The Oath

Bogotá, Colombia. 1999.

The first time Ezequiel and Roberto saw the house on the outskirts of the city, they were impressed. Not that they were knowledgeable about constructions or architectural designs. Their tastes didn't align with those of the city's famous personalities, but after roaming the streets every night looking at houses, they concluded that this one was just right for them.

They had found work again, now working as construction helpers. The time of their mother's death, unemployment, and sleeping on the streets was behind them.

They asked the construction foreman to advance them some of their wages. As soon as they received the money, they quickly headed to the house.

—The house looks nice, but how do we know if they want to rent it? —asked Ezequiel.

—Don't worry; we just need to talk to the owners, and that's it —responded Roberto—. Money talks, after all.

—It won't be easy; mark my words.

—You relax. Leave it to me —asserted the older brother.

They again examined the house: the walls were worn and damp. The cardboard roof had small, constant holes. From the outside, a cold and dry chill could be felt, as if someone had died inside. A few seconds passed. They knocked on the door. No one answered. So, Ezequiel and Roberto began to shout. After a while, tired of doing so, they decided to enter on their own.

—Entering without being let in? I don't dare; the police might come. We could get arrested —warned Ezequiel.

Roberto, the elder, went to the door and kicked it. Inside, the rats began to stir. No one had opened the door because there was no one inside. They entered. The house was smaller than they had imagined. It had no furniture, just two pieces of cardboard lying on the floor. Everything was dirty, damp, and full of dust.

—It smells like crap. It's full of rats —said Ezequiel, nervously. Roberto became furious and grabbed him by the shirt collar.

—Can't you see, idiot? The house is empty. This place is ours —Ezequiel quickly freed himself.

—Calm down, calm down. I'm just saying we don't know whose it is. We're not going to fight now.

—Listen: we're going to live here. There's no one here, understand? This will be our home. We'll come back here after work, protect ourselves from the cold and bad people. We'll grow old, make it beautiful, and even be happy —Roberto declared with a laugh—. And we won't leave here, not even in death. I swear it —Roberto concluded.

Ezequiel nodded as he wiped his forehead. What his brother had said was an order, an irrevocable pact. From that day on, the brothers began to inhabit the house. They would return after work in the evening, bringing their food in a bag and sitting on the floor to eat. They would talk lying on the cardboard until well into the early morning. They always talked about how well the construction was going and how attractive the new employee of the foreman was. When they touched on the subject of the house, they never talked about how dirty it remained or the furniture and decoration they never bothered to acquire. They always referred to the rats, discussing new offspring, the sick ones, the fattest ones, and those that tickled them while they slept. Time passed this way. Roberto and Ezequiel began to get used to living like this.

On weekends, they would go to the park and return to the house at sunset. They still harbored the fear that it might be occupied when they returned, and Roberto had even suggested to Ezequiel the need to buy a weapon. One night, after work, they were talking lying on the cardboard. Roberto was playing with the rats.

—Today, I vomited. You know? I vomited something thick —announced Ezequiel.

—And... when? —asked Roberto.

—In the morning. I haven't felt well all day. I'm sick —answered the brother.

—Sick, you? Don't mess with me; since I can remember, I've never seen you unwell —Roberto responded, smiling.

—Look to see if I have a fever —requested Ezequiel.

Roberto approached and touched his forehead.

—Damn it, you're boiling —exclaimed Roberto.

Ezequiel lay down, and that night he fell asleep earlier. The next day, he didn't go to work. Roberto told him to go to the doctor, but Ezequiel couldn't get up.

—Don't worry; I'll bring the doctor to you —said Roberto, concerned.

—Go without worry, brother. I have some friends here taking care of me —Ezequiel responded, trying to remove a furry bug from his mouth.

At the end of the day, Roberto arrived with the construction doctor.

—The idiot foreman didn't let me leave in the morning. He sends his regards. Everyone over there asked about you, Ezequiel. Look, here's the little doctor.

The younger brother lay on the cardboard, covered in rats. Four of them lay dead beside him. A foul and judicious aroma permeated the house entirely.

—I had to kill some of my little friends... I'm not well, brother... I smell bad... I vomited thick again... the rats ate almost everything —murmured Ezequiel.

The doctor approached the sick man, disgusted, after Roberto had chased away the animals that were nervous about the arrival of the visitor. After examining him, the doctor asserted:

—This man needs to be taken out of here urgently if you want him to keep living. Besides, this house is a mess. It's full of rats. How can you allow this? How can you live like this? Why not fumigate? Why not leave this place?

