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Third ring: sooner or later he will answer.
On the fifth ring, the answering machine comes on. Where have you been?
"Beep!”
"Hi Roberto, it's Davide. Where have you been? If you can connect your brain, call me back. I'm at the office working and, many times you don't remember, that's the place you're supposed to be. Bye and call me!"
He has been sick twice already this month. If he has flu or related again and disappears another week leaving me with his paperwork, I swear I'll bring it straight to his door this time.
Seventeen forty, the end of the working day and Roberto still hasn't shown up. Maybe it would be better if I stopped by his place before going home, maybe he needs something.
Oh no, here we go again! Stuck in traffic. Freaking junction! It would take two of them, one on top of the other, not to widen it.
An hour and a half! It took me a damned hour and a half to get to his front door. On the intercom there is a sign: out of order. Luckily the front door is open. I go to the elevator. Another sign: out of order. What is this, a conspiracy? Doesn't anything work in this ruin of a building?
Sixth floor: hurriedly I arrive in front of the door and without any formalities I attach my finger to the bell.
Come on, answer! Don't tell me you made me come all the way here for nothing, or I'll kill you!
I hear some noises, I stop ringing.
I look at the door: still noises in the background.
"Roberto! It's me: Davide. Come on, open up!"
I knock so hard that even a deaf ninety year old could hear me.
Latch sounds. Hallelujah!
When he finally decides to open, I destroy the smile I'd been wearing and replace it with a chilled expression. "What the hell happened to you?"
He looks like he's aged thirty years. His face is gaunt and waxy.
"Ah, it's you. Come...come in."
Even his voice is altered: hoarse and phlegmy. I follow his footsteps, traipsing down the hall.
"My God, how badly you're hurt!"
He doesn't answer, coughs, and lets his weight drop onto the couch. I sit in the chair across from him and look at him worriedly.
"Did you call the doctor? You look like hell!"
And I'm a big optimist.
"No, I haven't had time yet..."
"What? I'm sorry, but then what have you been doing all day?"
Turning his head, he looks at an undefined point outside the window.
"I've been sleeping and maybe... dreaming."
"No, wait, I left you yesterday morning spewing energy everywhere with the story of that and then you disappear. When I find you again you sound like my grandfather and you're rambling like crazy! Let me hear if you have a fever."
I quickly bring my hand up to his forehead, he tries to fight back scared, but can't. His hands are freezing cold and his forehead is as hot as an iron.
"You're hot! But did you fall into the oven? That's it, I'm calling the doctor!"
"No! I can't go to the hospital! She promised me that tonight..."
Complaining, he struggles. I ignore him and pick up the phone. I dial the number.
"Oh yeah? Then I guess that means we'll put a nice sign on the door to match everyone else...hello, is this the doctor's office?"
Within ten minutes the ambulance arrives. To calm him down, the doctors are forced to administer a sedative and load him with the stretcher into the ambulance car.
Heralded by the roar of the engine, a motorcycle pulls up alongside. On it, straddling it, is a guy dressed in black leather who is watching us carefully. He realizes I've noticed him. He takes off his helmet and when he shows off a long black hair, I notice amazed that it is not a he but a she. Damn, she's very beautiful too! Could she be Roberto's mysterious lover? But if it's her, why doesn't she run worriedly to the ambulance?
She gives me an enquiring look, then quickly fastens her helmet, starts the engine and with a deafening noise disappears into the horizon.
The ambulance sirens bring me back to reality. I rush to my car and follow her to the hospital.
The bench in the waiting room is uncomfortable and cold: whatever, I don't have to sleep on it.
A doctor approaches, quickly peeks at a clipboard and calls me by name.
"Yes, it's me! How is Roberto Capua?"
"Well, undoubtedly better, but how did he get like this? When I saw his papers I didn't want to believe his date of birth."
"I assure you, doctor, that until a few days ago he was in excellent shape. I was amazed, too, when I found him in that state. But what exactly is wrong with him?"
He is puzzled. Perhaps more than I am.
"It is difficult to say. We noted considerable blood loss, as if he had suffered a severe arterial bleed, but we found no evidence to confirm it: general absence of wounds on the body, lack of bloodstains on the clothing. Also, from what you stated at intake, you didn't notice any bloodshed in the environment where he was found."
"I confirm that, the house was clean."
Secular dust excluded.
"In any case, since there is no runoff in progress, the leak is a secondary problem that doesn't involve big consequences, at least on a normal subject. The fact that struck me is the physical deterioration of your friend: in a few words, he seems to have suddenly aged a few decades. To your knowledge, has he ever suffered from any particular pathology that would justify this state?"
"No, at least he has never told me about it, but I repeat that he has always been in excellent shape." So far.
"Do you have any relatives I could talk to?"
All I can think of is Sara...
"I know he has a sister who lives just outside of Rome. I had the intention to call her, but without a response from you I didn't want to alarm her for nothing... at this point, though, I think I'll contact her soon. In the meantime, could I see him?"
