Two beings lived in a
house whose access to its entrance was through an embankment. Also, had a
second access: a paved road; but the cars did not have drivers and construction
workers decided to go down the embankment.
The trees were anomalous
near the only home in kilometers around. Anyone would feel strange there. Almost
all the electricity poles had no lightbulbs and the masons, despite the sun shining,
they asked God and the saints who do not surprised them the night by the
embankment.
“Are you sure it's around here?”
“Hey, Cuzo, I was not born
yesterday.”
“With what they will pay
us, we will live a year without have to work.”
They were moving bike and
the heat was suffocating. Cuzo again asked to Heras for the address and he
heard a bad genius:
“Bah, curse. I will not
invite you anymore!”
“It is ... the place,
Heras.”
They returned to spot a
straight on the embankment. They
would see another curve at the end of the embankment. At that place there were
trees and trees on both ends of the embankment. Then there was a straight, in
other end there was a curve. They believed they were walking into a snail.
“Is this not the last
curve? “ Asked Cuzo.
Heras remained silent. He
noted that the stones had changed its color and size. The stones were larger
and darker.
They had been
perceiving the change of flora, as a friend had told them. They imagined that a
lion could jump over them.
Heras heard a grunt and he looked toward Cuzo.
“You're not going to think we’re in the jungle,” Heras
said.
“Dogs bark...”
“And dogs do not growl?”
“In any case are big dogs,” Cuzo assured, as he pressed
the handlebars of the bicycle. Sometimes the treetops was so high that
crisscrossed branches and prevented the penetration of sunlight.
Cuzo thought again at
night and, at dawn. Suddenly they heard
someone moaning. The grunts were gone.
“Could it be ... a tiger?”
Heras watched and added: “a
wild dog.”
“How do you know if you
have not seen it?”
“How stupid you are ...
not gross, gross woman.”
“But he grabbed someone.”
“It was an
animal, Pendejón González.”
After several minutes of
silence, they heard screams. They knew they had yet to reach the house. Heras
was concerned about those screams. The shouts could be a man. There are men who
cry. But they there were cries of fear. Maybe they were a couple.
Cuzo panicked and promoted
the idea of a loose predator. Heras compared those shouts with sexual gestures.
He busied himself in those virile memories. He had an erection and pedaled
slowly.
“Many women prefer
terror,” nodded Heras, “that woman was raped, sure.”
Cuzo stepped forward,
and called him Heras.
“I knew it, you see?”
Cuzo said, “I was right.”
“We can no longer return.”
Cuzo felt a depression. They
were sweaty. Heras came back to pedal near Cuzo, who looked sideways. He
imagined beasts in the dense foliage.
Masons noticed that the
songs of birds had disappeared. They saw no sparrows, or butterflies.
“We're close,” Heras said.
They stopped. Heras looked
at Cuzo. Cuzo watched to Heras. Cuzo now was watching around. They did not see
anyone. They just saw a buzz of flies and a row of ants, which they came from
the house. Cuzo looked up and saw the building.
The house was colonial
style, mysterious and challenging. He pointed the way to Heras. It was true.
The house was also covered by rare trees that a biologist it would take time to
decipher if these species of tree existed. At the back of the house there was a
red lagoon. Cuzo did not want to believe it. He thought that the color was due
to discharges from a chemical factory. But they knew that there not was a hut
in a lot kilometers around, much less a factory...
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