Grief

I woke in that stone tunnel weeping, praying it had all been a dream. They say grief has stages. The first is denial; perhaps that explains the stupor I lived in during those days. I suppose that stage passed quickly; in this case, I couldn’t deny the truth even if I wanted to. I think I moved straight into the next: Anger. And that one… that one stayed for a long time.

The magazines I’d read described the emotions of loss with fair realism. What they don’t tell you is how everyone else gets sick to death of hearing you tell your sorrows, over and over and over again.

You don’t get it, do you?

Picture it: my family was everything to me. I’m not perfect—hell, I’m far from it. But I always did what I could to keep us together and provided for. The day my daughter was born was the happiest day of my life. I still remember when Irene told me she was pregnant; I remember feeling so insecure. It wasn’t an unwanted pregnancy; we just weren’t ready. But then, who ever is? I worried so much about the future: my job, society, the opportunities my little girl would have… I had never looked at those things as closely as I did in that moment.

You won’t believe it, but I just smiled—though it’s a sad smile. The second most important day of my life was when I met Irene. I approached her directly. It was a strange thing to do. I was never good at approaching people, let alone girls; I was always shy. But after finishing secondary school, I decided things had to change. I forced myself to become an extroverted clown, the kind of guy who doesn’t think twice about doing something stupid. It worked, so I kept up the act through university. I was an interesting contrast: despite being a runaway train, I never lost sight of my studies, though I didn’t work half as hard as I did when I was younger.

One day I walked into the library and saw her there, sitting in silence, head bowed, focused on her books. I sat a few tables away without taking my eyes off her. It took a while, but she looked up, and her eyes met mine. I kept my gaze fixed; she looked around and then back at me. There was no doubt I was staring. She looked back down at her books, trying to ignore me, only to steal a few glances out of the corner of her eye.

She froze when I sat down next to her. I think she nearly panicked when I asked out of the blue:

“What’s your name?”

“Irene,” she replied, her voice cracking, not daring to look at me.

I don’t… I don’t understand any of this. How did we end up like this?

She was so shy, so quiet, so taciturn. Not only that, but given the poor relationship she had with her father, she was always afraid of me. It took me years to get close to her. You can’t imagine how hard I had to work to prove that, despite looking like a loose cannon and a clown, I was a man of value and principle. Now look at me, complaining again and again. I’m not even sure what the hell happened. Suddenly the world goes to shit, and I discover my silent angel has been cheating on me for years—with a lover and friends who raped my daughter. Meanwhile, I was in a filthy stone tunnel, drowning in my own misery.

I don’t know how many times I told that same story while we were in that tunnel. Sometimes with more detail, sometimes with less. What I do know is that my cave-mates were fed up with me, and I don’t blame them. Just as I was starting my depressive monologue for the millionth time, Carmelo interrupted, pointing something out.

“The old man hasn’t come back. You think something happened to him?”

“I hope not; he’s our ticket out of here,” Kelvin explained.

“What do you mean?” Carmelo asked.

“I gave him some intel on the police and government security forces. The old man negotiated with the ‘Resistance’ on my behalf. While we were running and drawing the heat, the Resistance was raiding a weapons depot.”

At the time, I didn’t care. I was too wrapped up in my “pain” to realize what was happening, but I understood it much later. That’s why, during the press conference, they accused me of being a terrorist: the Resistance used us as scapegoats and a distraction to mask their movements.

“If we’re lucky and everything goes right, we’ll be out of Santiago in a couple of days.”

I laughed under the curious eyes of the others. Until that moment, I hadn’t thought about the future; I had just let myself drift into the darkness of that passage. I didn’t even know if I wanted to leave or survive to see tomorrow.

For what?

You understand, right?

There was nothing for me out there. The world was chaos. For the first time, it hit me that I had nothing to live for. I remembered everything that happened to me on the way to Santiago. I had survived so many times, but in that moment, I wished I hadn’t. Being torn apart by the things that hunted in the night or dying at the hands of those manic cannibals seemed like a kinder option than the shit I was living through.

“You guys don’t know what it’s like out there,” I said.

They all looked at me; I looked at the floor.

“There are all kinds of crazies—religious zealots, cannibals, monsters lurking in the dark. If you don’t reach a safe place before sundown, you’re dead.”

I looked Kelvin in the eye. “We’re fucked.”

“Don’t be a harbinger of doom, son. You’ll see, this will get sorted out. Have faith.”

Teresa kept up her positive attitude, holding onto it until the end. Maybe that’s what I lacked. Anyway, I looked around: an obese Colombian woman, an ex-priest without faith, a cop, a computer nerd… and a man with no will to live. Yeah, the perfect team. The very definition of “fucked.”

I seem to recall things getting tense; the old man didn’t show, and the others were getting desperate. I didn’t care much. More than once, I thought about leaving the tunnel, walking out into the “light” of day, and ending it all. But I didn’t, and after everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I’m glad.

The old man showed up the next day with food, water, and news.

“Ugh! It reeks in here,” he complained.

“Can’t be helped. We have to piss and shit somewhere,” Carmelo reminded him.

As a precaution, we were doing our business far from the main cavern, but apparently, the distance wasn’t enough.

“You won’t have to wait long. Those idiots in the Resistance are planning a coup at City Hall. They’re going straight for the leaders; we’ll use the chaos to slip out. By the way, Kelvin, you need to work on your aim. That cop is still alive.”

For the first time, my brain clicked into gear. “Which cop?”

“That Leandro guy. He’s alive, recovering. The bullet only grazed his skull and knocked him out. He woke up yesterday. He’s sworn to find you. The government gave him a ‘special anti-terrorist unit’ to hunt you down. I’ve heard rumors they’re a pack of dangerous psychopaths: kidnapping, torture, slow and brutal killings—the works.”

