The Makudo Treasure By: Valred Olsim (2011- Unpublished) Silence has reached your feet A predicament that

grieves all Life has cut its wreath, But so sad, an unexpected call

PROLOGUE IT must be the hangover. He remembered that he was on leave from work, that is, if he has plans to return to his job in the city. It was already two years and twenty four days since his father died and although he had recovered from that biting experience, that musings of that so-called absurdity of life, he did not stop being acquainted to that celebrated fluid called liquor, in fact, it had fueled his appetite to consume more. It is 9:34 a.m. and he woke up with that heaving breath that irritated a lot of women in her life, but today, he was alone in that proud house his father left for him. His father called it Makudu, a name that sounds like an old American Indian tribe. His father, in his evening narratives, had never failed to explain that, like the red Indians of the old Americas, the property is also embraced with indigenous tribal legends and fascinating stories of ancient spirits and mysteries. When he was still alive, and they were younger, his father had took them there (or forced them there) to visit; bought two cars for the two brothers so that there will not be a reason for them not to visit the property. Their father even made an eco-trail for them, a mini-zoo, a mini-park, and some scattered sheds every five hundred meters along the adventure trail. It was literally a mountain, with a water source and forest of its own, a perfect vacation place 128 kilometers north of the crowded Baguio City where they reside. At the foot of it, near a peculiar indented slope, is a flat area developed by their grandfather in the 1940s, back when they were the only clan who owned a bulldozer. It was left unoccupied for many years until about ten years ago, when Vinces father embarked on a little project he called Makudo house, perhaps, to save him from the boredom of retirement, or to leave a sort of legacy to his growing children (he was inclined to believe the latter, when he is drunk of course). As a middle-aged civil engineer, his father invested on a two-storey A-house in the property that lacks neighbors or without any neighbor at all - miles away from civilization, as he jokingly described. Vince pressed his hands on his temple, feeling that throbbing consequence of having alcohol as dinner for the last three days. He rose to open the bedroom curtains, raised both his arms, and let out a heavy breath of relief that seems to amount to a scream, as if to chant a ritual of victory - of waking up alive and living another day. Things were not the same after their old man died. Vince stopped going to law school and invested his savings into a bar, instead of preparing for the bar exams. He was accepted for a teaching job in a university but was given the minimum teaching load until he finishes his Master s degree. He wondered why this society is more concerned on that modern hierarchy of degrees as a measure of actual knowledge, than 'real knowledge' that actually contributed to the society. He also wondered why he is always reminded of law school every time he realizes that the place is really their property. It must be that subject of ownership, of possession, or in their case, notorious possession described in that Indigenous Peoples Rights Act, often cited in the case they recently won against some claimants, who were not even from the province. That day, he was more determined to search for that treasure his father talked about before he died. He did not care about it when he was younger, and quickly dismissed the idea as another fake treasure story. Now at 29 years old, he was mildly converted into a treasure hunter when after his father died, over a hundred people with huge brief cases came to him, expressing their interest in buying the property, or asking permission to explore the area. He respectfully declined to those offers. From those circumstances, he had developed a suspicion for something big; those occasions, those moments when he noticed eyes seemingly spying on those fenced boundary posts. He felt that disturbing oddity that seemed to beckon him into surveying the land himself. And for the last months, he found himself with digging tools and a metal detector. He was starting to enjoy the thrill of it, finding rusty pots, or some

old bullets, or some animal skeletons. He recalled that a week ago, the helper whom he invited for the latest treasure hunt became ill after he dug down a spot where they unearthed two Japanese war helmets left by soldiers from World War II. Perhaps, it is this incident, or those other stories by the nanakays; the old village people, which has delighted him to leap quickly inside the bathroom. There was never an hour since then that he stopped thinking about the fame or the fortune - headlines in the Daily Inquirer, and the life of a celebrity he often watched on TV shows. He could not hide his smirk.

I. The die is cast as they say. The idiom has become sort of a clich ever since social network websites became a worldwide popular culture (although the word clich must also a clich). It is not that strange to think about it when one considers that the younger generation of today's world sees the same things, watch the same shows, surf the same sitespeep on the same window, thereby; speaks the same language duh..dialect..dialectblogging, OMG, check out his channel on youtube..dialect..dialect, ..do you have an FB account?

The big difference, however, is that people from other countries can incorporate their own language or their own local dialect to that of the American English, while Americans cannot. Must it be a mark of intelligence to speak like an American rather than retain a distinguished local accent that suggests bilingualism? Vince, while personally considering himself as an open-minded person, cannot imagine people who can only speak one language. He grew up with parents who belong to different indigenous tribes, that is why he can speak four dialects; ibaloi, kankana-ey, some kalanguya and their hometowns highland ilocano, some sort of a hybrid between the high-lands dialect and the low-lands ilocano ' high-land' which refers to the northern province of the Philippine Islands called the Cordillera Region, and the low-lands, which he plainly referred to as the provinces lying below it. Of course they have Filipino, their national language, which was, in his own opinion, an incidental result of politics, or a certain presidents vision to unite the country's different tribes, and hopefully the different regions. He can understand a little Spanish as a result of a summer class he took in preparation for a Foreign Service office application. His application that time did not receive a favorable review because he was too young, too young and ambitious, but without the maturity, or the mental facility yet to become a diplomat. He had the balls, or a nice bit of it, but it shrinked every time he was surrounded by personalities which possess the flare brighter than his. He did not pass the final interview at Manila. JEeennng Jennngg..I got my first real six string.Jenngg..Jennngbought it at five and diimmee Hello? he idly answered his phone while stepping on the porch. He couldve changed his ringtone to some classical acoustic guitar sounds, but a phone without a memory card can only save two or three songs. The other one is, I dont want to miss a thing, by Aerosmith. There was a story about this song which had amused him, but it did not dwell in his mind expansively. There were a lot of things to think about the last two years, and besides, he had already decided to focus into just one thing. The die is cast as they say. Hello? I think Im already here padli, Im driving the red Mazda said the voice on the other line. Vince leaned against the chunky balcony post and stretched his eyes into the main road past his eight-foot gate. Yes, I saw your car, the red pick-up, yeah..? Vince transferred his mobile phone to his other ear so that his right hand can wave at his friend who had emerged from the highway, as if it is only that hand which is capable of waving. The 1990 model red Mazda went through the gateway and parked near Vinces single-tire truck. The parking area can house about twenty construction trucks. When Vince's father was still alive, the property had attracted offers from mining corporations and electric companies all of which were turned down by the old man. Kumusta padli? a brawny guy about 5 feet and 8 inches stepped out of the pickup.

