Sombi

2

2

Masakit.

I guess that’s my word of the day. Those shooters finally stopped chasing me. They knew I was human (I think), but still, for a while there, they continued pursuit. All I

could remember was the running, the running, (some shooting), then bleeding, bleeding and some more bleeding and even more running. I wish that there was some fighting involved. I hate those

people. I’ll get them back, I swear.

They stopped chasing the moment I stepped out of NAIA. Maybe this was their territory and I was just an animal trespassing. I can’t blame them for their claiming their

territories this soon. If I were strong enough, I’d take over a bank.

I mean the vault there would be a great place to starve to death.

They wore clothes as if they were straight-A gangsta’s from the 90s. Shorts so low you could see the skid marks on their underwear (apparently they shat themselves upon

becoming part of this apocalypse), shirts so big they looked like clothes hangers and shoes so fake the trademark swoosh of Nikey went the other way around.

But another distinguishing factor was the way they spoke…

“Eyyowwww Phowszssz jEjejeje”

“Khuyah waq kah mathakotszs jEjejeje”

“amBiliszs namun netoww tumhakbhow bwiszit”

“Ma3tripan nih Bosxhz Maldhitah to!”

They spoke in a language that sounded like Filipino but… different. They put emphasis on theW’s, the Z’s and the H’s. Maybe it was a native dialect? Whatever it was, it was harder to understand than Filipino. And that last thing they said “Bosxhz Maldhitah,” that sounded like a person’s name.

Enough about those “jeje’s” (I named them this because of the way they laugh). My arm’s bleeding heavily and everything’s starting to get blurry. I

need medical attention. Now.

I was so concentrated on my wound that I forgot the impending sombi threat. I was making takbo, takbo and

takbo (another word I learned, it means “run”) not thinking of the noise I was making.

After getting out of NAIA I continued walking. But I had to lay low. There were zombies everywhere. Their faces were not in the state of decay. They should have been though,

considering the fact that the outbreak started 10 days ago. These Filipino zombies sure are thin and short. Their physique might be a disadvantage to me. Who knows how fast they can run? I

wouldn’t bother knowing anyway.

I managed to sneak my way to a place called EDSA. Dad told me about this place. It was a highway… At least it used to be. He told me how this highway was veeeeeeeery long and

how it was the bane of commuters, drivers and walkers alike. Now, it’s just a street piled up with cars, mostly buses. From afar I can see a big globe and behind that globe is a mall and

behind that mall I can see a Ferris wheel. I’m familiar with this place. That’s MOA. My mom used to tell me how much she loved riding this huge Ferris wheel called the MOA Eye whenever

she made business trips to the Philippines. It’s sad that she isn’t here with me. But maybe it’s better that she’s not. I would’ve loved to ride this with her.

(I’d also appreciate the help she could give me now.)

I looked at the dictionary and tried to find the Filipino translation of help. Tulong. I need tulong. Upon closing

the book, another page caught my eye. It was a list of sayings in the Filipino language. There was this one particular saying that grabbed my attention, mainly because it was at the top of the

page. It said,

“Ang di marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan,

hindi makararating sa paroroonan.”

It roughly translates to “Those who don’t look back to where they once were will not be able to reach their destination.” The short saying made me grin a little

and at that moment I thought of looking back. Looking back at the airport. Looking back at the last place where my father and I talked. Looking at where this “adventure” began. And I

did look back, but I didn’t see the airport, the wreckage and the trail of blood I made in the pavement. There were zombies only a few meters away from me. There were at least 30 of those

freaks.

They were angry and hungry, but mostly hungry. I must’ve really made a lot of noise earlier. In this condition, I’ll be zombie chow in no time. In fact, I’m sure

that I’ll be zombie chow for them even if I were in top shape.

Once again, I say s**t.

And once again, I run.

