Fiction: War Zone (Part 8 of 10)

(Published in the January 28, 2012, issue of Philippines Free Press)

Even in the pale glow of the kerosene lamp, Badong could see that color had returned to the boy’s cheeks. “Thank you, Manong,” he told Badong. “I owe you my life.”

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Badong said. “Focus on getting well. The battlefield is waiting for you.”

“You’re a powerful babaylan,” the boy said. “I feel much better every day under your care. I want to be a babaylan too, like you. But I don’t seem to have any special ability.”

“You don’t need a special ability to be a babaylan,” Badong said. “Some are born to be a babaylan, while others are trained to be one. Just like Ikang. She doesn’t have a third eye, but she learned from other babaylans how to communicate with spirits.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll try to get well fast so I can be your apprentice.”

“You don’t have to wait for long. I need your help tonight.”

The boy hung on to every word Badong said.

“Tonight,” Badong said, “all the warriors are going away, and only you and Ikang will be left here in the camp. We don’t know what danger lurks in the dark, so I need you to be watchful. I want you to guard Ikang.”

“But I might fail,” the boy said. “I was not able to protect Kumander Dalia. The same thing might happen to Manang Ikang.”

“You have nothing to fear,” Badong said. He took out a necklace from his pocket. “You lost your amulet when Kumander Dalia’s camp was attacked, so I’m entrusting this to you. This is the amulet that Ikang made for me, but because I already had one, which came from my father, I just hid this. Now it’s yours.”

The boy did not touch the amulet. He said, “It’s the same as what Manang Ikang gave me and the other followers of Kumander Dalia before.”

“No,” Badong said. “This one is more powerful. I mixed this with a drop of oil from my own amulet.”

The boy nodded and accepted the amulet. “Thank you, Manong Badong,” he said. “You’ve given me so much.”

“I have something more,” Badong said. He moved the string around his waist, so that the boy would see the sheath he had hidden on his back.

“My knife!” the boy exclaimed. He did not wait for Badong to untie the string or take out the knife from the sheath. He pulled the weapon, and it came out with a swish.

Badong tensed, but the boy only played with the knife, turning it in his hand and thrusting it in the air in various grips. It did not fall on the ground, as what happened when Badong handled it.

Badong was amazed. “You’re damn good with that!” he told the boy. One stab from you and a man is pretty done for.

The boy smiled with pride. “I’ve had this for years,” the boy said. He looked at the knife and became sullen. “My father made this for me,” he said. “He’s a blacksmith.”

“Your father must be proud of you. You’re brave.”

The boy said, “I’ve killed a wild boar with this.”

“You . . . haven’t killed anyone yet?”

The boy shook his head.

“There’s nothing to worry,” Badong said. “The enemies can never find this camp. You might not even have to use your knife tonight.”

When Badong walked out of the hut, he saw that the other warriors had gathered in the center of the camp, forming a circle around a bonfire. Titing looked well prepared for battle. Slung around his torso, forming a crisscross, were two belts packed with bullets.

Badong glanced at the dugout and saw Kumander Gaston getting out of it, putting on his rifle. The vision then occurred. The chief warrior’s head would fly off from his neck, along with a spray of blood. The head would fall on the ground, bounce once, and roll for a few feet. It would stop in an upright position, as though Gaston was buried standing up and up to the neck.

The chief barely glanced at Badong and joined his men.

Badong smiled. His chest rose. He had not felt such happiness in a long time. He heard the various sounds the forest was making: a nighthawk flapping its wings, swooping down on a shrieking mouse; a python seizing a wild boar in a lethal embrace, the serpent hissing, the beast grunting; a lizard darting its tongue, catching a buzzing fly and slurping it whole.

Badong decided to pass by the dugout, and he promptly heard Ikang calling for him.

“Tomorrow,” Ikang said, “I will be waiting for you, Kumander Badong.”

He had not been planning to turn his head, so as to be discreet. He did not want anyone to suspect that Ikang and he were sharing something others should never know. But it must be the thought of Ikang naked and lying down, reaching out for him. Or it must be the sound of his name, uttered by her and appended to a title. Badong turned, and wished he didn’t.

Another vision. Ikang would close her eyes, and a tiny hole would appear on her forehead. As with Titing’s death, this vision came with sounds, and for a brief moment the gunshot deafened Badong.

* * *

For the last time, Kumander Gaston briefly recapped his men of the how they would attack the enemies’ hideout. He then led them out of the camp. Badong made sure no one was looking and slipped back to the dugout.

“What are you doing here?” Ikang asked.

“There’s something you need to know,” Badong said.

“What is it about? Our plans have been set.”

Badong didn’t know where to start. “Titing—” he said. “You—”

“You must go back to them. Gaston will notice your absence.”