"It is better you come back tomorrow, he needs to rest and he's under control, take it easy."
Before leaving, I leave my and Sara's information.
On leaving the hospital I decided to anticipate them, I called her to explain the situation trying not to alarm her too much.
It was useless, she was very worried. She tells me that she would have rushed there. It's nice to know that there's still someone who can feel sorry for you....
On my way home I can't help but think about what happened to Roberto and I'm partly ashamed of what I thought about him on Sunday. I'm looking for a rational explanation: maybe he's suffering from one of those rare hereditary diseases, but I don't know why my thoughts go to that strange girl.
Could she have given him some special drug?
C’mon! Do you want to see that now she belongs to a team of crazy scientists doing genetic experiments on poor unfortunates?
It's ok, let's joke about it, the fact is that I don't know any other way to exorcise my fears.
Poor guy, what a shame!
Isn't that... yes, it's the black bike. It's unmistakable! Do you want to see if the woman in the story was really her? But I can't see her in the admissions department, and I don't even think they allowed her into her room. Maybe I'm wrong.
Chapter 2
The Legend
In Bed
It feels like a movie. It's as if these memories don't belong to me and I'm a spectator who paid for a ticket to attend the premiere in a movie theatre.
These images surface and go away without my apparent will, at least they seem to have a consecutive logic. Now, however, I am more certain than ever that in order to solve this mystery I must get to the bottom of the story.
More time has passed and nothing has changed... well, not really nothing: the night has fallen; maybe if I could fall asleep for a few hours, when I woke up everything would be normal again.
Yes, but why isn't everything normal? That Roberto is the first victim of a tremendous deadly virus and I am the second and tragic episode? I would say that American apocalyptic films should be halved at the cinema.
Just a moment! Here's something new: my neck is no longer motionless, now I can move my head! And that's progress.
Who knows, maybe if I tried harder, I'd be able to move the rest of my body and maybe even stand up....
Inhuman effort.
What the hell!
I look around. Despite the darkness I can make out a few objects in the room.
Doubtful: has the window always been open?
The white crenelated curtain, urged on by the wind, flutters free. It almost seems to be animated by a will of its own, with a tendency to take on distinct shapes with every puff it receives.
First it was a large bird, perhaps an eagle.
Now the meaning of the figure is lost and reinvented: it is a woman with long, loose hair.
It lasts a short time. A gust arrives and disrupts everything. The curtain becomes tangled as if handled by a skilful conjurer who cleverly makes it take the shape of...
Home
"Meow..."
"A cat?"
What the hell is a cat doing in front of my front door?
"Meow." It rubs ruffling at my pants. He looks hungry.
He has a small golden collar that stands out against the clear grey fur. I pet him smoothly and he lets me pick him up.
"Where did you run off to? Your owner is sure to be worried."
He wears a really nice collar. He's too clean and sociable to be for a stray.
"Meow." He appreciates my attention and purrs at me.
A tag pops out of his collar that I hadn't noticed before. There is opaque writing on it. I try to read it.
"Lil... what's next? It doesn't read well, maybe your name is Lilli? Are you a sissy then? Let's see if I can find you master."
I walk out the door and go to the intercom. I start ringing one by one to all the tenants. Except for three who don't seem to be home, they all answer me that they are not the owners.
"Now what am I going to do with you? I don't feel like putting you out on the street. I'll tell you what: I'll host you and I'll commit myself to finding your owner, but only for a few days at the most, but then..." With my hands I make a gesture more than eloquent even for the understanding of a feline.
"Meow." He seems to agree. Pact sealed.
I open the door with the keys and as soon as the door opens, he frees himself from my grasp with an agile move and quickly enters the house.
"Yes, good, go ahead and make yourself at home, don't worry."
Elegantly he points straight at the sofa as if he already knew the environment and with a decisive leap he takes possession of it. Sitting in a composed manner, she moves her paw. It seems absurd, but I could swear that she is pointing to the kitchen. If she's hungry, then that means there are two of us.
"Fine: I'll cook tonight, but we're agreed that you'll do the dishes afterwards!"
Of course I must have gone crazy if I'm talking to a cat and making a deal with it. What female, human or not, in history has ever respected a pact?
The cat seems to have fallen asleep, but I don't really want to sleep and the TV doesn't show any program worthy of attention. I get up listlessly from the couch, letting the bluish light of the television give some colour to the room, and I look out the window. The thought of Roberto's fate is now a permanent concern, but I put it aside for a moment to admire the beautiful moon that illuminates the almost deserted street this evening. It's that almost that upsets me.
That bike again! I'm not wrong and it can't be just a coincidence. But where is the owner? I try to read the license plate: too far away. Okay, you won't get away from me this time.
I grab a piece of paper and a pen from the shelf, put on a jacket and hurry out to check for myself.
