⚠️ Warning ⚠️The following chapter may contain sensitive topics andviolent language.The author does not intend to provoke morbidity or controversy 🙏Everything written here is fiction 🕊️ Reader discretion is advised 👁️🗨️
📝 Author's note 😔💀😵💫✍️Hey guys 💫I'm really sorry for not posting anything these last seven days 😭I've been super busy and, honestly, a bit frustrated 🥲I had a 30-day streak on WebNovel 😩🔥and that very night… boom, I checked and hadn't written a thing 💀The streak reset to three days 💔💔💔
On top of that, I had exams 📚🤯and I want each chapter to have coherence and heart ❤️🔥No contradictions or half-done stuff,because even though this is a short novel,I want to do it right! 💪📖✨
When the story is finished, I'll make grammatical andcoherence corrections, so you can enjoy it even more 🧠🔍💫But anyway… WE'RE BACK, GUYS! 😎🔥Thanks for sticking around 🙏💙Enjoy the new chapters,which I'll be posting every other day ⏰📆💥
— Tholio, 2025 🪶😌
______________________________________________________________
April 20, 1964SS Atlântico SulThe night was clear, spotless,and the Atlântico Sul moved like a sleeping giant over the sea.
The salty air brushed the skin softly,but there was something strange in that breeze: a silence not natural.It was two in the morning.
The ship swayed among gentle waves,so calm they were almost frightening.
In first and second class, glasses clinked,laughter lost itself among smoke and expensive perfume.
In third class, exhaustion smelled of sweat and tobacco;some slept, others gambled what little they had.
No one imagined that beneath this calm, the ship was aboutto awaken.
The ship was only a day away from the port of Lisbon.Despite the proximity, the communication line insisted onmaintaining readiness; it was a special day for the crewand, moreover, a particular request demanded attention.
Corporal António Pereira, security guard, received thenotification through the ship's primary internal line—a channelexclusively for transmitting orders and shift changes. The voiceon the other end said:
"Shift change. I need you to do me a favor, mate.Send this to the captain."
"What is that?" asked Pereira, tilting his head.
"A letter from the subordinate. He asks for a promotionand wants a recommendation."
"Ah… of course," replied Pereira, reluctantly, letting thevoice fade into the hum of the engines.
Meanwhile, Corporal López was descending from first classtoward the captain's cabin. A sigh died on his lips:
"Well… my shift is over. I can finally sleep. God, Icouldn't take it anymore."
Turning in the hallway, he ran into his colleague, CorporalHernández Duarte, leaning against the metal wall. The commandcenter, usually a hive of activity—administration, logistics,finance, maintenance, and security—was surprisingly empty that night.
The entire heart of the Atlântico Sul beat there, yet it seemedto beat in silence.
"What a crazy night, eh!" said Hernández, letting out a drylaugh that echoed between the metal walls. "Damn, I'd loveto have a drink."
López looked at him tiredly, unaware that this would bean eventful night, perhaps one to remember.
"Hey, where is everyone else?"
"I don't know, just me. They told me 'shift change'and I took my position here."
"Ah, that sucks. They woke me up just so I wouldn't sleep."
"Ah, alright."
López started walking. But with the first steps,he noticed something unsettling. The air became dense, heavy…
It was as if the air suffocated with every step he took.
No voices, no footsteps, not even the sea could be heard.The hallway, usually full of activity and noise,now seemed like a tunnel of silence. The lights flickered,as if reminding him that something was wrong.
Reaching the captain's lounge door, he noticed something strange:it was forced, bent, as if someone had smashed itwith a Stilson wrench. He pushed without difficulty; the doorwas already broken.
Inside, chaos. All the officers lay on the floor, unconscious.The smell of blood mixed with the metallic scent.
"Hernández! Hernández!" shouted López, desperate.
"What's wrong, brother?" replied a trembling voice.
"Idiot! How long have you been here?"
