They looked for something around them that they could use as protection, but all their surroundings were walls of flames that threatened to be thrown at them at any time. Antonio José tried to cross the wall to get to the door, but as soon as he approached the fire his coat was lit as if it were covered in tar. He tried to blow it away, but the combustion was faster. He had to remove it and throw it away, so that it was up in flames almost instantly.
There was a nearby s sudden burn, and a slap of hot and thick air hit their faces. They needed to get out of there now or they would die burned. Jonás ran with reddened and tearful eyes around the perimeter, but nothing there had been saved, and the flames were consuming everything. He felt dizzy and tried to say something to his father, who was shaking like crazy with embers that had fallen on his right arm. Little by little, his vision was going narrower and the world became opaque, leaving only a blurred circle with which he could not see beyond a meter. It seemed as if he was looking through a lens to which the shutter was closing second by second. Suddenly he felt a strike and realized that he was lying on the ground. The only thing he could see before losing his vision completely was his father lying next to him, his eyes full of tears. A hell of flames danced on his back when darkness took over his world.
Chapter 25
The cafeteria was completely crowded, and the poor waiters could not cope. Although the building where they worked had one of the best-stocked canteens in the area and, at special prices for workers, most preferred to leave during the time they had for lunch.
Leaning against the bright wooden padded bar, he warmed his hands with his coffee cup and felt a tingling sensation when the smell reached his nose. He loved coffee when tit was well done, but the tickling was due to something much more momentous than a good cup of caffeine. The morning had been especially hard, and the agreements did not come to fruition. The coalitions could not agree, and the parties made water from their base. The disqualifications and the insults had begun to happen between the maximum exponents of each group; the dirty rags began to come out of the drawers where they had been hidden, and that was evident in the plenary sessions. Any action was discussed even by members of the same parties, and the situation threatened to deteriorate with every minute that passed. He smiled broadly and brought the cup to his lips.
—The coffee here is wonderful, right?
He turned sideways on the stool and saw next to him a man who could well pass as his own brother. His suit —although not of the same quality as his—, was of good cut. The Italian shoes fitted perfectly to the whole, and the silk handkerchief in the top pocket added a touch of distinction to the combination.
—It certainly is— he corroborated.
Penetrating blue eyes and a perfect smile returned a reflection that puzzled him a little. He seemed to be looking at a mirror that returned his own image with a few years of delay.
—Excuse me, do you work in Parliament? — He asked interestedly.
—Oh no, I couldn’t— he said with a smile from a movie actor—. Here there is a lot of tension.
—Yes, it seems that things are getting difficult —he agreed—. But nothing new, politics is like that.
—Oh, I think I disagree with you in that —his strong accent baffled him—. The politics is easy; I would say too much.
—Good...
—Believe me— he cut him off—. I don’t do this, but I know something about driving people and lying.
The rictus of the other changed drastically. He left unfinished the cup of coffee and held up a finger asking for the bill.
—Also, seen a politician, all seen— he said smiling—. Don’t you say it that way?
—Listen, I don’t want polemics with ideologies...
—Let’s see if as a good politician that you are, you learn to shut up when time deserves.
The strength and elegance of that guy had temporarily disarmed him, but he was not going to let himself be intimidated by any fanatic who approached him, however much appearance he might have.
—If you continue to disrespect me...
—What are you going to do? — he challenged without losing the guy— I'm going to tell you, nothing. And now listen to me, that I don’t have time to lose with stupid battles of egos. In a few days we'll call you by phone— he left a thick folder on the lacquered surface of the counter—. Learn this and continue with the agreement.
The other's face contracted horribly. All the composure and haughtiness that until that moment his face had shown deformed to become a grimace of horror.
—You are... well... you should have told me...
—Did you understand? —he said—. Memorize it and act as you have been taught.
He turned around and left a twenty-euro note on the folder he had just left. Before leaving he approached the other's ear and whispered a few words.
—Ah, and I hope that when the time comes, show more integrity than you just showed me this morning.
He left the restaurant amidst the murmur of the customers, who began to get up to pay for their drinks and return to work.
Chapter 26
Cristóbal Asensio observed from the distance how the police and the Civil Guard were working to disperse the curious, while the emergency and firefighters took care of the fire.
He had not thought that the performance of the services of that village could be so effective, but they had arrived at the place in a few minutes dealing with everything in an effective way. Cristóbal found out from a neighbor —especially talkative—, that Mula had a fire station that was located just five kilometers from the place, in addition to the quarter of the Civil Guard and the services of the 112, which were two streets away south of the printing office.
Cristóbal had searched through all that hovel, but despite knowing that they were there he had not been able to find the father and the son and had opted for the tactic of burning the burrow for the bugs to go out and hunt them comfortably. But at that moment he was in the adjacent park —from a prudent distance—, where he could only attend as a simple spectator. He clenched his jaw hard and gritted his teeth, an unpleasant habit he had acquired in his police’s days.