“Titing is planning to do something to you.”

Ikang said, “I’m not afraid of him. I can handle him. Now go.”

“It’s much worse than you think,” Badong said. “I had a vision, you will be killed.”

Ikang froze. “What are you talking about?”

Badong hurriedly explained about the third eye that had been tormenting him since childhood and how it had recently intensified.

“Your vision may not happen at all,” Ikang said. “They can just be warnings. To help you prevent them from coming true.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“How did you say Titing will be killed?”

“With a knife.”

“That one, we can—we should—make that come true. He’ll kill me if I don’t kill him first. But he’s your friend. You don’t want him killed, do you?”

Badong said, “After he refused to listen to me, I realized I had to let him die. If I have to choose between you and him, who do you think I would put above the other?”

Ikang nodded. “I have several knives here. One or two of them can pierce his heart.”

“I’ve seen them, they’re small,” Badong said. “What we need is the boy’s knife. That’s what I saw in my vision. A long knife would kill Titing.”

“I’ll take the boy’s knife then.”

“No, you shouldn’t do that. It’s the boy who is destined to take Titing’s life. Titing will receive the fatal stab on his back, and you can’t do that when he’s attacking you. So the boy should have the knife. He will do it, I’ve talked to him. I’ve had everything taken care of. I decided you didn’t have to know about it. But when I had a vision again and it was of you, I felt I must inform you. You have to—”

Ikang put his fingers on Titing’s lips. “Ssshh, nothing will happen to me,” she said. “Your vision only meant I shouldn’t take any chances. I should stab Titing the moment he tries to touch me. I’ll use my own knife, and then the boy can stab him on the back. Now you must catch up with the other warriors.”

“I think I should stay here. Together we can make sure Titing doesn’t harm you.”

“Badong, if you don’t join the attack tonight, our plans will be ruined. We can’t let this opportunity pass. Go now, I can take care of myself. I’m not just any woman, Badong. I’m a babaylan.”

Badong reluctantly walked out the dugout.

“I’ll be all right. Take Datu Unsay’s head.”

He glanced back a few times more, and each time, Ikang assured him with a determined look or a nod, even giving him a faint smile. She watched him disappear through the woods.

Ikang, however, wasn’t sure of what she told Badong. She was afraid, too, that the vision would come true. But she couldn’t let her fear destroy her plans. She had waited for so long for this opportunity. Thinking she would be safer this way, she went to the hut and took the boy’s knife. The boy was reluctant, but was really powerless against Ikang. She made him take one of her knives.

She prepared herself and waited for Titing by the dugout’s threshold. Before long, he emerged running and panting from the woods.

“Waiting for Badong?” he told Ikang. “He’s dead.”

She stared at him seriously, and then he snorted a chuckle. She realized he was joking.

“Don’t worry, he’s alive,” Titing said. “But not for long, I’m afraid. The Moros are going to cut off his foolhardy head in a few hours. Same thing with Kumander Gaston. So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

She had expected him to be fierce and harsh, just like Gaston whenever he got angry. She believed she could handle men with temper better. Titing’s morbid yet playful banter caught her unguarded. Remembering she wasn’t supposed to expect him, she asked, “Why are you here?”

“I decided I’ve had enough of this. It’s going to cause nothing but more bloodshed. I’m deserting the movement, and I’m bringing you out of here. I know Gaston has fallen from grace and Badong will eventually take the chief’s place. But I’m telling you, you’re not better off with Badong. He may be different from Gaston, but he won’t be less evil. Come with me.”

Ikang got more confused. Titing did not seem intent on killing her. But she reminded herself of Badong’s vision. She couldn’t trust this man. She did not know him. She walked inside the dugout, and Titing followed her.

She faced him and knelt down. Slowly she took off her duster over her head. She was wearing nothing underneath. “Put your gun away,” she said, looking up at Titing.

Titing was surprised with Ikang’s actions. She was giving her what he wanted, but at the back of his head, he was thinking something was amiss. She was giving it to him rather too easily. But he was in no mind to mull things over. He removed the gun from his shoulder and put it on the side.

“Farther away,” Ikang said. “Guns frighten me.”

Titing stepped back and leaned the gun near the threshold. When Ikang did not say anything more, he took off his shirt in haste and came to her. He knelt down too and buried his face in her neck.

As a fake moan escaped her lips, Ikang reached for the knife at the back of her neck, hidden beneath her long hair and loosely tied by the string that held her amulet.

(To be continued)

Burial Jar in Provincial Museum

I'm back here in Sultan Kudarat, and as any self-respecting burial jar enthusiast would, the first thing I did was visit the provincial museum and see the Kulaman burial jar in its collection.

