TRES - CHAPTER FIVE - THE MORNING AFTER

Buglas : Day 494

The bright ray of sunlight woke him.

It was hot, hotter than how he remembered the sun to be and like a beacon, aimed straight towards his closed eyes. Even without being totally awake, he felt the knots of tension all over his body. He sat up and noticed that he was alone in a mattress that smelled faintly of sweat, the sour scent evidence of the humidity that was a cause for discomfort. He was drenched in sweat, even though he was half naked. Someone took off his shirt when he was in sleep and he could see the black shirt turned inside out and flung haphazardly on one of the mismatched chairs a few feet from where he was. The curtain that separated the sleeping area was pushed to the side. Nobody else was evident.
Where are they? I remember last night, the faces, the others.

He stood up. Took one of the tangled sheets and wiped at his chest. He noticed that his pants were cut mid-thigh and his left knee was bandaged. Flexing his foot, he was glad that the pain was lesser than he remembered; someone took care of the scrapes that he got from yesterday. Barefoot, he walked towards the door and slowly opened it.

Outside was too bright. The sun, lonely at the center of the sky was brilliant and unhindered by clouds. The dog was sprawled on the ground right before the door; it was looking at him, eyes hungry and weak.

A sound from the back of the house caught his attention.

Walking towards the faint din, he couldn’t fail to notice the devastation that seemed to cover everything. Even here, far from the more evident city where he woke up the day before, here where there were only trees and rubble from flattened buildings and green growth that took over where civilization once was; desolation made the once urban part of the city into a rural, lonely place.

It was then that he noticed that the shelter was in a clearing of some sort. It could have been a pool or a park before it was ruined. A ways off, he could see a half crumbling stone statue of a large animal, probably that of a water buffalo; or karabao as it was known in his local dialect. At a distance was a thick clump of trees. Most of these were young and obviously newly grown but the vines that seemed to be everywhere and covering everything was growing profusely.

The scene that greeted him when we got to the back was curious.

The man, Dong was sitting in the middle of a rough clearing. Around him, at different points were the others; Zoriah, unmistakably pregnant in the light of day, Bulagao, and the warrior girl, Beatrice were seated with heads bent in concentration. Only the man at the center had his eyes opened, although it was equally apparent that he was not seeing anything. He was in a sort of trance. From their mouths came the racket that Anrhu heard, the sound of chanting.

“Are they in prayer?”

Curious, he sat a few feet away. Observing and trying to be silent.

A faint glow seemed to radiate from the five companions; like there was something more than sunlight that lit the air or that particles of dust swirled around the others and made them seem unnatural. Between the kapre’s lips was a lit roll of something that Anrhu knew to be tobacco, a string of smoke adding to the mysticism of the scene.

After a moment, the sound stopped altogether. The others stood and walked towards the shelter, not even acknowledging his presence. Silently they took the path that he used and entered the house. As if called, Anrhu followed the girl who was last and went in with them.

Inside, the companions became more animate.

“Hi, I’m Beatrice, and you are Anrhu, I heard so much about you,” the girl turned as soon as she came into the shelter that she almost bumped into the boy that was following on her heels. Ahead, the others were busy, Zoriah preparing the table with food, Bulagao clumsily helping, the tobacco between his lips slowly filling the small room with a heady smell; thankfully, he was wearing a shirt over his hairy frame. Even the dog that followed in the heels of those who came first was wagging its tail in anticipation for sustenance.

“Um,…yes, I’m Anrhu, and you are the bloody girl,” the boy answered, dumbly looking towards the bandages that covered the neck of the bubbly girl in front of him. Had it not been for the obvious wounds that he remembered from last night and the cloth covers that was glaringly evident on the girl’s neck then he would not have thought her injured. She was too…lively!

A grin spread across Beatrice’s face.

“Hey, Dong, I like this kid,” the girl piped and skittered towards the table, almost bumping on the enormous bulk of the kapre.

“Don’t worry Rhu,” Dong spoke as he was coming out of the sleeping area, carrying a shirt which he flung towards the boy. “Bea is like that to everyone. She is our very own spark of lightning; she does not seem to know what rest and slow is all about. So you might imagine what uneasiness we felt last night when she fainted. Here you can wear one of her shirts, yours kinda smells like something Bantay leaves about everywhere,” gesturing towards the dog.

“I did not faint!” Bea interjected with indignation.

“Yes, you did!” a gruff voice answered. Anrhu looked towards the huge speaker and thought of his own fainting spell but thankfully nobody mentioned it; everyone was watching at Beatrice with fondness and he could see that the teasing was a common practice within these crude walls.

The young woman looked at the faces that were peering at her, a small smirk beginning on her face.

“Well, it’s about time you take care of me, since I’m almost always the one saving your asses!”

Everyone laughed.

“Breakfast is served, dig in,” Zoriah called out, handling plates all around.

Shyly, Anrhu took one and joined everyone at the table, still wary about their monstrous companion. But as they shared almost stale bread and soggy eggs that was the only things on the table, something clicked, he was beginning to accept that this was reality…his reality. Now!

Or is it?