Saturday, April 24, 1937.

2103 Hours.

Underground Tunnels. 

My eyes had mostly accustomed to the dark when drumming began anew. Tuerto was prowling for victims. 

I ran to Torito to try and nudge him awake from his stupor, to no apparent avail. He was completely unresponsive.

"Get up," I said in a useless whisper that echoed in the dome-like hall. 

But he remained curled up in a ball. We had no time for this. I punted his boots to try and elicit a reaction from him, but all it did was make him try and hide his feet from me. 

"God damn you," I said. My own breathing was ragged and panicked. We had been given an opportunity for salvation only for Torito to squander it away by wasting our time. It made my blood boil. I felt my brain pound against my skull in rage and hopelessness. 

"You want to be a little kid and run away?" I asked. 

But he didn't say anything. 

"You want to die, don't you?" I asked yet again. 

But once again, I was only met with silence. 

"You're pathetic," I said with venom in my words. "You're nothing but a waste of space. Be a man and get up." 

Nothing. 

"Disappointing," I said. I know it was mean spirited, but I had to do something, anything, to take him out of his blackout. 

"I'll go find the rest," I told Torito. "Maybe someone with more spine would help me carry the coffin. Coward." 

I walked away from him. I only turned to face him when I heard a pair of feet running towards me from where he was standing. What I saw was a fist approaching my face for a split second before connecting against my face. 

The world turned and spun beneath my feet. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground with Torito sitting in my chest. 

His face was red from ear to ear, much to honor his nickname, but it wasn't because of his fury. Tears ran down his cheeks and onto my chest. I couldn't say a word in edgewise when a second fist, less stronger than the first one, hit me square in the jaw. 

It was not the first time I had been on the receiving end of one of Torito's punches; I knew his strength and might first hand, and he was pulling his punches. There was no ill intent behind them, but a profound, unending sorrow. 

Another punch met my face, this time right below my left eye. It nearly broke my cheekbone which was a feat he could've done in a heartbeat if he were serious. Each punch made him cry less and less. Even his red flush receded. By the time he calmed down, his punches were almost soft pushes against me. 

His ragged breath echoed in the hall between soft whimpers. And at last, he stopped. He remained sitting on my chest with his eyes closed to stop more tears from coming out. We remained as such for a few minutes without moving.  

"Better?" I asked Torito. 

He gave me his usual foolish smile while he got off me to stand up. His hand moved towards me again but to lift me up. "Better," he said. 

I took his hand in peace and felt as he pushed me up with tremendous strength. My face ached all over, but aside from a bruised cheekbone, it was as good as it was before. Which was not much. 

He scratched his nose with his index finger in an attempt to look playful. It failed. "Look, I'm so-"

"Don't," I interrupted. "I get it. I was being rude for no reason and I deserved it." 

To my surprise, he shook his head. "No, it's nothing you did. It's just...that light."

"That light?"

"The one the priest made at the end," he said. "It showed me things."

Flashes of the moaning mass of bodies sparkled in my mind as if on command. I can still see it in my dreams, all chiming their sentence. 

"What did you see?" 

He took a deep breath, never taking his sight out of his own feet. "I... let me ask you something. What will happen next?" Torito asked out of the blue. 

"What do you mean? We have to stop the monster."

"And what's next?" he asked yet again. "We stop the monster and save the town. What next? Do we wait for the town to be overrun by Franco and his troops? I saw the planes; I know we are sitting ducks." 

"We will run," I said. 

"Where? We can't go east. We would be captured by Rebels. We can't go west to Bilbao because the Republicans will treat us as defectors, and I don't believe they will try to send us to the frontline this time. Can't go south, can't go north. Where will we run?" 

"I..." for once, I was out of words. He had a point. There was nowhere to run. I didn't think of it. 

"See? That's my point. We might be heroes whose history will never be known. Martyrs of nobody. We will leave this place battered and bloodied, only to be treated like criminals. We have nothing." 

"Don't say that," I told him. "We still have a lot to live for." 

"That 'we' sounds like a crowd, Sebas," said Torito. "You still have Lula; you have a future. I have nothing. Nothing!" 

I wanted to retort, were it not for his sudden outburst stopping me in my tracks. "You think I can't hear Ainhoa calling me in the dark with that sweet voice of her? She has been stalking me from the moment I escaped to the woods. I try to be strong, Sebas. I really do. But I'm lonely. Everything I had was stripped away from me. My freedom, my beliefs, and now the only person I had."

