Prologue
The cloudy gray sky didn't want to leave the city of Santos even in the summer. If things were normal a cracking sun would be warming the beach, hundreds of people would be in the water cooling or under wardens protecting themselves and the beachfront streets would be full of cars looking for a spot to park. That was the vision six months ago, but now the streets had cars overturning and breaking into the sidewalk, the beaches had fences around them separating them from the street, and the people who wandered about it didn't seem to care about the weather. Some didn't care that they lacked an arm, a leg, or their entire lower body. They only focused on the men on the other side of the fence with sticks sticking through their eyes when they were close enough.
The fence that covered much of the beach also passed just over 1/4 of the Gonzaga neighborhood, especially the residences closest to the beach and the wide boulevard that ran through it. In addition to the men on the fence controlling the number of infected, there were people scattered around the area; some talking, some at higher points keeping watch and some messing with piles of objects. A man rummaging through a large electronics box noticed a large device in the bottom, and pulling it up came across a radio. Beside him was a box of CDs, and after checking the battery compartment and turning on the radio, he began to look through the discs. After a few minutes one of the discs caught his eyes, he pulled it out and put it on the radio, hitted the play button and turned up the volume. A sound that resembled a flute began to play and soon a deep but soft voice began to sing.
*Brasil, meu Brasil brasileiro
Meu mulato inzoneiro
Vou cantar-te nos meus versos
The classic Aquarela de Brasil (Watercolor of Brazil) played pleasing the ears of those close to hear, but before the next verse began a loud and desperate voice invaded the ears of people.
- No! Please! It was a mistake, I swear I won't do it again! Please! - Shouted a man who was dragged by two others through the door of a building toward the beach.
Shortly afterwards a tall, broad-shouldered man came out of the building lighting a cigarette. He had grayish brown hair due to age, sunglasses covered his eyes and a gun strapped to his waist. The way he walked and looked at the man being carried gave an air of superiority as he walked quietly behind them, being faced by the people around him.
Abre a cortina do passado
Tira a mãe preta do serrado
Bota o rei congo no congado
The music continued amid the desperate screams of the man who knew what would happen if he didn't beg the man.
- Mr. Castro please! My son had a fever, I-I ... I know I shouldn't have taken the medicine without asking b-but ... please forgive me! I'm the only one he has! Have mercy! - He pleaded when they stopped near the fence and the man known as Castro faced him.
- If I forgive everyone who breaks the rules - Said the man taking a drag on his cigarette and taking off the glasses. - this place would become a chaos, don't you think? I'm not doing this because I want to, but because it's necessary. You want your child to grow up in a civilized environment, right?
- Y-yes, but-
- So measures must be taken when the rules are broken. Doesn't metter if it's man or woman, old or young. Father or son. - Said Castro replacing his glasses. - Throw him out.
- NO! PLEASE!
A woman opened a crack in the gate large enough for the men to be able to throw the thief toward the beach. The screams had already attracted some infected immediately cornering the man, who as soon as he got up grabbed the fence begging for his life.
- PLEASE! NO! - He screamed before feeling teeth craving in his shoulder and leg.
The bearded young man who turned on the radio turned up the music to drown out the agonized screams of the man being devoured alive, and could do nothing unless he wanted to join him.
Brasil, Brasil
Pra mim, pra mim…