"I don't know… two, three minutes. Just got shifted."
"Look, damn it, come here! Shit!"
Hernández ran toward him. Upon entering, he saw Captain RodrigoSalgueiro lying on the floor, his head split from a brutal blow.The other officers were the same: knocked out, disarmed, humiliated.
The drawers had been looted, opened, papers scattered everywhere.
"Call the commanding officer of block D, quickly, he's with Felix!"shouted López."Tell him there's loot, damn it, loot!Run, shit! The captain is dead!"
Meanwhile, in second-class, a female silhouette slid throughthe dark hallways. Her steps were barely a whisper amongthe metallic echoes, and the shadows seemed to stretch her,making her appear taller.
The corridor was silent, only broken by her breathingand the distant creak of the floorboards under some guard.
The figure stopped in front of an old woman.
"Sweetie, what are you looking for? Your room? Third classis down below," said the woman kindly.
Then the silhouette became clear: it was Helena,tall, imposing, six feet of feminine shadow.Her face, hidden among black strands, barely visible.
The silence of the hallway became heavy, suffocating,as if the shadows were watching her every breath.
The woman waited for a response, but all she heardwas a broken whisper:
"Forgive me, ma'am…"
A sharp thud echoed, making the metal vibrate.
Helena had struck the old woman's neck with deadly precision.She fell unconscious without a sound.
Helena stepped back, horrified, trembling.
"My God… why did I do that? Why did I do that?Why did I do that?" she repeated, her voice broken.
She began to shiver, sweating cold. Her body reacted beforeher mind.
"Damn it… I didn't kill her. I didn't kill her."
"Galton told me to be careful…""That divine power increases under stress… that means…""Was I stressed when I saw the lady?""Shit, this makes no sense…"
She tried to lift the unconscious woman. Her body wasincredibly heavy, impossible to hold even with her divine strength.
Desperation pushed her to look at the nearest room.As an act of atonement, she forced the lock with a violentblow. The door broke.
She didn't know how to drag the old woman inside, and spokein a low voice:
"My God…! What is happening to me?" she whispered,her voice broken.
Carefully, she laid her on the bed in the room.
"I won't do that again, damn it, Galton," she murmured, trembling.
That woman could be my grandmother, she thought, paralyzedby shock.
"Calm down… calm down," she told herself, in a voiceshe didn't feel was her own.
Noticing a thread of blood running down the lady's ear,her words became harsh, almost mechanical:
"There's no way they can betray you now.The only one who could report you… is asleep."
Fear devoured her; she breathed rapidly, barely speaking:
"Why am I talking to myself? Am I going crazy?"
"Damn it!" she sobbed. "I have nothing… I'm barely processingmy mother's death."
"I've slept in the jungle for days…" she continued,as if listing nightmares—
"I almost killed a man at the São Paulo port…"
"I nearly drowned three times…" she broke off.
"They hung me from a tree…"
"And I spent days in a room that smelled of urine…"she said, spasmodic.
"But killing… killing…"
"Helena, calm down," she ordered herself aloud, frantic, urgent.
"The only thing you need to look for now…" she stammered."Now…"
Her stomach gave way from the extreme tension. The bland foodof the night escaped her mouth and nose; she vomited on the rug.
She began to cry, with short, sharp sobs:
"Mom… how I miss you…"
She cried only a few seconds, then immediately slapped herself.
"Helena, shut up! I don't have time…"
"I don't have time…"
She leaned on the table, hands trembling, searching for airand water.
Next to the water pitcher was another glass one, with whisky.She saw it and, by a desperate instinct, drank it in one gulpas if it were water.
"How good… how I missed you…" she whispered, voice shaking.
Drink or keep a clear head?
"No, damn it, no! Remember what Galton said…" she scolded herself.
Blankets, clothes, shoes and a big wooden plank to float…
"Wait… so we're going to swim?"
"That son of a bitch doesn't know… I can't swim…" she grunted.