The piled up cars make it harder to run but I guess the zombies are having a hard time too. This time I’ll make the running worth it. As I run, I scan the area for possible

hideouts but all I see are zombies coming at me from left and right—and vehicles... These zombies aren’t the walking type zombies you could power-walk your way out of. These zombies are

the “runny, athletic and never-tiring type. Like the ones from Dawn of the Dead. For Christ’s sakes I just saw a 300-pound zombie running at the same

pace as I was.

Is this it?

Is my adventure about to end?

Hell no. This place is filled with buses! Tall buses. There are zombies inside but I’m guessing they’re trapped there. I don’t need to get inside the buses; I can

just simply hide underneath them. The moment I got in between the buses, I took my chances and dived under the buses to hide. Once I did, all I had to do was wait.

The zombies keep coming and coming but none of them look under the buses. Thank God for J-Liner and their buses.

“I will always make lingon sa aking pinanggalingan so that I can make rating sa aking paroroonan.”

Hahaha, Filipino is not that hard after all. I can be fluent in this in a couple of weeks. My adventure will not end that easily.

Wait… What’s my goal anyway?

I’ve got no one to protect. I have no intention of curing the world of this virus. Heck, the only thing I’ve got going is studying Filipino and surviving.

It’ll have to do.

Read. Learn. Survive.

It’s not the deepest of goals but it’s better than none. Anyway, all this goal-thinking made time fly more quickly. Before I knew it an hour had passed.

The zombies are not running anymore and it’s getting dark. I need to find a place fast. This wound is not helping me either. Getting out from under the bus was easy but I made

one crucial mistake.

I tripped and banged myself on one of the buses. So much for “stealth.”

All the zombies looked in my direction and went crazy in an instant. Their insanity quickly spread to the other buses. The buses started shaking heavily and were on the verge of

tipping. But that was not the worst of my problems. The noise they were making was so loud it was sure to attract the attention of other zombies nearby.

Takbo, Joe, takbo! I said to myself.

Let the running commence once again. This 2x2 is useless in times like this. I wonder if I’ll get the chance to use it. But enough of that, I need another hiding place.

Stealth is my friend now. I’ll hide under another bus if I have to but I can’t do it know.

I can already hear the zombies and I can also here some of the buses tipping over. It’s gonna be a mess pretty soon. This time I can’t lingon anymore. I’ll make it to my paroroonan without looking back.

There: a tent! A big tent. A tent beneath an overpass! It has the words “Department of Heath” written all over it. Judging by how clean it is, there may be few if any

zombies. Not only that, that place is sure to be filled with medical supplies. I could attract zombies and they could surround the tent easily but it’s my only choice.

There were a few zombies along the way but this time I smashed their brains in. I think I hit hard enough with one hand to kill them. The first zombie I killed was one of the

Jeje’s from before. Sadly he didn’t have a gun with him. It felt damn good killing him though. I smashed his knees first and he went down in an instant.

I struck his head many times. His eyes turned to goop and his brains turned into jam. As a token of my kill, I took this big ass necklace that he was wearing. It was silver and it was a marijuana

plant. Looks cool, but I won’t wear it. That was my best kill ever and this necklace is my only reminder of it. I hope I come across the other jeje’s.

I make it to the tent. My kill count is exactly 9 zombies. And just as expected, the place is zombie-free. I instantly drop my trusty Lucky Woody (that’s right, I named my

weapon) and search for bandages and rubbing alcohol. At the far end is the supply cabinet and inside, everything I need. Finally! A lucky break for Joe.

As usual, when things go great, they go bad again in an instant. That’s my life. I’ve always been the target of bad luck. I get good grades one day; I get my ass kicked

the next. I get a new toy one day; I break the toy the next. Yup. Bad luck Joe. That’s me.

A cabinet starts shaking. Something is about to come out of there and I know it. My Lucky Woody is at the entrance. How stupid could I have been to drop it there? I got too careless

and I’m going to pay for it. I’m completely defenseless before what’s going to come out of that cabinet. I wonder what that thing could be? I hope that it’s one of those

jeje’s. I could really beat one of those motherf*ckers up. They owe me big time.

After a few seconds of shaking and anticipation the cabinet opens.