“You do what you can to keep the peace,” Ciskong murmured. “A pig is someone, too, until he is slaughtered for adobo.”
“That’s a disgusting thought! A pig is not a human being!” I had to look away to stop myself from throwing up.
Rachel Ann stepped between us before I could get angrier. “So does this mean Pablo’s safe? You can just talk to them to get them to leave us alone, too?”
Enrique drew away with his arms crossed. Ciskong took a deep breath. “That’s what we came running here for. We heard the screams but when we got to the field there was nothing and I figured Pablo had escaped. Did she leave you alone, or...?”
“I fought back,” I said. “Enough for her to leave me alone.”
Ciskong rubbed the sweat off his forehead. “That’s what I was afraid of. It’s hard enough for them to control themselves when they’ve set their minds to eat you, but now that their prey’s fought back—did you hurt Bek-bek badly?”
“Why the fuck do you care more about her than me?” I asked.
Ciskong jabbed a finger in my direction. “If you’ve gravely injured her, then there’s nothing stopping them from going all out on all of us. On this entire neighbourhood, even!”
“I’m sorry,” I snapped. “Should I have just stood still and let her eat me?”
“This argument is going nowhere,” Enrique murmured. “We have to leave tonight. We can think better in the morning.”
“Where would we go?” Rachel Ann asked.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, but it was Ciskong who answered. “Up the village,” he said. “To Itumayam.”
“It’s safer if we walk down to Camalig,” Enrique argued. “They’ll expect us to go to the village. We’ll get attacked on the way.”
Ciskong looked him in the eye. “I know a secret path.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Watch your tongue, Enrique.” Ciskong looked like he would whip out a belt and smack Enrique across the face. I suppose it looked that way to Enrique, too, because he stepped back and fell silent, although his hand never did leave Rachel Ann’s shoulder.
I glanced back at Ciskong. “So we go tonight?”
“Tonight,” Ciskong said. “Get your things ready.”
They all started to move in different directions, faltering at what exactly ‘getting ready’ meant. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what I needed. I ventured close to the window and plucked my runners from underneath the dusty old sofa.
I had kissed Rachel Ann.
Also, we were walking in the dark possibly inches away from getting snatched out of the sky by half-bodied bloodthirsty carnivores, while we were armed only with torches and hastily-sharpened bolos.
But more importantly, I had kissed Rachel Ann.
I couldn’t look at her. I hadn’t really looked at her since we’d left the hut. I was afraid if I so much as glanced at her shoelaces I would burst into flame. I felt like the biggest idiot who had ever walked the face of the earth for letting my emotions get ahead of me and then for letting it affect me so much. I knew I was upset—nearly getting eaten by a girl you thought found you attractive could be pretty upsetting in my book—but that didn’t give me liberty to do irrational things. In the first place, she was going out with Enrique. Or Mark. Whatever. I was just Pablo—I had never in my life dared hope that I would ever be considered on the same level as the guys she’d been involved with all her life.
I tried to clear my mind and focus on more important things. Like watching my footsteps, for example, because the trail wasn’t as moonlit as I’d have liked and Ciskong was walking pretty fast ahead of us. Or making sure I didn’t jab myself in the knee with the bolo in my hand. I was sure it wasn’t going to help us one bit if I ever figured out when exactly I started liking Rachel Ann. Did I like her before we were friends? When we were kids? An unfulfilled crush that never really bloomed because I got spaghetti on my face?
I couldn’t pinpoint a time and place when I’d ever dreamed of anything but being her friend. When I ever wanted anything but her company—to hear the sound of her voice, to have her laugh with me, to listen to her unflattering opinions about the world and to share all the things that ever mattered. That had never been made clearer than in the last couple of days stuck in the house with her and Enrique. I didn’t care that he was her new boyfriend—I wasn’t the least bit jealous about that. I didn’t even care that he was holding her hand while they walked, that he was whispering to her words I was too far away to hear, that she was inclining her head and whispering back...
