los medicamentos están marcados en rojo, identificados como prioritarios ya que la salud de su madre, es lo más importante. Segundo, comida, mucha comida y tercero volver al lugar sano y salvo, esto último también macado en rojo.
    Tembloroso y con una mano agarrando el mango de uno de sus cuchillos, el muchacho se dirige a paso firme hacia la farmacia que se encuentra a dos calles de distancia, eso no es un problema para Gustavo, sino fuera que para ello debe pasar entre decenas de vampiros y zombies.
    — ¡Miércoles! — Piensa Gustavo — Cada día son más, dentro de poco no voy a poder ni siquiera asomarme a la puerta.
    Con un caminar errante. Moviendo el cuerpo como si fuera un maldito más, Gustavo muy decidido, se dirige a la farmacia. Concentrado en llegar, no se percata que un vampiro muy hambriento comienza a seguirlo, pero gracias al tiempo que el muchacho lleva “conviviendo” con esas cosas lo sabe. Sin detener la marcha saca de uno de sus bolsillos un frasco con sangre de vampiro, lo destapa y derrama sobre sí mismo su contenido, su perseguidor percibe el olor a sangre e inmediatamente se retira frotándose la nariz.
    — Ufff... — Susurra aliviado el muchacho — Espero que a la vuelta no tenga el mismo problema, ese era mi último frasco con sangre.
    A salvo ya dentro de la farmacia y parado frente a una ventana que da a la calle. Gustavo observa cómo algunos cadáveres ambulantes son comidos en partes por otros, estos babeantes tragan la carne casi sin masticarla y otros en cambio con sus carnes cayéndoseles a pedazos, caminan pegados a la pared de la farmacia.
    El muchacho sabe que tarde o temprano el olor a sangre de vampiro se va a disipar, lo van a oler y van a querer entrar.
    — Mejor me apuro — Susurra el muchacho — en cualquier momento se meten.
    Concentrado en buscar todo lo que tiene en la lista, Gustavo camina en silencio entre las góndolas, estantes, cargando vendas, gasas y algo de desinfectante, luego se mete en la parte de  los remedios y encuentra lo necesario para su madre, todo va metido en su morral, una vez satisfecho, se prepara para salir de ahí.
    — Ya tengo todo lo que necesito — susurra caminando hacia la ventana — El problema es que se está haciendo de noche.
    Gustavo duda en salir y tiene razón en hacerlo, está oscureciendo, pero lo que no intuye es que en el horizonte se gesta una gran tormenta.
    — Ahora a buscar un poco de comida — piensa mientras se asoma a la puerta de salida — Ya tengo todo lo que mi madre necesita. Pero la calle es muy peligrosa.
    Gustavo vuelve a entrar a la farmacia y busca la forma de subir al techo, entra a las oficinas que hay detrás del mostrador. En su afán de buscar una ventana que de hacia afuera se topa con una escalera que da a la azotea. Sin perder tiempo se trepa a ella llegando a la azotea en segundos.
    — Las calles están atestadas de vampiros y zombies — Susurra Gustavo — Ojala no se les ocurra entrar al almacén donde está mi madre.
    Sabe que su madre puede cuidarse, tiene con ella varios frascos con sangre de vampiro y varias armas, detalle que lo tranquiliza un poco.
    Ya concentrado nuevamente en su misión, el muchacho salta al techo de al lado que pertenece al de un supermercado, lugar donde seguramente encontraría alimento.
    — Bien, seguro voy a encontrar un algo de comer — piensa el muchacho — pero primero tengo que asegurarme que no haya ningún vampiro.
    Gustavo se coloca cabeza abajo frente a una pequeña ventana y obtiene un ángulo de visión en el cual puede ver si el supermercado está ocupado, por decirlo de alguna manera, por vampiros, zombies, o cualquiera de esas cosas.
    Al ver que no hay movimiento, se dispone a bajar y entrar al supermercado. Abre un traga luz y ni bien pasa una pierna escucha unos pasos en el interior del inmueble,  por lo que desiste en entrar y espera a ver quien anda, se asoma hasta pegar su rostro en el traga luz y en ese momento una sombra se cruza delante de sus ojos, trata de seguirlo con la mirada viendo que va de un lado a otro, movimiento raro para un no-muerto. Luego de varios minutos, Gustavo mira su reloj y se da cuenta que es más tarde de lo que él creía.
