Modern tech come strike us down
The battle lines have cut this town
Sub-zero boys, without names
Don’t forget to wear your chains

The first time I smoked weed was the first time Oracio stayed over. It wasn’t really because of the mood or out of fun. It wasn’t because we were bored or had nothing to do… It was quite the opposite. I think we were both trying to find an escape road and we took the only exit available to us then, while being buried under a snow storm.

The cold seasons were known to be harsh in my homeland, to the point, that we had a running joke in town about it. Since we were basically seen by the rest of the world as low rated citizens - below the level zero of humankind - whenever Magdad was going under the freezing temperature, we would named it the Sub-Zero City. 

And the year Oracio took me in was no exception. 

The winter hit us early. With its waves of snow and icy winds, and its loads of silence and sickness. The streets were hardly active when the white weather was pouring on our heads, the cold keeping us all inside. Slowly, Magdad was going in hibernation. The hardest parts were the Spleens, the freezing fogs that grew in Lalombia and made their way down to our land. Those ones were nasty. Even though we were at the end of their tails, they always stroke us hard and good. Well, that’s a continental winter for you. But that year seemed worse than the others.

Until know, the cold never had bothered me. At the center, the buildings were rather well insulated so I only fought it when going to school. Before that, when I was let lose in the streets, there always were a bracero to warm up to somewhere. But it wasn’t the case of my new accommodation. When the winter knocked on my door, I didn’t really felt like there were walls around me. The heater was on, the windows closed, but the studio was just better at collecting cold than heat.

“And so when I said: let me know when you have a problem… wouldn’t turning into a Popsicle at night be one of them?” Oracio was standing beside the bed, trying to seal the windows edge, tracking down drafts. He was unhappy. “Unless you are into the growth of illegal bio-weapons?”

“Culture…” I coughed piteously in the bed sheet. Trying my best to cover my mouth, I shivered and swallowed through the fire in my throat. I was sick like a dog.

I had kept from him the heating system defect, thinking I could handle it. To not rise suspicion when he visited, I was keeping the room hot, by turning the hotplate on and boiling water regularly. But one day, the water in the kettle had turned to ice and my attempt to fight against the cold passed from harder to failure. Oracio busted me when, that morning, he found me half-conscious in bed with all my clothes on to keep me warm.

“When you grow germs, it’s called a culture…” I explained wiping my nose in my sheets.

“Hmm,” he glowered at me, setting up a space heater. He turned it on and pushed it closer to me. The heat spread instantly through my muscles, bristling my hair, in a relaxing way. Why did I hide it? I don’t even know but it was probably for a stupid reason like “he was busy” or “I didn’t want him more involved”. Really stupid, because at that moment, I was rather relieved by his presence. How funny…

Oracio sat next to me, warmed a bit his hands and held my head. His fingers felt like ice to me. I jolted as they passed on my neck and wrapped up my forehead. “You’re burning hot, mate.”

“You put the heater in my face, what did you expect?” I said, perfectly aware he was referring to my fever. I tried to pull another joke hopping to take his mind off my condition but I sneezed and coughed at the same time, my body visibly confused on which order it wanted to process it.

“Ok. That’s it!” He got up, opened the duvet and dragged me out of bed by the ankle. “We’re going to the doctor!” I was too tired to try going against it.

I don’t know how, but we managed to carry my ass to the office of a doc he knew. Some old four feet tall Asian lady, with silver fox hair. The moment she saw Oracio, she took us in. No word exchanged, no background checked, like a VIP entry of some sort. I saw the assistant nod discreetly at his boss when we passed him and left the room locking the door behind him. While she was examining me, Oracio stayed in his corner, backing onto the entrance and watching silently. He tried to light on a cigarette, but the doc gave him the frown. He back stepped and took a lollipop form the candy jar instead. If it wasn’t for his humor, if it wasn’t for me being out of it, I would have laugh at him for being scold like a kid.

I got weighed, measured, palpated. She was fast, but I barely felt her touch. “Did you break your ribs recently?” she suddenly asked, while listening to my breathing. I looked at Oracio then nodded, my head in the clouds. She sighed. Oracio crossed his arms displeased.

In the end, she gave me a shot and something for the fever. She wrote down a prescription she handed to Oracio, and put a mask on my face telling me to wear it if I had to go out. “Don’t spread that around. I have enough work.”

