As Adam struggled through the crowd, the loudspeaker commentator continued to tease him. It sounded like the same person as the one on the radio, but this was irrelevant; clinging to reality was all that mattered.

"This is a nightmare," he said to himself. "Wake up."

"We're just getting started."

"Shut up! This is not real."

He squeezed between two women wearing tight Venezuela flag t-shirts and then pushed through a group of shirtless men with letters painted on their chests.

"On orders from the National Telecommunication Commission, cable and satellite operators stopped carrying seven stations after these refused to air the President's speeches," said the stadium commentator, sounding like a news anchorman.

"Enough."

"This has forced other broadcasters to adhere to the new regulations developed by members of the—"

"Not true." Adam covered his ears with his hands. The surrounding people were oblivious to him as he walked backward, trying to figure out how far he'd come from his seat. "I'm hallucinating."

"On other news, a man killed his sister and girlfriend on Christmas Eve. The BA in communication and media studies beat his sibling to death due to their different views on politics."

The crowd erupted with cheers, shouting, and applauding.

"Stop!"

"Friends of the perpetrator have told us the night of the brutal crime the man had been drinking and watching TV all day."

Dear God! He thought, noticing the portable radio by his feet. I haven't moved an inch.

"Recent reports have revealed the victim was pregnant."

Transfixed by the device near his seat, he bumped into someone.

"Look behind you," said the voice on the speakers as static crackled louder.

Adam turned around and stood aghast. It took him a second to realize the man blocking the way was the same drunk fan who had sat next to him. Something terrible had happened to him. His eyes, swollen shut, oozed blood-stained pus. Did no one else see him? Could nobody else smell the foul odor coming from him?

"Where are you going?" asked the fan.

Adam staggered back, tripped, and fell to the floor.

"Get away from me."

With static buzzing in all the stadium speakers, it became harder to think.

"She's looking at you," the man pointed at the Barra Pepsi.

Adam saw Lili gesturing to him to stay down before his attention returned to the fan as he bent down to seize him. His upper lip curled back, exposing teeth red with blood.

"Don't touch me!"

It happened fast.

In a quick motion, Adam grabbed the pocket radio and swung on him. The man gave out a shriek of pain and brought his hand to his face, trying to stop the bleeding. The antenna had caught him in the cheek.

A knot of spectators turned their way. Soon the number of people looking at him doubled and then trebled. To his horror, most of them were blind, their eyelids bulging with reddish pus.

"Let me out," he shouted, pushing everyone in his path until he got to the stairs.

His body's momentum carried him forward. He collided with a man and then with an old lady wearing a ball gown dress. Someone spilled beer on him as he lost his balance and fell. Dammit. Dizzy, Adam fumbled for the stair rail. His hand, however, reached nothing but air, but he heard his sleeve tore off and felt something snap free from his wrist.

"No, no, no."

One of his wristwatches had fallen.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked around. I have to get it back. They can't leave my arm unless I have the money. Adam groped desperately. I've kept my promise. You know that, right?

Despite having prayed only once for the first time in years that same day, and not having set foot in a church since Evi's funeral, he had made a vow to God that he refused to break.

He'd promised he wouldn't take off his watches until there was enough money in his account to fly Bianca and Dario to Miami.

In his mind, this meant he had more control over the unexpected.

"It doesn't hurt to have God in your corner," he used to say, even if he wasn't sure it existed.

"Son, in Venezuela, you are catholic by default," his father explained to him when Adam asked why they had baptized him. "Besides, your grandma said if we didn't do it, you could end up in purgatory or... worse."

Over the next few years, it was his grandmother who insisted on their religious upbringing, at least until age caught up to her, and Bianca's and Adam's stubbornness outlasted hers. However, some of her beliefs stuck with them, and Adam was sure that the big guy in the clouds would reward him if he kept his promise.

Thirteen wristwatches. He'd wear thirteen watches until he had the plane tickets, all counting down to the deadline his cousin in Miami had set, each one representing a threshold. And the last he'd take off would be the watch his siblings had given him days before the Red Christmas.

And I lost it. Wait. It's there!

It was within reach. Adam crawled on all fours, but as his fingers touched the strap, someone kicked it to the side, and it fell under the bleachers.

"Can you hear them, Adam?" the commentator asked. "They are calling you?"

This isn't real. Blood pounded in his head so hard when he found the watch beneath the stairs; he feared passing out. Don't listen to it.

"Close your eyes and open your ears," the voice continued. "We are the future. You can't escape what began at the dawn of the new millennium. Embrace this! Otherwise... I have the feeling you are going to live the rest of your days in a nightmare."

Adam cried and let his legs give way. Too afraid of everyone around him to move, he stayed there in the cave-like darkness below the bleachers, hiding in the dark.