    — Maldito vampiro — piensa el muchacho, sosteniendo el cuchillo muy firme por los nervios — Dejate ver, así termino rápido. Necesito volver con mi madre.
    Pero al parecer, el vampiro tiene otros planes. Camina de un lado a otro siempre alejado del traga luz, acción que pone más que nervioso al muchacho. Agazapado y nervioso espera un par de minutos y cuando el muerto, se aleja, Gustavo entra al supermercado. Cae frente a la góndola de los elementos de limpieza y agachado saca su otro cuchillo y con ambos bien afilados se encamina hacia el sector de los alimentos no perecederos.
    — Por lo que más quieras Dios — susurra Gustavo — Que no me tope con el vampiro, por favor que el muerto se haya ido, que no haya encontrado nada vivo que lo obligue a quedarse… por favor, que se haya ido.
    Si Dios lo hubiera escuchado realmente, no hubiera dejado que lo que Gustavo vio en el supermercado siga en el lugar, pero no lo escuchó, la criatura sigue merodeando y para peor, momentos después 4 no- muertos más se hacen presentes.
    — No puede ser — Piensa el muchacho, agarrando los cuchillos muy fuertes — Nunca tuve que enfrentar a 5 vampiros, y mucho menos tan grandes.
    Gustavo sabe que si no se desase de los vampiros, no va a poder volver a ver a su madre de nuevo, incluso no va a poder ver a nadie ya que va a estar muerto, o en el peor de los casos, se convertirá en una de esas cosas y tal vez cometa un acto tan aberrante como es el de atacar a su propia sangre.
    Gustavo al verse rodeado, toma la decisión de subirse a lo más alto de una de las góndolas, se recuesta y escucha pasar tanto de un lado como del otro a los muertos. Las góndolas se encuentran frente a una ventana que da a la vereda de enfrente, se puede ver tanto a los muertos como a los negocios donde entran, más precisamente a la puerta de entrada donde se encuentra su indefensa madre. 
    — malditos muertos — susurra Gustavo — No se acerquen al negocio.
    Los muertos acercan sus rostros a las ventanas. Arañan cuanta puerta se cruza delante de ellos, si escuchan un ruido adentro, comienzan, les agarra ataques de desesperación, en busca de comida, o sea sangre fresca.
    — Aléjensen de mi madre — piensa el muchacho, al verlos cada vez más cerca.
    Al parecer, los vampiros olfatearon algo, ya que comenzaron a gruñir y golpear la puerta de entrada al negocio donde se encuentra su madre. A veces los vampiros se comportan como cualquier animal con hambre, cuando uno encuentra algo, los demás lo siguen, y eso está pasando en este momento. Son 3 los que están a punto de entrar al negocio.
    — ¡Nooo! — Grita el muchacho, revelando su ubicación — Aléjense de ese lugar, malditosssss.
    Ni bien termina de gritar, algo con mucha fuerza lo agarra de una pierna y lo hala sacándolo de arriba de la góndola y arrojándolo contra una pared, obligándolo a arrojar sus cuchillos. Dolorido, sangrando y desesperado por tratar de salvar a su madre, Gustavo intenta levantarse. Levanta su mirada y ve a 3 vampiros acercándosele. Busca entre sus ropas, encuentra un frasco con agua bendita y los salpica, los no muertos sienten que cada gota que los toca, la piel se les quema. Los 3 gritan y aúllan. Gustavo, cada paso que da, es un paso que ellos retroceden. Pero no todos lo hacen, uno, el más grande, se esconde detrás de una góndola, espera  que el muchacho se distraiga y pase cerca para sorprenderlo, de sus manos salen uñas grandes y filosas, sus colmillos, grandes y puntiagudos, son lamidos por una lengua larga y negra, tanto sus ojos rojos, al igual que su olfato siguen al muchacho en cada movimiento.
    — Atrás, malditos — les dice el muchacho a las criaturas — atrás, no quiero problemas.
    Los no muertos, a la vez que gruñen y retroceden lo miran, ansiosos, esperando el momento oportuno para atacarlo, pero el muchacho no tiene miedo por lo que no va a ser fácil engañarlo. Gustavo, pasa por cerca de uno de sus cuchillos, se inclina para recogerlo, momento que uno de los vampiros aprovecha para lanzarse sobre Gustavo, con la intención de adelantarse a sus congéneres y hacerse del botín.