Good!Vince returned the acknowledgment with a grin. They were about the same size, usually considered tall or above average for Filipinos (or for Southeast Asians). The built, however is slightly different. Vince looks scholarly but lacks the typical lanky frame we imagine for college professors. He had that wide chest and some baby fats which can be mistaken for hard flesh when covered by a thick jacket or a sweater. The other guy, on the other hand, looks like a Hollywood actor from Mel Gibsons Apocalypto, dark, or brown, and muscular with an untamed look, but without the long hair and the facial piercings. After his helper returned to the city the other week, he had contacted people, some old friends, and among those he called, he was more pleased that Hagai had responded to his invitation. Hagai Morales was his high school buddy in San Jose Secondary, La Trinidad, a catholic school at a nearby town fifteen minutes from the city where they lived. After high school, when most of their classmates took up nursing and most parents wanted their children to work abroad, he was the only one who took up medical technology, passed the licensure examinations and was immediately recruited by the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency. He stayed in the crime laboratory for two years before being assigned in the operations division. Like new recruits, he had started gawkily, and after some operations, well, after he experienced the adrenaline of busting a couple of local drug-syndicates, he swore to God that life in combat was his destiny. Vince extended his arms for a high five. If some people are watching, they could affirm that the two have appeared more like high school basketball team-mates reaching for substitution. Am I the only one? Hagai asked while tilting his head sideways obviously to take a quick look at the open door. Yep, but the other two will fo llowand maybe my girlfriend. He replied while rolling his eyes to hint him to come inside. Nice crib.

****** The house has five big rooms; four wide bedrooms at the upper floor, and a storage room below. Just like the faade outside, the insides were covered with wooden slabs (a mix of pine and oak tree blocks). It was inspired to look like a Canadian log house, a cabin in a village with country lifestyle, well, without the village. His father, who never went abroad, purposely designed it that way to recreate an image of a log cabin he saw while browsing the internet. The province, which is known for its chilly temperature, can assure a foggy morning and a colorful sunset. Vince cannot pass a smile on the thought that his old man dragged a view of a foreign land to compensate to his failure of going overseas. The visible features of the land including its indigenous vegetation seemed to have cooperated to his fathers objective. The indented slope where the A-storey was built had that swallowing feature which naturally looked like an extension of the house. The property does not fail to receive a glance or two from passing cars; it can also be mistaken for a hotel, what is only lacking, perhaps, is a signboard with neon lights. Hagai never touched his cup of coffee. He was too busy examining the living room, while running his fingers to the bookshelves that were installed as wall decorations. He was sure that without the fireplace, the room looked more like the city library where they frequented in college. Above the fireplace was a metal rack which supported a landscape painting and some mummy statues his friend must have bought from the famous art town of Sagada. That town has been the face of Mountain Province for many years when it came to a lot of things; art, culture, tourism and even festivities. He missed the town, his hometown. He missed Mountain Province, the only province in the country which is oddly named in the English language. Its funny when you think about it Province in the mountains? Let us call it Mountain Province. Genius. Yo, theyre coming tomorrow. Last trip for the bus is at two in the afternoon and they did not make it today, Vince emerged from the back door showing the glow of his cell phones screen, as if to say, yup, they sent me a text message.

Okay...so where is the dog, and the 4 by 4? Hagai sneered in a manner where you can almost hear jejeje. You said we will have a dog tonight. Well, we can still get drunk even if Elaina is here, he understands you knowand besides, shell only be here for a day. Shell be back to the city for her class. Vince returned the sneer but without the jejeje. He often wondered why even old people have that tendency to use jejeje. His father also had that annoying hab it when sending text messages. The old man even inserts smileys for Christs sake, he thought. The inconsistency of Hagais reaction though did not dwell much to him. Such disparity must be a sign of uncertainty, or a disorganized storage of feelings. So where is the dog? he repeated, obviously not caring much about the rest of what Vince had said. Hagai is the kind of person who believes that, three or four is already a crowd. He was not a loner, but it must be the training at the Drug Enforcement Academy, and maybe the years he spent as a Drug Enforcement Agent. He has overgrown his party-mode urges pretty much after he graduated from his Bachelors degree. He was forced to grow dull instead , just to fit the needs of his job; he can go into a bar alone, have a beer alone just observing people. Outside, you do the butchering, Ill get some firewood. Vince pointed to the window fronting the kitchen. Hagai walked out heavily, laughing, as if to point out that a visitor should not even move a leg. Vince thought of it as amusing, he moved a small table near the fireplace and opened the cabinet underneath it. He pulled the bottle of gin they called kwatro kantos or 4 by 4. If the USA has Johnny Walker, the Philippines have San Miguel in different bottle volumes. The biggest one is called 4 by 4, which is healthily consumed by Filipinos regardless of their province or tribe. He actually believed that if there is a thing that unites the disparate tribes in the country, it will not be the Filipino language but this preference of liquor. He was setting up their special tavern for the night when he heard a gunshot. He was about to scram outside but he instinctively thought of self-defense. He ran upstairs to his bedroom and planted his hands beneath his pillows to search for his S and W J-frame. It was a gift from his father, something he left with the house for protection. He pulled his arm with the little gun in his hand. He stood and realized that the gun can hardly provide for protection; What if the robbers have some heavy guns? I wont stand a chance! He pictured the gangs he saw on the movies, and those evening news of violence, but he quickly moved those images away. For him, this is not the time to be scared. He considered that the gangs or robbers perhaps, mustve known that his helper went to the city, that he is alone, and Wait. He remembered that Hagai is outside. He brushed away from the room almost being tripped in the stairway. He went out of the house and saw Hagai studying a dead animal. That was you?! Vince asked trying to hide the tension in his face. He wanted to act cool about it but he is so transparent his friend does not even need to try deciphering his reaction. Hey. Nothing serious, I just...bang bang... It would save as the time padli. Hagai raised his hands in the gesture of surrender (the global gesture of saying Its cool, no problemo). Just shot the dog dude, you knowmercy killing he smiled wryly to wait for Vinces reply. Its a good thing that media is unheard of in these parts of the country; this incident could have gathered animal rights activists in the streets, in front of Vinces house, condemning this brutality. But then, dog-eating has been a tradition to people from these cold-regions. It is not just a culturaltradition but, a delicacy (at least, that is what the two believed). It has existed for a thousand years and has been recorded in many parts of the world China, Korea, Vietnam..Philippines. Mans best friend, Vince remembered his vegetarian ex-girlfriend. That woman drove him crazy with her rules on diet, and seems to enjoy torturing him with her arguments against meat-eaters. She has that pet dog that he hated, well, they both hated each other: man versus dog. That dog seems to smell the dog meat in his system. They should be called womans best friend not mans, since most guys prefer them in the plates.