"Shit…"
Helena took another sip, just a little, to warm her body.
"Thank you, Lord!" she murmured. "How I needed this…"
Suddenly, calm broke.
The alarm of the SS Atlântico Sul roared through the old ship,shaking the air.
The loudspeaker thundered with the voice of the new guard on duty:
"Attention, this is Captain Salgueiro, please listen.Remain in the recreation lounge and close all doors."
"Security will protect dorms and the local party area.Two armed intruders have been detected on board. This is not a drill.I repeat: obey security orders; these people are hostile."
Paralyzed, Helena said:
"This situation couldn't get any shittier than it is!"
The sound rang through the metal corridor, vibrating the wallsand echoing in his chest.
"Great... just what I needed," he murmured, grinding his teeth.
He gathered blankets, his pack and whatever valuables he could save.
"I have to get to the bow," he told himself. "I have to get to the bow!"
Don't think about what's valuable now. Just move, just move.
While chaos reigned on the ship, Galton crouched at the bow,waiting, watching the guards' every move through the gloom.
The cold air hit his face, mixed with the smell of metal and salt.He stealthily tied a rope to the base of the railings around the edge.
He carried his squad rifle, the maps he deemed valuable, a compass,and the funds from the finance department—everything lashed uplike an improvised rucksack.
His position was deliberate: remain invisible at first glance.No one watched that part of the ship; everyone was focused onprotecting the passengers.
Galton assessed the situation, biting his lip while he controlledhis breathing:
"I knew we couldn't leave without a heading."
"I don't like saying it, but I don't fully control my strength;I only wanted to knock him out... and I think I killed him."
"Anyway, you couldn't flee by the boats up on the deck."
"I barely know this ship, but surveying it a day before andlocating where the captain was proved enough."
Time crawled. Ten minutes passed. Helena had not returned.
"Damn it, Helena, what are you doing?" whispered Galton,tightening the rope until he felt a stabbing pain in his hands.
First he left the bag near the bow, carefully loose, so a tugwould send it overboard, ensuring it would be safe for Galton.
Then, with fluid, measured movements, he began his advance.
He glided through the metal corridors, avoiding the guards whomanned the first-class lounge. They watched to keep passengers safe,but Galton was a ghost in the shadows.
He moved down to second class, passing as a civilian among the dark.
It was then he saw something that stopped him for a moment:Helena, staggering and drunk, supported by two men.
She cried, repeating over and over, with short, choking sobs:
"There's no more whisky... there's no more."
One of the soldiers identified her instantly:
"Is it her?"
"Yes, sir. She's one of the confined stowaways."
"We found her in a public room. We were ordered toguard her until she could be brought before a courtfor lacking identification."
The man gave the order firmly:
"Take her to the chamber."
Meanwhile, Galton moved through the crowd, stealthy,eyes alert to every movement. He murmured:
"Damn it, Helena…"
He followed her unseen. A soldier remarked:
"Sir, it looks like she tried to steal something."
She had taken blankets, clothes, shoes, and other valuables.
The officer nodded and sent a superior to search for theother stowaway, if there was one. Galton advancedcarefully, invisible, toward the bow of the ship,where they planned to interrogate her.
Then Galton tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder and said:
"Hey… look at the sky."
"At the sky?" asked the man, confused.
Galton drew the pistol hidden beneath his coat and fired.
Quick, precise, he aimed at the superior and the two soldierswho were about to interrogate Helena.
Alarms thundered across the ship, deafening.
Galton didn't hesitate. He kicked the bag tied at the bow;it fell into the water, and he lifted Helena, carrying heron his shoulders.
"Galton! What are you doing?" she screamed, terrified.
"Sorry, girl," he replied, "but I don't want you to drown."
And without another word, he jumped into the sea with her.The bag fell behind, sinking among black, salty waves.
From the deck, the soldiers opened fire, shooting,while the water met them with cold, violent blows.
