The Butterfly Effect

by Luis A. Santamaría

  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

  Beyond this place of wrath and tears

  Looms but the Horror of the shade,

  And yet the menace of the years

  Finds and shall find me unafraid.

  It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

  I am the master of my fate,

  I am the captain of my soul.[1]

  At the bottom of the well, Sara recited verses between murmurs, and when the poem ended, it began again. It was the most effective way she had ever thought to keep her mind awake. The deep wound on her forehead had not closed, and she could no longer stand. Her back and buttocks were soaked, although she was more worried that she had stopped feeling her limbs because of the cold.

  She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know what time it was. She didn’t know how long it would be until she fainted and passed away. The droplets now fell forcefully from the mouth of the well, which provided her with at least a small portion of drinking water. Judging by the whistling of the wind, the storm had picked up, and with every flash of lightning, the sky lit up for an instant as an electrical target. Lightning and thunder; those were going to be the last memories of her life. She shuddered as she opened her eyes. Am I already dead? A pain came over her and her body shook. Shit, not yet. She vomited bile for the third time since she woke up down there.

  I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

  A new thunder broke her cry, but this time it had sounded different; it had not been triggered by the storm. It was drier, less apocalyptic. What? Something had happened up there, as if there had been, Bingo... A shot with a firearm. Sara, you stupid fool, you've begun to become delirious, she told herself. She listened and thought she heard a series of exclamations. And they seemed close!

  “Help!” She yelled with all the strength left in her gut. It sounded like a roar in the midst of the storm.

  When the taxi left Grifero and Tena in The Perch, the storm was almost unbearable. It had begun to rain in earnest, and the wind made the fine drops pierce horizontally, as if they were tiny darts. Alyssa had the feeling of having been covered with goose bumps since they landed in London. Besides, now her teeth were chattering with the cold. Or was it because of fear? Hold on, baby, there’s not much time left.

  They skirted the shrubs that bordered the garden of the restaurant on the outside, and accessed the back, from where one could see a desolate meadow. Tena walked in front of her, one hand at his waist, permanently in contact with the handle of his pistol, and his body tensed. Alyssa suddenly perceived a silhouette in the distance in the gloom. It was a stone structure, about a meter high and in the middle of nowhere. A well. She said nothing. She glanced at the policeman and waited for him to find out for himself. Now it was she who tightened her muscles. She was at the most delicate moment of her precious plan. She held her breath and prayed that Tena had not been one of the most accomplished police in the investigation.

  "Look, there's something!" He exclaimed, and excitedly released the hilt of the pistol to point to the stone structure with his finger.

  Now!

  With the swiftness of a leopard that has sprung to run after a gazelle, Alyssa took advantage of the euphoria of the policeman to extend the handcuffed arms from her waist and snatch the weapon. By the time he realized it, she was already two feet away, pointing at one foot.

  “What...?” The stupid face of the cop would have made Alyssa laugh if she was not playing for her life. “Stop, Alyssa!”

  Alyssa fired, and the bullet struck a few inches from his boot. She had not missed the shot, for all she needed was a few tenths of confusion to turn around and run away. It is not easy for a frozen woman to win a cop in a race, but even less with her hands tied and a gun between them.

  The two figures undertook a fierce race under the nocturnal storm.

  "Stop, fuck!" He shouted. By his voice, he must have been about two meters behind her. Alyssa could not, nor wanted to, look back.

  I will not last ten seconds before he catches me, she said, terrified. I need a miracle.

  The shrubs that surrounded The Perch seemed to be endless, and the drops of water in her eyes did not allow her to focus clearly. She stumbled. Muddy cover, she helped herself with her fists to sit up and continued the flight. Her pursuer must have been almost touching her.

  She had already prepared herself mentally for a violent attack when something horrible was heard in the distance; a message brought by the wind. Tena must have sensed it as well, for Alyssa could feel him standing behind her. She stopped thinking and kept running, driven by adrenaline.