A memory of our kiss back in the hut flashed before my eyes. Five seconds. About the time it took for one breath.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the silence anymore. I wanted everyone to stop. I wanted Ciskong and Enrique to go away. I wanted to take Rachel Ann by the shoulders and look at her face and tell her I hadn’t made a mistake, that I meant every single one of those five seconds and that entirety of that breath. And I realized, with a growing certainty that coiled in the pit of my stomach, that I had never wanted anything else so badly in my life.
“Can they even be killed?” Rachel Ann replied loudly to an assurance, I think, that Enrique had uttered.
Enrique shrugged. “You’ve heard the stories.”
“You find the lower half and slather some disgusting mix of spices on it,” I blabbed out. “Garlic and chilli peppers and salt.”
“Or holy water,” Rachel Ann offered.
Enrique gestured at me with his bolo. “He’s got it right. Salt, actually—lots of it. Holy water wouldn’t do a thing. Lolo said salt stops the upper body from fusing with the lower half properly, and if they’re caught like that when the sun goes up they’ll die.”
I grinned. “Well then, let’s go back. I’m sure they’ve left their lower bodies conveniently where we could find them.”
“Are you crazy, Pablo?” Rachel Ann’s voice felt like whiplash.
I shrugged. “Beats running away like this.”
“That’s suicide,” Enrique grunted. “And anyway, we can’t exactly leave Rachel Ann alone or take her with us.”
“Why not? She’s quite handy with her own claws.”
“This really isn’t a laughing matter, Pablo,” Rachel Ann murmured.
I ran a finger under my nose. “I know. It’s just that you guys are way too serious. I don’t like it.”
“Just keep walking.” Enrique pointed to the horizon. “If you see some lights over the hill, that’s the village.”
“Riko,” Ciskong said, without looking back.
Enrique frowned and bit the tip of his finger. “Sorry.”
Rachel Ann’s face went a shade paler at his movement. You bit your finger as an apology after pointing at something in the dark, in case it got insulted. “There’s fairies here, too?” She didn’t mean the Tinkerbell kind, but the ones that could cause your foot to swell up and fall off.
“That I don’t know.” Enrique tried to smile. “He just wants me to be careful. I mean, if one thing’s real, then maybe some others are, too.”
I snorted. I couldn’t help it—it’s like some part of me was pre-programmed for condescending remarks. But I did glance at the woods around us and it seemed to me that some of the tree trunks appeared to have faces in the dark. A trick of an already exhausted mind, I thought. I tried to put up a brave face. There was no sense in terrifying myself into a stupor.
We trudged on until we got to a point where I stopped shying at every branch casting a shadow over us and all I could think of was how thirsty and sleepy I’d become. Finally, we reached the edge of the wood. Ciskong flicked the torch and gestured at a rapidly rising hill a few meters past a field.
“Turn out the lights,” he said.
Enrique obeyed quietly. I lingered for a moment with mine, but Ciskong kept staring at me until I had no choice but to follow. I dropped the torch and stepped on the flame until it was out.
“Good.” He extinguished his. “Now we’re leaving
the protection of the trees. They’ll spot us miles away and if they swoop down and grab one of us—let’s just say Pablo might not be so lucky twice in one night. Stay low and run. There’ll be a trail against the side of the hill. Feel for it and hug the corners. We’ll be safe when we reach the village.”
Enrique was scanning the sky while Ciskong spoke. “I don’t see anything,” he said at last. “Maybe they’ve decided to leave us alone.”
Ciskong ignored him and strode first into the field.
We all watched him make his way to the middle, a single dark blot against all the grey. I think we were all waiting to see if he got attacked—we were kind of like using him as bait, waiting to run the other way if he got taken. But he was getting close to the hill still unscathed and I grew tired of cowering in the dark. I shifted the bolo into my right hand, said a silent prayer, and plunged under the moonlight. Enrique and Rachel Ann quickly followed.
Breathe, I reminded myself with every step. Breathe. Don’t think. Don’t think. Imagine you’re swimming. You’re cupping the water in your hands and propelling yourself across. Everything you think you’re hearing is just crickets. Nothing but irritating, noisy crickets.
