Captain Torres—his expression shadowed by doubt over our misfortune and with no news from the garrison at María's Wall—requested González's help to examine the rotten body of the unfortunate man.
Binet and Yeremi Santos, in private, discussed with González the implications of using the anti-rot suit and the serious risks of misusing it. With the warnings laid bare and the need to pierce that fog of uncertainty, González became the first to don the anti-rotting suit created by Binet and his former partner R.O.
Near the outskirts of Pontos, the rest of the doctors, scientists, and medics had no idea what was happening. López and Polanco patrolled the perimeter while Torres focused on protecting our lives. The transport drivers inspected their vehicles. We could only watch and quietly exchange conjectures.
—This doesn't bode well, Juan Vásquez predicted, starting to panic.
—Don't worry, Vásquez, Almánzar reassured firmly. We thought returning to the country was impossible—and here we are. Now let's trust that this will work out and guide us to the capital.
—You're right, boss.
—Something big must've happened to call González in, Duarte cut in.
—Is that good or bad news? Vásquez asked.
—González is the continent's top forensic expert. If he's here, it means there's something serious going on.
González had warned Torres that there wasn't much to be done; it was hard to examine or find answers in a mass of decomposing flesh. But the captain wanted to know if this was some kind of bioterror incident staged by the revolutionaries.
Time was against us—and one man alone wouldn't speed up the answers.
—Alright! González exclaimed after examining the corpse. It's tough to provide a detailed analysis quickly, but I compared these findings with the Blodcaf reports, and we're dealing with a case of putrid immolation as they described. Give me a couple of hours to examine it in depth.
—Couple of hours!? Torres snapped. That's exactly what we don't have. We need to be in the capital by the second day after our report, otherwise… His voice trailed off as he tried to finish the thought.
—I'm sorry, captain, González replied, stepping away.
The lead Torres hoped to pull had vanished, leaving us again without answers and unsure of our next step. With no alternatives and the situation worsening, Torres opted for Plan B: head toward Ramón Gate to the northeast. Nearby lay Laguna Redonda and several settlements—once prosperous farmlands filled with hunters and farmers.
—Alright! Torres addressed us with a voice full of authority and urgency. The situation has changed: we've had no word from the garrison. We've sent several messages, but since entering Catha, no response. I've decided to execute the second plan.
—We should turn back, captain, Duarte interjected, aware of Torres's plan.
—Remember, there's no going back, López shouted. We know heading northeast is dangerous, but we have no other choice.
—Stay calm, López. We're waiting on confirmation from Blodcaf and Liongard. While we wait for Orion's message, those who want to pray can—and those who don't should prepare mentally and physically.
The tension rose as the sun crept toward its premature twilight. We waited for Blodcaf and Liongard's confirmation. Minutes stretched into eternity. Every second with no answer heightened our anxiety.
Torres, bearing his usual burden, approached the improvised comms hub. His face anchored with responsibility, his eyes resolute.
—Any news? he asked a guard, voice firm but betraying a hint of anxiety.
—Nothing yet, captain. Signal's weak, but we're trying.
Meanwhile, González worked tirelessly on his analysis. His makeshift lab was scattered with instruments and vials, illuminated by the flicker of a lantern. He knew every minute was more precious than Larimar jewels; from this first glance might come the key to the disease.
Binet and Santos stayed close, noting every detail. Their collaboration to unravel the mystery in the corpse was essential. Taveras, with his mycology expertise, and Vidal, a microbiologist, combined their talents to uncover the illness's root cause.
—What have you found? Binet inquired, eyes wide with concern.
—It's too early for firm conclusions, but signs point to more than simple disease, Vidal replied, not looking away from the microscope.
Outside, the perimeter team kept watch. The elongated shadows of dusk cast an eerie mood.
—I don't like this, López, Polanco murmured, scanning the horizon through binoculars. Something's wrong.
—Ever since the trains were looted, we've been at a disadvantage, López confessed. Few know it was two trains that disappeared without a trace—a stark sign of how dire this country has become.
—What would they want with trains? They can't exactly leave the country… right?
—Let's hope not, Polanco. Let's hope not.
Polanco nodded quietly, mirroring his comrade's unease.
Finally, static crackled through the radio, then broke into clear words. Blodcaf's voice came through urgently.
—This is Blodcaf. We've confirmed with Liongard. Proceed with Plan B at dawn. Repeat: proceed with second plan… The signal cut off abruptly, but the order was clear.
Torres nodded, aware that time was running out.
—You heard him! He commanded with steely resolve. I want everyone ready for tomorrow's operation. We head to Ramón Gate. Take your positions and prepare. We can't afford delays.
The team sprang into action, each member focusing on their task. Backpacks were secured, vehicles prepared, medical kits meticulously reorganized. Medications were produced in greater volume—ramping up every effort to maximize survival chances.
After the whirlwind of preparation, a calm settled during the late hours. Jesús Sánchez prepared a simple meal to replenish our exhausted bodies. The rest found solace in the warmth of the bonfire—a symbol of comfort and serenity amidst chaos.
—This doubt won't leave me alone, Polanco said as he approached González. Where the hell did you learn to punch like that?
—I regret that incident, truly, González replied, pausing to drink hot tea shared by all around the fire. I didn't just study at university. In my rebellious youth, I took up boxing to relieve the stress of so many classes. Maybe I wanted to understand the physical struggle that others face every day.
—Damn you. Don't get all sentimental, okay? You still owe me a rematch.
—I didn't know you were a glutton for punishment, González shot back.
Laughter filled the air, with words of mock love and friendly insults following. González and Polanco had forged a bond in their spar. Binet and I grew close—driven by different motivations but united in pursuit. It felt as though an intellectual brotherhood was forming, only momentarily disrupted by Santos and Taveras competing over who was smarter.
Of course, as civilized men do, we resolved it—and bets, laughter, and pride ensued. Others looked on, amused.
—Never thought I'd see tidy men acting like children, Almánzar observed to Vásquez.
—I guess we're all kids inside, huh?
—I suppose… I suppose.
—Boss! Vásquez's tone became serious. Can these people actually help us?
—I have faith in them, Almánzar replied. Look how far we've come thanks to their work.
—Soon I'll see my family again.
—I assure you, Vásquez, we will find them. Not just your family, but your comrades' families too.
A superficial calm lay over the camp, but everyone was weighed down by personal concerns. The night deepened as the bonfire's glow illuminated our weary faces. The chill in the air reminded us of the freezing days in Constanza—but here in Catha, the cold was gentler, almost a balm for the soul.
In the distance, an owl's hoot reminded us we weren't alone in the darkness. It was a ceasefire before the storm at dawn.
González, his gaze lost in the flames, broke the silence.
—When I was a child, I imagined I'd be a hero—someone who would save lives and uncover mysteries, he said quietly. But I never imagined facing something like this.
—We all had childhood dreams, González, Taveras replied, having remained quiet and reflective. Although reality may be darker, we can still do something meaningful here.
—Sometimes I wonder if we really are making a difference, Almánzar added. It all seems so… insurmountable.
Torres, determined as ever, approached.
—What we're doing here is vital. Every small breakthrough, every answer discovered, brings us closer to saving lives. We can't afford to doubt now.
Torres's words rekindled our spark of hope. Though faint, it glowed again in our hearts.
Dawn approached, bringing with it the uncertainty of what lay ahead. But we were together—and that unity gave us the strength to face whatever came. We prepared for the next chapter of our mission, knowing each step was drenched in both shadow and light of our shared destiny.