Cold Skin Page #2

Gruner!

Let me in! Gruner!

Gruner and I settled into

a curious sort of coexistence,

based on routine.

Monsters always swarm at night,

their strikes growing

longer every day.

The Japanese philosopher Musashi said

that only a few appreciate

the art of war.

A good warrior is not defined

by the cause he defends,

but rather by the meaning

that derives from the struggle.

Days are always the same.

I abandon my post on the balcony

at the break of dawn.

Nature dictates the length

of my slumber.

I have to accept

the most ungrateful tasks

simply to keep my place

inside the lighthouse.

I've been meditating on my reason

for coming to this island.

I had been seeking peace

through nothingness,

but in place of silence,

I found a monster-plagued inferno.

It smells strange.

- D'you know the herbs aren't bad?

- Herbs are like people.

They're neither good nor bad,

they're just known or unknown,

that's all.

A herbs won't slit your throat

for money.

A farmer keeps cows,

cares for them, he feeds them.

Gives them endearing names.

Like Daisy.

But then he steals her milk,

and he kills her children.

Another riddle.

It's a matter of necessity.

Has it ever occurred to you

that it might be her wailing

that attracts the beasts?

Then why would they attack some nights

and not others?

Why would she lure her own kin

to die on the rocks?

The only thing

you need to understand,

is that we are the invaders,

which makes us the enemy.

Kill and conquer,

that's what we humans do.

You want to conquer them,

is that it?

Oh no, I want to exterminate them.

Need more timber.

Why?

Haven't attacked in weeks.

You like sleeping in my lighthouse.

Faded.

Far away.

Dissolved.

And quite forgotten.

My eyes have scrutinised every surface

a thousand times.

We speak of the lighthouse

and its environs as if

it were an entire state.

Every nook and cranny

has a name.

Every rock,

every stone.

Maybe they migrate

like the whales in winter.

Or maybe the creatures reason

they can't defeat us.

They're beasts.

They're out there gathering

in numbers for their next attack.

You're on watch.

Although it may seem strange,

the lulls between fighting are often

worse than the battles themselves.

This void is accompanied

by the mascot's change in attitude.

How could Gruner lie

with one of the very same monsters

that plague us every night?

How did he manage to justify the act,

in defiance of all the obstacles

set down by civilization,

set down by nature?

How could he get closer..

And closer..

And not be repelled

by her cold skin?

I have decided to give her a name.

Aneris.

Down!

- When'd we run out of potatoes?

- We didn't, you're drinking 'em.

You play?

What civilized man doesn't?

These beasts really are

a fascinating species.

Their blood, for example.

I imagine that it must

share the properties,

of some Arctic fish,

containing a kind of antifreeze

helping them survive

in sub-zero conditions.

Have you noticed that

they've got two sets of eyelids?

The first very much like ours,

but the second is

a transparent membrane

helping them when they dive,

I would imagine.

We could capture specimens,

take them back to Great Britain

or to the United States,

present our discovery,

and we would be celebrated..

Alright you've got me.

I came down to the arsehole

of the world to become famous..

alright?

Check! Now shut up and play.

Checkmate.

Ehh, ehh, ehh.. it can't be.

- It.. it just.. just can't be.

- Now calm down Gruner, it's only a game.

- King.. pawn..

- It can't be!

We forgot the light. Galley deck.

Come out, there's too many.

There's too many.

So whatta we do now?

Starry night..

As I was sleeping.

One starry night..

As I lay in bed..

I dreamed I heard..

Iron wheels creakin'.

When we planned the story..

When lay me down.

Look at us. We cannot survive

another assault like that.

We're running out of supplies..

Running out of ammunition,

running out of will.

Where you going?

Hey! what is it?

There's a boat.

No!

Gruner knows how to defend himself.

Gruner rules the world.

Gruner wants what he has

and has, only what he wants.

Ungrateful little..

- Get outa my way boy.

- Please Gruner.

No more people.

I see what you are.

A sad pathetic failure

of a misanthrope.

You're too afraid

to let your friends leave!

Too afraid to kill your enemies.

Afraid of having

no one left to hate.

arguing

F*** you ...

Look.

Look.

What has he done to you this time?

You call this..

A boat.

You see?

What?

I found a rowboat.

I know of it.

Sorry, what?

Why didn't you say so?

Wouldn't do you no good. I'm sure

you'll make it off my island,

and you'll be taken by hypothermia,

starvation, storm.

Most likely end up as toadfood,

but hey, who am I to deny you

the right to choose how you die?

- Where'd it come from?

- Along with some Portuguese.

- Shipwreck?

- Tremendous storm.

Came to grief in the night.

And I'm sure you did everything

you could to save them.

I did what I could.

Those who made it to shore, were set

upon trying to reach the lighthouse.

Nothing left of them by the morning.

Dragged back out to the depths.

What were they doing so far

from commercial routes?

Was an illegal ship.

Dynamite smugglers.

Found some crates,

washed up ashore.

No good though, all waterlogged.

- You want to dive that ship.

- We recover the dynamite.

Repair the rowboat, head out

in the morning at low tide

when it's safest.

You're an idiot.

What is it 'bout blowing up

a thousand toads you don't like?

Suicide mission, I'm not

going down in that water.

Scared?

I'll do it.

- All I require from you

is to pump my air.

- Won't work.

I'm talking about toad extermination.

No.

I changed my mind.

We leave right away.

Remember, one tug on the rope,

everything's fine.

Two, load is secured.

Three..

Three ...

The second line is too close

to the lighthouse.

At this distance, the toads

will be packed in nice and tight,

like a can of sardines.

We'll end up perched

on the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

The austral summer is fading timidly,

but with grandeur.

Now we are inexorably heading

toward the winter,

or rather the darkness.

Time is a relative idea.

Drops suspended from a spider web

for centuries, before it falls.

Sometimes, however,

a week, passes in the blink

of an eye.

Come inside.

Three weeks. Three weeks

and nuthin'.

- We can't eat that garbage.

- Gruner!

She told them!

You told your friends, huh?

You've warned them, didn't you?

You.. f***ing little toad spy.

This is how you repay me, huh?

You ungrateful b*tch!

- Gruner!

- How dare you leave me! Dare you leave!

- Gruner!

- Try it, try it again!

- Gruner!

We ambush them.

We leave the main door open

and lure them inside,

you pick them off on the stairs,

I operate the detonator,

once they're close enough.

Gruner, main door's open.

- Lanterns?

- Burning.

C'mon, c'mon, sing!

C'mon, c'mon, sing, sing,

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