Dude, youre a trigger-happy person. You couldve just...you know...hit em in the head with something, Vince was unable to hide his small gun from Hagai. He forced a laugh which is half uneasy. We have drinks inside...better finish that, and fast. That a senorita? Can that even kill an animal? pointing at the little gun Vince is holding. He raised his shirt to show him what he meant: This is the real gun baby... he said it ala Stallone (but not with the twisted lips). Vince grinned, at last the tension in his body has mellowed down. Its still about 4 p.m. but the skies are starting to give the red paint. The cold wind of dusk travelled through the leaves of the tall pine trees, dancing to the seamless choreography of day to night.

****** For most highlanders, heaven is a night of drinking gin and eating dog meat. Pulutan. Vince recalled drunken discussions about the English term for pulutan. Was it appetizers? Or finger foods? Consequently, his mind was forced to remember a television news report where a pet owner expressed his rage over the wide attendance of dog meat-restaurants in the city where they lived and its nearby towns. The city and municipal legislators can only intentionally overlook those protests from animal rights activists. Why only dogs? A legislator (who is obviously a dog-eater himself), asked the delegates in a certain forum, Doesnt also a fish or a chicken have their rights? And if they have, why not also prohibit people from eating them? Why only dogs? He went as far as quoting a story in the bible where God explained in a disciples dream that man can eat all animals, well, except their blood. Problem is, the Filipinos have a special cuisine for animal-blood called Dinardaraan or Dinuguan (or even bloody-bloody) which both Christians and non-Christians enjoy. Hell, when it comes to food, even the bible can be ignored. Food is food period. Five days leave and Ill return to my duty. We will have a seminar next week at La Union. Are you sure we have enough men? Hagai did not care to budge; his eyes were stapled in the fireplace. He liked the red fire bricks. He thought that if ever his loan will be approved, he will immediately build his own place too, a two-storey house, and yes, with the same fireplace like Vinces. Jun will come with his boys, and Sherwin. Morning or past 12, theyll do the first trip. Vince took a gulp of the sweet chaser, and gradually, his bitter face calmed. Elaina will follow...maybeThat reminds me, hows life with Karie? I mean, Kiera? Fine. Hagai answered impassively. They were warned by their older relatives to slow down and not to rush themselves in marrying, but theres nothing they can do when the passion is provoked and the heat grows. Four years ago, Hagai married Kiera who is already heavy with a child, and after a year or so, God, he started missing the life of a bachelor. Its really cold hereso tell me about it. You know, the treasure? Oh yeah. Vince rose up and went over the book shelves (the ones that were installed in the wall), he carefully took something that was placed at the center of the books on the first rack - a folded manila paper. He walked to the table but realized that the table is messy with the spill of gin and chaser, and there is that finger food (or appetizer). He then decided to spread the paper on the carpet. He paused and pointed at a small triangle that was drawn on the left side of the illustration. This is the map of Makudo, the whole property. This is the houseand. Vince is now holding his chin. He was about to reveal a secret, well, some of it. But there was not a choice, in order to really find it, he needed people, and Hagai can be one of those people. Hagai was also studying the map. It was a simple illustration but with a detailed legend. He cannot stop displaying his marvel who can? He was more impressed on those figures written in the small box below the margins. The

property is more than a hundred hectares, a hundred fifty maybe? Your family actually owns this? Theres a forest for Christs sakeWere there any reactions from the Office of environment and natural resources? Well, theres the tax declaration from thirty years ago, but even without it, its an ancestral land. Our family has possessed it for over seventy years now. The community knows this, my grandfather was a former town mayor, he was the one who made most of the developments here, you know, roads, pathways thats why people here knows, they were even the ones who watched the boundary fences for us. And, after all, the concept of land as ancestral is for the family, the whole clan, to protect it. Unlike those stupid claimants, we have shown the court that we have actually possessed it we enclosed the property, protected the water source, protected it fromhmmm illegal loggers, farmed some areasyou know, all those. The claimants cant even establish a single evidence of ownership, or even possession, they said that it was given to them by some Moses or Noah or some elder, damn it, the judge and the lawyers can be heard laughing at those claims. Vince lectured, almost forgetting that he is not inside his classroom. He had this guess that he had lost much of his sense of humor in his stay at the academe (and perhaps on some years at law school). This... He pointed at the sketch where some zigzag lines were drawn, my father said it was where my grandfather first found something. It was a tiny piece of gold; it can be a chip from a ring, or some jewelry. That is why he started farming these areas. The purpose is not really to get in the business of dealing vegetables, but to conceal his activities you know, the digging and all that. Vince remembered some stories about his grandfather that he wouldnt like to share. His grandfather died at the age of 68, when Vince was still three or four. Whats bizarre is he remembered his face, he remembered the deathbed in the room where he and his cousins played. He remembered the gun, and the scolding he received when he touched it. There is no doubt that even in his death bed, he had enemies. There are a lot of stories; how he beat up people at the vegetable trading center, how he pointed his gun to his friends, how arrogant he is when he was still younger and, stronger. He was a big fellow, but even big and strong people die, even the young and the rich battle with time, and diseaseand eventually, they die. We a ll die, we just can accept it, and even if we can, we have that last urge to pretend that we can never die we drunk ourselves up, we buy things that we dont really need, we live fast, we live dangerously, we live as if we will never die, just to earn the boldness to live life knowing that we will die in the end just the same. This Xs in red, represent our prospects, Vince continued. Those shaded in black are the spots where we had already dug. You said you only explored about thirty-five to forty percent? Hagai asked, now his turn to hold his chin. Well, using the metal detector requires patience, and besides, most of these are forest areas. It would be difficult to spot something in a distorted landscape. But this... Vince pointed to some circles ...are the spots where my father thought the treasure would possibly be...this will be our lead, plus those red Xs...and perhaps some weird spots we may discover. Because theres a big possibility that we will discover something.