She was a woman of a few words. When I was finally dressed up, she walked us to the back door, without a notice to her assistant and kicked us out. Oracio still kindly gave her a kiss on the forehead, leaning down to reach her height. It was tender gesture. As if he had done it many times. She put on a displeased face, punched him in the chest and turned back to hide her flushed, slamming the door behind her. She really was adorable.

“How did you two meet?” I asked as Oracio was adjusting his knit cap.

“She is an acquaintance.” I looked at him through my foggy eyes and nodded, knowing perfectly he wasn’t telling the truth.

We didn’t immediately go back to the studio as we had to pass at the general store to buy my medicine. Oracio made me sit on a bench in front of the shop and waited there that he was done. Around me there was a lot of agitation, lots of conversations. After spending a week in bed in a silent room, the crowd felt suffocating. All the decorations for the Winter Solstice and New Year’s celebration were finally out. It was bright, it was noisy and overwhelming. I closed my eyes and tucked inside my scarf to stay warm. I wanted to go back to sleep.

After a good ten minutes, Oracio came back with his errands, some food and a can of hot drink he bought at the vending machine. “Drink that while we are getting home.” His spirit seemed a bit more lifted.

We walked down the street, meeting more and more people. All heading in the same direction. Policemen were also on the lockout, dispatched on what seemed to me strategic spots. We eventually arrived at a place where a gathering was happening. So that’s why there was so much commotion.

In the square, a large crowd was cheering. Another around was booing with placards. Thousands people might have been there. In the middle of it, a man was standing on a stage, giving a speech into a high speaker so no one could miss it. Behind him, a large banner was hanging with his role-model face and a slogan: “Magdad needs a mayor again.”

I snorted. Oracio grunted. “Someone is trying to fill the gap” I joked while adjusting my mask, as we were passing in front of two policemen. I purposely coughed when we reached them so they understood I was sick and nothing else. Oracio apparently though the same, as he put in evidence the medicine packet in his arms. The two policemen followed us with their eyes then returned to their patrolling.

We stopped a second, to take a better look at the speaker. Pretty average looking, proper on him. A middle age brunette. But not from Magdad. “Who is crazy enough to run for office here?” I wondered as the man was waving at the crowd, ignoring the dissatisfaction of half of the public.

“He’s the head of the police department,” declared Oracio, taking a cigarette out. “His name is Remza… Ramsay…” he wavered. “Whatever. It’s Jerkface... Let’s not stick around. He’s just a prick.”

We went on our way, listening to Mr. R’s speech. Something about Magdad being unsafe and needing tougher structures; about calling out the Government for abandoning us. How ironic coming from the guy enforcing his power from his floating silver tower? I turned my head, to see one more time how much of an idiot that guy was, and noticed a familiar face, standing beside him: that sadistic lark of Miller. Of course, he is here. I shook my head.

“So what are your plans for the Winter Solstice?” asked Oracio casually.

“Well... someone just pressingly insisted that I rest, earlier today… So think I am going to do that.”

Oracio clicked his tong. “Hey, don’t blame me. Bad boys need bad scold.” He laughed while lifting up his collar.

“That is fucking rich coming from y…”

I never finished my sentence. A massive explosion burst open the crowd behind us.

I just felt the heat in my back, the shock wave and the blow projecting my body forward, like a piece of paper. I don’t recall if I lost consciousness. But I remember being on my hands and knees, my head spinning and my ears ringing.

I looked around, confused. It was hard to breath. I was hurting. I passed my hand on my head to massage it. There was blood on the snow. It was mine.

People were running around but everything was silent. I could just hear a high pitch whistle covering muffled sounds. I lost balance, hitting the snow once more. Oracio? I turned my head. In the square, bodies covered the ground. A lot of red. A lot of smoke. There was a fire and silhouettes advancing toward it. The stage was untouched. The speaker and his rich friends had already scattered. Flashes suddenly flew the air and my ears caught shooting noises.

That is when they appeared: a group of Blues, all in paint and black, purging through the mass. Someone lifted me up and pulled me away behind a dumpster. My vision fainted for a second and readjusted on Oracio’s back.