    — Malditos — susurra Gustavo al ver de reojo como se acerca gruñendo el muerto.
    Con la habilidad que solo da el tiempo y sobre todo las ganas de sobrevivir, Gustavo, lo espera, en cuanto lo tiene a su alcance, se incorpora empuñando el cuchillo de hoja de plata clavándola en la garganta de su atacante, este no llega a emitir sonido alguno, el muchacho retira la hoja dejando un gran agujero por donde empieza supurar una especie de pus  verde y negro, la herida se vuelve de color rojo fulgor, al mismo tiempo que se agranda, hasta rodear todo el cuello al mismo, el vampiro grita y gruñe desesperado por el dolor, pero todo es inútil, su cabeza se desprende cayendo a los pies del muchacho. Los demás vampiros al ver a su compañero caído, se abalanzan contra el muchacho.
    La hoja del cuchillo corta a diestra y siniestra, los gruñidos de amenaza, pronto se transforman en gruñidos de dolor,  la sangre de los vampiros salpican paredes, estantes, vidrios, la agilidad del muchacho con el arma se ve acrecentada cuando logra encontrar su segundo cuchillo, ya eliminó a dos, debido a la poca comida y el gran desgaste, el muchacho está exhausto, pero el enfrentamiento que Gustavo tubo es apenas el comienzo, tal vez por los gruñidos o por el olor a sangre, la cuestión es que entraron 3 vampiros más.
    — No, puede ser — piensa Gustavo a la vez que toma aliento para continuar con la lucha — no sé si voy a poder quitármelos de encima a todos, pero voy a llevarme la mayor cantidad que pueda.
    — Vengan — dice en voz alta el muchacho.
    En ese momento le cae encima el más grande, quien estaba agazapado a la espera de una oportunidad, agarra al muchacho del brazo y en un violento movimiento, lo arroja contra los vampiros, el muchacho cae pesadamente sobre ellos derribando a varios y golpeando fuertemente contra la puerta de entrada.
    — aghh, este es muy fuerte — piensa el muchacho, levantando la mirada, a la vez que se toma las costillas.
    Casi por instinto un par de vampiros se dirigen hacia él saboreándolo, uno de ellos es una mujer mayor, de cabello rubio, y dientes muy grandes, ella se le acerca primero, sus movimientos son como los de un gato que está a punto     atrapar un ratón, sus grandes ojos rojos se fijan en su cuello.
    — Acérquese un poco más — le dice el muchacho — vamos Sra. Díaz, no me agradó antes, mucho menos ahora.
    Detrás de ella se encuentra un muchacho, que tiempo atrás, se dedicaba a repartir pizzas, ahora se dedica a comer gente y deambular por las calles en busca de comida.
    — Uno e puedo sacar de encima — piensa el muchacho a la vez que suda como nunca antes — dos, ya se me complica.
    La mujer se siente libre de comerse al muchacho, por lo que se le lanza encima, mostrando sus dientes, apenas se le acerca una mano de se aferra a la mano derecha del muchacho es la que sostiene el cuchillo y la otra mano se apoya en la mejilla de Gustavo buscando su yugular, la mujer se coloca encima de su víctima, ya casi lo tiene, cuando el muchacho se escapa de sus garras. El otro vampiro lo había agarrado de las piernas llevándolo hacia él, a diferencia de la mujer, este decide morderlo de un solo movimiento, pero ninguno de los dos contaba con el vampiro grande, quien de un solo golpe decapita al que sostenía a Gustavo manchando a este con una gran cantidad de sangre, la mujer da un salto intentando sorprender al vampiro grande pero a un vampiro de ese tamaño no se le puede sorprender tan fácil, de un segundo a otro ya la tiene agarrada del cuello, Gustavo al ver la velocidad con la que se mueve el vampiro grande, sabe que no tiene la más mínima oportunidad, por lo que debe aprovechar que el maldito está ocupado y huir lo más rápido posible de ese asqueroso lugar.
    Concentrado en alejarse del vampiro grande, y mientras se aleja de él arrastrándose, se olvidó por un momento que hay más chupa sangres dentro del supermercado.
    — Maldita sea — susurra el muchacho — me había olvidado de estos cuatro que entraron al escuchar los gritos de los que maté.
