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The cover of the bed had come loose, and the elastic was stuck in his kidneys. He pressed the call button, but nobody came. Those hours were complicated, because for some strange reason, the patients tended to aggravate their crises at night. He tried to move his right arm, but it did not get more than a slight tremor, not enough to reach the bloody cover.
Raquel and Juandi had just left, and once again he was overcome by the feeling of helplessness that kept harassing him since he woke up from his long "dream".
As they had explained him, it had been necessary to induce him a coma that had lasted a week. He suffered from diffuse oedema due to a head injury, which had ruptured the cell membrane and infused fluid when it stopped working. The doctors had been able to drain almost all the fluid and put a temporary valve, but the consequences of the drugs to induce coma still lingered. He could not pronounce clearly and was not able to move most of his body. He had been in that way for more than a month, in which, being conscious, he had to suffer the humiliation of needing to be washed, helped to urinate, to eat and practically to almost everything. In the last week he had almost completely recovered his speech and only dragged the R's a little, but his physical condition was far from improving. Apart from the head injury, he suffered traumatisms in the extremities, abdomen, torso, and some second degree’s burn. All in all, they had explained him that he had had an almost miraculous fate. Some could not say the same.
A nurse appeared shortly after, administered another cocktail of suppressants and adjusted the bottom of the blanket. She left him a glass of water —which Jonás could not reach alone— and left without saying a word. He let the tears flow, which was the only thing on his body that did not cause him physical pain and, once again, as he had been doing since that fateful morning, he wished he had died. It was a stupid sensation, he knew that too well, but he could not help but feel that way. He tried to sleep, but it was impossible; once again.
****
Juandi and Raquel returned —like every night that they left the hospital— to dine in silence in one of the bars that opened until late in front of the building. During dinner they uttered no more than a monosyllables’ salvo without a soul that revealed the pain that caused them to see their friend in that state. The doctor had informed them that Jonás injury was proceeding in an "acceptable" manner, but every time they left the room they were invaded by the impression that their friend would never be the same again.
On the other hand, although they had begun to live together, something in the relationship did not work as it should, and conversations between them had been reduced to insubstantial and less frequent conversations.
They returned without talking to Raquel's apartment and they went to bed as soon as they arrived. Juandi listened in the middle of the night to Rachel's choked cry —one more night— but as always, he drowned his head on the soft pillow and swallowed a few words of comfort that he wanted to say ardently, but that never came out from his throat.
****
He had waited all day with a sense of improper urgency in him, he had never been very fond of celebrations and less of that one, which he considered silly like a pine tree and a mere product of marketing. He went out at high speed of the editorial’s building and wrapped himself in his fur coat as the sharp wind stung his cheeks. It was a rather tough month in terms of the weather, reaching minimums below zero at night.
He quickened his pace, careful not to slip with the ice sheets that had formed on the edges of the sidewalks in the late afternoon. A dense column of vapor escaped from his body with each expiration, creating lacerating stitches in the chest in which some bruises persisted.
When he entered the store, it did not take more than five minutes until the package was prepared, and without wasting time he walked down the avenue until the next stop. Twenty minutes later he was riding in a taxi and loaded with bags with different emblems of famous brands. It was already dark by the time he arrived, even though it had only taken an hour since he left work and the clock still marked seven o'clock in the afternoon. Damn winter!
In the garden area that surrounded the house, three of the four lights on the road had melted and he was about to hit the kneecap with a wheelbarrow left in any way. He cursed under his breath, and at that moment the sound of laughter came to him clearly. He smiled and opened the door. In the living room —perfectly heated— there were three people sitting at the table. They turned when he appeared.
—It was time— they joked—. I thought you wouldn’t come.
Jonás gave his friend a half-sided smile from one of the chairs in which he held himself unnaturally straight.