I had heard on Facebook how disappointing the museum was, so I was no longer surprised when I found out it barely had anything on display. The two-story modest-sized building, some fifty meters behind the provincial capitol, was newly erected and tastefully designed. Inside, however, the museum only had the following: the Kulaman jar; an anthropomorphic clay figure, similar to the lids of the Maitum burial jars and maybe one of them; a jagged rock with streaks of gold; a made-of-clay kettle; and some brass Maguindanaoan musical instruments.

This is the provincial capitol, and the local museum is behind it.

The back gate might be closed, so take the unpaved road near

the entrance to the capitol but outside the concrete fence. 

The collection had no labels whatsoever, and the staff who was in the office was not sure when and how the items came into the possession of the provincial tourism office, but she knew that the burial jar was from the municipality of Senator Ninoy Aquino.

What mildly surprised me about the jar was its size. Among the burial jars I had seen, it was one of the largest and probably had the widest base. Each side of the square base must be at least 15 inches in length. The height of the jar, not counting the lid, was around 36 inches.

The Kulaman burial jar is one of the very few items

in the museum. Below, I took photos of my hand and foot

so that you would have some idea how large the jar is.

The jar looked like a tall rectangular box, and its lid was a plain pyramid. From the tip of the lid to the base, the artifact was covered with simple diagonal lines that formed diamonds. It might have been excavated from Senator Ninoy Aquino because the ones that were found in Lebak mostly had round bodies and human-shaped lids. I've seen Kulaman jars of various sizes and shapes, and the one in the provincial museum is now one of my favorite. It's simple, and its chipped lid notwithstanding, it's sturdy—something that has survived more than a thousand years and could seemingly survive thousands more.

Fiction: War Zone (Part 7 of 10)

(Published in the January 28, 2012, issue of Philippines Free Press)

“Your friend got it all wrong,” Ikang told Badong inside the dugout. “Gaston does not want you to be killed. In fact, he has chosen you over me. He needs your amulet more than he needs mine. He has asked me to leave.”

“Leave?” Badong asked. “Why?”

“He knows this camp would be too cramped for the three of us. He said when you return tomorrow morning, he no longer wants to see me here . . . It’s not true that he’s suicidal. He’s not afraid to die, yes, but it does not mean he will take chances with his life. Gaston clearly knows what he wants. He wants his troop to be bigger than what he has now, bigger than what Higante has. He even wants to be the supreme leader of the movement.”

“How could he do that if most of us will be killed tonight?”

“Your companions who will be killed are mere sacrifices,” Ikang answered. “When Gaston comes back victorious, it will not be difficult for him to recruit new men. The war has barely begun, Badong. More Christians will hate Muslims. More civilians will become vigilantes . . . Gaston cannot make you share all the oil in your amulet to his men. You need it yourself. There’s also not enough time for you to create new amulets. So what he’ll do is select only a few warriors and share to them the oil he has taken from you. Those fighters, along with you and Gaston, are the only ones who will survive tonight’s battle. From that small band, he will start to create an army—with the help of the amulets you will create.”

“Did he say all that to you?”

“No. But I’m his lover, Badong, and I’m a babaylan too, in case you forgot. I know not only his body but also his mind.”

“You’ve been together for quite some time. Why is he ditching you just like this?”

“I’m just a kept woman, Badong.”

“I don’t understand. I thought he loves you.”

Ikang laughed without a sound. “Indeed, you’re still young, Badong. You know nothing about love.”

He said, “I love you.”

She stared at him, smiling bitterly, and shook her head.

Pain showed in his face.

“But I’ll be honest, Badong,” she said. “I need you. I want you to be part of my plans. You’re the only one who can defeat Higante. And . . . I will be yours if you help me.”

“I will help you, Ikang,” he said. “But I’m not after your body. I truly care for you.”

She touched his thigh, and he nearly jumped. She moved her hand, up and down. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are after. I want to pay you the way I can.”

He stiffened.

“Don’t you want it, Badong?”

He swallowed. “I . . . I’ll take whatever you can give me, then.” He leaned close to her, yearning to kiss her mouth. But before his lips touched hers, she turned away.

“You can have me anytime, Badong,” she said, removing her hand from him. “But not today. Never on days like this. You wouldn’t want your amulet to lose its effect.”

Badong stared at her, confused, and then he understood. “It’s Friday,” he said.

“It’s Friday,” Ikang repeated. “Tomorrow, when you come back, carrying the head of Datu Unsay, you will have your reward.”

“But how could that happen? You’re leaving tonight . . .”

“Who told you I’m leaving?” Ikang said. “Gaston has to kill me first. I’m staying here. I have no one to go home to. My husband and daughter are gone.”

“You had a child?”