    El muchacho se incorpora y comienza a repartir golpes utilizando sus puños, y luego, cuando sus brazos flaquearon de cansancio, busca entre las góndolas cualquier objeto para arrojarles, los vampiros por un momento retroceden confundidos, luego, sienten que ya no es una amenaza, sino una presa. Pasaron varios minutos, y Gustavo ya no tiene fuerzas para defenderse, los músculos de los brazos le arden de dolor, aun así, no se rinde.
    — Vamos… vengan — Piensa Gustavo con los dientes apretados y sosteniendo un cuchillo con la mano derecha, pegado a su pierna, no la sube no porque no quisiera, sino porque no tiene fuerzas — No voy a rendirme ante unos pobres muertos.
    Cansados de esperar y sedientos de sangre, los no muertos deciden actuar, haciendo movimientos que escapan a la vista de cualquier mortal, de a uno, golpean y arañan al muchacho, cada vez más fuertes, y en todo el cuerpo, pero sobre todo en el rostro.
    — ¡aghh, Noooo! — Grita el muchacho — ¡Basta, hijos de putaaaa!
    Sin importar cuánto grite Gustavo, los vampiros continúan su incansable ataque, incluso uno lo toma de las ropas y lo arroja contra una góndola, Gustavo, aturdido por el ataque, solo se limita a ver como se aleja de su atacante. Gira su cabeza y cierra los ojos instantes antes de chocar contra las latas de tomate del tercer estante. Derribando esta, y cayendo pesadamente. 
    Apenas con fuerzas, el muchacho intenta salir de entre las latas abolladas. Sus débiles piernas apenas responden las órdenes de su cerebro, por lo que le es difícil levantarse. Desde lo alto de la góndola contigua a la golpeada, 4 vampiros observan al muchacho como buitres a un animal moribundo.
    Los estantes empapandos con baba, las uñas clavadas en la chapa de la góndola, los vampiros se preparan para abalanzarse y hacerse de un pedazo del muchacho. Todos saltan al mismo tiempo, en ese momento se escucha un alarido feroz. Es el vampiro grande que les hace saber a los demás que esa carne le pertenece, dos de los cuatro no muertos que desean la sangre del muchacho, hambrientos, no prestaron atención a la advertencia del grandote por lo que continúan con el plan inicial. Matar y comerse al muchacho. En cambio los otros, asustados, se retiran la vez que muestran los dientes en señal de respeto. 


El vampiro grande se acerca a paso firme hacia el muchacho, ansioso por devorarlo, pero primero debe encargarse de los que momentos antes, ignoraron su advertencia. Sigilosamente agarra a cada uno de una pierna y los arrastra lejos de Gustavo. Al primero le pisa una pierna hasta que se escucha el crujir de los huesos y lo deja gruñendo de dolor, en cambio al otro, quien al verse superado en fuerza, se pone mucho más agresivo que el primero, incluso intenta atacar al grande mostrando sus dientes. El vampiro grande lo levanta de la cabeza, lo mira a los ojos, le gruñe y comienza a sacudírsela hasta arrancarla.
    Con la cabeza entre sus manos, el vampiro grande gruñe con la intención firme de intimidar a quienes traten de atacar al muchacho.
    — Ahora si estoy perdido — susurra el muchacho al ver como los demás vampiros se alejan del grandote —  tengo tan cansado el cuerpo que no puedo moverme.
    El vampiro grande se le acerca nuevamente a Gustavo, coloca su rostro frente a él y de su boca sale una gran lengua color negra, esta se desliza desde el cuello a la frente del muchacho quien muestra un gesto de repulsión a la vez que intenta agarrar su puñal con la mano derecha, se esfuerza un poco y consigue hacerse con el puñal. Con el último aliento de fuerza y antes de que la lengua del vampiro entre en la boca de este, el muchacho en un veloz movimiento logra cortarla.  La criatura mete el pedazo que le queda, dentro de su boca a la vez que larga chorros de sangre negra. Los gruñidos del vampiro se hacen cada vez más fuertes, hasta que decide agarrar al muchacho del cuello y darle fin a tantos problemas.
   En ese instante, se acerca otro no muerto, uno vestido el vampiro grande lo ve de reojo y le lanza un gruñido, pero el intruso no se da por advertido, y siguen acercándose, entonces el vampiro grande gira el cuerpo. Mostrando un rostro babeante.
    — ¡¡Grrrrrrr!! — dice el vampiro.