—And you say you know these guys? —the old man to his right asked him.
Cristóbal would have wanted to slap him. Despite having about the same age, he considered the elderly as mere spoils that contributed little or nothing to the country.
—No, no way, I’ve just passed by here and I have seen the flames.
—But you're not from around here — he insisted—. I would remember.
—No, I'm passing through.
—And where are you staying? — he continued tenaciously—. Because my son-in-law has a rural house that is very charm.
—I already have lodging, thank you—. Cristóbal gripped the gun butt, which he had kept in his coat’s pocket.
—Man, if you are going to stay several days ...
With the speed of a bolt of lightning he took out his pistol and struck a tremendous strike with the butt on the back of the old man's neck, which fell like a bale. Cristóbal, before he reached the ground, picked him up and made a sorry gesture to the nearby crowd.
—Poor thing— he cradled the old man in his arms—. He has fainted because of the agitation.
He moved away a few meters, holding him under his arm.
—I'll take him to his family, so he can rest— he shook his head—. You know, when you arrive at certain age...
When he was sure no one was looking at him, he threw the old man's body into tall hedges that surrounded a palm tree and walked off in the direction where his men were acting as curious neighbors. He arrived up to the fence that the police had created diligently with the civil guard, in time to see how they put the body of Antonio José Ulloa in an ambulance, naked from the waist up and covered with tubes. Then they did the same with his son.
Although they did not pretend to be very well, it seemed that both had saved their lives. They don’t put t
ubes or oxygen masks on dead people. Contrary to what might seem from his angry face, Cristóbal was glad that it had happened in that way, because he would have his chance to meet those two again, and the next time, they would not escape due to such a childish mistake.
Chapter 27
The Mula’s health center turned out to be a nice red building of two floors in which medical consultations were given during the day, and that had another block attached to attend the emergencies and the accidents’ first aid during the night. Three ambulances were parked in the entrance, ready for the transfers to the La Arrixaca’s hospital in Murcia for the most severe cases.
Jonah sat up on the stretcher and nausea rose up to his throat.
—Stay down please — a paramedic indicated.
—And my father?" — He babbled. His throat ached as if with each word as if they were sticking red-hot—. Where is him?
—The other patient is in the adjoining room— he said in a monotone tone— they are preparing him to move him to the hospital in Murcia.
—But, how is he? —he asked worriedly.
—His condition is good— he tried to calm down him, though his expression did not inspire the slightest hint of whether he was lying or telling the truth—. He has only suffered minor burns and respiratory poisoning, but we will take him to the hospital to be sure that he does not suffer other more serious injuries.
—I want to see him— he made the gesture of getting up, but a coughing fit knocked him down again and made him vomit.
—You're not going to move from here— he put a hand on his arm—. At least until I administer you Primperan for dizziness— he stuck a needle in his thigh without warning—. And for your sake you should go to the hospital with your father, to have at least one spirometry and chest X-rays, in case there are signs of infection in the lungs.
—I'll go where you want, but I need to see my father.
The doctor thought about it as he put away the supplies with which he had treated Jonás; he turned to leave when he finished.
—I'll be back in a few minutes— he said—. If the dizziness has passed I will accompany you to see your father.
A few minutes later, Jonás was by Antonio José's bed. The man was awake, but his eyes were shot with blood and his mouth was covered by a mask that fogged with each expiration.
—Don’t worry— said a young woman behind him—. It seems worse than it is.
He extended a hand and Jonás shook it.
—I suppose that you are his son— she guessed, composing a cordial smile—. I am Dr. Maiquez. Your father doesn’t seem to have anything serious, and although the burns of the back will be annoying for a while, they will heal well and without obvious marks, but with the lungs it is another story.
—What happened to him?
—Nothing that we know— she moved next to the stretcher and Jonás could see that despite the medical uniform, she had an enviable figure—. But, a bronchoscopy and maybe a V / Q scanner must be done to detect if he has lung problems.
—You’re scaring me.
—Not at all! —she said animated—. It's just that I like to speak in medical terms, it makes me look like House.
—Well, I don’t like it that much— Jonás conceded, although he had to admit that the woman inspired him with a natural confidence—. I'm worried.
—It’s normal, you’ve almost roast like chickens on a spit —she stood before him, and Jonás could not take his eyes off that greenish glow—. Seriously, we are administering bronchodilators to your father with a tiny concentration of steroids to help him recover a normal breathing. At first glance, no damage is seen, but we are going to send him to the hospital to do the necessary tests.
—Well, we are at your disposal.
She smiled a maleficent smile and turned around with a funny expression.
—Well, in two minutes I’ll be back and tell you what you can do for me— the roguish gesture excited Jonás, who felt intimately guilty.
