Fermín stood up and tore off his smoldering jacket. He peered into the sitting room. A shroud of smoke, dark and acid, licked the walls that were still standing. The explosion had pulverized the heart of the building, leaving only the facade and a first line of rooms around a crater. What remained of the staircase now climbed over the crater’s edge. Beyond what had been the corridor through which he had come in, there was nothing,

“Motherfuckers,” he spat out. He couldn’t hear his own voice through the screeching sound that burned his eardrums, but his skin felt the wave of a new explosion not far from there. An acid wind, reeking of sulfur, electricity, and burned flesh, swept up the street, and Fermín saw the glow of the flames splattering the skies of Barcelona.

13

A searing pain mauled Fermín’s muscles as he staggered into the room. The explosion had flung Alicia against the wall, and the child’s body had become wedged between a collapsed armchair and one of the corners of the room. She was covered in dust and ashes. He knelt down and grabbed her under the shoulders. When she felt his touch, Alicia opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, and her pupils were dilated. Fermín saw his own battered figure reflected in them.

“Where’s Grandma?” murmured Alicia.

“Grandma has had to go. You should come with me. You and me. We’re going to get out of here.”

Alicia nodded. Fermín took her in his arms and felt her clothes, checking her for wounds or fractures. “Is anything hurting?”

The girl put a hand to her head.

“It will pass,” said Fermín. “Ready?”

“My book . . .”

Fermín looked for the book among the rubble. He found it, a bit singed but still in one piece, and handed it to her. Alicia grabbed it as if it were an amulet.

“Don’t lose it, eh? You must tell me how it ends.”

Fermín got to his feet with the girl in his arms. Either Alicia weighed more than he expected, or he had even less strength than he thought to get out of that place. “Hold tight.”

Fermín turned around and, skirting the vast hole left by the explosion, moved slowly along the bit of tiled corridor that remained standing—now reduced to a mere ledge—until he reached the staircase. From there he discovered that the shell had penetrated as far down as the basement of the building, and a pool of fire had flooded the first two floors. Peering through the stairwell, he noticed that the flames were rising slowly, step by step. He clutched Alicia firmly and rushed up the stairs. If they managed to reach the terraced roof, he told himself, he’d be able to jump from there to the adjoining building. Perhaps he’d live to tell the tale.

14

The door to the terraced roof was a solid oak panel, but the blast had blown it off its hinges and Fermín was able to kick it open. Once he was on the rooftop, he set Alicia down and collapsed against the edge of the facade to catch his breath. He inhaled deeply. The air smelled of burned phosphorus. For a few seconds Fermín and Alicia remained silent, unable to believe the sight unfolding before their eyes.