E l downhill stream meandered through a valley as long as idyllic. At another time could have sit back and enjoy the scenery, but not now running behind a psychopath suffering from bipolar disorder, and persecuted by the military and other factions who wanted to be mysterious at all costs with the contents of that bag that were transporting to God knows where. In fact, well thought out, everything was nothing idyllic. So far only had time to stop and reflect, as it had been stuck in all kinds of chases and shootouts, but now, amid the calm before the storm, could not help but turn over in my head a lot of each more intriguing enigmas: Where was the rest of humanity? And why almost all the objects and buildings around us seemed so old and worn? Somewhere in my head an insistent little voice insisted again and again: "Open your eyes and wake up", but the key to all this strange world is beyond me.
We had about forty-five minutes running and to my surprise, was holding the stretch. By now it should be lacking in encouragement and are vomiting the last meal eaten and did not remember, but I was rested and fit, able to follow and fifty miles more, if needed. My companion seemed as surprised as me. While maintaining a good pace was drenched in sweat and had to make strenuous efforts to keep up. Occasionally spiteful glances my way, not without envy that to deny it, made me feel a little uncomfortable.
- Want to take a break? - I asked, supportive, but only got to exchange a glare of hostility.
- Go from me and keep running.
- Yes, sir! - Cried mockingly, but I regretted it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. She spat at me, pursed his lips and made a valiant effort to leave me behind.
- I can not believe you did that!
- Oh, shut up!
The day seemed to be dark, or at least gave the impression although having less light and dim red sun that was kept in the same place as when I woke up. However, had not yet exhausted my quota of surprises of the day. For if a ship stranded in the middle of the road was not enough, now before my eyes what looked like the remains of a tank with the cover completely bored by the impact of large-caliber projectiles. To his left a rusty metal sign and gnawed by time warned: minefield - NO GO. I started slow, but my guide continued on, undaunted, so I mentally shrugged my shoulders and went on, praying that she knew what she was doing. A fleshless skeleton and wearing only the remains of an old uniform hanging on the open turret of the tank. His empty sockets as he went by me, his hand while swinging in a macabre gesture of derision. Those who greet you are already dead, I thought ironic.
A couple of miles later the stream flowed into a river of calm, dark waters over which floated a thick blanket of fog between which stood, alone, the remains of several buildings in different condition, covered with mud, rust and vines. Long ago this place should have been on the river, but something had changed the course of this or perhaps caused a sudden increase in the level water. The whole place seemed deserted and abandoned. The only visible remainder of civilization was an old pier next to a crumbling warehouse. Several boats were rocking, lazy in the shade of a huge stone wall full of bullet holes and spots of something that the same could be dried blood oxide. Over the whole surface could read dozens of entries in different languages \u200b\u200band font styles, some as intriguing as LOOK NO MORE HELL IS HERE or WHAT WILL YOU DO WHEN HE RETURNS? The girl stared at the wall, thinking, and then rummaged in his backpack until he found a spray can. After shaking, wrote about wall several words with a clear and elegant calligraphy: EVEN STILL ALIVE. They give. I said nothing, though I was dying to grilling him that he knew would be left without response.
- Do not stand there stunned. See if any of these motor functions.
- Who, me? - I asked, as if there was someone else besides the two of us - I have face riverboat pilot?
- For Hastur, I do not know what the hell you post. Stay here and watch - replied, putting the Glock in the hand of the passing of my hand, leaving behind a trail of perfume of violets. There was something unpleasant at the touch of the weapon, a sort of vague recollection sleepy that I got goose bumps, so I put it in my back pocket as he examined the place. What would have happened to people who lived there? I had no idea, but something told me it was concerned with bullet holes and dried blood stains on the wall. The world had changed while he slept, but did not remember much.
As fate deemed that it had given us much respite, some SUVs military side - similar to those that had eluded the hotel - appeared in the distance while approaching the dock at high speed. When only five hundred meters separated us vehicles fanned and began to spit types of uniform and armed to the teeth. One of them started barking orders and in response to another of the newcomers opened the tailgate of a vehicle and half a dozen hounds were ejected. They looked like a cross between a doberman and great white shark: they were very fast, overly large and had a mouth full of fangs long and sharp as razors. A cold sweat began to soak the back with the realization that came to me, as the hounds of war in Shakespeare.
- Are you asleep or what's wrong? Shoot! - My companion shouted behind me. As in dreams, I grabbed the Glock and pointed to appeared to be the leader. However, I could not decide to pull the trigger. He had a strange sense of deja vu, as if she had lived through this stage before and things were not developing in the right way. And then I crazy. I lowered the gun and left hand forward, palm extended, screamed aloud
- Good Dog! Good Dog! Sit!