“Yes, a pretty little girl. We were in the evacuation center when she died, just a little younger than the boy you saved. I was already a babaylan then, but I wasn’t able to cure her. It was not evil spirits that made her sick. She did not need my amulet. She needed medicine . . . The night she was taken away from me, she had a very high fever. The black of her eyes disappeared. That’s why I lost control of myself when the same thing happened to the boy you saved.”

“Let’s run away from here, Ikang. Let’s find a place where we can live in peace.”

Ikang shook her head. “I can only live in peace when Higante’s gone. And it’s not just him who should pay for my husband’s death. The killers are still out there.”

“But you don’t know them.”

“It doesn’t matter. Their brothers will have to pay for them. I will stay here and fight—in my own way.”

“When Kumander Gaston comes back tomorrow, what are you going to do?”

“He’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean?”

“He will die in the battle tonight.”

“But I haven’t had a vision of him getting killed.”

“That’s because his fate is not yet sealed. There’s still something I need to do. When it’s done, no amulet could ever save him.”

Badong stared at Ikang, puzzled.

“I told you, Badong,” Ikang said, “I know Gaston. I know his mind and his body. I know what he can’t resist doing—even on a Friday.”

Slowly Badong realized what she was planning to do. “I can’t let you do that,” he said. “I can’t let him use you again.”

“It’s the only way.”

“No. I will kill him instead. Right now.”

“You can’t do that. He is now as powerful as you. Remember, you’ve given him half of the oil in your amulet.”

“I am still more powerful. It is my amulet.”

“Maybe you can kill him, but not before you’re nearly dead yourself. What good would your victory be, then? The other warriors will kill you. Half your amulet is no match for forty of mine.”

“The two of us can order them to recognize me as their new leader.”

“Do you think they will listen to a woman? And to a man much younger than them? They will kill you, Badong, and then they will kill one another—they will fight over the leadership and me. Is that what you want to happen?”

Badong’s fist tightened.

“You must go now,” Ikang said. “It’s getting dark. Get out and tell Gaston I’m waiting for him here.”

(To be continued)

Fiction: War Zone (Part 6 of 10)

(This story first appeared in the January 28, 2012, issue of the now-defunct Philippines Free Press. The screenshot above is from the magazine's website, which likewise no longer exists.)

Kumander Gaston glanced around his men. “The Moros cannot drive us away,” he told them. “They cannot claim this land all for themselves. This is our land too. This is where our children and grandchildren will grow up.

“They slay Kumander Dalia and her men, thinking that we would cower in fear and run for cover. The idiots. They’ve just committed their greatest mistake. They think they’re fierce? They think they’re merciless? What they’ve done is not even half as much as we are capable of. They do not know the people from Panay. They do not know how powerful our amulets are. So tonight, we shall let them know!”

Some of the warriors shouted in assent, but most of them murmured.

“Kumander Gaston,” Titing asked, “is it just us who are going to attack?”

“Why,” Gaston answered, “don’t you trust your amulets? Even if there are only forty of us, we can wipe out a thousand Moros, much less one hundred forty.”

The noise grew louder, and Gaston smiled bitterly. “So now you all have chickened out?” he said. “You no longer want to follow me?”

“It’s not that, Kumander Gaston,” Titing said. “We want to kill the enemies. We will fight them up to the last ounce of our strength. But why do we have to expend so much energy if they can be crushed easily—by a few hundred men?”

“I wish you had let me finish first,” Gaston said. He addressed everyone: “For the past few days, I’ve seen you lose confidence in my leadership. I looked into your eyes and saw doubt. Doubt if I can still seek justice for my sister and your brothers. Doubt if I can still give you victory . . . I’ll admit it to you: I’m hurt! I’m hurt, because I want you to trust me as much as I trust you. Do you think I’m not capable of taking care of you? I am not a commander for nothing. It is just our group that will strike out and destroy the enemy’s first line of defense. But once we’ve broken into their camp, our allies will come.”

Silence filled the air, and all eyes were on the chief.

“Yes, what you have in mind is right,” Gaston continued. “My negotiations with Colonel Bangit and Kumander Higante did not end in failure. When I met with them yesterday, they agreed to my plans. They will help us, because we are indispensable to them.”

“Indispensable?” Titing asked. “But they don’t need us.”

“Yes, they need us,” Gaston said. “For here with us is an invincible babaylan. He’s got a powerful amulet, more powerful than that of Ikang or Kumander Higante.” Murmurs grew again. “The man I’m referring to have been hiding his true identity from you, but it is time he embraced his fate and performed his duty. Men, I would like you to meet Nong Seño’s son . . . Badong!”

The warriors were surprised, including Badong himself.

“Badong will be our new babaylan,” Gaston continued. “And to prove to you that nothing can defeat his amulet, he will lead the attack tonight. He will fight in the front line.”

* * *

Titing found Badong sitting behind the tree.

