“It’s not a joke!” Ramsey interrupted. “I’m seeing it with my own two eyes. I’m going to take a picture of it with my cell phone and send it to you so you can see for yourself I’m not lying.”
Feeling swept up by the unexpected excitement, Ramsey walked out from under the trees so he could see better. As he was walking toward one side of the cemetery, he saw that other people had stopped and were also looking up. At that moment, a silent but spectacular flash completely filled the sky. Ramsey instinctively covered his eyes and, when he took his hand away, he marveled at the sky, now adorned with many different colors. First it was tinged with red; a few seconds later the color changed, going from yellow to indigo.
“Ramsey?” his wife was now shouting into the phone. “Something has happened here. The aurora has disappeared in a kind of explosion of light.” His wife’s voice sounded fearful. “The sky is changing color . . .”
He couldn’t believe what she was saying to him. It was simply impossible. She was telling him in great detail exactly what he was witnessing, in spite of the fact that they were thousands of miles apart.
“Now is it yellow?” he asked.
“Yes. How did you know that?” she answered. “Is the same thing happening there?” The scientist’s voice sounded both tense and excited.
Just then, they were cut off. Ramsey hadn’t heard anything that would have led him to believe that the signal was getting weak or that the called would be dropped; the phone simply went silent. Ramsey looked at it and saw it was off. Beginning to feel nervous, he tried in vain to turn it on again. Even though he’d completely charged the battery that morning, the phone would not come back on. Ramsey walked back toward the funeral intending to ask to borrow someone else’s cell phone, but something told him that everyone else’s had also stopped working.
He’d taken only two steps on the sidewalk when he stopped in his tracks; in front of him was a sight so strange his brain could barely process it. A child was trying to get his mother’s attention, but she was gazing at the sky in astonishment. The boy was tugging insistently on the leash of a dog that was as still as a porcelain statue. Two of its paws were planted firmly on the ground, while the other two were hanging unnaturally in the air, defying the laws of balance. Ramsey just stared, not knowing what to do. The dog was frozen stiff, as if someone had taken a photograph of it as it was walking behind its owner. The little boy broke into tears and his mother finally turned toward him.
As he was struggling to understand what was happening, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Ramsey turned, and what he saw astounded him even more. A squirrel had frozen in midair as it was jumping among the branches of two trees. This could not be. Ramsey rubbed his eyes and looked again in the hope that it had all been a hallucination . . . but no; the squirrel was still there, hanging weightlessly in the air, totally unaffected by the pull of gravity. An unpleasant tingling nipped at the back of his neck.
The sky continued to change color. Completely bewildered, Ramsey’s only thought was about how the mysterious flash had paralyzed the animals. Oddly, he wondered if his wife might be seeing petrified penguins. He tried to pull himself together and do something. “Come on, this is what you’re good at,” he thought. He turned toward the road intending to go back into the church and ask for help, but he couldn’t move his feet from the ground. The command to move his foot had left his brain and headed toward his foot—of that he had no doubt—but his foot was not responding.
Without knowing how or when, he had totally lost control of his ability to move. He was still conscious of what was happening around him but he could not even move his eyes. His vision was fixed on the road and he was no longer able to feel his own body. He saw everything as if it were a movie with the camera stuck in one place, unable to interact at all with his surroundings. Though it was precious little consolation, he felt slightly calmer seeing that the other people around him were also paralyzed. The mother and her son, leaning over their dog. A couple on the other side of the street, looking at the sky. And a group of six children in the midst of a crosswalk.
If it hadn’t been for the beating of his heart and the rustling of a light morning breeze, Ramsey would have thought that time was standing still. But that couldn’t be what it was. Leaves were falling from the trees, and a plastic bag danced in circles in the air, pushed along by the wind. Apparently only animals and people were affected.
Ramsey heard the sound of a vehicle approaching on his left, but he could not turn his head. In front of him, the schoolchildren remained motionless in the middle of the street. A shudder of terror shook him as he anticipated the imminent tragedy. His mind screamed out with all its might, but his lips disobediently remained tightly closed. The front end of a street-sweeper truck appeared before his eyes. It was moving slowly, but continuously. The driver’s face, visible through the windshield, was as still as everyone else’s. Ramsey, powerless, stared in horror as the street-sweeper ran over the children. Their bodies were crushed by the heavy truck that had veered only slightly off course as a result of the impact. The crunching sound of broken limbs flooded his ears, but Ramsey barely had time to process the horror he felt over what had happened to the children. A rapid chain of events was cascading all around him.
It began with a loud crackling, accompanied by a small flash in his right hand. Ramsey knew instinctively that the phone he’d been holding had exploded, releasing a small spiral of smoke. At least, he thought, he didn’t feel pain; he didn’t really even feel his hand. He took some solace in this, hoping against all hope that the children hadn’t felt the truck rolling over them. Almost immediately, he could make out small explosions inside of the vehicles that were near him. He guessed it might be the radios. Seconds later, the engine of a truck that was driving away from them blew up, its hood hurling into the front windshield. But that didn’t stop it; it kept on its course down the avenue as the engines of the vehicles it was passing burst in sequence. Several cars caught fire and Ramsey knew that many of them were occupied. They no doubt had drivers and passengers who were completely paralyzed as they watched the flames consuming their bodies. Never before had Ramsey felt so relieved that his son, Michael, had a motorcycle.