The crickets swooped down from above, their wings beating like a freshly-extracted heart. My scream died in my throat. One of the black shadows overtook me and went straight for Rachel Ann’s huddled form.
The fear that had driven me all night turned into raw desperation. Like a hapless onlooker, I watched as my body flung itself at the creature as if by its own accord. The bolo shifted inexpertly in my grasp and only managed to nick the creature’s entrails.
It turned mid-air to look straight into me.
It was easier, I thought, when I had faced Bek-bek. She had, at least, looked human. This one appeared to be something that tried to transform into a bat and got stuck halfway. Enormous, reptilian wings sprouted from underneath the hairy arms and the bowed hands ended in claws. A pug nose poked out of the hideous man’s face that remained eerily Raul’s.
I braced myself and swung the bolo a second time. It missed. I felt the hot breath smash into my face, intermingled with the sharp scent of rotting corpses. I reeled backwards.
“Julio’s son!” I thought the creature said, but it was hard to make out the words against the hollow, ghoulish sound. It slammed me deeper into the ground and I saw my death hovering at the tips of its enormous yellow fangs.
I also saw my reflection in its glowing eyes. My cowering form was upside-down.
And then the creature roared and threw me aside like I was nothing more than a limp doll. It spun in the air, teeth snapping, but Enrique kept one step ahead and managed to make his bolo bite into its back a second time. I didn’t wait. I grabbed my own blade and struck its chest.
That was too much for it, I guess. It scrambled to make wind and tore past me to escape. A rock hurtled after it, landing uselessly against its back.
“Gee,” I murmured, glancing towards Rachel Ann. “Thanks.”
“I asked for my own bolo,” she pointed out. “But no, you big strong men won’t give it to a girl because you’re afraid she’ll trip on it in the dark.”
“We only had the three,” Enrique murmured.
She frowned. “Conveniently enough.”
I’m not sure why, but something about their empty banter flooded me with relief. I found myself sitting down and suddenly laughing. They both looked at me like I had gone crazy, and that only made me laugh even more. I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Let’s go,” I said. “I want to sleep, dammit. Where’s Ciskong? Did he pretend we weren’t getting attacked and just whistled on ahead?”
“I don’t think he saw us.” Enrique glanced over the hill.
“Bullshit,” I snorted. I had more colourful words to say, too, but all of that died on my lips when Rachel Ann came up to me.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
I had scraped my elbow, actually. And my buttocks were probably bruised as well. I smiled, muttered, “No,” and quickly turned away. Enrique grabbed my arm and hoisted me up.
We started for the hill. Maybe halfway up the trail we saw some shadows hovering near the top. I started curling my fingers around the wooden handle of my bolo. I guess it’s all the adrenaline—having survived a second attack that night had given me airs about getting past a third and I was eager to make the first blow this time. But Enrique held me back. I opened my mouth to argue.
“I think that’s them, Francisco,” somebody said. “Children? None of you are hurt?”
“We’re fine,” Enrique said. We came up to the end of the trail to the haze of torch-light from at least half a dozen sources. Old Ciskong met us with a grave look on his face.
“I saw. I ran as fast as I could for help, but it looks like you all did well on your own.”
He was actually smirking, which irritated me to no end. What the hell was wrong with him? Either he didn’t care about our safety, or to him a monster was about as harmless as a rabid dog. If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have actually torn the rest of the hair from his head and stomped on it or something.
Chapter Twelve
* * *
* * *
I didn’t catch the names of the men who met us. I was too damn exhausted, and honestly, I didn’t care. I did understand that they were men from the village and that they believed Ciskong when he roused them with the intention of setting them after an aswang. I supposed that this sort of thing was common enough in these rural parts, the same way it’s common for someone from the city to change their email accounts every couple of months or so.
I was glad to have them around, though. It pretty much lifted the fog of apprehension and disbelief that had surrounded me since seeing that finger on my plate. I mean, with this many people around, what monster would dare come close? With so many people, could such creatures even possibly exist?
