The night streets of Tarragona were a sight to behold. The warm glow of streetlights, combined with lights shining from behind window panes gave them a lively atmosphere. That contrasted nicely with the darkness of the warm summer night, with a myriad of stars twinkling across the horizon.
There were barely any people out, due to it being closer to morning than midnight, and a Tuesday to boot. These thoughts did not seem to occur to a man walking through the gorgeous streets, clearly disregarding the climate surrounding him. He was short, no more than a meter and a half in height. His boot clad feet hit the sidewalk with quiet rhythmic clacks, as if he wanted to remain unheard on the quiet street. The pockets of his gray cargo pants were bulging out, quiet crinkles, and metallic rattles being the only identifiable hints to what was hidden in his pockets. His head was concealed by the green hoodie, currently covering the man's torso.
He walked unsteadily, his gait uneven. He muttered incoherently into the night, sometimes giggling loudly as he gazed into the screen of his phone, held unsteadily in his right hand.
He moved slowly, not paying much attention to his surroundings.
He approached a bus stop and sat heavily.
Despite his apparent intoxication he deftly maneuvered through his phone, opening the message app. He scrolled through a list of names, and opened the chat with “Dom”.
“U up?” - he typed in, led as much by muscle memory as by any coherent thought. He looked at the screen for a few seconds, before maneuvering to the browser and browsing through the news. He skipped right past the articles talking about stock prices, inflation and other, in his opinion, fear mongering pieces. He stopped briefly on a report of recent deaths apparently caused by hypothermia. This one still confused him. When he first heard about them he dismissed them as a hoax, that was before every local news outlet picked up on it. The vultures. He scrolled through the news feed some more, before a notification from his message app popped up on the screen.
A response from Dom “Am now”. He tapped on the notification, entering the chat.
There was one more message by the time the app loaded up. He had to get a new phone, this one started to slow down recently.
“Something wrong?” It read.
He typed in a response “Nah, gong back home, was oot wit Fig”. He made typos, so what? Anyone would in the state he was in.
He got a response, seconds after sending the message “Not picking you up, if that's why you're texting”. For shame. He just wanted to take a break and chat with someone, but the decline still stung.
“I'm sitting at a bus stop. Just wabted to chat with someonw” he typed instead, trying for all his worth to sound coherent.
A chill ran through his muscles, his body shivering slightly.
Truth be told, he wanted to chat with someone, as he felt uneasy since he got out of Fig’s place. He didn't know why. He frequented the night streets of Tarragona often enough to be used to the mood the place brought him.
“Y me tho, you could chat with Fig, right?”
While that made sense, he didn't really want to. He liked the guy, sure, but after spending half a night with him he'd rather chat with anyone else. Also Fig was most likely passed out by now, so there was that.
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He felt cold, and so decided to better keep moving, get the blood flowing.
As he walked he replied to Dom “Fig is not in the group. I wanna talk with someone in the know, you dig?”. Which was partially true, of course. He would prefer to call and have someone talk to him, but with how sore his throat felt, he'd settle for text.
“I love you like a brother, and all that, but I have a job tomorrow. Can you chat up someone else?” Dick. He understood Dom, sure, but it hurt a bit, how easily he got blown off.
It was getting colder, he could see his breath fogging up as he walked.
Curious, he checked the weather app on his phone, wondering if there was any sudden cold snap. According to data it should be 14°C throughout the night, which didn't add up to what he was experiencing. After about a minute of walking, his ears picked up a sound, it was rhythmic, pulsing noise repeating every few seconds. He couldn't pinpoint the exact source of the noise, and neither could he intuit what could be making it. He quickened his pace, intent on reaching his home as quickly as possible, now more than ever. And then a smell hit him. Like a refrigerator, left for too long unwashed. It was the smell of preserved foodstuffs, close to expiration date, yet artificially kept fresh using a mixture of cold temperature and a cocktail of preservatives. He looked around as he ran, spotting pale blue lights above him. At first he dismissed them as start, but that changed when they moved towards him, their movement bending the night sky in a terrifying visual illusion. Confused, and scared for his life, his mind sharpened, expelling the fog brought upon him by the mixture of substances he partook in not an hour earlier.
“I'm scared, Dom” he typed, now running, his stiffening fingers nearly dropping the phone as he typed. His steps became more coordinated as adrenaline kicked in. It kept getting colder, and his toes started hurting with each step he took. His fingers felt numb and stiff, and he felt a peculiar stinging sensation all over his face as he moved.
The running helped in alleviating the effects the cold had on his body, but he still was a long way from the safety and heat of his home. He felt his phone vibrate, but in the state of panic he was in, he ignored it, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the green hoodie.
There was a sound, like a wind blowing through a narrow corridor, yet no wind has disturbed the vegetation spread along the walkway. The sound came from behind him, but he refused to spare it a glance. He ran. He ran like a man possessed, not daring to slow down, even as his body felt stinging cold. He heard a raspy howl.
He didn't dare to slow down when his whole body felt like it was burning. He didn't know if it was due to exertion or the now freezing temperature.
He didn't want to slow down, even as his body hit the cold pavement, his legs giving up under him.
He wanted to crawl, even as his hands refused to move.
And all this time he was assaulted with the rasping howl, which he realized belatedly, came from his own mouth. His throat parched and sore, attempting to call out for help, managing only to howl desperately, unintelligibly.
He wanted to howl more, even as his body gave up, unable to continue it's feeble struggles.
He wanted to live, even as his mind blanked, and vision faded, never to return.
The streets of Tarragona were a sight to behold this morning, with one street in particular being illuminated by flashes of red and blue. Inaccessible to curious bystanders, blocked by black and yellow tape, intended to keep them away from the scene.
It held a grotesque sort of beauty, if one could even call it such, with a majestic centerpiece, defying the widely accepted laws of nature. For in the middle of the street, on this beautiful and hot summer morning, a frostbitten corpse, clad in green and gray, has been found.
Police, paramedics and technicians populated the scene. Burdened with investigating the frozen corpse, separated from the public by police tape they labored on, intent on finding out what led to such a strange death.
Among them stood a woman, clad in a police outfit. Her long, wavy black hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her sharp facial features. Her brown eyes picked up every detail of the street, trying to make sense of what happened to the frozen man. As she scanned the surroundings a thought struck her. This one is going to get pushed on her, just as the last such cases.
Her name was Gabriela, and she wasn't looking forward to the investigation.