Friday, April 23, 1937.

2100 Hours.

Old Roots Hall.

I could never pretend to know how Lula felt at that moment. What I can deduce is that the pain of seeing her mother and sister being turned into mindless, inhumane beast broke her spirit. In the few seconds that happened after they left, I was able to see how Lula's soul broke into a million pieces.

She was a raging fire of a woman, always with a spark of magic and a sprint to her step; she was now a flickering candle being half-blown by the wind.

I could only see her fall to the ground like a leaf when the influence of the beats spirited away from her body. There was no sobbing, or wailing, or pain, at least not physically. But the tears cascading from her eyes betrayed the inner turmoil of her soul.

I know it because I've been there. That wash of love and togetherness than the beasts offer in exchange for our surrender. It's seducing and enticing, and more so if it comes from someone as close as family, I assume. To have that and then coming to the excruciating realization that you are now completely and utterly alone in the universe must be painful beyond belief.

How fragile is life, than in the moment that it takes to snap your fingers it can be ruined forever.

Torito also fell back, but tears didn't grace his face. He took a cigarette out of his breast pocket, all the while shaking from top to bottom. He tried to light a match but his shaking hands didn't give him enough force to strike it lit. After a few attempts, he threw the matchbox to the ground in frustration while combing his hair with his hand.

My attention was focused on Lula's leg as it continued to bleed profusely.

"Lula," I said as I knelt before her. "Talk to me."

But she didn't, and the blood was getting worse. I took out a handkerchief from my satchel and crudely wrapped it around the leg. It didn't stop the bleeding, but it wasn't gushing, either. There was no exit bullet hole which told me the bullet was still inside her. I was given basic medical training as an officer, and I knew the bullet hole was dangerously close to a main artery. Without immediate help, she was in extreme danger of bleeding out.

I cupped her face in my hands and shook it lightly to snap her out of it. After a few seconds, she seemed to wake up from her stupor.

"Mama, Fátima," she whispered. "Gone. They are gone."

There were a lot of things I could say to try to console her, and none would've worked. But we had to press on--the priority had changed.

"Can you stand up?" I asked, but she continued to ramble.

"They are gone," she whispered. "I'm alone."

I made her stood up placing one of her arms over me and lifting her up, but she acted like a ragdoll. She slipped down with a thump and continued to whisper to herself. This was a two-man job.

"Torito," I called. "Help me up here."

But he didn't listen, or maybe he was ignoring me. Either case, he didn't budge. It wasn't after I yelled his name that he snapped out of his stupor.

"What?" he yelled un annoyance before seeing Lula's bleeding leg. "Oh shit."

He moved as fast as he could to lift her up. Even in her state, she was easily carried by us. There was only a small problem.

"Are we going to leave Camarada to die?" asked Torito.

"Yes," I sentenced. I know, you can judge me all you want. It was either Lula, or the hopes of maybe saving Camarada, if he was still alive. It has already been too costly, and my own priority was Lula. Lucky for me, Torito didn't fight me on that. He was smarter than me, and he knew better. It would've taken a miracle for us to push forward.

And that's what happened.

We didn't take two steps before Camarada yelled again. "Help, anybody!" he said.

"Fuck me," said Torito. "We need to rescue him."

"No," I said. The situation hadn't changed. "We don't know where he is, and this place is huge. Lula could die if we haul her around to find him."

"But we can't leave him alone!"

"It's him or her," I said. "Besides, what if it's a trap? They use sounds to lure us."

"That didn't sound like a monster," said Torito. "They speak to your mind, not your ears. We cannot leave him behind."

"And what about Lula? We cannot risk it."

"Why don't we leave her here? She is a great marksman!"

"She is in no position to defend herself. You can go find him, but I'm sticking by Lula."

To make a point, Torito let go of Lula. She plummeted to the ground. What a bastard.

"See? You can't do anything without my help."

The otherness took hold of me. I had to punch him in the face for it. He stood there with a condescending smirk as my fist trembled in anticipation. I was going to lose for sure; Torito was easily stronger than me. But by God, I had to try.

"What?" he said with a bigger grin. "Did your balls finally drop? Try and punch me if you can."

And I did. It was a weak sucker punch, fueled by sad courage more than anger. It flew past him. With the same momentum, Torito punched me straight in the stomach. It was enough to take the strength out of my legs, but he wasn't quite done. He prevented me from falling, lifting me up with one hand before punching me on the side.