“Kumander Gaston’s lying,” Titing said. “The soldiers and the other warriors won’t come. He told Ikang so. I peeped on them last night.”

Badong said, “Now I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“Nothing,” Badong said, shaking his head. “We must inform the others.”

“Are you crazy? Kumander Gaston’s going to kill us. Let them follow him blindly. We must save ourselves. Let us escape.”

“They will die.”

“Let them die. They came here to die. They pledged their souls when they joined the movement.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Titing said. “When Kumander Gaston recruited me, he promised nothing but victory. How can I stay loyal to him when he’s lying to us? He does not truly care about us. He’s going to use us as pawns so he could avenge his sister. Let us escape, Badong. No one’s going to go after us, anyway. Kumander Gaston will surely die too tonight.”

“No, he’s not going to die.”

“What made you say that?”

“Listen, Ting, I have something to tell you. I never told anyone about this except you and Ikang.”

“Ikang? So Kumander Gaston’s suspicions are true. You’ve been more than friendly to her.”

“Cut it out, Ting.”

“Is that why you don’t want to leave, why you’re going to the battle tonight? So you can eventually have her?”

“I will go tonight because I’m a warrior. I will fight for our people’s right to this land.”

“Hah! You think I’ve forgotten what you said, Badong? You joined the movement because you want to run away from home.”

“But I’m home now, Ting. I’m going to be a babaylan.”

Titing laughed. “All for a piece of pussy,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, tell you what, Badong, I don’t blame you. I perfectly understand you. We have the same purpose. Let me tell you what I’ve been planning all along. Tonight, I’ll pretend to go with the party, but I’ll sneak away along the way and come back here in the camp. And here, I will have Ikang all for my—”

Badong stared blankly at Titing, deaf to what he said next, lost in another place and time. As if it was happening right before Badong’s eyes, he saw his friend’s final fate. Titing would be staring at something, or someone, on the ground, and then he’d gasp. He’d look down at his chest, and see the tip of a long, bloody knife protruding from it. He’d turn around and stare in shock at his assailant.

When Badong heard Titing’s voice again, he was saying, “. . . friends. That’s why I’m letting you in on this, just like how I taught you to peek at the dugout. Come with me. Let us share Ikang. Let’s not be selfish like Kumander Gaston.”

“No, Ting,” Badong said. “Come with us. You’ll die if you stay here.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Listen. I can see a person’s death. This is what I’ve been wanting to tell you, but you’re not giving me the chance.”

“You’re telling me you know how I would die?”

“Yes. I saw it just now. You will be stabbed.”

“Stabbed? Thanks for the warning, then. I’ll tie Ikang first before I have my way with her.”

“I’m serious, Ting. Come with us. You won’t be harmed during the battle. I will share to you my amulet. I’m doing the same thing with Kumander Gaston. He ordered me to pour half of the oil in my bottle into his. That’s why he wouldn’t die—why I haven’t seen how he would die.”

“Your story doesn’t make sense. Kumander Gaston wants you dead, and he doesn’t care if he dies.”

“I do not know. I can’t read minds. Perhaps he truly trusts my amulet. Perhaps it’s not true that he’s suicidal. Who wants to die?”

“You’re just saying all these to protect Ikang.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Ting. The boy is the proof. I knew he was alive because I didn’t have a vision of him being killed. It’s true, I have a third eye like my father. But mine is more like a curse than a gift . . . I had this since I was a kid, and I thought it would go away if I left home. But it didn’t. And since I obeyed Kumander Gaston’s order to be the babaylan of this camp, my ability has become more powerful. It became worse. Now I can see how a person would die. After Kumander Gaston addressed all of us earlier, I saw that . . . our fellow warriors . . . most of them would die in the battle tonight. At first I was puzzled how this could happen, but when you told me that Kumander Gaston was lying about the reinforcement—”

“I don’t care, Badong. I no longer want to have anything to do with this camp, with this war. This war is madness. Nobody’s gonna win. We will all just die. I’m leaving. If you were someone else, I wouldn’t waste a word more with you. But since you are my friend, Badong, I’ll ask you one more time. Come with me. Stay out of battle and save yourself.”

“Yes, I am your friend, Ting. That’s why I insist it’s you who should come with me. Join the battle and save yourself.”

“We will never agree,” Titing said, smiling. “We differ in style. So, all right, have your pussy your way, and I’ll have mine my way.”

Before Badong could say anything more, Titing walked away. Badong watched Titing’s back, where the knife would pierce through. Badong felt for the weapon on his side, wondering if he was the one destined to stab Titing, if he would be capable of killing his friend.

(To be continued)

Fiction: War Zone (Part 5 of 10)

(Published in the January 28, 2012, issue of Philippines Free Press)

Ikang,” Gaston cut in, “let Kumander Higante see what he can do.”