Interesting. Hagai replied. He started imagining things, he was bound to imagine things, What if we found something, perhaps I can have 20 or 25 percent? Will it be worth millions? It should. It can help me pay my loan, finish the house with with a fireplace like Vinces, and buy myself a new cara new phone, like those which the kids use nowadays and.. He maybe is a government employee but fourteen thousand pesos a month is not enough, especially for a family guy like him. Both were still staring at the illustration when finally, somebody decided to snap out of it, it was Vince. So, Ill talk more about this when the two arrives. For now, take your dose shot en ah. He rose up with the paper back in his hand. He could sense the excitement in Hagai he is silent, but he must be thinking of a lot of things. This is what hidden treasure stories do to people. Just like betting on a lottery, people had that inner wish to win, while shifting their mentality to doubt. Hell, that is why they bet in the first place, but it is similar to it, there is that

imagination winning the prize (unexpectedly), buying a house, a car, travelling the world, and it is hell the same with all peopleeven if they do not want to admit it. The night was young and, silent except for that gust of wind, that which was different, just different. This is not the city, as people who visit quickly realize, not the town either. The night was cold and darker, and that lively bright light from the windows of the house was the only thing which can offer a suggestion of human activity.

I.

Were on our way. We will be there at 1pm. a text message is cheaper, especially for a small-time businessman like Jun. When you start doing business at the age of 10, you become frugal, you become tight with money matters, because you know that making money is difficult, and you actually feel its difficulty back pains, scratches on your skin, and tired eyes, you feel it to the bones . Jun Gusto has been managing a fruit stand ever since he was a kid. He may have started small but had quickly learned how to do the business. He was forced to do it when his mom became ill, he had to do it, and somebody had to do it. At thirty years old, he was doing well in the business; bought his own house and two fruit trucks, hired his own workers, filled-up a healthy bank account, but even with this success, sometimes, he wished that he couldve finished his studies, become an engineer, or a lawyer, or perhaps, a teacherlike Vince. A week ago he received a call from him, he told him about some sort of treasure hunt, which did not really interest him, but, he owed Vince a big thing, at least to him personally - a big thing which made him promise that he will always be there for him. Besides, it is the first favor he asked. He knew that Vince intentionally asked him for his aid because of his boys. When his business boomed, Jun had hired workers from the lowlands; he had to pay about twelve to fifteen people working on shifts six of them on the chicken store, on a space near one of his fruit stands. His boys work on a lot of things: as carriage boys, or manually carrying the supplies, burning and butchering chicken, they also serve as house helpers and that, that is exactly what Vince needed when he called, people who have good arms for digging, who can carry heavy things without any complains, do errands, those kind of things. It has been a long time since he had a road trip. He was submerged with work and the only outlet he had was the occasional drinking, the women, and basketball games. He loves basketball, well; almost every Filipino loves the sport, just like how they love almost anything from America. Jun towers at 6 foot, which he got from his half-Hispanic father from the Southern region. He doesnt want to think about his father, or perhaps, he doesnt have any fine memories of him at all. His father, who left his mom when he was younger, who left them to struggle, experience the hard life it was his fault that he did not finish his studies. He couldve finished something, become a teacher like Vince. It was Vince who first invited him to play basketball, back when they were sixteen or seventeen. He was also the one who got him drunk the first time, and he never stopped inviting him for a drink since then, or inviting him for teenage parties, those cool things, those things teenagers might need to express themselves. They were approaching kilometer seventy, thirty kilometers more and they will be in Sinto. Shiento, was that Spanish? Shen? Or Shien for 100 kilometers? Jun thought that Filipinos could really be more foreign than they want to admit. Weird thought for someone with a quarter of Spanish blood. He had heard about the Makudo house Vince often told them when they are out drinking, but it will be the first time that he will see it. He remembered Vinces instruction, Look right after the welcome arc of Tumagda, or 128. You will not miss it, high gate about 8 feet tallyoull see a brown roof. Or just tell the driver to drop you at Makudo house close to Tumagda Village. Jun will never notice any sarcasm or any hint of joking from Vince if its from Vince, then it must be serious. **************************** On the couch.

He recognized it instantly. Blackouts from being too much drunk were not necessarily new to Vince. Only those places where he woke up to, and because God was, so far, good to him, he had still managed to wake up safe and alive with only some occasional loss of a wallet or a cell phone. As a tiled habit in these occasions, he tried to recall what happened last night, or those things which they talked about with his friend. Nothing extraordinary, perhaps those treasure stories after he showed Hagai the map, and that gang of hiphop kids they beat up when they were in high school. One of those kids turned up fine, graduated from the police academy and married a local actress, Lt. Danasen?, he recalled. Funny, how life can change people through time, how life can do the chopping blocks; sometimes, those geeks become lawyers, those popular varsity players become jeepney drivers, those pray boys become criminals, and perhaps his worst experience is when the girl he had huge crushes on, who they worshipped in high school, turned into cheap prostitutes, not because they were too poor to finish college, but because they were too lazy to do the eight-to-five office jobs. He woke up to search his mobile phone, and almost stepped at Hagai s head, who had surprisingly found the carpet as his simple cradle for the night. I thought Police and Agents are supposed to wake up early? Vince found his phone in the couch just the same. Time check 11:45 a.m., as he scanned his phone, in the screen, it said; 5 messages received. Two messages from the network, Great, he considered, just when he thought that nothing in this world could make him feel any lonelier, its like receiving a discount stub o nly to find out that the products they offered with it were already out of stock. He felt some sort of relief when the two other messages were from his girlfriend, and the other one, from Jun. The big guy is really gonna come. Vince proceeded to the kitchen to get a drink. Jun was his basketball buddy, and on some occasions, his very own bodyguard. Vince first met him in a sari-sari store a block away from their residence. That time, he badly needed a center in his team for a small league in the city, he needed a big guy to do the jumping, the inside defense, and Jun was certainly that guy. Six feet is already tall for Filipinos, or even for other Asian countries, but not naturally tall for international league. Thats why they cant make it in the NBA. If only they can channel those athleticism to perhaps, soccer? Or baseball? Which does not necessarily require height? Vince was partially distracted by a Manny Pacquiao calendar poster his helper posted in dirty kitchen. At least we are the number one boxers in the world! He thought with that pride every Filipino must have, and only Filipino can comprehend. It is the pride that sprouted from centuries of being ruled over colonizers, decades of being a third-world country. That, when some makes it in the international scene, they see themselves rising with them being pulled, uplifted, you know, something to do with hope; that someday, this God-forsaken country will also rise, and someday, everything in this damn country will be better.

