V
A bright light. A voice. He does not understand what he says but he knows that goes with it. After one hand, white, smooth skin. Lying as a bridge that ensures the transition to a better world. Already lost in the memory. Forgotten and the search. A paradise lost than not to return if not as dreamy, misty, ghostly. The hand moves away, tries to reach for the first time he sees before him something which is supposed to be his body. Want to cry and can not. Quietly desperate. Forgot speech, but would like. There is nothing to say. Her lips are sewn.
consquilleo I woke up slightly on the chin. He opened one eye slowly and shook his fist the bug that caused it.
The first-that autumn chill se colaba por las grietas de la casa. El salón ofrecía a la luz diurna un aspecto más deprimente del que recordaba al anochecer. Apuró el contenido de la lata de alubias que había abierto para cenar y comió un par de manzanas. Había tomado alimentos para un par de días, más para trocar con el "mugriento" que como provisiones. En caso de necesidad recordaba donde podía quedar algo en buen estado en ultramarinos y tiendas de las poblaciones cercanas a la ciudad.
Permaneció vigilante y a la escucha en el recibidor de la casa. Oteando por el ruinoso ventanuco, looking for a signal that he wanted to see. For more than an hour. A non-existent hunter stalking prey.
the end, when deemed appropriate, left the house, went back to the road and continued the journey. On one side of the fields and orchards, on the other highway, like a huge gray snake. Skirted the airport and the former army air base, destroyed by looters and hungry when everything started to crumble. Across the way a people who remembered well have cleaned house by house next to an industrial area burned to its foundations.
began to see increasingly darker and remains of vehicles on the road. Went up to her. He looked around. Abandoned hulks on empty and macabre form a bottleneck rusty. Almost all were burned to warm the shivering stars of the urban exodus that first winter. Stacked Asphalt mummified corpses fallen in the long march to nowhere. The belongings thrown open and recorded long ago and looted. A mother hugging a esqueletito amojamada among blackened arms. He closed his eyes. Desolation.
went forward, looking over the wreckage. Looking for anything that might be. Avoiding car accidents, some with a pair of bony hands still gripping the steering wheel.
At noon he stopped for a snack in the shade of an old truck. At dusk estaríaa the city gates. He remembered a couple of places nearby where I could sleep sheltered. Did not want to encounter any of the bands "krusties" that roamed the area. After lunch
climbed
to the roof of the cabin. Noted with concern a small column of smoke in the distance.
"Shit, I need binoculars as soon as possible!" He said to himself.
carefully thought next step. The motorway conducíaa the ring. Since she could find the most appropriate entry to the city. But the smoke forced him to ponder the situation. Did not want to even go there.
He sat in the passenger seat while displaying again the map. Mentally traced a path. Was much longer. If previously raised as more than likely the search for food to complete their journey to success, was now absolutely essential. So once again left the road and took a few meters ahead of the outputs conducíaa one of the nearby towns.
The road led him to a medium-sized town. Abandoned fields were happening on both sides. The small industrial estate bordering the village was totally burned, but the town looked good.
At the entrance stood a moment as he watched the rusty sign with the name of the population. Despite the rust and vegetation could further distinguish the first and last letters of this name: A ---- A
remembered this site. It was one of the last that he had "plundered" and it gave him an advantage.
(continued)
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