And then, I said something that maybe was a tad mean, but something I didn't even think through  before speaking. "Wasn't she just a prostitute?"

He stared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I expected him to punch me right there and then, but he didn't. He instead walked towards the black coffin, placing a hand on top of the silver cross that adorned it. "I never knew my mother," he whispered. "I didn't have any sort of love growing up. I can't connect with people without me trying to hurt them. There is something that broke inside me long ago, something I can't quite put my finger on."

He started to trace his fingers on the outlines of the cross. His back was turned to me so I couldn't see his face. His voice, however, was riddled with sadness. "Except with Ainhoa. At first, it was just a sexual arrangement. I came in, did my deed, and went out. Until it wasn't. One night, I couldn't..."

"Perform," I added. One of my most annoying traits is trying to complete the sentences of people who speak slower than I can process. 

"Yes," said Torito. "I had paid an hour, so we only laid in bed. And then she did something. She hugged me. You know, growing up without a mother or father makes it hard to get genuine displays of human affection." 

It was that conversation that sparked my interest in knowing about his life. My findings which I already shared with you. 

"That was the first real hug I had ever received," he said. I could practically feel him smile. "And I cried. I cried for an hour straight. It made me feel better than any orgasm I've ever had." 

Maybe he was expecting me to make fun of his story, but I remained silent. He took it as a sign to continue. 

"Next time I paid for her, we didn't have sex. I held her for the entirety of the hour while she held me. It's some fucked up shit, I know. A mother I wanted to have sex with. I was so starved for affection that I didn't care to spend every cent I had on her, just to feel some love. And I don't even have that anymore. Sure, maybe I was but a client for her, but she meant the world to me." 

I stepped in front of the coffin to face him. His face was serene, almost resigned. "Listen," I said, "I can't tell you what she was feeling, but I can say with certainty that she loved you deeply." 

His eyes locked with mine for the first time in the tunnels. His eyes were almost shimmering with hope. "How?" 

"The beasts can make sounds that can only be heard by those they loved in life. She loved you. She always did."

His smile almost went from ear to ear, but his eyes remained with a deep sorrow that spoke directly to my soul.

"Hey, Sebas," he said. "Would it be that bad to surrender to the beast?"

"What?"

"I just want to feel loved again," said Torito. "And I feel whole with the beast. There is nothing waiting for me above; why not be one with the beast?" 

I opened my mouth to try and say something to dissuade him, but I couldn't. Those same thoughts were in my head at one point, and it wasn't until Lula replaced them with her life that I found a will to push forward. And he didn't have anybody anymore. I couldn't rub more salt in his wounds. 

"I think it wouldn't be so bad," he said. His smile looked more resigned than happy. He had made peace with his soul.

"It's true," I said. I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts. What I said came from the bottom of my heart. "There is nothing out there for us. But you are not alone in this. You have me, and Lula, and even Camarada. We are on the same boat, no matter our beliefs. You shall not be alone. Wherever we go, you go. If we die, we die together. If we live, we live together. Will you have me, brother?" 

I grabbed his hand from the silver cross and shook it hard. I saw how the sorrow in his eyes turned into the picaresque snide he always carried about him. 

"You're not my type, Sebas," he said. "But you will do...brother." 

Without saying anything else, Torito lit a cigarette. He approached one of the walls and using the meager light the cigarette provided him managed to look at a few writings near one of the tunnels. 

"SVB ARBORE SAVRE TEMETIPSVM PONS INTER DEVM ET HOMINES"

"Swear your oath under the tree bridging men and God," said Torito. "It seems fitting enough." 

He approached me, grabbing my hand and placing it on the silver cross. "Do you, Sebastian Goicochea, swear beneath God and men not to let me join the beast? To be my brother, and never leaving me behind, no matter what?"

"I swear," I said without skipping a beat. It was a bizarre scene, but one I felt we needed. I can't say I've ever understood Torito. He was a weird man with a broken soul. But I never saw him as genuinely happy as when I took his oath. 

"Good," he said. "I now pronounce us husband and wife."

"What?"

"Kidding, kidding," he said with a lopsided smile. "Come on. Help me carry this death box. I think I know how we can leave this hellhole."

And just like that, as if he didn't waste our time with his foolishness, he was back to normal. And I was glad for it. Genuinely glad. 

Unbeknownst to me, he had planted a seed of doubt in my mind.

After we saved the town, what then?