***** Jun and his gang, or as Vince put it, his boys, stood in front of the gate waiting. Certainly, the barks of the dogs forced them stay put for a while as Vince rushes to them. Welcome to Mountain Province! Vince said while guiding them inside. He noticed that Jun and his workers are now beginning to spread their eyes. This place is miles away from the concrete jungle they were used to silent, peaceful (but to a point, creepy) far from the earsplitting busy life in the city. They liked it, at least for now, it was a breath of fresh air. ***** The retired captain in dark shades put the binoculars down and observed the outsiders from two kilometers away. He was old, but stood like a man who can still live for another thirty years. His left hand which he hanged in his side was marked with a red pyramid tattoo; below the pyramid is the word: Guardians written in black ink. He had been on that very spot for almost a week, and now, he does not like the sight, does not like it at all. His tattooed hand reached for his pocket to grab his phone. Its time to make the call.

II. Arthur Budos did not like that day. There were instances that Sundays can be bad, but he considers that really bad. To politicians like him, there are really no rest days there will always be moments which can decide a re-election;

opportunities of grandstanding, some media festivals where he can parade his white teeth, but also a lot of incidents which will also need damage control. No rest days, even Sundays a town captain must always smell good. At fifty, he can still scale to become a city mayor, and then leap higher, perhaps to the Provincial Board then to Congress. With his political name and his clan, he believes that he can. The Budos clan was, after all, the original ibaloi tribe: the original settlers of the city and its nearby towns. Park thereat Saddle 26 ifontok, he tapped Abduls shoulder and pointed at the small restaurant with a rusty roof and a few panels of light wood. Verson, his driver and bodyguard for the last six years, can only conform to his boss. Verson thought that this was better; at least they are now outside the town, outside his jurisdiction, and that made him feel more at ease. The job had fed him for years but if only there were better jobs for mere high school graduates like him, he thought that he can drop his boss in the middle of the road and leave. He resents it when his boss calls him ifontok, especially with that tone of humiliation. For some reason, his boss cannot stop the tribal reference. Arthur is the type of person with that ibaloi is ibaloi mentality; that, their tribe should be given a higher regard because it is better than the other tribes of highlanders. The ibalois being the ones with fairer skin, and at some point, gentler (they also claim of being physically taller than the other tribes). The ifontoks, like him, and the other tribes like the kankana-eys, are also fair skinned, but because they live mountains away from the city, mostly in colder villages, they are bound to have dry skin and wind burns, as a result; the distinctive red cheeks. However, it is not really that physical reference which disturbs some of the ibalois like his boss, it is that certain trait that exists with the other tribes; the kankana-eys and ifontoks, and some other tribes were warrior tribes for centuries, thats why they have that boldness and aggression that were genetically passed down, they have that rebellious confidence that does not dwell on farming tribes like the ibalois. Thats why he was hired as his bodyguard and driver in the first place! Verson chuckled, not just on those thoughts, but those recent incidents involving his childhood friends that Acetylene gang who were the first ever to imitate the famous Banco Central Burglary of Brazil. They took six million pesos from the East Bank of Manila and escaped from the same tunnel they painstakingly dug for three months. The prime evidence, which can point out that the suspects were not actually from Metro Manila but possibly from the highland provinces, was a grocery receipt from La Trinidad, a town in the highlands about a hundred fifty kilometers away from the city of Manila. Warrior blood it is, no fear, no sense of hesitation. Those recurrences of robberies involving his childhood friends in the Mountain Province had both amused and saddened him. It had left an ugly image that all people from the Mountain Province, or all kankana-eys and ifontoks are robbers or criminals. Versons musings were partially disturbed when Arthur emerged from the restaurant with another person. Must be another lawyer, he believed that people who wear that white polo must either be a lawyer, a politician, or a teacher who ran out of something to wear. The two hurried inside the car. Where to? Highway 128. Verson beamed his right eye on the backseat. He thought that he saw something familiar in the left hand of this white polo guy. Something identical to his boss left hand. Verson, this is Atty. Chan. Nice to meet you sir. Verson glanced at the other person and made a slight nod. A half-chinese perhaps? He thought. Half-chinese? Half-japanese? Some mix of Korean? This guy looks rich, probably from a family of businessmen. Not new anymore, the world had changed and had moved on, he had neighbors from all over the world; Nigerians studying at the citys Doctors school, American retirees who are looking for some loyal Filipina wives, Koreans who came to the islands to study the English language, and those other foreigners, and perhaps, its inevitable that some drunk girls from bars will be impregnated by them, and thenyou know: half-half children. ---------

So, the Xs in red are our prospects, Jun asked Vince, a smile shone over his face. Yes, those shaded in black are the spots where we had already dug, Vince repeated. He was done telling the story for half an hour but Jun kept on repeating his queries. Circles too? We can start today if you want; the boys had left their things on the guest hut. You can take us for a walk; I would like to see what else is there. Of course, but I must warn you that 5:00 pm in here is already night. ----Hagai pushed Jun on the trail to taunt him. Hey, chicken boy! Getting richer eh?! Goodness, what are you? Sixteen? Jun answered with disdain. His tired face reflected little but irritation. It was the trip, perhaps, or really the thought that he was again the center of Hagais attraction. Youre so serious padli! Hagai took steps away from the group grinning, and then fell silent perhaps with momentary shame, suddenly remembering that they were not teenagers anymore. He continued to walk and tried to move his attention to the trees, those tall trees, and then an unusual gust of wind paraded with the sound of falling dried leaves, and he noticed some thin smoke that started to surround their legs; mist? He felt something strange. Years of being an intelligent officer had affirmed one thing; that, strangeness is not just a concept but also something that is physically felt, something which can ride into the air and be sensed. Vince turned to him and gave an uneasy smile as if to affirm the theory. They said that Anitos are everywhere padli. As a member of the highlands indigenous tribes, they had heard about stories of ancient spirits from their elderly. They understood the concept; Animism was the common tribal belief, and even though the highland provinces were generally Christianized, some of the tribal beliefs had remained uninfluenced especially to those that pertain to the unseen Al-alya, Anito. As teenagers, they were thought to offer everything to the spirits, a drop of gin or wine for them ipitik, as they call it; inviting the spirits of the earth to the celebration, offering it to those that cannot be seen. They all fell silent for a while. You felt that too? Jun stared at both Vince and Hagai who nodded in concurrence. When one mind is in doubt, its a sensible precaution to rely on the minds and support of others. There was silence. They unconsciously but quietly moved into a row, perhaps a certain mechanism against a threat. They felt something, or someone who is about to approach them, something that is headed in their direction. Juns boys raised their digging tools like baseball bats. There were rustles in the forest floor which kept getting louder by the second. Come on you guys! Is this how you welcome a band member? A young man emerged from the trees. He was a slender man about twenty-seven, in clothes that were sodden and smeared with mud. Sherwin?! Jun hurried to him and slowly, a contemptuous laughter that can be heard behind him followed. Goodness, you made us all nervous! I did? the young man shrugged, There was no one inside the house, and I figured that I can find you somewhere hereso He studied their faces in silence and said, you made me nervous too. He smiled, shrugged and crafted a salute sign to the group behind, Hi Vince! Sorry Im late. Vince considered the scene for a second before he gave away a pleased reaction, Damn it Sherwin, is that really you? Yup! The boy band is complete, the leader is finally herethe leader has arrived! The young man gave out a loud laugh. Vince grinned, this is Sherwin alright. Finally, a good comedian that can save them from boring nights. He remembered the line well. Jun should be the shy one, Hagai the wild one, and he, he should be the one who no one remembers.

