There is a red Ferrari parked at the border of the road, just where the beach begins. The Georgio, whatever the name means (the man uses it as his proper name, but I remember Jakie using it like it was referring to a thing, a model of something…), the Georgio opens the doors by his remote.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You will see, have not fear.”
The sport-car flash past the cost, up on the flank of the volcano, to the other side of the island, across the luscious vegetation of the forest, damaged by the Hurricane of yesterday.
Suddenly, Georgio stops the car in the parking of a big palace, not unlike from our Complex, built on the south facing slope of the volcano. There is a beautiful sight, toward the open sea.
There is a wooden sign, reading “Residence Buena Vista”.
“The volcano has somehow protected this place from the Hurricane, Euro. That’s why me and my… associates… have set shop here. I have rented an apartment all for you… tomorrow one of my superiors will come to talk with you.”
“Maybe I should go back in La Perdita to see if I can salvage some of my robe…”
“I took the liberty of buying you some wardrobe. You have not to worry about anything, Edulcore”.
Georgio walks toward the entrance.
I follow him, my sword over my right shoulder.