The woman pursed her lips.

“He’s so hot,” Higante said. He took out his amulet. Like the ones Ikang and Badong had, it contained a red pebble and a folded tiny piece of paper inside. He tilted the bottle and poured some coconut oil from it on his thumb. He whispered unintelligible words, and with the oil, he made a sign of the cross on the boy’s forehead.

Slowly the boy became still.

Higante rose, grinning with pride, looking at Ikang and then at Gaston. “A female babaylan,” he said, shaking his head. “Gaston, the babaylan is vital to a camp. You should know only where a woman can be good at.”

“Kumander Higante,” Ikang said, “perhaps you would be enlightened if I tell you that the original babaylans were all women. When our forefathers were still in Panay, it was the female elders who crafted amulets and talked to spirits. It is only when they moved here in Mindanao that male babaylans began to appear.”

“Really?” Higante said. “Perhaps that’s the reason why our forefathers suffered countless mishaps—because they trusted women with their lives.”

“Please,” Gaston interrupted, “we are not here to decide who’s the better babaylan. We’re here to know if the boy can survive.”

“He’s going to be all right now,” Higante said. “A drop from my amulet is enough for him to recover.”

The boy started tossing again, mumbling incoherent words.

“What have you done!” Ikang said to Higante. She kneeled down beside the boy. But in no time she stood up, shrieking.

The boy’s eyes were fluttering, the irises gone; only the white parts remained.

Ikang cried aloud, muttering, “My child, my child!”

“Take that crazy woman away from here,” Higante ordered. “Better yet, you all get out. I have to minister to the boy alone.”

Gaston led Ikang out. Badong—who had remained quiet through the commotion—and Colonel Bangit followed.

They all waited outside. The other warriors had gathered around, and they witnessed Ikang wailing for a lost child or something.

Ikang calmed down after some time. When she noticed Badong slip, she followed him. She found him behind a tree.

She slapped him. “You put me in shame,” she said.

“I told you,” Badong said, “I can’t heal the boy.”

“What did you two do!” a voice asked. It was Titing.

Ikang glared at Titing and walked away.

“Did you do something to the boy?” Titing asked Badong.

“She asked me to heal him,” Badong answered.

“Man, you’re in deep shit. Kumander Gaston’s going to kill you. First, he found you sneaking up on him and his woman, and then now—”

“Quit joking! I’m in serious trouble, and it’s you who put me into this.”

“I guess it’s time you told Kumander Gaston who you really are.”

“How would he believe me,” Badong said, “if the boy’s going to die?”

“The boy’s not going to die. If you indeed did something to cure him, then I’m sure he would be all right. I trust you.”

Badong sat down on the grass. “I don’t trust myself.”

Titing sat down beside Badong. “Have you forgotten what you and Ikang said?”

Badong frowned.

“You may doubt a person, but never doubt the amulet.”

II

The tongue licking her nipple was no longer a tiny eel, as it used to be. It was a mouthless leech, sliding on her skin clumsily, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

“What’s bothering you?” Ikang asked Gaston.

The chief stopped what he was doing and rested his head between Ikang’s breasts. “I’ve been a fool,” he said.

Ikang held him. Before, she would run her fingers through his hair. But now her hands lay flat on the side of his head.

“It was a mistake to count on Higante, to believe we’re fighting for the same cause,” Gaston said.

“Indeed, why would he join forces with you?” Ikang said. “He won’t get anything from your mission. No loot, no girls to violate, nothing but peril. Now you know who he really is.”

Gaston rolled off Ikang and sat up. “The bastard,” he said, “he told me we would only wait for the boy to regain consciousness and identify who attacked Dalia’s camp. Now that the boy has survived, Higante shows no sign of keeping his word. He even refused to come back here in the camp. He asked for me to go to him, only to dissuade me from pursuing the attack.”

Ikang sat up too, not bothering to cover her breasts, letting them dangle like papayas ripe for the picking. “Why?” she asked. “The boy had told us it was Datu Unsay who attacked them. Unsay has fifty men only. If your men and Higante’s men combined, you would outnumber the enemies two to one.”

“The problem is, Colonel Bangit said Unsay had joined forces with Datu Kling. They now have one hundred forty men . . . This is Colonel Bangit and Higante’s fault. If they let me attack the smallest group before, I should have avenged Dalia by now.”

“What are you planning to do now?”

“With or without help, I’m raiding Datu Unsay’s camp tomorrow night.”

“You’ve lost your mind. You’re committing suicide.”

“My men are strong. They will fight with me to death.”

“Your men? Do you think they still trust you? They’ve seen you voiceless against Higante and Colonel Bangit. How could they follow a weak leader?”

“It’s your fault,” Gaston said. “The amulets you made failed to protect Dalia and her men. Now how could my men trust theirs?”

