????, ???? April, 1937.

???? Hours. 

Zurito Bar.

We are condemned to live. We are cursed with freedom. 

Us humans are not asked to be born, nor do we get a say in where and when we get to exist. We are at the mercy of the selfish desire of other humans to thrust us into the world, kicking and screaming at the injustice of existence. Only death can save us from the clutches of injustice. 

And yet, seeking death is anathema to who we are, or what we are. It goes against our nature as parasites of the earth. 

Or maybe we are too coward to accept that our fate is but oblivion. If humanity knew better--if we knew better--we would collectively hold hands as we jumped off a cliff, one by one, until nothing but bones remain. We humans only bring war and destruction wherever we go. We are the salt of the Earth. 

And it is that drive that makes us refuse our demise. It is the drive that made me refuse my demise. 

I can't say that it was easy, but I held on to my life. All those moments desiring death the days before were transformed into will at the sight of what was on the other side. Father Maximino would come every other hour to heal me, bit by bit. He told me that he had healed himself with the power of God, and that I would also be healed by it. 

I spent hours upon hours laying in bed, intermittently waking up and falling asleep as the aches of my body started to fade away, to the point where only a sharp pain in my chest remained. Torito and Lula would come into the room with him, mostly to observe the priest. I think Lula was worried about me, while Torito kept an eye out for any funny business the priest might be up to. 

"What is it that you're doing?" asked Torito once. 

The priest kept his glowing hand over me, not even flinching from the sudden break in the hollow silence. "I am praying. By the grace of God, this man shall rise soon."

"You say it as if God was a benevolent being," said Torito. 

"Only a fool would not see what lies beyond his nose." 

"What I see," said Torito, "is death. What I see is war. What I see is men killing each other. What I see is a beast on the prowl, feeding on everyone alike. Only a fool would sit on a bonfire and think a leaky pipe from above will save them." 

The priest shook his head, but didn't deviate from staring at me. "You must believe, my child. Believe in God, for he will deliver."

"That's the problem, father," said Torito, lighting up a cigarette. "I believe in God. He doesn't seem to believe in us." 

Lula spoke, bringing both men to a halt in their argument. "Javier, stop. You're not helping." 

"I'm not damaging, either. I'm just saying that we shouldn't put our trust in an indifferent being that sits back while everyone is killing everybody. He allowed the beast to exist in the first place." 

"And it allowed you to exist as well," said Father Maximino. 

Torito blew smoke at the priest, making both me and him to cough. It felt like my entire chest was on fire. "Well, he works in stupid ways. Why would he allow someone who shuns him to live while thousands of believers get crushed under the rubble?" 

"That, my child, is not my place to say," said Father Maximino. "But nothing in this world happens without a reason." 

Then, Lula said something that thickened the tensions in the air. "Including my leg?" she said with childlike innocence. 

Nobody dared to answer. Even my saliva got caught in my throat. 

"Why don't you try getting up?" asked Father Maximino. His hands stopped glowing, and I was left to my own devices. 

My first attempt was pathetic. As soon as I sat upright a wave of dizziness washed over me. I could've puked right there and there, had I had a morsel of food. My throat felt parched, and my stomach weak. 

"Wait," I told them, holding the priest's hand. 

Lula, sweet Lula, sat on the bed beside me, grabbing my other hand. "I felt the same. Breath in, and out. There is no hurry."

"Except that there is," said Torito. "We are out of time." 

I had forgotten about it. The reminder made my heart pump faster and wilder, which made Lula hold my hand harder in return. 

"Easy, Sebas," whispered Lula. "Breath in, and out."

I knew I should've done it slow and steady, but it came out quick and ragged, making my breath ragged. "What time is it?" 

"Around midnight," said Torito. 

"Okay, we still have time."

"Midnight Sunday," corrected Lula.

My heartbeat was loud again, this time in force. "I spent a whole day asleep?" 

"You spent half a day dead as a doornail," said Torito. 

"Barely alive would be a better description," said Father Maximino. "I was in a bad shape as well. Had to heal me first so I could heal you." 

"But pretty much dead," corrected Torito. 

"It is a miracle that you're alive, yes," interrupted the priest. 

My chest hurt. My heart hurt. Every pain receptor in my body fired at once. Aristotle said that anxiety is the proof of life, and if so, I would say that a life with this much anxiety was not worth living. I think different now, but not by much. 

Lula placed a small, round vial in my hand. "Drink this, it will make you feel better."

"What is it?" 

"I don't know," said Lula. "They injected me with it a few times before dumping me here. It made me feel good, so I stole a few ones before leaving. Drink up."

It tasted bitter and sour, but it spread a warmth beyond belief all around me. I was submerged in a sea of tranquility. That calmed me down significantly, even pulling me from the dizziness. 

"Thank you," I said. I managed to summon enough strength to stand up, giving a few wobbly steps ahead with the help of the priest and Lula. After a few more, I was confident enough to walk a bit more by myself, using the wall as support. "Now what?" 

"What now what?" asked Lula. "We fight." 

"We will," said Torito. "We have to."

It was easier said than done. We already fought, and we already lost. We lost Camarada, and Fatima, and Ainhoa, and the rest of the people that had been converted. We had no coffin, and no way to endure the fight ahead. Well, we had one hope. One last hope.

"Torito," I said. "How many bullets do we have left in the Luger?" 

"One," said Torito. "Sorry about that."

"You're forgiven," said the priest. 

"Not that I shot you. That felt good. But for wasting the bullet." 

"Is a bullet enough to stop the beast?" 

The priest sat on the bed, scratching his cheeks. The once-smooth shave he had was gone, replaced by a fuzzy-peach hair covering his face. "It might stop it for a few minutes, but it won't be enough to stop him for long." 

"We can work with that," I said. 

"How do you pretend to stop him without the coffin?" asked Father Maximino.

"That, I am sorry for," said Torito. 

"Well, if we can't put the beast in the coffin, how about putting the coffin inside the beast?" I said. "Shove a piece of wood inside him, like a stake?" 

The priest continued to scratch his stubble, still sitting on the bed. Whatever Lula gave me was starting to make me feel dizzy again. "It is worth a try. If it doesn't work, we can always escape." 

"And leave the town to die?" yelled Lula. She stood up from the bed on one wobbly leg, using her hand on the bedpost for support. "I will not allow you to bail on this town. Sebas can't run away, and neither can I. We are in too deep here."

"Child, I know how you feel," said Father Maximino, but was quickly interrupted by Lula slapping him across the face.

"No, you don't know how I feel," said Lula. "You don't know how it feels to lose your entire family. You have no idea how it feels to lose a limb. And you have no idea how it feels to lose a home."

Father Maximino's mouth flapped like a fish out of water. He had no retort, after all, he was the one who caused Lula to lose everything, which made me realize that she might not be in the loop that everything was his fault. A thing that might not be wise to bring up at the moment. 

"So, what now?" asked Torito. "Do we go back in and try to land a shot?" 

"No," I said. "We need firepower. A lot of it. We won't make the same mistake twice. We have to hit with so much that it won't even have the time to try and strike us. That's how we make an opening."

"Okay," said Torito. "There is a machine gun near the town square. It's the most powerful weapon we have in this town." 

"There is one more thing we need to secure," I said. "And this one is not easy." 

Everyone leaned in, ready to hear what I was about to say. A thing I was not ready for.

I dry-swallowed, mustering the courage to speak. "We have to become deaf to face the beast."