  “Someone help me...!” She heard it again in the gale whistling. It was a strangled and heartbreaking female cry. And it came from inside the well.

  Would Marcos Tena leave a dying girl to her fate, so as to not let her prey escape?

  Of course not, Don Perfecto. You are too honest, exclaimed Alyssa's soul exultantly. She left the cop behind, but didn’t stop until, several meters later when she reached the canal. Her plan had worked, and now the best was left for last. Her euphoria grew when she knew that nothing would stop her from completing her revenge.

  "Someone help me!"

  Sara could not stop screaming. Not now. It didn’t matter what, but it was important that they hear it, that they knew she was there. She writhed on the grimy floor by forcing her throat to yell so much, and as she watched the mouth of the well waiting for some divine sign, a flash of lightning dazzled her. She had to withdraw her gaze, blinded, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness again, she knew she had glimpsed something on the edge of the shaft. Wait a moment. She looked up again, and as if for a second touch, another flash of lightning broke out. Sara turned her heart around. The explosion of light had illuminated the silhouette of someone peeking into the well.

  “Police!” A male voice took over the inside of the well. “I'll get you out of there! Are you OK?”

  Sara's expression contracted in relief, and, exhausted, she dropped to the floor.

  I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

  Without looking away from the boats, Grifero reached in her pocket to take a cigarette and put it to her mouth. Then she repeated the movement to take out a cigarette lighter and light the cigarette. She savored each draft as if it were the last. She was stationed behind the trunk of a tree, right on the edge of the canal. Her clothes were completely soaked and her bangs dripped. But she wasn’t cold any more. Apparently, the adrenaline rushing through her blood was balancing her body temperature.

  The Thames River, winding along Oxford, widened and narrowed capriciously. In the narrower stretches of the city, some citizens had decided to transform their boats into houses. They had tied them up and adopted ducks as pets that, since forever and up to now, had traveled through these waters as owners and masters of the canal. The garnet ship to which Dorian had referred was about twenty yards from Alyssa on the opposite bank. It was a medium-sized craft, old-fashioned though freshly painted. Next to this, another boat much older; could almost be said to be abandoned. From her position, Alyssa noticed that all the doors and windows were covered with metal sheets. It was a floating cell. It struck her that this ship was sunken more than all the others.

  That's where the hostage is, and I don’t have much time.

  She waited motionless in her position. Since she had settled there, about ten minutes ago, nothing had happened. White curtains covered the windows of the garnet craft, but no trace of any human activity was detected. She had no choice but to take the initiative.

  Suddenly, around midnight, the light of the ship went on. Alyssa glimpsed a silhouette through the curtains; however, she could not make out its face. The shadow ran down one of the canvases and peered out the window. Through the torrential rain, now, Alyssa caught sight of a man with very sharp features, sharp bangs, and a tight, dark-colored sweater that made his muscles stand out. T
he man watched the storm with a distant glance as he held a wide crystal glass with one hand. The night was too dark to perceive his features clearly, but Alyssa felt her anger penetrate every pore of her skin.

  Honey, I found you!

  As the man stepped away from the window, Alyssa remained motionless for a few minutes. She looked up at the boat-cage. It had dropped a few more inches than the water level. She lit another cigarette and began to smoke it at a normal pace. She would give herself the time it would take for the cigarette to be consumed to make her decision. She did not take her eyes off the garnet boat in all that time. Sadly, she slipped into her memories. Specifically, those of Saturday, July 6, 2002.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday 6 July 2002

  One early summer dawn of 2002, more than four years before she found herself watching the two ships anchored in the river, Alyssa Grifero woke up sensing a smell of alcohol and a taste of vomit. It was as if all the rum of the world was evaporating through the pores of her skin. She felt a tickle on her cheek, which was provoked by a daring sparrow that had come to peer, and she guessed that it was that which had awakened her.

