It took ten minutes to find a gas can and five more to find a rubber tube to siphon the gas into the tank. As the tank filled up, I petted Lucullus. Every time I’m out of his sight, he goes nuts. I think he’s afraid I’ll leave without him. My poor cat.
I was wiping off my hands when a violent explosion shook the dealership. A huge white flash came out of the office, followed by a cloud of smoke and a burning smell. For a moment my ears whistled. Then I heard screams of pain. Prit.
I raced into the office and saw Prit lying on the floor. His hands were badly burned, and he had wounds on his chest and face. He was writhing in pain, howling like a wounded wolf. I crouched beside him and took a look. The face and chest wounds were superficial, but his hands looked awful. They were completely burned. I could only see three fingers on his left hand; the right hand wasn’t much better. He was bleeding heavily. Blood also trickled from his ears.
I scanned the table for something to staunch the bleeding. My eye fell on the briefcase. Or what was left of it. That fucking case must’ve had a pyrotechnic device inside to keep any unauthorized person from gaining access. The device exploded when Prit forced the case open. He was lucky it didn’t blow him to bits.
I stared, absolutely helpless, as Prit’s cries of pain echoed in my ears. Whatever was in that case now burned with a fury, its valuable and mysterious contents quickly becoming a pile of ashes.
ENTRY 79
April 17, 6:37 p.m.
I was in shock and scared to death, more than at any other time during all this shit. Prit was hurt badly, and I didn’t know what to do. His hands looked terrible. All that was in our little first-aid kit were some mild painkillers, antibiotics, and sunblock.
I struggled to get him on his feet and to the bathroom, then washed his hands and forearms as best I could. What a fucking mess! His right hand was raw, burned all over. They looked like second-degree burns to me. His left hand was worse. He was missing his little finger and middle finger; the bones of the ring finger were sticking out. He also had a deep gash in his left palm that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Fuck. I rummaged through the dealership’s medicine cabinet and found some gauze and a gel for burns. I smeared his right hand with the cream and put a lot of bandages on both hands to stop the bleeding. It was a pretty sloppy job.
I had to do something fast. Soon all the undead in the area would be on top of us; they’d surely heard the blast hundreds of yards away. Plenty were groaning outside already.
I settled Prit in the SUV, between waves of pain. Dozens of undead were crowded around the dealership. I’d only have a few seconds to open the gate and climb in the SUV before those things swarmed all over me. I wouldn’t have time to close the gate. Those monsters would then invade the dealership. One less refuge.
I needed bandages, analgesics, and especially antibiotics. In the best-case scenario, I’d find a doctor to tend Prit’s wounds, but that wasn’t going to be easy.
Xeral Hospital was a mile or so away, in downtown Vigo. I didn’t really think anyone would still be there, but I hoped I’d at least find the medicine Prit needed.
I had no choice. I set off the alarm of one of the sports cars at the other end of the dealership. That cleared the door just enough so we could get out. Prit was losing blood by the minute and couldn’t bear the pain much longer. I had to get to that fucking hospital no matter what shape it was in.
ENTRY 80
April 18, 11:02 a.m.
I was an idiot. I let Prit suffer in pain for more than an hour before I remembered there were several injectable vials of morphine at the bottom of the soldier’s backpack. They were hard to miss. They were in a box with a red cross against a white background on one side and “Morphine” printed in big letters on the other. Any lamebrain could’ve figured out what that was. I completely forgot about it until I took a curve too fast. The backpack shot across the backseat, hit a window, and spilled out its contents. But I’m getting ahead of myself again.
We beat a quick retreat out of that dealership. Given the jam we were in, that was the best news. The car alarm drew most of the howling mass to the opposite end of the building. I knew the sound would attract many more of those things, but it was the price I had to pay. No matter what, we were getting the fuck out of there.
I walked up to the huge metal gate and pried open the door’s security latch. I pressed the red button to open it. Of course, nothing happened, since there was no electricity.
Pressure and stress were playing tricks with my mind. Cursing under my breath, I surveyed the device, looking for a manual switch. There it was! A small lever next to the coupling of the cable drew the door open.
When I activated it, it made a soft clank. When the counterweights in the door started to move and the huge gate folded back (faster than I’d expected), I ran like crazy for the SUV idling in front. As I climbed in, I realized that, with no electricity, the only way to close it was to drag it manually with a pole located somewhere at the top. I had no idea where the hell that was. Anyway, what did that matter now?
When I stepped on the gas, the GL leaped forward and burned rubber. I think I bumped against a couple of those things. I recall a middle-aged woman in a pearl necklace and big hair splayed out against the back of the SUV. Otherwise, the entrance to the highway was relatively trouble-free. I noticed that the broken-down van we’d come in was surrounded by a dozen undead; some had gotten inside.
What attracted them to the abandoned vehicle? Did they detect our scent or body heat in it? They may have lost “human” qualities, but they’ve compensated with more subtle senses. More dangerous to us.
After a couple of miles, I noticed that the GL had a small screen on the dashboard. I finally realized it was a GPS, standard in a high-end model like that. I pressed the button and prayed the thing still worked.
The screen lit up with a flashing blue light as it connected to satellites in geosynchronous orbit. I sighed with relief. Society had collapsed, and the undead had taken over, but satellites continued on their silent, unflappable paths in the solitude of space, indifferent to the chaos unleashed thousands of miles below. They were still working, and they’d go on working for a long time, until the lack of ground control or some other incident rendered them useless forever.
The GPS was an expensive model with a touch screen. Keeping one eye on the road, I quickly searched through the menu for nearby hospitals. From time to time, I had to swerve around a wreck or dodge some undead, but in general the road was clear.
With a beep, the GPS told me that the nearest medical center was Meixoeiro Hospital, not Xeral, and mapped out the shortest route. Fantastic! That saved me from having to reenter the rotting carcass that had once been the city of Vigo.
Engrossed in the screen, I almost didn’t see the pileup. Suddenly, rising up before me was a twisted mass of at least fifteen wrecked vehicles. I hit the brakes hard and desperately turned the wheel to the right, trying to avoid the inevitable.
Its tires screeching, the GL skidded sideways for a few yards and came to a stop just inches from the first vehicle. All of its flashers emitted a loud click-click. Everything else was silent.
I wiped off my sweat, grimacing. If it weren’t for all the safety features like minibrake assist and other technical marvels, I’d have plowed into that wall of twisted scrap metal. End of story.