Galton swam, dodging bullets and waves, whileHelena screamed, part fear, part cold, clinging to his back.
Galton held Helena and submerged her under the sea, firmly.
"Helena, hold your breath… take in all the air you can,"he whispered, before diving with her.
He covered her mouth to keep her from drowning this time.He sank with force, at least one and a half meters below the surface.The water surrounded everything.
Gunfire could still be heard, distant, until it slowly stopped.The ship moved forward, unable to stop, though the stowawayswere gone. Galton only needed to make sure he heard no more shots.
Helena was about to faint; her exhausted body held its breath desperately.She felt the water invading her ears, her throat, her chest, as ifit wanted to possess her entirely.
Galton began to ascend slowly, holding her. He knew she couldn't swim.Each meter upward was a moment of extreme tension.
When they emerged, he noticed the ship was already behind them,growing smaller and farther away. The bags floated, air trapped inside,and a wooden plank resisted, riddled with bullet holes.
Helena breathed with absolute relief, spitting out the water that had nearlydrowned her. She kicked uncontrollably, like a dog thrown into water.
"I don't want to drown! I don't want to drown!" she screamed.
"Helena, shut up!" Galton shouted, firm but worried.
She paused for a moment, still sobbing.
"You're drunk!" he scolded.
"No, I'm not drunk!" she replied, trembling through her tears.
Galton looked at her seriously:
"Are you okay? Did they hit you? No bullet grazed you?"
Helena was surprised by the concern in his voice.
"I think I'm okay," she said, still trembling.
"Good, good," he replied with relief.
Then he gently slapped her. Helena broke into tears, like a little girl.
Galton held her firm and said:
"We could have died. You're lucky we went down with the bags.You're lucky to have me, girl. They were going to shoot you.You think I don't know? Why do you think they took you to the bow?They were going to execute you. There was no other choice."
Helena kept crying, clinging to Galton's shoulders.
"I want to go home. I want to go home," she said, voice broken.
Galton couldn't help feeling bad. He knew Helena was brave,but she was still a young girl, trapped among so many threats.
He thought to himself, chest tight:
"Ah, Helena… you're brave and rude in danger,but you're still innocent in so many other things" —thought Galton.
"Helena, Helena… calm down, okay? Look at me. Look at me.We have to reach the beach, understood?
According to the guard, we're a day from Lisbon,the port we were meant to reach. We're already in Portugal.
The good thing about all this," Galton continued,"is that the orbs of creation didn't fall.
But be careful: if one touches the sea,there's no way to recover them. They're like lead: heavy."
Helena looked at him in astonishment.
"Will I have to swim?" she asked, scared.
"No, girl," Galton replied with a tired grimace."I'll swim for you, because you're useless."
Helena lowered her gaze, sad at his remark.
Galton sighed and added:
"Relax. We'll reach the beach.And when we get there, I'll make sure you haven't gotten sick.
Knowing mortals well, I know they can get illeven at this temperature. The water is too cold for a normal person.
We have to hurry, okay? We can't hesitate."
Galton held the plank with effort, shivering from the cold.
"Helena, I'll carry the sacks on my shoulders.You get on my back. Don't sit, lie down.
Do it this way so I can swim easily.But don't put your legs alongside mine.
Imagine you're riding a horse, but crouched, okay?If you don't, I'll sink and won't be able to carry you."
"Okay," Helena replied weakly, obeying.
And in that position, Galton began to swim,carrying Helena, the sacks, and his own exhaustion.
Both tried to survive in the middle of the sea,almost at the border of Lisbon.
An intoxicated girl and an exhausted man,holding life between cold and faith.
Far from there, in Lisbon, in a rural and silent area,a young boy was resting.
Was this boy what Galton was looking for?Or perhaps an answer to the mystery of the saint?
The young man slept peacefully,unaware that his destiny was about to twist,and that his life would soon take an irreversible turn.