When did you arrive, and whats up with the dirty look? Vince asked the young man, he cant help but observed that Sherwin has become much taller, five feet and eleven inches? He looked about the same size with Jun. He recalled that they were the same size, the shooting guard in their team, just as tall as him when they last met and that about two years ago - The funeral of my dad. He pictured him rushing in their kitchen, helping his relatives in preparing dinner for their visitors; the kind of guy who keeps moving. Did he take some medicine or something? Hey, let the guy breathe for a while Vince. Hagai smiled at their new company. Friends of friends and finally friends. Vince had held them tight with numerous nights of drinking. But still, four is already a crowd. The young man caught the stare of Vince but the young man strangely looked away. Lets get you to change first. Lets go back to the house. Vince motioned for them to follow. The young man hesitated. Why dont we check some spots first? Its such a waste to hike all the way here and Hes right Vince, why dont we just check some spots on the map for an hour and maybe Hagai retorted like another member of a debating team trying to convince the adjudicator. Were going back. Vince cut them out straight away Lets go back. The pause had paved way to an unnecessary stillness in the wind. They followed him like elementary students who were scolded in the play field; like kids who were told to keep still and can only moan in protest. There were times when they cannot understand Vince, and this is one of those times. Hagai and Jun walked together talking silently, at some seconds, pointing at the back of Vince as if to say, What the hell is wrong this time? Both were convinced that Vince is being unreasonable; to walk half a mile and return immediately because one of their friends looked dirty. Juns boys, on the other hand, had seemed quite relieved that a work day has been postponed. They wanted to rest after that five hour trip. Of course they enjoyed the brief hike; the trees were much bigger than those in the city and the trail is different, at least that trail which they use that padding of dried vegetation that had dried down to stick with those muddle of dark rocks that had assured them (and their legs) that what they are stepping into will not sink. He is not Sherwin. Vince finally turned to them with a sharp expression. What do you mean,? Sherwin is just Hagai turned his head to look for Sherwin but he is gone. Juns boys looked around fretfully and finally realized that the tall man who is following them just minutes ago was now nowhere to be found. Well go look for him; he mustve taken a leak somewhere and got lost. Jun is about to run back into the trail but Hagai stopped him. He looked grim, pale, like all the positive energy in him was drained. That was not Sherwin. Sherwin will not be here until tomorrow. Vince repeated with the same seriousness in his expression that Hagai has. Didnt anyone here observed how taller he has become? ShitYou mean Jun gasped in a hissing whisper while planting both his palms in his head. If he was scared, he did a good job hiding it. Juns boys can only stare at each other with wonder. -----It still doesnt sink in. Jun had repeated those words for hours. All of them have agreed that the porch is not the best place for the cold beer. They instead remained inside. Its about midnight, but it seemed that no one wanted to go to sleep. Al-alya or Anito?

Im not sure man. It can be the spirits of the dead or the spirits in the forest. Vince looked at his two friends earnestly. Remember my helper who went ill? He mustve crushed some Japanese bones while diggingwe found

a soldiers helmet at one of the circles in the map. But imitation? The spirit of the dead cannot do that, at least according to the nanakays . Vince let out a heavy sigh and continued, Anito perhaps, you know, it takes some finer power or energy to imitate, but even though they are powerful, there will always be some mistakes or exaggeration in the imitated formyou know, thats why, that was a bigger version of Sherwin. You guys must be thinking that Ive gone crazy, I cant believe that Im saying these myself but, sometimes, being too rational can also make you crazy. Nothing wrong with believing the Nanakays and those you know, spirits stuff.

Buthow did they manage to copy Sherwin? Hes not even hereand its the same voice, you heard his joke; and that was really Sherwins expression. Like Jun, Sherwin Macario was also their basketball team mate, the point guard, who never passes the ball. Took up Accounting at Saint Louis University, got addicted with an RPG game, dropped out, started a computer and internet shop at Session Road. A self proclaimed rock star, now, without a band, who wore his hear long to attest it. Second place at the Bulaklak Rock, ten years ago when he was still eighteen a guitar-shredding machine with a cowboy hat, and all those western influence; leader, facial piercings, and what have you. He was cool. Was because the frequent use of leaves had carved lines in his face. He looked older. Hagai often teased him about it; I wont turn you over for a drug case but with an advanced fossilization case! Its when Sherwin would snap at him with, You look more like a drug addict than an arresting officer, Apocalypto! They had fun, or had to make fun, even with that ironic picture and its because Vince held them tight. Im not sure. My father told me that they can read our thoughts , well maybe. Maybe like an intangible can navigate through intangibles. Maybe they picked the image of Sherwin in our thoughts, and some of his lines, the tone of his voice that we remember about him. Vince felt himself shiver, not because of the cold air, but with what he just said. Hagai bent in front of the window trying to conceal his glassy eyes. At twenty eight years old up to their thirties, people in their batch will start losing people in their lives; Vince already had, and Jun, its all a matter of time when he will also do his part; bury his parents, be the next head, the next provider. This thought scares him, but what happened earlier scared him more, at least in a different way. In a freaky way. The boy bands complete he remembered what that Sherwin copy said. He was a chess-player and they were basketball teammates. Nice combination, albeit not fair. He stood and fixed his eyes to the wall, to that hanging poster of an Alexandre Dumas Novel where an italic phrase read: The quite hearse of gasp was heard, A cynic figure of obliviousness It stood. And on the dungeons bars, his fingers crawled, As if to feel and see hope but sadly, its pain and whys Are all the things in here grim and scary? Hagai remained standing. And Curses! For his God, he thought, has abandoned him. And Oh! He bit his lips to stop him swear But, the angst and pain inside of him cant be defied, And on the thought that he is half insane, smashed his head on the wall! Not really. Interesting perhaps. The last thing Vince needed is for them to back -out, pack up and go home. Not yet, not when they are much closer. Vince crossed his fingers and waited for Hagais next words. I guess its time to sleep. Hagai proceeded to the stairs. Vinces heart skips. They will be sleeping after all, as he presumed. ---------III.