****
The evening passed between laughter and jokes. Juandi had been the subject of most of the taunts, but he was delighted with it. Proxy had surprised them with a new "look", in which the hair’s colour had been changed to a jet black —matching with the lipstick’s paint—, which gave him an interesting aspect. Jonás sometimes had a weak appearance, with the skin as if it had suffered a kidney infection, but in everything else he was always the same Jonás. The doctors had ruled that the young man's recovery had been miraculous, that there had been no cerebral sequelae, and that the most disturbing thing was his physical condition. Curiously, the worst was not the trauma or the burns, not even the problem of the cerebrospinal fluid, but the serious infection that Jonás had suffered from the bullet wound in his badly healed abdomen. Dr. Harrison had done a good job there in Chile, but it had only been a temporary remedy until Jonás returned to his country and was cured in a hospital. The sepsis of the wound had degenerated into a terrible septicaemia, from which they had fortunately been able to release him.
—And are you sure he is dead? —Jonás asked.
—Yes— Juandi became serious—. Nobody escaped that hell, well, except you.
—And what happened next? —Jonás was interested—. Think I've been locked up in a hospital for two months and I've hardly read anything.
—Well, the truth is that all this is an absolute mess— explained Raquel—. It turns out that both Gutiérrez and Chacón were militants of a new political party, and that for months they had been inciting violence through social networks. After the attack, conversations have come to light in some far-right chats that testify, and some documents discovered in Chacón’s house suggest that they were also blackmailing several members of rival parties to sabotage the elections.
—About the attack— whispered Jonás softly—. It really was Jurgen who was responsible
Jonás had seen the photo in one of the newspapers that Juandi had taken to the hospital.
—It seems that yes— confirmed his friend—. The dude has sung for soleá.
—According to the press— Raquel clarified—. Jurgen was hired by Gutiérrez and Chacón to eliminate their candidate, since he had discovered the dirty rags and didn’t want to participate in that farce.
—But that doesn’t make sense— exclaimed Jonás, annoyed—. Jurgen never, he was...
—According to the police— Juandi continued—. Chacón and Gutiérrez wanted to extort money from members of the government and leaders in that flat in the Gaviria palace, but something went wrong, also frying them with the explosion. Jurgen declared that he put the bombs together with Caccola, the well-known terrorist, to put an end to the politicians who did not accept the blackmail, but that something went wrong.
Jonás kept shaking his head, denying everything, which seemed like a bunch of stupid things.
—And the guy who killed Chacón?
—Jonás, when I got to that house, it was only you— Juandi explained—. There was no one else there
—There was someone there! —he lowered his voice at the pain in his chest—. Somebody put a bullet in Billy's head before he could kill me!
The three friends looked at each other and looked down, not knowing how to explain to their friend what they had to tell him.
—Jonás, the truth is that Proxy has discovered something you should know— Juandi confessed.
—Maybe it could be an explanation— the young man admitted almost in a pitiful tone—. The fact is that I didn’t stop looking after what happened in that house.
He got up and went to a table where he had left a canvas briefcase. He unfolded a modern laptop and two black boxes that looked like tobacco packs and proceeded to connect all the devices.
—During the time you have spent in the hospital, Juandi, Raquel and I have continued searching the web, inquiring about this.
He showed a cell phone with a cracked screen, which he connected to one of the boxes on one side, and to the computer on the other.
—It's the cell phone of that psychopath of Fumo— Proxy explained—. I recovered it from my house when... you know.
—The fact is that Proxy discovered that this murderer worked on two sides— Juandi had regained some of the enthusiasm that characterized him—. Not only for Chacón.
—I tracked the calls and messages, and in the last months three numbers appeared repeated daily almost ten times— continued the young man—. Two of those numbers were from Chacón and his partner Gutiérrez, the third one...
—It's still active— Juandi declared at Proxy's reproachful look—. And the best thing is that we can access it.
—How?
—I set up a spy program— he explained as he continued typing—. Spyware applications are known as Spyware, which are basically malicious Malware that leave doors open so that you can copy or download anything from a device. There are many in the market, Spyera, Flexispy ...
—We removed the IMEI code from Fumo's phone and sent a message from the computer pretending to be him— Rachel's voice trembled a little—. In that way, when the message was opened the spy code was installed, and Proxy had access to all the other device's applications.
—And what did you find out? —Jonás’ head had begun to hurt.
—It will be better if you sit down — advised the young man—. In addition to a multitude of messages, in one of the calls I activated the camera of the mobile and this appeared.
Jonás saw the recording and felt the blood drain from his heart and it stopped pumping.
—Happy birthday, friend— Juandi said.
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