“You’re blaming everyone except yourself,” Ikang said. “I told you, Dalia did not follow my instructions how to keep the amulet effective.”

“Then how about the wounded boy? He might have died if Higante did not see him.”

“I was the one who healed the boy. I wrapped a coconut husk around his wound, and it sucked the bullet out. The high fever he had was a temporary effect.”

“You want me to believe you? You broke down when he had a convulsion. You lost your mind in front of everyone.”

“It’s useless talking to you,” Ikang said. She fumbled for her clothes.

Gaston gripped her arm. “Not so fast, Ikang,” he said.

“Let me go,” Ikang said. “I’m checking on the boy.” Since the boy was able to walk, he was transferred from the dugout to the hut. “I need to rub oil on his wound before he goes to sleep,” Ikang added.

“The boy is now well. Is it really him you’re going to, or Badong?”

“What are you talking about?”

Gaston slid his hands under Ikang’s arms, and squeezed her breasts. “Do you think I haven’t noticed?” he whispered to her ears. “I’ve been observing you for the past few days, Ikang. You’re trying to seduce Badong. What are you up to? Why did you ask me to no longer punish him for peeping on us?”

“You’re hurting me, Gaston,” Ikang said. She tried to pry his fingers off, but he only hurt her more. “I told you, I want to train him to be a babaylan. He’s got a third eye that needs to be developed. He can be a great help to you.”

“To me, or to you?” Gaston asked.

Tears started streaming down her cheeks. “You’re imagining things. You’re crazy.”

He let her go, only to grab her neck. “Yes, I’m crazy,” he said, his breath on her face. “But I’m not a fool, Ikang. You’ve done to me what you’re doing to Badong. If you don’t stop, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill you, too.”

“If you can!” Ikang shot back. “Badong is Nong Seño’s son. His father gave him a powerful amulet, more powerful than Higante’s or mine. All right. You want to hear it, Gaston? I’ll admit it. I’m going to use Badong. I’ll make him kill Higante, and if you’re a hindrance to my plans, I’ll make him kill you too.”

“Whore!” he said, pushing her down. “You can’t run away from me. You’re my slave.” He turned her around and raised her hips.

Ikang tried to get up, but Gaston pushed her again, her face landing on the sack. “Let me go,” she said. “I’m tired of relying on you. You’re inutile!”

“Inutile? Let me show you what I can do.” He shoved himself into her, and amid her protests, he pounded.

(To be continued)

Fiction: War Zone (Part 4 of 10)

(Published in the January 28, 2012, issue of Philippines Free Press)

“His eyes should be gouged,” Ikang said, looking neither at Badong nor at Gaston.

Gaston swung again, and Badong contracted his belly when the chief’s fist landed on it.

The chief’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck,” he said, “what kind of amulet do you have?” He was on to Badong again with a flurry of punches, releasing all the pent-up emotions he had had since morning. Badong crouched and coughed, but nothing more.

Ikang noticed too that Badong was not as hurt as he should have been. She came to the young man and put her hand under his neck, searching for the tiny bottle inside his shirt. When she took the bottle out, she stared at it surprised. “I didn’t make this. Where is this from?”

Before Badong could answer, Ikang released the bottle with a start. “It’s getting hot!” she said. Her palm was red. “Who made that amulet?”

“Answer the question,” Gaston said. He acted to hit Badong again, but he was cut by a voice outside calling out for him. “Do not disturb me!” he shouted back.

The man outside peeked in. It was Titing. When Ikang screamed earlier, he stood up right away and ran, leaving Badong behind. Gaston caught Badong, and the chief did not seem to be aware that Badong had had someone with him. “It’s important, Kumander Gaston,” Titing said. “I have good news and bad news.”

“What is it?” the chief asked.

“Which do you want me to tell you first,” Titing asked, “the good news or the bad news?”

“What is it!”

“Well,” Titing said, scratching his head. “I guess I have to tell you the good news first. Colonel Bangit and Kumander Higante have arrived.”

Gaston glared impatiently at Titing.

“And the bad news is that they only had a few men with them, not the few hundred that you expect.”

Gaston clenched his jaw. He turned to Badong and said, “Stay here. I’m not yet through with you.”

The chief followed Titing out of the dugout. All the while, Titing acted as though Badong was invisible. 154) As soon as Gaston was out of sight, Ikang confronted Badong. “How were you able to convince Nong Seño to make you an amulet?”

“I . . . I don’t know what you are talking about,” Badong said.

“You’re a bad liar,” Ikang said. She took out her own amulet and held it to Badong’s view. The bottle and the abaca string were exactly the same as that of Badong’s. “You can’t deny that it’s the same hands that created our amulets,” she said. “The contents, of course, are slightly different. Yours have black roots, mine has brown. But our bottles both contain a red pebble and a tiny piece of paper folded thirteen times. Nong Seño told me all the amulets he makes contain those two items.”

