The Blood Canvas

Chapter #16 - Hamzadi in Danger

Nights in Kuala Lumpur have never been this quiet, but never this loud. The honking of car horns and nightclub music have disappeared, replaced by the incessant sound of sirens and, most frightening of all, the flapping of giant wings in the sky.

In the gaps between the rhu trees that adorn the KLCC Park, Ustaz Ismail Bakri is supporting Hamzadi's soft body. The old man, despite his seemingly fragile nature, moves with strength borrowed from the earth. Every step he takes sinks into the ground, providing a firm grip even though he is carrying the heavy weight of a dying adult man, with the knowledge of earth stakes, at least he is still strong.

"Be strong, Hamzadi. Don't sleep, your destiny is not yet over." Ustaz Ismail Bakri whispers. His breath is steamy.

Hamzadi doesn't answer. His eyes are closed tightly, his face as pale as a corpse. The stab wound in his stomach had been temporarily covered with Ustaz Isnail Bakri's turban, but the red blood mixed with black still seeped out, leaving a foul stench along their path.

"We can't sit here. The smell of your blood is too strong. They're coming," Ustaz Ismail Bakri muttered, his eyes glinting at the sky.

The swirl of clouds above the Petronas Twin Towers had now stopped growing, but it hadn't closed. Instead, it was acting like a burst dam gate. From the black hole, black shadow creatures hiding in the cracks of dimensions descended to earth like a hail of black stones.

They weren't classic Malay ghosts like Pontianak or Pocong. They were Orang Bayangan, Orang Minyak which were ancient entities with no fixed form, just black smoke with claws and teeth, thirsting for life. They were all scrambling to fall from the sky.

"Kreeeekk..."

A strange sound was heard from the direction of Tasik Simfoni.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri turned his head. On the concrete bridge of the lake, three shadow creatures were crawling. They had no eyes, but their heads spun like radar, sniffing the air. They smelled Hamzadi’s blood. The blood of the guardian.

To these creatures, Hamzadi’s blood was the sweetest nectar, the source of energy that could give them power in this world.

“Quick!”

Ustaz Ismail Bakri pulled Hamzadi toward the main highway of Jalan Ampang. A media van belonging to a local TV station was visible at the side of the road, the engine still running, the driver’s door wide open. The tour guide might have fled when he saw the rain of shadowy creatures.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri refused to allow Hamzadi’s body to enter the passenger seat. He jumped into the driver’s seat. Although he had not driven a modern vehicle for a long time, the emergency situation forced him to recall his old skills.

He put the car in gear, slammed the gas pedal hard on the floor. The van sped away, breaking the divider, and cutting through the silence of the night, leaving KLCC now a red zone.

In his rearview mirror, Ustaz Ismail Bakri saw three shadowy creatures leap onto the roof of another van, chasing their van at the speed of a cheetah.

"Bismillah..." Ustaz Ismail Bakri turned the steering wheel to the left, entering the rat lane of Jalan Yap Kwan Seng, trying to erase the impact.

Their destination was not a hospital. The hospital was full, and no modern doctor could treat the wounds inflicted by the magic iron. Ustaz Ismail Bakri guided us towards Bukit Tunku (Kenny Hills), a quiet, elite and exquisite housing estate filled with large trees.

Hidden there, an old colonial bungalow that had been abandoned since the 1960s. The bungalow looked like a haunted house to the common man, overgrown with fig roots and weeds. But to the old medical practitioners, the house was known as Rumah Pasung. It was the endowment land of their guru's descendants, built at the meeting point of the earth's veins that had natural protective powers.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri crashed a van into the iron fence of the bungalow. The van was crushed, but the fence was open.

He took him straight to the corner of the house.

"We're here," Ustaz Ismail Bakri said, stunned.

He pulled Hamzadi out. The bungalow was pitch black, smelling of dust and rotting wood. Ustaz Ismail Bakri kicked open the main door made of thick teak wood. Inside, the bungalow's living room was empty. The floor was made of purchased wooden planks that were still solid.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri laid Hamadi down in the middle of the living room. He immediately ran to the four corners of the house, sprinkling coarse salt and the umbrella nails that he always carried around his waist.

