The city, plunged in a sepulchral silence and tinged with red, stretched out under the agonizing glow of dusk. The sun was slowly descending, covering the ruins with an orange glow that accentuated the bloodstains strewn across the streets. There was no trace of life left. Only the echo of the wind carrying ashes and the weight of an inexplicable tragedy.
On the cold asphalt of the road lay a motionless figure. It was a young woman, about nineteen years old. Her pale face contrasted with her reddish, almost orange hair, which fell in messy locks over her forehead. She had multiple wounds scattered across her body and her clothes, torn and dirty, evidenced that she had been involved in a recent fight, a fierce struggle that left marks on her body and spirit.
Her eyelids trembled before fluttering open. Her vision blurred. Her body, numb. A sharp pain throbbed in her temples, while a dull ringing echoed in her ears, enveloping her in a thick and confused silence. When her eyes, of a dull sky blue, managed to focus dimly, the first thing she perceived was the orange glow of the sunset, tinting the ruins and casting long shadows on the cracked ground.
With an effort, he barely sat up, seeking relief in the new position. But as he looked down, his trembling hands caught his attention. Stained red. Sticky.
A shiver ran down his spine.
—Blood?
Panic settled in her chest. Her breathing became erratic as she looked up, disoriented. She searched her surroundings for some answer, some clue that would explain what was happening. And then she saw them.
In the distance, two limp bodies on the pavement.
Her pulse quickened.
With hesitant steps, he approached. Her throat closed as she saw them up close, and a knot of anguish formed inside her. Tears began to slide down her cheeks before she could understand why.
Then, a shrill sound broke the silence.
The alarm.
She woke with a start.
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her skin was cold and pearly with sweat. She looked around her. Her room. Her bed. Everything was in its place. It was just a dream.
But something didn't fit.
Why did she feel that tightness in her chest? Why did the image of those bodies make her cry? And the most disturbing thing... who were they?
Questions swirled in her mind, but time was pressing. Soon it would be eight o'clock in the morning and she had to open the coffee shop where she worked.
She hurried to take a quick shower, got dressed and grabbed a sandwich before heading out. Just as he was about to walk through the door, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
—Hello? What's up Reize? —she answered, holding the phone to her ear.
—Arika, I'm going to be a little late —Reize's voice sounded worried—. There was an accident near my house and the traffic is at a standstill. Can you take care of opening the cafeteria?
—Yes, no problem—he replied as he adjusted his coat—.But tell me the truth.... Are you sure it's the traffic? You didn't fall asleep again?
—Hey—her friend protested—. This time it wasn't like that, I swear.
—Mmm... I don't know, it sounds like something someone who did fall asleep would say.
—I'm serious! —When I get there—. I'll show you the evidence and you'll see that I'm not lying.
—Whatever you say, sleepyhead — Arika replied as she grabbed her purse and keys.
Reize snorted on the other end of the line, causing Arika to smile.
Arika hung up and walked outside. The morning air was cold and hit her face immediately. She walked briskly towards the bus stop. The city was already on the move. Clerks, students and workers were gliding along the sidewalks, anxious to begin their day.
When the bus arrived, he boarded and took a seat next to the aisle. At the next stop, more passengers boarded, quickly filling the vehicle. It was then that he noticed an elderly woman being pushed through the crowd.
She was a woman with a face furrowed by fine wrinkles and gray eyes, dull but kind. Her hair, completely white with age, was tied up in a loose bun that let some strands escape. Her slim, stooped figure spoke of years lived with effort, although she still retained a certain elegance in her gestures.
Without hesitation, she got up and gave him her seat.
—Thank you very much, my dear —said the old woman with a kind smile as she settled herself with effort.
Arika smiled back, but something caught her attention. On the woman's wrist there was a small wound. It looked like... a bite?
She frowned.
—Excuse me, what happened to your hand?
The old woman sighed and looked at her wound with resignation.
—Oh, this... nonsense. This morning, as I was leaving a store, I saw a young man lying in an alley. I thought he was badly hurt, so I went over to help him. He looked very disoriented... drunk, perhaps. I managed to get him up, but when he started to regain consciousness, he suddenly bit my hand.
—Did he bite it? —Arika repeated, feeling a shiver run down her back.
—Yes, not too hard, but hard enough to scare me. I yelled at him, and he staggered back, staring blankly. Then he seemed to fully react and apologized again and again. He said he didn't know what had happened to him.
Arika didn't know what to say. Something about that story was... strange to her.
Without another word, she took out a yellow scarf from her bag, adorned with thin curved lines that intertwined along the fabric. In one of the corners was delicately woven the outline of a small flower. Taking the old woman's hand she tied it gently over the wound.
—Here, at least to cover it up a little.
—You are very kind, my dear. I wish there were more young people like you.
The bus continued on its way through the traffic. The old woman spoke warmly about trivial matters, but Arika hardly listened to her. Her gaze was still fixed on the handkerchief, which already showed a red spot in the center.
Her chest tightened.
A sudden braking jolted the bus. Passengers muttered in annoyance, but Arika paid no attention. Outside, something had stopped traffic.
Up ahead, an ambulance stood in the middle of the street. Around it, a crowd watched something on the ground.
Or someone.
A shiver ran down his spine.
—Oh, what a mess —the old woman whispered, looking in the same direction—. I've seen too many accidents lately....
The bus started moving again, taking them away from the scene.
Arika tried to convince herself that it was all a coincidence. That nothing was out of the ordinary. After all, it was the city, it wasn't so strange that there were so many accidents. But the image of that bite and the story of the disoriented young man kept haunting her mind.
Reaching his stop, he turned to the old woman with a gentle smile.
—I'd better treat that wound to avoid infection.
—I will, my dear. Thank you for your concern.
Arika got off the bus. The city went on with its usual routine: the morning bustle, the smell of freshly baked bread, the comings and goings of people. Everything seemed normal. Nothing had changed.
He didn't understand why he had been alarmed for a moment. Today would be a normal day, just like any other.
With that thought, she headed for the coffee shop, which was about two blocks from the bus stop.
But she had no idea that the calmness of that morning was just an illusion.