—Let's listen to him, Roberto —pleaded Ezequiel, drenched in sweat.

Roberto responded angrily:

—I told you we wouldn't leave this house, even in death! And you! —he pointed at the doctor—, you're just a damn chicken! Tell everyone that my brother and I are quitting that damn project. And now, get out if you don't want me to kick you out. Out of here, bastard!

—Listen to me —responded the doctor, tearing what little courage he had left—, your brother can die, and we have to get him out. Please.

Roberto fell silent. Then he threatened the doctor with rage and slowly got up from the floor.

—Is that why you came? To tell me my brother is dead? Go away. Don't come back —he warned.

The doctor looked at him with concern.

—What's wrong with you, Roberto? Don't you understand what's happening?

Roberto vomited. The doctor tried to help, but he immediately rejected him.

—Go away, you damn coward. How many times do I have to ask you to leave? —asked the older brother as he wiped his forehead with the cloth Ezequiel had.

The doctor looked at him pleadingly, but Roberto's eyes left him no other way out. So, he took off a white coat he had brought and left the house in silence, with a bit of terror in his teeth.

Night fell. Still. Powerful. Darkness invaded the house as always. It was cold. The rats were more agitated than usual. Ezequiel was completely covered by them. The stench of disgust and the rotting of the dead rats were maddening.

The older brother moved some animals aside and collapsed on the floor a few meters away from his brother, vomiting again. He began to fall asleep when he heard his brother Ezequiel murmur something. Immediately, he woke up.

—Don't worry about me, Roberto. I'm at peace. I don't feel pain.

—See? He's not dead —said Roberto.

Ezequiel didn't respond.

—Tell me, are the rats bothering you? —asked Roberto.

—My skin is eaten by them. I'm invaded. I don't mind. I even like seeing myself like this —answered Ezequiel.

They remained lying all night. Roberto tried to get up to put another wet cloth on Ezequiel's forehead, but he couldn't move. He didn't feel well. He vomited four more times. Despite that, they talked about everything. They reminisced about their old times, mentioned their mother, talked about their tough times when they ended up on the street. They discussed the construction, the rats, and the house.

Ezequiel fell silent at dawn. Several hours passed. Then, as evening fell, they heard the door.

—It's that idiot doctor, brother. But now that he enters, I'll tell him he was too slow. I'll tell him you're not dead as he thought. All that studying, and they don't even know what they're talking about —murmured Roberto.

Covered in a white coat and gloves, a bipedal face mask made its way through the rats. The sunlight illuminated the decay of Ezequiel's corpse.

The doctor approached the older brother, slowly.

—You're sick, and your brother is decomposing, Roberto. Let me take him out of here before he dies, please.

—I feel fine... I'm not sick, damn it... my brother isn't dead either... last night... last night I talked to him... —whispered Roberto.

—Ezequiel is dead. He's been dead for two days; why is it so hard for you to understand that? Let's get him out of here.

—He made... an oath... we won't leave here, even in death —Roberto sighed. A determined sigh. Like a stake.

—I'm not taking him with me because I can't carry him, but I'll get an ambulance, even if you don't want it.

The doctor quickly left the house. Some sick rats accompanied him to the door.

Night fell completely. And then, it was morning.

Roberto stayed with his brother all morning, scaring away the rats. The smell was strong, unbearable. Ezequiel didn't say anything. He just got cold and pale. That's how the day passed.

At nightfall, Roberto heard noises. It was the construction doctor again. Without saying anything, he opened the door and sat back down next to his brother.

—Don't close the door on me —said the doctor—. I just want to see him.

That night, the house was somber. The smell had transformed into a hell for all five senses, a complete misery. The doctor approached Ezequiel and touched his chest.

—Didn't you buy the medicines I prescribed, did you?

Roberto didn't answer. The doctor looked him in the eyes.

—This man is dead. I told you. Now, let's get him out of here.

Roberto remained silent. Then, he threatened the doctor with rage and slowly got up from the floor.

—Are you coming for that? To tell me my brother is dead? Do something; they're carrying him away, idiot.

—It was beautiful to have lived here with you, you know? —said Ezequiel.

—An oath is an oath, right? You know how it is with me.

—Where will they take us? To the clinic?

—Didn't you hear what they just said?

—No. What did they say?

—We're going to the morgue, bro.

Then they took the bodies. The rats, hiding, watched them leave in silence and remained alone.