Sherwins left eye popped and there was a thing a snake made of smoke came out of the hole, the eye socket. The skies were red, but the trees were extraordinarily indigo at some point, gray like an old film, and there were screeches in the background that is similar to a metal grinder, except that, it doesnt sound industrial. He lifts his left hand to show his index finger, which the thing intentionally bends to form a triangle. CReeeakk! Creeakkk! That is the longest index finger he had ever seen! That strange creature laughed and shuddered. Balitok? This larger version of Sherwin is now naked. Balitok ti birbiruken yoBalitok san an-anapen yo?Abes essa ay! Ayshi?? Maywed? Maga? A mix of language? The thing was now in a long hill of stony rubble (from diggings?). The red skies became violet, then slowly faded to pitch black. Vince woke up with a jolt. His heart couldve escaped from his caged if it had grown faster. He wiped his cold face which was furiously sweating. He hears something and he wished that this is not another nightmare that situation where you consciously know that you are dreaming and cannot seem to wake up. Please not another ---he realized something. His head ached from the late night sleep; it meant that this must be real! Suddenly he heard a voice below his shoulders. Strange dream? About that Sherwin copy? Vince stiffened, unsure of what to do, should he lift his head? Should he scream? I thought you slept on the other room? the voice continued. Vince oddly calmed upon recognizing the voice of his friend. Strange. He answered calmly and reflected on what he just said, I thought youre in the . Carpet? He opened his eyes and felt that his two friends were just beside him. What is stranger is that the three of them woke up in the carpet on the living room not in their bed rooms! Vince desperately searched his memory for any rational explanation, but it failed him miserably. It was already morning, but it still felt like a cold night. On his left, Jun stood up and looked at the two who are still lying in that green carpet he brought from Davao. Dude, this is crazy! Jun said with an uneasy laugh, his thighs had turned cold. He was scared but he is a man! If this happened when they were teenagers, he couldve pack up and leave. But, they are twenty-eight or twenty-nine, and they are men! They were expected to be men, even in this strange place. Are we being attacked by the Anitos?an Alalya? Did we dream of the same thingabout the big Sherwin? Vince pressed his temples but still forcing his eyes closed, trying to ignore Juns yelp. This was the first time that weird things happened instantaneously after another. When he first left the city to visit the Makudo house, he had seen and heard strange things; his cell phone being lost only to be found four feet on the ground where they had dug down an X, nights where he had seen strange images on his bed room window, or some talking birds at dawn which he dismissed as mere products of his faint imagination (because he was drunk most of those times), but not actually felt them like this being transferred from his bed to the living room, after confronting a bad copy of his friend?! Jun rushed to the bathroom to puke. That was a strange finger, he thought while remembering the dream and the crackling sound that index finger made while being bent. This place is haunted! he screamed and wondered how the hell did they all end up in the carpet. Were they dragged down from their room? How come they did not sense it? Holy Lord! This is a weird place! Jun continue to scream, like the screeching sound in that dream. He screamed and screamed some more and Vince cant help but push his hands on his ears. This must not be real. He is right. Vince finally woke up in his room, alone. Dream within a dream? He was not sure. Verson _______________________________________________________

The Captain Ka Abi studied the face of his visitor in dark shades. Once in a while, they get visitors in their camp three mountains away from Bayabas, a small village near Tumagda. Only a few can find them in the deep forest. It meant that this guy can sniff well; thats because he was a former military captain. They couldve sent him away but he said this is a big job, worth two million pesos. He had waited for this kind of opportunity one big time job, and hell leave the New Peoples Brigade, perhaps, buy a vacation home at Vigan nice beaches, lazy living, and nice teenagers in swimsuits. There was no sense in staying in the mountains anymore. The rebel force was slowly crumbling; the present government had appealed much to people, and even though theyve done everything they could to make people hate the present administration, the people had grown tired of the strife. The past administration was very much hated and it was easier for them to solicit money from angry people , but now, its different. Those were the better days; they had bought arms from some government military officers, and the farmers had welcomed them in their homes, now, its just different. He combed his scalp with his hands and steadied his eye glasses. So we get him and lock him up? Or kill him? Ka Abi asked without looking at the man in dark shades. He glued his eyes to the cross word puzzle in the newspaper. Act like a boss for them to know who the boss is. This act of indifference had served him well, manipulated a lot of big people who needs him to fix things. This Captain Rosco can bear a minute of this just like that provincial governor who ordered someone dead for half a million pesos, all in the name of staying in power. Not a good idea to kill him. Mr. Vince Mislo has some cousins in the police force and some relatives in the NBI. You will not want another local war. Just kidnap him...at least make it look like a kidnap for ransom incident. Not another terrorist kidnappingwe do not want to attract any media attention. Get him, tie him up, but dont kill him, just put him in a pen or something, for at least ten days. Then? Then, leave him somewhere farin the south, Cebu maybe. Rosco attempted to make a hiss, but withdrew it immediately; he did not want to irritate this guy, he heard that this Abi guy is a real bad-ass a UP guy who was too smart for school, led some protests against the government in the nineties, and after that, went to the mountains to join the rebels. He had accepted various side jobs, assassinated a village captain in Ilocos Sur, some kidnappings and robberies. They had the guns, the wheels, and yes, the necessary connections. How about the others? Ka Abi darted his pen in the paper, and finally raised his head to study his visitors face . Do the same. As Ive said, we dont need any media hype. People killed in the property will only invite cameras like flies. Ka Abi moved the newspaper away and fixed his hands on his lap. How about the money? Half today, half when the job gets doneone million - one million. The man in dark shades put his left hand on top of the black bag he placed in the table. Guardians? Ka Abi recognized the tattoo in his left hand. He couldve contemplated more about it but the thought of money have quickly overshadowed the attempt. Deal. Ka Abi pulled the bag slowly while maintaining a serious face. Act like a boss for them to know who the boss is. ---------