Although he could not see her, I could imagine the look of surprise of the young. He probably thought I had gone completely mad, and go you know if would not be right, because those critters were getting closer and licking satisfaction. And just then, when it was almost over, the dogs stopped, and their leader was still looking at me, confused, as if they did not know if I was edible or not. After a few seconds seemed to take a decision and to my amazement (and my companion) those beasts came to lick my hand as tame as kittens. However, I barely had time to savor my victory, because the military did not expect to recover from the surprise firing in our direction. A bullet grazed the cheek so close I could feel the wind blow that caused the move. My hand was still holding the Glock, but for some reason, shoot a human being more like me right to do about a dog.
- Come on, come here! - Reiterated the girl from the deck of one of the motor. It seemed a good idea, so I turned around and jumped into the boat the more bullets were buzzing around me. Despite the hail of bullets, my companion stood there unmoved, extending his hand toward me to give him back the Glock. It gave from the floor and she caught it right away by taking away the position of an expert marksman, body tilted to provide the lowest possible target, and the gun held in both hands at eye level. The soldier opened fire and collapsed to the nearest leaky head. He fired three times and hit their target with each bullet, forcing survivors to lie to ground or seek refuge. From my position had a splendid view of her legs and for a moment I forgot where I was, admiring the way the muscles of your buttocks is marked under the thick fabric of his pants.
- Boot this pileup and get us out of here! - Said, while pulling the trigger. It was another good idea, so he crawls up the wheel and pulling his hand cautiously pressed the button. Nothing happened, and for a moment I feared that pileup that would leave us lying on the worst possible time, but Fortunately, the engine finally came to life with a hearty roar.
- Works! - I tried to shout above the din of gunfire and horsepower, but my companion was too busy responding to fire and to listen to me. I pushed full throttle and the motor sprang forward, breaking the rotten ropes that held the landing. Therein, a burst of bullets hit the control panel. Several shards of glass flew through the air crashing my eyes for very little, while warm, thick liquid (which I took to be oil) splashed my face. I let out a curse and headed downstream, letting the motor is more and more speed moving away from the shooting.
- Okay, we're out. Where do we go? - I asked, without response. Intrigued, I ventured to turn his head to see what the hell happened. The girl was standing at the rail with his right hand hanging over the inert body. At that moment his hand dropped the Glock, which bounced off the wooden floor with a thud. Began to turn in my direction very slowly, like slow motion, and saw the ugly hole that had opened up a shell on top of his head above his right eye, which flowed at intervals a thick stream of blood. With a feeling of nausea I realized that I had soaked substance from head to toe was not oil. Part of me wanted to run towards it, hold it and do something, anything. But my feet seemed glued to the floor and some more cool and rational knew it was too late. His eyes moved jerkily as if his brain (or what was left of it) did not know where to focus. He opened his mouth in an effort to say something, perhaps a final insult, but his legs failed him and collapsed on deck like a puppet to which he had cut all the strings at once. And I stood there alone, down the river, not knowing where to go or what the hell was I supposed to do with that damned briefcase.
(Will it continue?)
A bad place to lose 001
A bad place to lose 002
A bad place to lose 003
A bad place to lose 004
- Want to take a break? - I asked, supportive, but only got to exchange a glare of hostility.
- Go from me and keep running.
- Yes, sir! - Cried mockingly, but I regretted it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. She spat at me, pursed his lips and made a valiant effort to leave me behind.
- I can not believe you did that!
- Oh, shut up!
The day seemed to be dark, or at least gave the impression although having less light and dim red sun that was kept in the same place as when I woke up. However, had not yet exhausted my quota of surprises of the day. For if a ship stranded in the middle of the road was not enough, now before my eyes what looked like the remains of a tank with the cover completely bored by the impact of large-caliber projectiles. To his left a rusty metal sign and gnawed by time warned: minefield - NO GO. I started slow, but my guide continued on, undaunted, so I mentally shrugged my shoulders and went on, praying that she knew what she was doing. A fleshless skeleton and wearing only the remains of an old uniform hanging on the open turret of the tank. His empty sockets as he went by me, his hand while swinging in a macabre gesture of derision. Those who greet you are already dead, I thought ironic.
A couple of miles later the stream flowed into a river of calm, dark waters over which floated a thick blanket of fog between which stood, alone, the remains of several buildings in different condition, covered with mud, rust and vines. Long ago this place should have been on the river, but something had changed the course of this or perhaps caused a sudden increase in the level water. The whole place seemed deserted and abandoned. The only visible remainder of civilization was an old pier next to a crumbling warehouse. Several boats were rocking, lazy in the shade of a huge stone wall full of bullet holes and spots of something that the same could be dried blood oxide. Over the whole surface could read dozens of entries in different languages \u200b\u200band font styles, some as intriguing as LOOK NO MORE HELL IS HERE or WHAT WILL YOU DO WHEN HE RETURNS? The girl stared at the wall, thinking, and then rummaged in his backpack until he found a spray can. After shaking, wrote about wall several words with a clear and elegant calligraphy: EVEN STILL ALIVE. They give. I said nothing, though I was dying to grilling him that he knew would be left without response.