It’s ironic. Minutes before, I was thinking about giving up, but in that moment, I was glad Leandro was still alive. I found myself fantasizing about gutting him and showing him his own entrails.

Have you ever felt it?

Have you ever felt yourself come back to life on nothing but pure rage, pure hatred, and a pure thirst for revenge?

As if reading my mind, Carmelo approached me. “Come with me,” he said, pulling me away from the group.

“You could say that, according to the Bible, I am a man of little faith, and honestly, I’m tired of giving sermons. So many came to me with their problems, seeking comfort, advice, or forgiveness… For years I played the part and pretended to care. One day I got tired of the bullshit and my own hypocrisy, and I hung up the habit.”

He fell silent for a moment.

“I’m not going to tell you I understand you. I won’t tell you that hate and revenge are wrong. To hell with that cheap talk. What I will do is be honest. Look at you. You’re a weak man, skin and bones, you don’t know how to fight, and you want to take on a violent, armed maniac and an entire government run by a cult of degenerates. You don’t strike me as stupid. So, be smart and wait for your moment. Right now, the priority is survival. Revenge comes later. Have patience. Don’t blow it.”

Carmelo’s argument was solid; he was right.

“Finally, an honest priest,” I said. “Though I’m surprised by your lack of faith, considering this looks like the Apocalypse.”

“Oh, this is the Apocalypse. But I am aware of my sins and that I deserve no mercy. I don’t pray to the Lord because I believe in Him, but because I don’t believe in myself or the lies of my religion.”

Carmelo turned and went back to the others while I followed him in silence. We waited, as always. The old man appeared that night, agitated.

“What happened?” Kelvin asked.

“We’re screwed. Those clowns in the Resistance are morons. Half of them were working for the government. They’re rounding them all up right now.”

“Does anyone know we’re here?”

“Nah. Our deal was personal. I used the info you gave me to negotiate with the rebel leader, though all that’s worth shit now.”

“What do we do?”

“We leave. Just before dawn.”

“It’s dangerous in the dark. We’re all going to die if we go out too early,” I warned them.

“Don’t worry, my nephew is picking us up in Selva Negra. We’ll be safe.”

“I’m telling you, the night is dangerous. There’s something out there—things, demons that come out at night and kill everything they find.”

“I know,” the old man replied. “My nephew has seen them. But he knows how to protect himself. I heard him say something about ‘sacred wood.’ We’ll be fine. Get ready; we leave in a few hours.”

“Anyone know how to shoot?” Kelvin asked.

We were all surprised to see Carmelo step up. “I was in the army for three years.”

Kelvin handed him one of the guns he’d taken from the police.

“I assume you still remember how to use it?”

Carmelo fiddled with the weapon; a couple of clicks echoed. He checked the magazine and slapped it back in. Kelvin turned to the old man.

“Don’t need one. I’ve got my own,” the old man said, patting his side through his coat.

Kelvin looked at Mateo and Teresa, who both shook their heads. Finally, with no other choice, he approached me and held out a handgun.

“We don’t have time. I’ll give you a crash course. This is an HK-USP. Standard local police issue. This is the safety,” he explained, pointing to a small lever near the back of the slide.

“The letters tell the story: ‘S’ for safe, ‘F’ for fire. Push down to shoot, up for safety. This other lever here is the magazine release. Push it down, it’ll drop right out; swap it for another. Be careful how you grip it; don’t hit the release by accident.”

He demonstrated as he spoke.

“Sights are simple: three dots. Put the front dot between the two rear dots and squeeze. Keep your finger off the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Hold it tight; it’s got some kick… Let’s hope you never have to use it.”

I held the gun hesitantly. It wasn’t as heavy as I’d expected, and it felt more like a toy than a real weapon, but it still filled me with a sense of dread. Time passed, and it was time to move.

I didn’t know these people. Maybe it was better to go alone. But despite my better judgment, I ended up leaving that stone tunnel with the group. Everything felt different. It was cold outside—colder than in the tunnel, a chill that seeped into your bones. The air felt even denser, stagnant, as if the world itself refused to sustain life. Above, the black night sky looked like an abyss ready to swallow all existence in silence. There was no sound—no insects, no wind—leaving me with a future that felt even more ominous.

“Follow me. I know these thickets by heart,” the old man announced with renewed focus, using a low-beam flashlight to guide us along the Sarela river. The dense vegetation served as our cover. Occasionally, we crossed paths I seemed to recognize even in the dark, places I used to walk on weekends with my family. An uncomfortable sensation washed over me, a tightening in my chest, a hollow restlessness I still don’t fully understand.

After what I guess was forty minutes, I was panting like a pig. My wheezing could have been heard from a mile away in that silence. I was still too weak for this kind of trek. It was lucky that, moving in the dark, we had to go slow.

Sha-sha-sha-sha.

At that sound, a wave of panic surged through me, making me forget my exhaustion. Even the old man stopped in his tracks, looking around like a cornered animal.

“Goddammit,” the old man whispered, drawing his gun as he squinted into the trees.

Following his lead, Kelvin and Carmelo drew their weapons. I followed suit, my confidence wavering as I gripped the cold piece of metal. There was so little light; I didn’t even know if the safety was on. I couldn’t focus on it… back then, I didn’t have the experience with guns I have now.

As I said, that thing was moving through the trees. We had no idea if it was one or many, but the threat was imminent. The sound of something dragging and that high-pitched screeching drew closer, but they seemed to be circling. Kelvin started fumbling in his pockets and pulled out a high-powered flashlight.

“Turn that off! They’ll see us!” the old man hissed.

“There’s something here that’s worse than the cops.”

The old man paused for a second.

“To hell with it!”

He turned back toward the trees. Those things were coming for us…

…"

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