Manel Loureiro - Apocalypse Z - The Beginning of the End

Friday, December 30, 8:40 a.m.

Today’s going to be insane. When I got up this morning, it was pouring down rain. It was still raining as I fixed myself a cup of coffee. I took a shower with the news blaring on the radio.

Some things never change. One day Spain’s broke, the next day it’s not. Today I have a meeting that could mean the difference between living like a king for the next six months or fighting with stockholders who have no idea what’s best for them. It’s their money, not mine, but if the merger goes through, I could kick back and live on my commission for the next few months. I need to relax, motor around on my little Zodiac, and do some scuba diving in the Ria Pontevedra…

I drank my coffee and looked out the window that opens on to the garden. This house was a good buy, but so many things still remind me of my wife. She chose it, she decorated it, she…I guess that doesn’t matter now. I thought my doctor’s advice to “unburden myself” to others would help me get over her, but time goes by and I still feel her presence everywhere. “Write a blog,” my psychologist told me. “Talk about anything you want, any topic. Just talk.” Well, that’s what I’m doing right now, but it’s not doing much good. What the hell. I’ll give it a try.

The garden is green, damp, lush, and overgrown. It’s been raining nonstop for three weeks here in Galicia. The humidity has permeated everything. If this rain keeps up, I’ll have to cut the grass and clear the vines off the garden walls. It was her decision to surround the house with these high stone walls; water’s trickling through them now. “We need privacy,” she said. Now she’s gone, and I feel like I’m living in a fortress.

I straightened my tie, grabbed my briefcase, and turned off the radio. The newscaster was talking about an explosive situation in a former Soviet republic in the Caucasus Mountains, someplace with a name ending in - stan . Something about a rebel group attacking a military base where Russian troops were stationed. Too bloody for me. I snapped off the radio. I had to get to the office. I was running late.

January 3, 1:15 p.m.

I haven’t updated this blog for several days. The meeting with the company reps went great! Now I can splurge and take a nice vacation on what I earned last month.

On New Year’s Eve, I had dinner at my parents’ house in Cotobade, near Pontevedra. They moved there years ago, after they retired. In addition to my parents, my aunt and uncle were there, along with my sister and her boyfriend, in from Barcelona, where they work. She’s a lawyer like me, although we work in different fields. She’s lived there for years and has fit into life in Catalonia. I’ve always preferred Galicia.

During dinner we discussed the big story in the news: the conflict in the Caucasus. Apparently, a group of Islamic guerrillas from…Dagestan?…attacked a former Soviet base still under Russian control there. My sister thinks they were looking for nuclear material. I hope she’s wrong. That’s all we need—another terrorist attack like in Madrid on March 11 but with nuclear bombs.

What few images there are on the news are hazy. The base that was attacked was top secret, and authorities aren’t allowing anyone to take pictures. Reporters have to broadcast from the hotel roof, using images on file and street maps. They say hundreds have died, and Putin has put all of Russia on high alert. Images of soldiers and tanks occupying the streets are chilling. They must be afraid there’ll be more assaults or attacks throughout the country. I’m glad I’m not there.

January 3, 7:03 p.m.

I’m watching TV. Channel 5 has interrupted its broadcast for a live report on the Russian Federation closing all its borders. All flights in and out of Russia have been canceled. The launch of a Soyuz rocket has been postponed sine die . On CNN they’re discussing what this shutdown means—either the situation in Dagestan has gotten out of hand, or Putin wants to increase his power. A cautious analyst on some talk show is sure there’s no cause for alarm; it’s all a political maneuver. I don’t know what to think.

The electricity came back on first thing this afternoon. I can’t take the electric company’s damn outages anymore. I’m living in a housing complex just a mile or so from Pontevedra, a city of eighty thousand people! “Problems with the power lines,” they said. They estimated six months to fix it. They’re not going to jerk me around anymore. Tomorrow I’m buying some solar panels and storage cells for the roof. And then screw the electric company.

January 4, 10:59 a.m.

I watched a news report about Russia on CNN this morning. Finally there are images of what the hell is going on in Dagestan. Putin’s government continues to seal off the country. First they closed the borders; then they banned updates. Reporters based in Dagestan have been moved to Moscow to “ensure their safety,” the report said.

Today they broadcasted a home video. You could see special units of the Russian army advancing down a deserted street in a town near the base that was attacked. At the beginning of the recording, they panned across the faces of the soldiers in a tank. They were young boys who looked pretty scared. When they jumped out of the tank, I was shocked to see that they were wearing gas masks, as if they were afraid of breathing something harmful. They started shooting like crazy at something or someone and then ran like hell back to the tank. That’s where the tape ended. I don’t know what to think about all this.

On Channel 3, they said it’s possible that those rebel forces were from Chechnya and wanted to seize control of chemical weapons or nuclear material stored in the laboratories. The world is full of crazy people…

This afternoon I did some shopping. Three Kings Night is coming up. The mall near my house was packed with people buying gifts. I ran up my credit card buying tons of food, several five-liter jugs of water, a couple of powerful flashlights, and lots and lots of batteries on account of the damn power outages, and some electrical equipment, especially cable. If I’m going to install solar panels on the roof, I’d better be ready for some glitches. I also bought a ton of food for Lucullus, my Persian cat, who’s been ignoring me lately.

Some girl kitty in the neighborhood must be in heat. Lucullus thinks it’s his duty to shower her with his attention. He’s constantly jumping the wall in search of adventure. That wall’s ten feet high! What a guy won’t do for a girl!

I went to the store that installs solar panels and bought a couple of BP Solar SX170 panels. They were pretty expensive. All totaled, including installation (they’ll be here tomorrow to install them), it came to two thousand euros (storage batteries not included), but it’s the best on the market. Each panel weighs about fifteen pounds, so they can be installed on the roof without caving it in. They’re multicrystalline silicone cells guaranteed to last twenty-five years. With the two panels on the roof, I can charge two series of 24-volt storage batteries even in a place like Galicia where there’s so little sun. That’s crucial if I don’t want food in the two freezers in the basement to spoil.