They accompanied us to a big house right at the outskirts of the village. It was nearly a mansion, at least in that side of the world where almost everyone else had nothing but a simple bamboo hut—three stories tall, with a fancy roof and two covered terraces. I gaped while standing under its shadow. Ciskong had to prod me with a stick to get me moving through the enormous and ornately-carved wooden doorway.
Inside, my muddied runners stepped onto a sleek marble floor. An old-fashioned, spiral staircase loomed ahead like a coiled serpent. It led up to a walkway with railings that appeared to have been from the Spanish era.
“Welcome,” a shrivelled old woman called out, stepping carefully down the stairs. She beckoned to us with pale white hands. “You are Pablo, then? And Riko, of course, Riko—you are always welcome here.” She extended one of her hands. Enrique took it and pressed it against his forehead. When he pulled away, she glanced at me and I had to do the same.
“This is Rachel Ann, Lola,” Enrique started, but the grandmother didn’t seem to care. She turned to Ciskong, who greeted her the way we did.
“Francisco,” the old woman purred. “My favourite nephew. You were always my poor sister’s best-looking boy, bless her soul.”
“Lola, I’ve told you about Pablo,” Ciskong said, gesturing towards me. “Pablo, this is Lola Selda.”
“My, he does have Julio’s looks, doesn’t he?” She smiled and glanced at Enrique. “And hasn’t this one grown so tall? You don’t visit me very often, Riko. I’ve told you how fond I am of visits, at this age.”
“Sorry, Lola,” Enrique murmured. “We’ve been busy.”
“What passes for ‘busy’ down in the valley, I wonder?” She goggled at him the way a turkey might. “But I’m forgetting my manners. It’s late, and you must all be very tired and hungry. Come. Imelda! The food!”
They took us to a grand dining hall, complete with antique furniture and a painting of The Last Supper on the wall. I didn’t really feel like eating, but I didn’t know how to back out at that point. Thankfully though, they didn’t bring out anything too heavy—just rice sweets wrappe
d in oily coconut leaves. I managed to eat a couple and finish a cup of hot chocolate before I started dozing where I sat.
Enrique woke me up, I guess an hour later, when Ciskong and the old woman had finished talking. The clock in the hallway showed that it was 5 in the morning. He took me to a room which I figured we were supposed to share, only I didn’t really ask—I just slumped into the bed as soon as he dragged me in and began to snore the moment my face hit the sheets.
You don’t, you understand, exactly turn your brain off when you sleep. It maybe rests for a bit—recuperates—and then it’s back up and recharged and bothering you again with all those little bits and pieces you’ve missed. It doesn’t care that you’re still asleep, that you’d like a few more hours of blessed nothingness to soothe your worries away.
Like, shit. As soon as I hovered out of deep sleep I dreamt. Of Rebecca chasing me through the woods, calling out my name in that spine-tingling, hair-raising voice of hers. And I kill her, that horrendous abomination. I kill her several times, with salt, with spiked bamboo spears, with holy water. That doesn’t stop her. She comes after me several times.
I woke up to sunlight on my pillow. I fell back to sleep almost immediately, but having seen that it was morning made a difference and the terror dreams stopped. What replaced it was much worse, though. It’s Rachel Ann and she’s crying and I’m wiping the tears away and telling her that I would do anything to see her happy, even if I damned myself doing it. But instead of lapping my crap up like she would with another guy, she turns away, as if my words somehow make her even sadder.
So I woke up staring at that plastered ceiling not really having gotten much rest at all. My neck felt like rubber and my knees felt like lead. I had to roll off to my side to get up. Enrique had slept beside me—they were running out of guest rooms or something—and his eyes were still closed. He was always sleeping through the mornings. I watched his eyelids flutter for a brief moment and wondered, again, what made her like him so much. It was different with Mark—you could see why girls fell head over heels for him from a mile away. Long locks, fresh off the airplane looks, a nose you could actually break. Enrique, on the other hand, well... he didn’t actually look all that different from me. Like that woman at the store had said, we were probably cousins. Better than probably. After all, my great grand-aunt seemed to consider him part of the family.
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