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