    — Muchacho… — le susurra el recién llegado a Gustavo — cuando te de la señal, corre.
    El muchacho sin saber que hacer, se queda por unos segundos mirando al extraño, completamente confundido.
    — ¿Qué señal? — atina a decir el muchacho.
    El recién llegado se coloca al lado del vampiro grande, en ese momento nota que la criatura tiene una cicatriz con forma de cuadrado cerca del ojo derecho, se queda pensando por unos segundos, luego le apoya un objeto envuelto en varios trapos debajo del brazo, mira al muchacho, y al siguiente segundo se escucha un sonido como una explosión ahogada y el vampiro grande sale expulsado hacia un costado, luego el extraño se acerca a Gustavo.
    — Esa señal — le dice el extraño a Gustavo — ¡movete!
    El recién llegado agarra a Gustavo del brazo y casi a la rastra intenta sacarlo de las garras del vampiro grande, pero si quiere sacarlo del supermercado primero debe pasar por entre varios chupasangres, al mismo tiempo se mantienen lejos del grandote, el desconocido apunta con el objeto que hace unos momentos que resulto ser una escopeta recortada, y dispara contra todo lo que se mueve hacia ellos, los refusilos iluminan todo el supermercado, los cartuchos vacios son escupidos por la escopeta uno tras otro y las municiones hacen estragos a todo lo que tocan, brazos, piernas, manos, son arrancados, aunque eso no les impide a los no muertos seguir atacando. Todo se vuelve una verdadera carnicería.
    — Ya falta poco muchacho — grita el desconocido jalando una y otra vez a Gustavo — solo debemos llegar a la puerta y todo se va a terminar para estos hijos de puta, vamos.
    Gustavo, casi a punto de desmayarse, siente que no puede dar un paso más, el desconocido en un último esfuerzo, al ver que el muchacho no llegaría a la puerta por lo agotado y maltrecho que esta, lo arroja por la ventana, mira hacia atrás y antes de saltar, saca de su cintura una bolsa que estaba atada a su cinturón. Mete la mano en ella. Saca del interior de ella una argolla de metal y arroja la bolsa a los brazos de uno de los vampiros.
    — Adiós malditos — les dice el desconocido,
    Cuando está a punto de saltar uno de los chupasangres en un movimiento rápido, lo agarra del brazo, sacudiéndolo contra la ventana.
    — ¡Malditosss! — grita el desconocido.
   En el momento que el vampiro que atrapa al desconocido se dispone a clavar sus dientes en él, se produce una gran explosión que arroja a ambos fuera del supermercado.
   Todo el establecimiento queda en llamas, entre ellas, los vampiros gruñen y en la desesperación por huir del fuego, tropiezan entre ellos o contra las góndolas, afuera el desconocido se encuentra atontado debido a la explosión, a su lado yace el cuerpo desfigurado de quien lo intento morder. El desconocido se levanta y va en busca del muchacho, debe sacarlo de las calles, pronto se va a llenar de no muertos y ya casi no cuenta con recursos para defenderse.
    A medida que se acerca, el desconocido ve que el muchacho se incorpora, saca de entre sus ropas un cuchillo, y lo arroja hacia él. Confundido, se queda quieto y ve que el cuchillo pasa por cerca de su oreja derecha. Gira el cuerpo y ve como el arma se incrusta en el cuello del vampiro desfigurado que el desconocido creyó muerto por la explosión. La hoja del cuchillo se torna rojo como si fuera un carbón encendido, quemando la carne del vampiro que con desesperación intenta quitarla agarrándolo del mango, pero su mano comienza a arder y pronto todo su brazo, , al igual que su cabeza por la herida en su cuello hasta que todo se convierte en cenizas.
    — Por un momento creí… — le dice el extraño al muchacho — que vos… que vos, pero…gracias.
    — ¿Quién es usted, señor? — Le dice un cansado Gustavo al extraño — y soy yo quien debe agradecerle por sacarme de ese agujero lleno de malditos chupasangres.
    — Me llamo Eusebio — responde el extraño — será mejor que nos vayamos de acá, en un rato van a venir más, los atrae el ruido, son como perros salvajes.
   Mientras Eusebio, así se hace llamar el extraño, le da un arma a Gustavo, el muchacho no quita sus ojos del almacén donde se encuentra su madre, donde la puerta de entrada fue violentada.
