Francisco Fajardo Highway, half-way to the hospital (Caracas, Venezuela)

The screech of the ambulance siren buzzed around in my head as if I had a hive of bees swarming around in my skull. I couldn't stop looking at my brother who lay on the gurney intubated and with a thick bandage around his head. My old man was holding Azael's hand, his tear- streaked face tight with worry. He seemed to be convinced that by taking my brother's hands he would be able to stop the hemorrhage.

The rain was falling against the little windows through which the red and white lights of the ambulance entered. My brother was literally fighting against death. Suddenly, the ambulance rolled over. Things were out of control inside the reduced space and something hit me. Windows were blown and little pieces of glass were falling as rain.

When I woke up I was in pain and I noticed that the doors of the ambulance were detached because of the sudden rollover. I tried to move but I felt a sharp pain in my right arm: I was trapped by an oxygen tank. Some hot liquid was falling on my forehead and my eyes were burning. I used my hand to clear my face and was shocked to see my blood. Instinctively, I looked at the stretcher: my brother was still there, unconscious, secured by the straps of the damaged gurney. My dad was lying knocked out near my brother.

One of the paramedics that accompanied us was lying on the ground, a few feet from the ambulance. At least the downpour had mellowed to a gentle drizzle and a dense mist.

I struggled to move the heavy oxygen tank that was crushing painfully my arm. After many attempts, I managed to make the tank roll and I uttered a yell of pain. I crawled with difficulty to where my father was. The pain was such a bitch.

I checked their pulse, relieved to find it strong and steady. The only way to get some help now was getting out of the ambulance. I tried to get up but my eyes refused to focus and my head and legs also hurt like hell.

Through my blurry vision, I made out some strange, sinister-looking figures through the dense mist. A chill ran down my body and my breath hitched on my chest. Shaken, I grabbed my shirt and wiped the blood from my face, but the threatening vision was still the same. More than five figures were crawling just about forty feet from the paramedic who was lying on the ground. They looked like cats; spindly, dead-looking black cats with huge, terrifying fangs. I rubbed my eyes harder and I started screaming at my father to wake up, but he remained out cold.

Scared to death, I watched with dread how the quadrupeds spread out in a 'U' formation, as if they were making sure that no one would be able to enter their shield, or even worse, to escape. The brake lights of the ambulance highlighted their sharp fangs. On top of the paramedic's body stood one of the quadrupeds, presumably the leader of the pack, baring its teeth and waiting to hear the order to annihilate us all.

As if the scene before me wasn't nightmarish enough, the shadows of huge wings overflying us appeared. "Shiiiiiiiit! It can't be! What the hell is this! Black cats and fucking giant birds!"