  She was suffering from an imprecise and unpleasant headache. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry and doughy. She wanted to open her eyes, but the sun was just above her face, beyond what looked like the branches of some trees, and the beam of light offended her greatly. Turning over her own body to spit on the floor, she experienced intense pain in her muscles, especially in the vaginal area. The only sound was the sound of the wind waving the branches of the trees and the song of the daring sparrow. She closed her eyes.

  I'm in a forest, she thought. What am I doing here?

  The teenager felt extremely exhausted. At first it was difficult to concentrate, but then a series of images came to her memory with flashes. Panic swept over her as a flood of memories flooded into her mind in which she kicked violently to save her life. She didn’t remember with precision what happened, but in her head she kept a diffused vision of a pool and her kisses with Nacho Conde. She had the vague feeling of having been involved with him and that caused some kind of fighting, but she couldn’t guess why. Suddenly she remembered, in a way terrifyingly concise, how her boyfriend covered her mouth with a piece of cloth before undressing her and...

  OMG.

  She made an effort to sit up; She opened her eyes wide. It was as if she was suffering the biggest hangover of her life. In part, and only in part, it was. At first, until she managed to focus, she only saw that she was sitting on the undergrowth. Then her eyes went down to her hip and leg area, and she felt as if her heart stopped. Except for her feet, which were still wrapped in Hello Kitty's pink socks from the night before, her whole body was bare. Her legs, the waist... and the breasts. Suddenly she began to tremble. What the hell had happened to her? She glanced desperately around and located her clothes. The white blouse (the piece of cloth) was wet and partly stained with dry vomit. The jeans were a couple of yards away, as if someone had thrown them there, and inside she found her panties. Both clothes were still wet. There was no doubt that she was wounded, for every movement of her legs was a real ordeal. She put two fingers to her vaginal surface and felt a stabbing pain that hit her stomach.

  Alyssa knew then that she had been raped.

  She did nothing but cry for the next forty minutes. Her fragile physical appearance was a faithful reflection of her soul: naked and stained. After a while wishing to die, she finally moved. She wiped her tears and decided to concentrate on the present. The first thing was dressing. The rubbing of the clothes against her skin irritated her, and even though the sun was already heating strongly, she was still frozen.

  She started to walk in any direction. She clenched her teeth and concentrated on her breathing. Every step she took meant torture for her crotch. There was barely enough energy left to stand, but there was something in her head that kept turning, an idea that didn’t leave her alone and that kept her from thinking about anything else. Freddy... What had initially been fear progressively became the strongest hate feeling she would ever feel. She had no intention of ever meeting him again, and for some reason she didn’t even think about denouncing him, but she swore to herself that if they ever saw each other again in the future, she would not let him escape.

  After several hours of tears and tears, she left the forest and ran into a road. She assumed it would take her to Estepona, where her house was, so she followed it. She didn’t want anyone to see her in that state, so she did it in parallel, walking several yards away from the road. The closer she got to her house, the stronger the million-dollar question formulated in her head: what was she going to tell her family?

  After some detours aimed at avoiding civilization, she finally arrived at her home. Luckily it was empty, which gave her some time to clean herself just to hide her unfortunate condition. When she undressed in the bathroom and peered into the mirror, she realized that she would no longer be a fourteen-year-old girl. Embarrassed, she covered her breasts and crotch with her hands and let out a choked sob. Then she stepped into the shower and let the hot water stream camouflage her tears.

  Monday, November 13, 2006

  Alyssa threw the spent cigarette filter to the floor and crushed it with the sole of her shoe. Then she took the gun that she had stolen from Marcos Tena and checked that the lock was unlocked. She gripped the cylinder head firmly and began to approach maneuvering to get on the boat with her index finger on the trigger. She skirted the canal until she found a wooden walkway far enough away not to be seen from the boat. She crossed it and ran the distance between the catwalk and her target. Due to the storm, there were no neighbors walking along the river's edge at that time. Beside the garnet ship there was parked an Alfa Romeo that had a threatening message painted on the body. Alyssa smiled when she recognized it.