    — Oh…no — susurra el muchacho, a la vez que camina hacia donde dejó a su madre — mamá…
    — Ya pasé por ahí — le responde Eusebio agarrando a Gustavo del brazo — y… será mejor que no vayas.
    — No debí dejarla sola — se lamenta Gustavo — me pidió que no la deje sola, soy un boludo, debí… debí hacerle caso, carajo, que boludo fui y soy.
    — Tranquilo, igual no hubieras podido hacer nada — le responde Eusebio, colocando su mano en el hombro del muchacho — te superaban en número.
    — Hubo momentos que pude encargarme de varios yo solo — le responde Gustavo con lágrimas en los ojos — y fue antes de que usted apareciera, los hubiera matado a todos yo solo.
    — Tal vez a dos o tres, pero no a todos — le responde Eusebio con voz firme.
    — ¿Por qué no?
    — Por que te acabo de salvar el culo de uno de ellos — responde Eusebio agarrándolo de la solapa de su campera — del grandote él fue quien desgarró la garganta de tu madre.
    El muchacho se queda mirando el rostro enojado de Eusebio, mientras piensa si lo que le dijo era verdad, luego mira el suelo como tratando de entender, pero es un mundo ilógico y plagado de situaciones bizarras, pero brutalmente real.
    A medida que se alejan, Eusebio se acerca a cuanto auto destruido y abandonado se le cruza y arroja un paquete dentro. Mientras tanto, Gustavo trata de ver en el interior del almacén a su madre, rogando que tal vez, los vampiros no la hayan asesinado, pero no solo la atacaron sino aún la están devorando.
    — ¡¡¡malditos!!! — Dice Gustavo desaforado e invadido por una ira enorme — ¡Aléjense de ella!
    Los gritos de Gustavo alertaron a todos los vampiros que estaban en los alrededores, incluso al grandote que acababa de salir del supermercado, enfurecido por lo que le hizo Eusebio.
    — Pelotudo — dice Eusebio — ahora si estamos jodidos.
    — No me importa — responde Gustavo — realmente no me importa ¡vengan malditos, los voy a matar a todos!
    Eusebio al ver completamente fuera de control a Gustavo, no tiene otra opción que agarrarlo del cuello y sacarlo de ese lugar. Los vampiros, que estaban dando las últimas dentelladas al cadáver de la madre de Gustavo, dejan de hacerlo y se acercan muy rápido a él, algunos corren por las calles en cuatro patas como animales, otros, saltan por sobre los autos hasta llegar a las paredes de los edificios y las trepan clavando las uñas en el concreto.
    — Tenemos que llegar a la entrada del subte — dice Eusebio agitado — ahí vamos a estar seguros.
    — Tenemos que vengar la muerte de mi madre — responde un enojado Gustavo a la vez que corre ya sin ayuda de Eusebio  — tenemos que matarlos.
    Cuando los hombres están llegando a una esquina cercana a la entrada del subte, los autos a los que Eusebio se acercó, comenzaron a estallar. Cualquier objeto o vampiro que se encuentra cercano a ellos, vuela por el aire, hecho pedazos.
    — Rápido Gustavo — Grita Eusebio — La entrada al subte queda cerca de donde estamos ahora, vamos, movete.
    Gustavo después de ver lo que le sucedió a su madre, supo casi de inmediato que le falló, está solo en este mundo hostil, lleno de muerte y destrucción. Piensa que sin su madre no tiene mucho porque vivir, pero no piensa decirle nada a Eusebio. Apresura el paso y pronto se pone a la par de su improvisado compañero de aventura.
    Ambos llegan a la entrada de subte, una gran reja protege todo el frente, solo se puede acceder por una puerta también hecha de fierros. Cansados y con los vampiros pisándoles los talones, entran.
    — ¿acaso vinieron todos los de la ciudad? — Susurra Eusebio al ver una horda de vampiros, encabezados por el grandote, acercándose — incluso ese maldito grandote.
    — Hay que llegar al otro lado de aquellos andenes — dice Eusebio señalando a lo más profundo del interior de lo que en tiempos lejanos era la entrada a los andenes — Tengo preparado algo para estas ocasiones.
    Gustavo lo mira desconcertado y a la vez ansioso por terminar con esa persecución que solo retrasa lo inevitable.   
    Los hombres sienten que los gruñidos cesaron, todo es silencio y oscuridad cerca de los andenes ...