He reeled back to punch me in the face when a brash scream him pulled back.

"Help!" yelled Camarada. I could hear the fear in his voice. Desperation.

"I don't have time for you," said Torito. "I have a squadmate to save."

We all know I am a coward. I'm not particularly afraid to admit that fact. It's who I am, but even I can agree that punching him in the neck the moment he turned his back on me was a rather craven move. It wasn't a hard punch by any standard, but it was enough for him to turn red in anger. The bull was on.

I swear he would've killed me right there and then were it not for Lula's intervention. Even bleeding and with her life crumbling around her she managed to stand up and place herself between us.

"Stop," she whispered loud enough to stop Torito's rampage. "Sebas just helped us now. Show some gratitude."

Her injured leg shook like mad. She was going to fall at any second. I tried reaching out to her, but she pushed me back.

"And you, you're supposed to be the leader. Are you going to leave someone under your care die?"

"But, your leg-"

"Don't you dare use me as an excuse for your cowardice," she said.

"I am not being a coward!" I said in a pathetic attempt at defending myself. "I'm just being logical. We don't know if it's a trap. And besides, you keep bleeding."

"I'm fine," she said as the color slowly drained from her cheeks. "And I'm going to look for Camarada, with or without you."

"No, you're not," I said. "You will die."

"We will die if we don't," said Torito. "I'm out of ammo, and Seba's masterful display of gunmanship emptied our clips. We need to find Camarada and his cache of ammo to get out of here alive."

"Is that a logical enough answer for you, Sebas?" said Lula.

I had to admit defeat. I know when I'm beaten. I grabbed my rifle, loaded it with the last of my bullets, and took a torch from the wall. I lit it using Torito's discarded matches. At least we could see where we were going.

"I will give you half an hour," I said. "If we don't find Camarada, we will turn back and take Lula to the hospital. Then, we can return here with help. We all win. Deal?"

I reached to shake Torito's hand. He watched me with disgust, spitting on the ground in front of me.

"Deal," he said.

We each took one of Lula's arms to stabilize her. With that, we could move with relative ease. With light in hand, mysterious writings etched on the walls became visible to all of us. I couldn't understand any of it. It wasn't Spanish or any other local dialects. Paintings of trees and people kneeling in front of them adorned the ceiling where the roots descended from.

Written on large letter on the roof was a peculiar phrase: Gernikako Arbola.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It means 'Tree of Guernica' in our native Basque language," said Lula.

"The weird tree in the square, right?" I said. There was this old, dislocated stump surrounded by a templet near the town square.

"It's not just a tree," corrected Torito. "It's a symbol of the people of Guernica, and Biscay as a whole. Biscayne lords and kings would kneel in front of the tree to swear an oath to defend Biscay. We must be under the roots of the old tree. Just think about all the history these branches have seen, with king after king laying their souls here. It's breathtaking."

"Can we go through the history lesson later?" said Lula. "We have little time."

I had to agree. But where to? There were at least 5 tunnels leading forward. It was literally a gambit.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Only one way to find out," said Torito. He took a deep breath before yelling with all his might. "Camarada! Where the hell is your useless communist culo?"

After a few seconds, Camarada answered from one of the tunnels. "Is that you, Torito? I'm here! Follow my voice!"

"And there you go," said Torito with a smirk, not thinking his outburst would have alerted the beasts. At least it gave us Camarada's position if it was indeed him.

We shuffled slowly through the tunnel. With lights in front of us, our steps became surer. There was still an insane darkness in front of us, but we had a few meters of buffer. Torito held the fire while I held the rifle. Nothing was going to get past us.

Still, our walk was silent and tense. Each step we took made me feel colder and colder. I could feel Lula's body hair stand on their ends. I was afraid she would bleed out at any second. Time was running out.

I don't know how long we walked, but it felt longer than it should. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

It got worse when Lula began to hear a sound.

"I can hear drumming," said Lula. "It's getting fainter and fainter as we move."

That meant they were close.

I clutched my rifle to my chest at the ready. They were not going to jump on me. And they didn't, because we soon found another hall like the last one. This one was also big, even bigger, with writings on the wall in the Basque language. There were roots in this room as well, but instead of falling straight down like the last room, they hugged the walls, weaving in and out of them like snakes.

Behind one of the roots, shaking and afraid, was a very-much-alive Camarada with cuts all over his body.