  After a moment's hesitation, she ran to the ship in the midnight darkness and leaned her back against the wall. She heard faint music coming from the inside. It was classical jazz.

  Alyssa did not like the situation. She had lived the last four years of her existence accompanied by a constant trauma because of the man who was now in that ship. During that time, while trying to forget him, she had fantasized about the moment he would appear in her life again. And when that happened, in the alley adjoining the house of Mike Lennard, she promised not to let the opportunity pass. This time she was not going to make a mistake. However, he was a well-trained, nurtured and rested policeman, and surely armed. She, for her part, was frozen and her wrists joined by uncomfortable handcuffs.

  In addition, she had to take into account the hostage that was sinking with the other ship.

  She would have preferred to kill Freddy by surprise, for example with a sniper rifle. For the life of her, she didn’t want to have to face him or talk to him. For better or for worse, that night would end everything. She thought of Jaime and Oli. And in Charley.

  Alyssa bit her bottom lip as the rain continued to fall on her hair and shoulders. She had to get in the boat by surprise and shoot at him first-hand as the opportunity presented itself. She could also wait for him to leave the ship, and then shoot him from the flank without possibility of error. That choice would surely mean waiting all night, which might mean that she might die frozen, or that some curious neighbor could come near there first thing in the morning, spoiling the attack. And, sure, it would mean the sinking of the next ship with the hostage inside. What alternative did she have?

  It was decided. She raised the pistol until she had the cannon visor in front of her eyes and stood in front of the boat door. It was when she lowered the crank when she stopped in her tracks and frowned. The door was slightly open.

  A cold chill ran down the back of her neck. Something didn’t fit.

  She stepped forward and entered. The boat was swaying from the wind. To the right, embedded in the prow, she saw a kitchen looking as if it had not been used in a long time. A glass of whiskey sat on the counter wit
h an ice melting inside. The ship stretched along like a tiny miniature mobile home. An unmade bed lay on the stern, and in the shadows cushions and old sheets were visible above. The rest was nothing more than a small dressing room, a door that had to give access to the toilet, and multipurpose furniture that held, among many other things, an old radio that played jazz. However, there was no trace of Freddy.

  Alyssa stood still, listening. She glanced through the curtains and watched the rain fall on the water of the river. Then she heard the ground creak behind her and she turned like a frightened cat. Just as she was trying to raise her pistol to shoot, one muscular hand closed around her neck while another hit her arm at the level of her wrist. Alyssa's pistol slammed to the other end of the boat.

  The water level had already reached more than half the height of the boat. Although Diana had dragged a heavy piece of furniture over the crevice of the floor, it was impossible to prevent water from penetrating through the wood. According to her calculations, it had been about fifteen minutes since she had caused the crack with the ax, which meant that in less than ten minutes the water would have reached her nostrils. In other words, she was sentenced.

  The water in the canal was so cold that she could no longer feel her legs. Her last and desperate move had been to climb onto the piece of furniture that made a stopper, in order to gain height. Once there, she closed her eyes and thought of the only two things that made her really happy: her Brunet, and herself playing a beautiful adage with her violin. Diana Tallent was waiting for death.

  Alyssa’s eyes had begun to cloud with Freddy's hand choking her windpipe. She kicked his shins as hard as she could, until he slapped her with the back of his hand that catapulted her into an old chair in front of the radio area. The impact made the blood pound in her head. She decided to sit still on the couch; resisting would only make things worse.

  She looked up and stared at his face. She hadn’t seen him like that in four years, but it was as if fifteen had passed. She remembered him as an attractive boy, with soft yet masculine features. Now, horrible dark circles underlined the pallor of his face. The bright blue eyes of old were gray now, soulless, and the smile of that seductive biker had turned into a crooked and unpleasant grimace. Although for the last four years she had hated him with all her soul, she always remembered him as a very captivating man. Now he was simply emaciated.