Fiction: War Zone (Part 10 of 10)

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

The boy flinched when he heard the gunshot. He stared at the dugout’s entrance in horror. After a while, a man came out, a gun slung on his shoulder.

The man had Badong’s face and body, but his eyes were that of someone the boy didn’t recognize. They were the eyes of a mad man. Badong aimed the gun at the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, trembling. “She took my knife. I wasn’t able to do anything.”

Badong froze. He lowered his gun. “You didn’t stab Titing?”

“N-no,” the boy answered. “I wanted to—”

“Go away,” Badong cut the boy off.

The boy was confused. He thought Badong was going to kill him because he wasn’t able to protect Ikang. Now that he had admitted his failure, Badong was setting him free. But the boy didn’t want to leave the camp. “I can’t,” he said. “I want to stay here and fight.”

“Don’t be a fool. Go home.”

“Please. I know I’m not yet fit to be a warrior, but I thought you’re taking me as an apprentice. I can learn to be a babaylan.”

“Why don’t you want to go home?”

“I have no home . . . I’m an orphan.”

“You said your father is a blacksmith.”

“He was. He joined Kumander Higante’s group, and the Moros killed him.”

Badong stared hard at the boy. “Go anywhere, then. Anywhere but here.”

“I told you, I want to fight,” the boy said, tears welling up his eyes. “I want my father’s killers to pay.”

“Look, kid. I don’t have time for this. I still have to catch up with the others and join them in the attack. Just follow what I say.”

“No.”

“Don’t force me to use my gun again.”

Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks. He sobbed. But his feet didn’t move.

“Listen,” Badong said. “I . . . I did not come back here for Ikang. I believed she was powerful and Titing could not harm her. I came back here for you.”

The boy forced himself to stop crying.

Badong continued, “I have a third eye, and I saw how Titing and Ikang would die. I saw how your knife would pierce Titing’s heart. I thought you were destined to kill him.

“I realized I couldn’t let you have blood in your hands. You’d end up like the rest of us. This is your second life, and I think God gave this to you because he wanted you out of here, away from the war zone.”

The boy stopped crying, but he remained quiet.

“You need not worry about your father’s killers,” Badong said. “I’ll take care of them. I’ll seek justice for your father. I promise you that.”

Badong can see in the boy’s face that he was starting to consider leaving the camp. Badong knew, however, that there was still one thing the boy was worried about. An idea then came to him. “You want to be a babaylan, don’t you?” Badong asked.

“Yes,” the boy answered. “Why?”

“You don’t have to make do with me as your teacher. You can be the apprentice of the best babaylan there is.”

The boy waited for what Badong would say next.

“Head east, and then ask around for the barrio where Nong Seño lives. You’ll get to his home in a fortnight. Tell him about me, and show your amulet to him. I didn’t make that amulet, but a drop there came from mine. It’s enough for him to know I’ve touched it.”

“Thank you—”Before the boy could utter another word, the shots rang. With every pop, Badong’s body jolted.

The gunshots stopped. Badong turned around, and he and the boy saw Titing standing up. His gun was still aimed at Badong.

Titing fell down, this time on his face. The dagger’s handle jutted out his back.

Badong fell, too, on his knees. The boy held him, terrified to see another death, much less that of Badong.

“I’m all right,” Badong said. “I’m not hurt.”

The boy looked at Badong’s chest. There was not a single sign that he had been hit with a bullet. He checked Badong’s back, and he saw tiny holes in his shirt. But there was no blood, and the oiled skin underneath glistened.

“Leave now,” Badong told the boy.

The boy nodded. He walked off, but before he reached the dugout’s threshold, he turned back, came to Titing’s body, and pulled the dagger up.

He ran fast away from the camp, plunging into darkness. But he felt no fear, for the amulet and the dagger, tapping against him with his every step, reassured him that in several hours the sun would be up, lighting his path.

The End