He was trying to peek at the exchange between the Blues and the police forces. The volume suddenly turned on, with an outburst of screams and blasts. Oracio reached for his gun, when a familiar but dreading vibration filled the air. One that I learned to fear over the past weeks when it was passing above the studio. But this time, it was a swarm.

I looked at Oracio, my body seized by violent jolts, but on his face, I could read his desire to go out there and fight. I was too shaken to call him back, and saw him getting up when he suddenly froze and looked at me. His expression changed. I could never grasp it, as a heavy smoke flooded the streets.

It took me in the nose and mouth, burning my throat and lungs as if I had breathed fire. In two seconds, I retched and puked through my mask, tears running on my face, uncontrollably. I tried coughing but it was worse. What hell is that!?

Hastily, Oracio grabbed me and supporting each other, we fled the scene. “Hold… you…r breath!” I heard him grunt, through a series of coughing as we engaged in a back alley. I felt his arm tightening around me, leading us away from the fog.

The road we took was off the grid. Short cuts he knew by heart. Many were gallery graves, shut areas, narrow passages between two buildings and places I ignored existed. In just a few turns and a breathless running, we arrived in front of his building. People were all out, alerted by the explosion. No one seemed to notice us.

I threw up in the hall entrance, then somehow we made it to his room. Blinded by the gas, I heard him slammed open the door and rushed me into the bathroom.

“Water… rinse…” I told him while he was rustling things around.

“I know.” His voice was hoarse. The faucet squealed, followed up by a series of dull clonks. “Fuck!” Oracio went to the other room. The water was frozen in the pipe apparently. I didn’t bother to ask. Another wave took me, and I turned to vomit inside the tub. This time it didn’t felt like acid. Too salty. I shivered, removed my mask and glasses painfully, then tried to undress.

The thuds continued as I picked up on Oracio coughing and pausing for a second. A gurgling, a wet noise. He was also sick. Quick footsteps. The fridge door closed. He ran back to me and tilted my head backward to pour water on my face. He made me drink, rinsed some more, then quick washed his own face.

At last, the shower water started to ran down. Oracio proceeded to clean me profusely with it. I yapped. The water was burning cold. Took a moment for the warmth to come back. It didn’t stop him. He doused me, insisting on my eyes. When my vision returned, the first thing I saw was his face: red and puffed up, his veins pulsing. He had a severe nosebleed. We both did.

“Damn it…” I immediately took the shower head from his hands and helped to clean him from the gas residue. He let me do, joined with a series of curses from both of us.

After a serious wash, Oracio got up and went back to the other room. He started undressing when a buzzing sound escaped from his jacket.

“Yes…” He spoke. “Yeah, I know. I was there! The freaking spread gas all over the place!” He sat next to the bed. Is he on the phone? I couldn’t see from where I was. He got up and disappeared from my sight again. “What the hell is going on?! That’s way beyond their actions!”

I picked myself up and wobbled toward the door. Oracio was standing in the middle of the room, loading his gun, his phone stuck between his shoulder and his ear. He looked at me, while listening to whoever was speaking to him on the other side. I was about to ask something, when someone knocked on the door. “Hold on…” he muttered to the phone and dropped it on the bed. One head sign at me. I took cover.

Holding his gun in steady position, he walked silently to the entrance and took a peek in the second Judas hole. Pause. He relaxed and opened the door. Behind Pedro, the guy I accidentally ran into with my bike, was breathing heavily. “What are you doing here?”

“The boss... sent me to pick you up,” replied Fatso. “We have an emergency…” he held his sentence when his eyes caught sight of me, standing in the bathroom threshold. “What’s he doing her’ this one?”

Oracio put his gun away. “I invited him.” In a hurry, he finished dressing up and followed his partner. “You don’t leave the apartment. You stay here! Safe! Copy?” I nodded. He stormed out and rushed down the stairs. I watched him disappearing in the street, heading back to the smoke. On the horizon, the sky was darkening.

The heater had run all the time we were out. Now the room had reached a decent temperature. Oracio’s cloths were all over the place. I started gathering them then discovered he had thrown up in the trash bin. 

I decided to clean it in the tub with everything else, when suddenly all the lights went off. “What the...?” 

A power outage? I stepped out of the bathroom and looked through the window. Quarter by quarter, the town was being plunged in total darkness. 

When the snow restarted falling, no light was left to see.