****
The journey to the hospital in Murcia became especially short. Jonás had thought of getting his father out of there— for if it was not serious, they could not stop him from leaving—, but he thought that a free, quick and conditioned transport was the best for his father's condition at that moment. He was sure that the men who had tried to kill them were waiting for them there, and it would be harder for them to get their hands on them if they moved in an ambulance than on any other public transport. Once they arrived at the hospital, he would think of something.
Antonio José had woken up several times, but the sleep ended up beating him seconds later. A few kilometers before reaching the capital of Murcia he woke up with amazing energy, tried to remove the mask with clawing movements, and one of the paramedics scolded him as if it were a child.
—I want to get out of here! — he bellowed in a scratchy, cascading voice—. Take this away!
—Calm down— snapped the doctor—. In three minutes we will arrive at the hospital and there they will take care of you.
—I don’t want to go to a hospital!
Antonio Jose did not seem to have lost a bit of his bad temper with the accident, and he spent the rest of the journey complaining. Half an hour later he was lying on an emergency stretcher waiting for the results of a VP and chest x-rays.
—His father is great— a doctor told Jonás in the consulting room—. He should only go to the cures for a week every day and then continue with the treatment for burns that his doctor considers necessary.
—No internal damage?
—Nothing, this man is like a rock! — the doctor snapped—. The tests have gone very well, indeed, his father shows healthier lungs than some young people of twenty years.
—He is like that— Jonas mused—, he's going to bury us all.
The doctor gave a tremendous laugh that resembled to the croak of a raven.
—Nevertheless, we want to have him here tonight— he informed—. More than anything to have him under observation.
—Well, we're from Madrid and we must take a train.
—I think it's great, but tomorrow— he said cutting—. We don’t want something to be overlooked and then we’ll have to regret it.
Jonah nodded, realizing that the doctor's decision was strong; together they went out into the hall, where they told a nurse to take Antonio José upstairs to put him in a room.
****
A nurse approached to Jonás and handed him his backpack, which apart from a bit smudged with soot on one of the straps did not show a significant damage.
—This was given to me for you by the firemen — offered the boy—. They say that besides this they could not rescue much more, and that is because the backpack was hanging on your back.
—Thank you.
Jonás took it and realized that it weighed considerably. He entered the room’s bathroom where his father had been installed and checked its content. The last copy of El Caso that had spent the night printing was there, just as he had left it. There was too his grandfather's diary. He left the bathroom and went to his father's bed.
—We must get out of here— growled Antonio José as soon as he saw him—. I'm fine, and those killers can come for us at any time; besides, your mother ...
—Stop dad! —the scream caught his father by surprise, who was speechless—. Enough at once!
Jonah walked nervously around the room, while his father watched him uneasily.
—I don’t know what you propose — he said—. But forget to act as a worried father and leave me alone
—Jonás— he tried to lean on the bed—. I came here to tell you something.
—I'm not interested— he said sharply.
—I think that yes— he took some suckers from his chest and looked for his clothes—. It has to do with your grandfather.
Jonah started to say something but then thought better about it. He grabbed one of the bags that had been left on the room’s chair and handed it to his father.
His father took the bag and went with it to the bathroom.
****
Going out had been easy. Once they were in the hall, both dressed in their clothes, no one stopped them or looked at them strangely. Jonás expected some of those situations from the movies where a doctor recognized them and prevented them from leaving the hospital, but nobody talked to them or stopped them. Once in the street they took a taxi —of the many that waited in the emergency exit—, and they told the driver to take them to the train station. Not a word was said in the whole journey. Jonás paid for the race and the train tickets, because he had the wallet in his backpack and his father had lost his in the fire, which had burned along with his coat.
—Son— he began as they waited for the last train of the day—. I need to tell you what is happening.
Jonás did not comment anything.
—It is true that our family treated Grandpa badly, but it was for a reason— he stopped, insecure, and Jonas turned to him full of rage. His father held him back with a wave of his hand—. Your grandfather was always a respected man in his field, but suddenly changed his attitude. He distanced himself from all those he loved and started to work in that newspaper. When your grandmother died, he fell into a depression that led him to break relations with absolutely everyone, even with me, who barely knew how to walk. I hated him, I really learned to hate him, and even more when they found evidence on his floor that he planned to attack the state. All of us who had something to do with the surname Millán were harassed and disowned, and your grandfather disappeared.
Jonah was about to interrupt his father in several times, but in all of them Antonio José silenced him with his hand. The station was deserted, and an icy wind blew between the platforms.
—I knew he had been stabbed in the street and we were looking for him, but he had left Madrid— he continued—. The regime forgot about him, but suspicion forever accompanied our surname. We had news that he had left Spain. When the regime ended he returned, but he still did not contact us. We had news that he lived in Almeria, and after he had moved to Águilas, where your grandmother had been born. As time passed we forgot that he existed, and I suppose that he did the same, because I didn’t know anything until a few years ago.
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