He heard violent explosions in the distance, and shortly thereafter saw columns of twisting smoke rising far off, over the city. If in a place as remote as this cemetery several people had already died, he didn’t even want to imagine what might be happening in an area so full of vehicles and electricity.
And then, with no warning, Ramsey regained control over his body and was able to move. He dropped his cell phone, which was burning his hand, and then joined in the shouting coming from all around him, a spontaneous expression of the terror and dread afflicting them all. Ramsey saw a truck crash into a tree and watched as the driver got out, his arm enveloped in flames. People were terrified; they were running in all directions and screaming hysterically.
Something thundered over their heads. Ramsey looked up, and distinctly heard an ear-shattering metallic screeching. His eyes met with an enormous mass of steel, falling straight toward him. He could make out the British Airways logo painted on the side of the airplane as it plunged toward them. He didn’t even try to get away. His last thought, just before being crushed to death, was of his family. He asked God to protect them.
The inexplicable phenomenon that would come to be known as the Wave had the disconcerting effect of planting the same questions in the terror-stricken mind of every survivor. What had caused that vortex of destruction? And more importantly, why had it happened?
THE LAST GAME
(Sample)
The small electric saw stopped rotating when the sternum snapped. The saw´s teeth, painted red, kept spinning for a few seconds longer, before slowing down gradually until it came to a complete stop.
Alvaro put the saw down and separated the ribs. The red mass came into view, palpitating at a constant rhythm.
“It´s a very big
heart.” The nurse said
“You’re not wrong there. But it has to come out.” Alvaro said in a bored voice.
He´d already done several heart transplants and this one didn´t feel anything remotely like a challenge. It was nothing more than routine procedure. The patient would get a new heart and would spend the rest of his time trying to prolong his life as much as he could. He would meekly comply with an endless amount of rules, that would require him to give up a great quantity of vices and activities that the vast majority of people consider pleasant, and would fight to cling to this awful world as long as possible.
Alvaro envied him.
“Ok, let´s do it.” He said to the team around him. “I don´t want a single . . .”
The door opened suddenly, cutting the conversation abruptly. Alvaro stared at the intruder and thought about taking his mask off to speak. He wanted to make sure that this person heard all the insults that he was about to throw his way. Nobody walked into an operating theatre during an operation.
The intruder wasn´t even wearing a surgical gown. He was wearing street clothes and had walked in here as if it were nothing more than a shop on the blocks outside the hospital.
Alvaro put the saw down on the table and approached the newcomer. His companion and the two nurses were so surprised that they hadn´t had time to react. The stranger offered Alvaro a black envelope with white edges that the surgeon grabbed out of his hand. He had a fair idea what its contents were. The messenger didn´t wait to watch Alvaro read it; he just turned and left the room without saying a word.
Without any doubt it was a court order. Somebody wanted the operation stopped. Alvaro hadn´t paid sufficient attention to the details of his patient’s personal history. He vaguely remembered that there had been two women fighting over what the right course of action should be. One had been in favor of the transplant, his wife, if his memory didn´t fail him, and the other, possibly the patient´s sister, was against it. But maybe he was confusing who was who.
In any case the medical report didn´t seem to have carried sufficient weight to guarantee that the poor individual, who wasn´t in any condition to decide his own fate, would receive a healthy, new heart. Part of the blame for that lay with Alvaro; he hadn’t offered his professional medical opinion. He’d checked the physical condition of the patient, and recommended the transplant and then forgotten about it while the two hags tore themselves apart in their fight to show who loved the patient more, and who therefore had more right to decide the outcome.
He was sure that the loser had resorted to legal means to get her way. Some foolish judge somewhere, someone who didn´t understand anything about medicine had decided to stop the operation in its tracks. The doctors would have to attend a hearing and explain the need for the operation over and over again until the judge understood what it was all about. There was no doubt that this was what the letter was all about.
Alvaro knew about a similar case a few years before. It had been an operation to amputate a leg, but the court order had arrived late and the leg was no longer attached to the body. On this occasion the patient only had his chest completely open. Things were looking up.
“What is it?” His companion asked.
Alvaro sighed dispiritedly.
“I can imagine.” He said while he scratched the envelope with his blood stained gloves. “It’s a pity it didn´t arrive a couple of hours before. We wouldn´t have had to open the patient up. He´s going to have a beautiful scar and all for nothing. That happens when . . . “
Alvaro fell silent and swallowed the rest of the sentence. The letter inside the envelope wasn´t a court order. It wasn´t even an official letter. The paper was folded twice. He opened it quickly, and was immediately surprised by what he saw. He´d never seen anything like it. It was very elegantly handwritten, in stylized words with long flourishes that gave it a certain antiquated air. A little overdone perhaps. It was written in red ink and appeared heavier on some lines than others. Alvaro couldn´t imagine a fountain pen or biro capable of doing that and no computer or typewriter had been used either. No, it was handwritten, but by whom and how remained unknown.