Ikang let go of her amulet, letting it rest on her bosom, well aware that Badong’s eyes were following it.

“Badong,” Ikang said. “You’re Badong, right? You must be something. I thought I was the youngest recipient of Nong Seño’s amulet. Well, I’m not exactly young. I’m in my late twenties. But compared to the other babaylans, I’m not as experienced. For instance, Higante, that evil beast, is already forty. It’s really a surprise to meet you.”

Badong watched Ikang in silence, both wary and mesmerized.

Ikang stared at the unconscious boy. “Now I know,” she said, “it’s not just a coincidence that you found this boy. And now I understand why you doubted if I can heal him.” She came near Badong and said, “Show me what you can do.”

“You’re mistaken,” Badong said. “I can’t heal him.”

“He might die if you won’t help him,” Ikang said. “Do you want that to happen?”

Badong breathed deeply. After a while he said, “The bullet, I’ll take it out first.”

Ikang smiled. “Do you need a stick? A knife?”

“No,” Badong said. “Please get me some coconut husk.”

* * *

“We cannot go tonight, Gaston,” Kumander Higante said. His stentorian voice matched his built. At about six feet, Higante towered the other warriors.

“Why not, Higante?” Kumander Gaston said. “I’ll skin those bastards alive!”

“They’ll be ready and waiting for us,” Higante said. “We must wait for some time, until they let their guards down.”

“What difference would it make? Their bullets, their kris, we’re impervious to them.”

“But they’ll put up a fight. Why waste our men’s strength now if we can easily crush them later?”

“Just say it if you don’t want to join us.”

“Gentlemen,” Colonel Bangit interrupted, “the last thing we need is for you to fight each other. Don’t lose sight of who the true enemy is.”

“Colonel,” Kumander Gaston said, “you said we have the support of the President. Why do you refuse to help us now?”

“Gaston,” Bangit said, “it’s true that the President deems your group valuable in fighting the separatist rebels. Protocol, however, forbids the military from having an overt alliance with vigilantes. Rest assured, though, that we will provide you guns and relay to you all vital intelligence.”

Gaston clenched his jaw. “So what information do you have for us now?” he asked.

“We’ve received reports that there are three enemy troops operating in these parts, each led by a datu,” Bangit explained. “Datu Unsay has about fifty members. Datu Kling has ninety, and Datu Watamama, two hundred. As you can see, Gaston, your camp is easily outnumbered by any of them; you only have more or less forty men. If you want to attack, you need reinforcement from Higante, who has seventy men. Now, even if you and Higante combined forces—”

“You forgot the other commanders,” Gaston cut in.

“I’m sure they’re willing to help,” Bangit said. “But I’m afraid we shouldn’t let them in on this. The camps of the other vigilante groups are too far from here, and they have their hands full warding off the Moros in their areas. If the other commanders send their men here, they will put to risk their own territories. I hope you understand that, Gaston.”

Gaston did not say anything, still looking defiant.

“As I was saying, Gaston,” the military man continued, even if you and Higante combined forces, you still cannot just attack any or all of the enemy groups.”

“Why not?” Gaston said. “We will start with the smallest group, then proceed to the next two.”

“No, Gaston. The General does not want vigilantes to directly attack any of the rebel camps. Such operation should be left to the military alone. You are only to fight the Moros in so-called neutral grounds. However, in this case, the General is making a little exception. You may raid a camp, but take note—this is important, Gaston—you may raid only the camp of those who killed your sister. He expects you to agree with that.”

It took a while before Gaston spoke. “I am not happy with this arrangement, Colonel,” he said. “But because I want to avenge my sister at once, I will accept your terms for now. Please inform the General, though, that I want more leeway in the future.”

“It will reach him,” Bangit said. “Right now, however, we have a problem. We have no way of identifying the datu who attacked Kumander Dalia.”

“The boy,” Gaston said, “he’s the key.”

“What boy?” Bangit asked.

“We found a young fighter in Kumander Dalia’s camp,” Gaston said. “He can probably identify who attacked them. But he’s in a critical condition. Our babaylan is attending to him now.”

“Critical you say?” Higante said. “Let me see him.”

The three leaders went out of the hut and proceeded to the dugout, where they found the boy tossing and turning on the sack. Right away Higante crouched beside the boy and touched his forehead.

“Don’t touch him!” Ikang said.

Higante stared back at Ikang. “This boy needs my help,” he said.

“I’m the babaylan here,” Ikang said. “I can take care of him on my own.”

“Ikang,” Gaston cut in, “let Kumander Higante see what he can do.”

(To be continued)