- Do not stand there stunned. See if any of these motor functions.
- Who, me? - I asked, as if there was someone else besides the two of us - I have face riverboat pilot?
- For Hastur, I do not know what the hell you post. Stay here and watch - replied, putting the Glock in the hand of the passing of my hand, leaving behind a trail of perfume of violets. There was something unpleasant at the touch of the weapon, a sort of vague recollection sleepy that I got goose bumps, so I put it in my back pocket as he examined the place. What would have happened to people who lived there? I had no idea, but something told me it was concerned with bullet holes and dried blood stains on the wall. The world had changed while he slept, but did not remember much.
As fate deemed that it had given us much respite, some SUVs military side - similar to those that had eluded the hotel - appeared in the distance while approaching the dock at high speed. When only five hundred meters separated us vehicles fanned and began to spit types of uniform and armed to the teeth. One of them started barking orders and in response to another of the newcomers opened the tailgate of a vehicle and half a dozen hounds were ejected. They looked like a cross between a doberman and great white shark: they were very fast, overly large and had a mouth full of fangs long and sharp as razors. A cold sweat began to soak the back with the realization that came to me, as the hounds of war in Shakespeare.
- Are you asleep or what's wrong? Shoot! - My companion shouted behind me. As in dreams, I grabbed the Glock and pointed to appeared to be the leader. However, I could not decide to pull the trigger. He had a strange sense of deja vu, as if she had lived through this stage before and things were not developing in the right way. And then I crazy. I lowered the gun and left hand forward, palm extended, screamed aloud
- Good Dog! Good Dog! Sit!
Although he could not see her, I could imagine the look of surprise of the young. He probably thought I had gone completely mad, and go you know if would not be right, because those critters were getting closer and licking satisfaction. And just then, when it was almost over, the dogs stopped, and their leader was still looking at me, confused, as if they did not know if I was edible or not. After a few seconds seemed to take a decision and to my amazement (and my companion) those beasts came to lick my hand as tame as kittens. However, I barely had time to savor my victory, because the military did not expect to recover from the surprise firing in our direction. A bullet grazed the cheek so close I could feel the wind blow that caused the move. My hand was still holding the Glock, but for some reason, shoot a human being more like me right to do about a dog.
- Come on, come here! - Reiterated the girl from the deck of one of the motor. It seemed a good idea, so I turned around and jumped into the boat the more bullets were buzzing around me. Despite the hail of bullets, my companion stood there unmoved, extending his hand toward me to give him back the Glock. It gave from the floor and she caught it right away by taking away the position of an expert marksman, body tilted to provide the lowest possible target, and the gun held in both hands at eye level. The soldier opened fire and collapsed to the nearest leaky head. He fired three times and hit their target with each bullet, forcing survivors to lie to ground or seek refuge. From my position had a splendid view of her legs and for a moment I forgot where I was, admiring the way the muscles of your buttocks is marked under the thick fabric of his pants.
- Boot this pileup and get us out of here! - Said, while pulling the trigger. It was another good idea, so he crawls up the wheel and pulling his hand cautiously pressed the button. Nothing happened, and for a moment I feared that pileup that would leave us lying on the worst possible time, but Fortunately, the engine finally came to life with a hearty roar.
- Works! - I tried to shout above the din of gunfire and horsepower, but my companion was too busy responding to fire and to listen to me. I pushed full throttle and the motor sprang forward, breaking the rotten ropes that held the landing. Therein, a burst of bullets hit the control panel. Several shards of glass flew through the air crashing my eyes for very little, while warm, thick liquid (which I took to be oil) splashed my face. I let out a curse and headed downstream, letting the motor is more and more speed moving away from the shooting.
- Okay, we're out. Where do we go? - I asked, without response. Intrigued, I ventured to turn his head to see what the hell happened. The girl was standing at the rail with his right hand hanging over the inert body. At that moment his hand dropped the Glock, which bounced off the wooden floor with a thud. Began to turn in my direction very slowly, like slow motion, and saw the ugly hole that had opened up a shell on top of his head above his right eye, which flowed at intervals a thick stream of blood. With a feeling of nausea I realized that I had soaked substance from head to toe was not oil. Part of me wanted to run towards it, hold it and do something, anything. But my feet seemed glued to the floor and some more cool and rational knew it was too late. His eyes moved jerkily as if his brain (or what was left of it) did not know where to focus. He opened his mouth in an effort to say something, perhaps a final insult, but his legs failed him and collapsed on deck like a puppet to which he had cut all the strings at once. And I stood there alone, down the river, not knowing where to go or what the hell was I supposed to do with that damned briefcase.
(Will it continue?)
A bad place to lose 001
A bad place to lose 002
A bad place to lose 003
A bad place to lose 004
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