He was hooked before he started reading, and surprised that his latex gloves hadn´t left blood stains on the letter paper as they had on the envelope that contained it.
The words formed in his mind with surprising ease, flowing smoothly, compelling him to read on. For a second, he forgot where he was and what he had been doing only a few minutes before.
When he finished reading, Alvaro understood everything perfectly.
He threw the letter on the ground and walked to the door, taking his face mask and gloves off as he went.
“Where are you going?” The nurse asked.
“Eh! We´ve got a man with his chest opened up here on the operating table!” The other surgeon shouted at him, amazed by what was happening.
Alvaro didn´t pay any attention to either of them. He took his surgical gown off just before he got to the door, letting it drop to the floor as he left the room without saying a word. Nobody there knew what to say or do. The two nurses and the surgeon stared at each other dumbfounded.
“It must have been bad news. “ One of the nurses said bending down to pick up the letter. “Maybe a close relative had an accident?”
The doctor didn´t believe that. Alvaro had run out of the room without giving any explanation whatsoever. That wasn´t like him, he was methodical and even in the event of a serious accident he would have said something to explain his leaving. No, it wasn´t that.
“He should have given us a good excuse to leave us in the lurch like this. Damn him! Fool!” The surgeon shouted after him before turning back to the others. “Well, what does the letter say then?”
The nurse said nothing. But her trembling hands told the doctor that something was wrong .He lost his patience and snatched the sheet of paper from her and looked for the explanation himself.
But there was none to find. The page was blank.
Judith was depressed when she got home. She hung her coat up but didn’t see the angelic face that everybody said she had in her reflection in the hall mirror. Instead, she imagined herself as a twenty year old despite the fact that she was now thirty, and a sad looking thirty year old at that. If she´d seen her true self she would’ve given herself a slap to snap her out of her bad mood.
On the kitchen table she found a pile of letters that her helper had left there after collecting the mail. Judith went through them quickly. Just junk mail. But she stopped flicking through them when she came to a black envelope with white edges that looked different from the rest. There was nothing written on it so she concluded that it wasn´t important. She tossed it into the fireplace with the others, put two logs on top and started a fire.
The smell of burning wood relaxed her, and as the fire built she became lost in thought, the concept of time receding.
She stayed like that for a while until the sound of her favorite song, John Lennon’s Imagine, vibrated out of her mobile phone.
“Yes?” She said picking the phone up off the table.
“Took your time!” Nestor said, on the other end of the line. “I just want to talk.”
Judith cursed herself for having taken the call without checking to see who was calling.
“Not now, Nestor. I don´t feel very well.”
“Then, when? I deserve an explanation.” He said without trying to cover his anger up. “You asked for time and I think I´ve been more than reasonable. I’ve been waiting four months!”
“I know and I thank you for that. But nothing´s going to happen if you wait a while longer.”
“This has finished.” Nestor yelled. “I can do anything for you but at least give me a reason. I haven´t swallowed the excuse you gave for leaving. You were happy with me, Judith. I could tell.”
She knew it as well and relaxed for a moment as an avalanche of happy memories invaded her mind. She could see herself with Nestor six months before, l
ying in bed under the sheets after they´d just made love.
Judith shook her head .It was a mistake to go back over all of that again. She had to concentrate on where she was now.
“I can´t tell you again, Nestor.” She said with a lump forming in her throat. “I need a little more time.”
Nestor took a while to answer. “I can´t go on like this, Judith. I´m sorry. I´ve been waiting too long, going round in circles, without any explanation from you. I´m going crazy. You have to make your mind up. Or tell me what´s going on. If not, this has to come to an end now.”
“Don´t put any pressure on me, Nestor. I only need a little more time. I´m doing it for you. Don´t force me to choose now.”
“I can´t take anymore.” He said his voice breaking. “Let me back into your life or you´ll lose me forever.”
“Very well then.”
Judith hung up and threw the telephone against the wall, smashing it to pieces. She stayed where she was sitting on the chair staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace for a long time until her anger slowly subsided.
She began to feel tired, the tension leaving her body. She lay down on the sofa and covered herself with a blanket and the world and its problems disappeared as she began to sleep.
She woke up with a start a while later. A strange feeling of alarm, racing through her body. Maybe she´d had a nightmare? She half sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was still day, so she couldn’t have slept too long. But the fire was all but out. Only a couple of embers still burning among the ashes. The logs had been consumed. There was nothing left. But was that possible? She rubbed her eyes again, thinking she should have stayed asleep, because what she was looking at now didn´t make any sense.
Judith kneeled down next to the fireplace and took the black envelope with the white borders out that was partially buried under the ashes. It shouldn’t still be there !
Get Out of My Dreams Page 22