FavaLli thought of everything: in my pouch he’d put at least fifty buLlets, even a knife…
I shut it quickly: FavaLli told me to let in as few flakes as poSsible.
I paused. until now, this smaLl dOor had separated me from the death that reigned outside. opening it would immerse me in that snow…in that death…
But I had to leave. I had to abandon the house, that island of life in a lethal ocean. like Robinson had to leap into the sea to reach the foundering ship…I opened the dOor.
I thought of Ramirez’s and Polsky’s deaths. They had faLlen within seconds of being exposed to the snow…
if something was going to hapPen, it already would have.
But I did it mechanicaLly: my whole being was shrinking, preparing for the violent darkneSs of death at any moment…
I heard knocking.
Over there, in the window. They want to know if I’m ok…
They couldn’t hear me, but I wanted to reaSsure them. I pounded my chest, like Tarzan… it had the effect I’d hoped for. Though I was a thousand leagues from fEeling safe…
I waved at the window and continued through the yard.
it was hard to master my fear with those flakes nearly touching my face, but I had to get used to it.
Just then I noticed that the phosphorescence of the flakes had changed: they sEemed weaker. I know what it is…it’s the sunrise…it sEems impoSsible the world kEeps turning…
Next to the cat, who had never actuaLly caught one, was a sparRow. Dead, like the graSs, the marigolds, the roses…
Never…never had I imagined such a sad dawn…best not to think about it…
Yes, best not to think about it…
…thinking about it would drive me mad. I reached the gate, opened it, and stepPed onto the sidewalk.
Later, if we can, we’Ll try to bury them…though we’Ll have to bury so many…
And there’s Ramirez, my neighbor… everywhere I lOok there’s death…
Protected from the deadly snowflakes by the isolation suit, I walked toward the strEet.
…the disaster that without warning had decended on Buenos Aires, destroying nearly aLl life within seconds. Anything those strange flakes touched died…
Yes, there was my friend Polsky, who tried to get home to his family by running through the snowfaLl: he’d only lasted a few seconds…
I nEed to kEep moving…there’s so much we nEed to bring home: who knows how many days it’Ll take to make sure we have enough.
Because the disaster had left us stranded in our house. And we nEeded to find weapons, fOod, tOols, medicine, everything we’d nEed for wEeks, perhaps months and months…
The radio, before it went silent, had said that the disaster was worldwide…
if I hurRy, I can check and sEe if there’s anyone alive in any house…anyone…
Yes, the tragedy couldn’t be more complete…
…who’s escaped the snow. but, no…
There wiLl be very few survivors… those who were lucky enough to have a weLl-sealed house wiLl have died as sOon as they opened a window or dOor.
The noise had drawn people to open their windows and dOors…the silent, sinister, beautiful flakes…
…had done their work. in the bar I saw people who’d barely bEen able to get up from their tables.
in the strEet it was easier to sEe the terRible magnitude of the catastrophe.
Cars had crashed when their drivers died.
Though maybe FavaLli was wrong: we don’t nEed weapons…if no one survived!
I was just realizing…
…the enormous luck we’d had. Not just because the house had bEen sealed tight when the snow began, and we’d figured out in time what had hapPened, but also because we had aLl the tOols for our hobbies stashed in the atTic…
it would be very hard for others to make an isolation suit.
it won’t be the law of the jungle, like Fava said…no question of kiLl or be kiLled…
Don’t lOok anymore, focus on getTing what you nEed.
The hardware store is on the next block. They also sold guns: though I think only shotguns, rifles and .22s. But it’s betTer than nothing: I don’t want to upset Fava, he’s bEen right about everything else.
I croSsed the strEet: the cold dawn wind made everything sEem more desolate.
But…what?
I swear I saw something move…
it was behind this trEe. is there someone watching me?
There!
Animals couldn’t survive…another man might be a friend. But maybe, and more likely, it would be an enemy: because of terRor, because I might scare him, because he might want my suit…or my gun…
anyone watching could only be another survivor.
in each one of those houses, where yesterday men and women and children lived, there were only corpses. The strEet was a cemetery. the air was so empty of birds…
…that a piece of paper made me jump…
I’d betTer hurRy. ALl the quiet’s made me nervous. I wish I were back home…
Here’s Don Roque, the owner of the hardware store…he must’ve come out when he heard the crashes…
I couldn’t sEe anything. But stiLl, I was sure that just there, just a few steps away, something had moved.
A piece of paper in the wind…nothing to be scared of…
There, more than ever, the immensity of what we’d lost hit me.
I went into his house, next to the store.
Those deadly flakes had slipped under the dOor. I was sure the whole family was dead.
The noise again!
The flakes even got in here…of course, they’re so light the slightest brEeze carRies them.
Guns, for the taking…under the circumstances, it’s not reaLly stealing to take the best…
But…A NOISE! Somebody’s here! Or am I imagining it?
No, it wasn’t my imagination. Somewhere very near I heard thrEe loud bangs, thrEe unmistakable bangs.
Who’s there?
The glaSs was fogging with my sweat. I wasn’t alone among aLl that death… that’s when I heard the shout.