________________________________________ ChapterThe elder---about spirit explaining to Vince: The red Mazda parked at the gas station near a restaurant. The area was dusty, old and the smother of rust in the structures had only enhanced the eerie feeling of being transferred into an older time - without a calendar, it would feel like the nineties. Vince had resolved to go to the elder after that dream (within a dream). Hagai and Jun insisted to accompany him, at least just away from the house. That morning, nobody said a word at least after Vince repeated those two words those words which had also, perhaps, dwelled on them after they woke up: Bad dream. The elder spoke: So much has changed since the 18th century industrial revolution; at the beginning of it, few could imagine humans flying, communicating with people on the other side of the globe instantaneously, the explosion of modern inventions and the evolution of information technology indeed, we have moved into a faster era, a faster world: The world of the instant. Yet, despite this increase of available information, there were remarkably few insights we are constantly faced with the inquiry of what now? Vince was amazed with how eloquent the old man was. He must be seventy? Seventy-five? My child, he continued. Each second, a portion of our world is carved away from the little space where we can freely roam. The philosophy of private property which has enable us to own and keep owning parts of this earth sprouted from a culture that we invented to secure an important necessity: Shelter. Yet, this culture, together with the idea that our existence is far greater than the lives of any other living organisms on the face of the earth, created a system of enterprise that compromises the subsistence of our natural resources; we burn forests for a space to construct our houses, we cut trees for it, we mine minerals, and we reconstruct our very own natural habitat such that, we become more like gods with the power to build and destroy. Vince and Hagai remained silent. For a minute, it had seemed that the old man had lived too many lives, a real sage or something (and he knows about information technology?) as if we had never done enough damage to our mother earth, we have fash ioned a false illusion of wants that would keep us working from the little time that we have in our lives. We dream of bigger houses, finer clothes of fur and linen, just to imitate the luxurious lives of the rich and the famous, those we watch in the television we squander on these things because we believe in popular culture, capitalistic advertisings and gladly embrace being puppets of marketing strategies. Capitalistic advertisings? Marketing? Hagai was unable to hide his wonder. The elder budged away from the two and turned to his window. He cleared his throat and continued: we attempt to fill up an insatiable urge, and we remain empty-- no contentment, no happiness. Consequently, we have reached the point of squeezing our resources to satisfy the needs and "wants" of our population, we have reached a turning point of rapid consumption and exploitation of these gifts we continue to expand our numbers; more buildings, more cars, more factories, more products to consume, more profit to the global economy and, more wastes. The issue is not just about overpopulation, capitalization, industrialization and global-warming, it has something to do more of the responsibility that we have forgotten as caretakers of the world. That even in these modern times, we are no different from our hunter gatherer ancestors; we will always depend on the fruits of the earth and the gifts of our ecosystems. With all these facts, we still blind ourselves to the vanity and pleasures of modern day life, unnoticing the reality that the world has evidently grown older, showing signs of illness every time; the year-to-year fall of the water level, climate change, natural disasters the floods and mudslides, food shortages and waste problems. We refuse to listen to these voices, our earths sobs, perhaps of being tormentedwe never give these problems a single thought. That, unless we take action to redesign this runaway system , stop the pressure

to our ecology; unless we sacrifice the comforts of using plastic bags, unless we stop dreaming of having cars, building big houses, unless we do the simplest things to reverse our culture of vanity and consumerism, we will ultimately destroy the natural fabric that underpins life itself this world. You mean to say, the spirits are troubling us because they do not want any development in that area? Vince finally broke his silence. You said voices. Are these the spirits? Anito? Alalya? Maybe. You can say that it will be last twinge of a dying world, and that, a ll the energies of the unseen were mustered to scare-of the destroyers. It has been centuries since literature had discussed about a Utopia a perfect and ideal society of the future. Surprisingly, todays art, literature, and futuristic movies depict a future of global destruction, chaos and anarchy the end of the world? Is it possible that the civilization of humans had also mapped its destruction? Maybe. There will be no plane crash without the invention of airplanes, no complicated diseases had we not poisoned our air with chemicals and smoke, no wastes without the system of production which we had created. Vince stood. I dont understand. I do not intend any development in Makudo i f they do not want structure in that area because the forests will be ruined and be destroyed in the process, why imitate a friend, or why move us in our sleepvisit our dreams? Perhaps it is only a warning. The spirits always find ways to reckon with humans arrogance. There is a price to everything whether it is great or small. There is such a thing called revenge; do you remember? The 1990 earthquakes in your city? The 2009 landslides in La Trinidad? Those killer typhoons? Earthquakes around the world? How many lives were claimed? Hundreds? Thousands? But that is different! Those are natural phenomena, natural disasters! What happened in Makudo were not natural, those were strange things! Vince broke out almost pleading. Son, you know whats weird? he further pronounces, followed by a bellowed deep breath, paused for a while, then mumbles further, is the concept that humans will always be the measure of all things. An insect crushed by our hands will not be murder, but a necessity for us to live with all the comfort: humans are the measure of all things. ___ We may not live long enough to witness it, but maybe our sons and daughters would. It doesnt take a complicated deduction to measure its reality; there is an impending doom and we cannot stop itwe can only postpone it.

___________________________________ Noon time show---restaurant

Adventure--thriller .come back after elder---guerillas--Tribes differenceshy to the extent of being boringwarrior..kankana -ey

NOTES. Sherwin---construction worker highschool drop out ---picture the dugged spot Prospect ..Spirits taller

Elaina--Talleranito

Politicianstress in life not felt in the province stress a lot of eyesred glare forming a boyband, a mysterious one, a wild one and one that no one remembers hehe Ill never drink again after all.. You hear about it but you dont see it, and when you see itit will rock your foundations Sob stories?