"Wa ja'alna min baini aidihim saddan..."

Ustaz Ismail Bakri recited the accompanying verse of Yasin, verse 9, blowing towards the doors and windows. A cold wind blew in, then stopped surprisingly, as if an invisible glass wall had descended to close the house. But Ustaz Ismail Bakri knew that this wall would not last long. There were too many enemies out there.

He returned to Hamzadi. He took off Hamzadi's torn clothes. The wound on Hamzadi's stomach was horrific. Not only had the Skybridge's iron penetrated the flesh, but the rust residue and Pandika's evil energy had infected the wound. The skin around the wound had turned pitch black, and black veins were beginning to spread across Hamzadi's chest like poison.

"Iron poison... Pandika has contaminated the iron." Ustaz Ismail Bakri muttered.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri pulled out a small knife from his arm. He had no anesthesia. He didn't have any sterile surgical equipment.

"Forgive me, son. This will hurt."

Ustaz Ismail Bakri heated the blade with the fire from a lighter. Then, without hesitation, he sliced ​​a small portion of the black wound to remove the rotten flesh.

"ARGHHH!"

Hamzadi screamed in unconsciousness. His body twisted in pain. His eyes were wide open, but only the whites of his eyes were visible. He mumbled.

"Wait a minute!" Ustaz Ismail Bakri pressed the wound with the palm of his hand. His mouth gaped, reciting the Bargain Can spell. He channeled his own earth energy into Hamzadi's body, trying to fight off the foreign energy that was eating away at the young man's internal organs.

Outside the house, the sound of werewolves howling and scratching at the wall began to be heard.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The sound of sharp nails scratching at the glass window. They had arrived. Ustaz Ismail Bakri looked towards the window. Behind the dirty glass, dozens of pairs of red eyes shone in the darkness. They were testing the strength of the house's magical fence.

"Come in if you dare," challenged Ustaz Ismail Bakri. He was old, but his fighting spirit had not faded. He reached for the trunk of his bag.

BAM!

The main door slammed shut. The old bungalow shook violently, it was clear that dust had fallen from the ceiling.

"I need time... If you don't wake up in an hour, Hamzadi, we will both become their food." whispered Ustaz Ismail Bakri. He looked at Hamzadi who was still feverish.

Meanwhile, in Hamzadi's mind.

Hamzadi stood in a clean white painting gallery. No doors, no windows. Just endless white walls.

In front of him, there was a blank canvas.

"Are you sick?" a voice scolded.

Hamzadi turned around. A 10-year-old boy was sitting on the floor, holding a crayon. The boy was himself as a child.

"Where am I?" asked the adult Hamzadi.

"In the waiting room. Your body is being destroyed outside. Ustaz Ismail Bakri is trying to sew your stomach together using the tools he had, and prayers," the little Hamzadi replied humbly, drawing a black sun.

Hamzadi held his stomach. In this dream world, there were no injuries. But he could feel the pain throbbing from afar.

"I failed, Pandika won. He opened the door to darkness. He knocked me down." said Hamzadi, sitting next to the smaller version.

"You did fall. But you didn't lose," said the little Hamzadi. He stopped drawing and looked the adult Hamzadi straight in the eyes.

"Do you know why your blood was black just now?"

Hamzadi shook his head.

"Because I'm a giant child?" Hamzadi guessed.

"Wrong, because you believe what Pandika said. He said you were the son of a giant, you also believe you are the son of a giant. He even said you were weak, you feel weak. You are a painter, Hamzadi. But why did you let Pandika paint your identity?" said little Hamzadi. He laughed.

Hamzadi gasped. The words were more piercing than sharp iron.

"After that? Who am I really?"

"That's what you have to paint yourself now. You have two choices. Continue to lie here and die as a victim, or get up and paint a new destiny." said little Hamzadi, handing the red crayon to the adult Hamzadi.

The white wall of the gallery suddenly cracked. Black water began to drip in from the crack. This dream world collapsed as his physical life faded.

"Hurry up, Hamzadi. Ustaz Ismail Bakri can't last long alone," said little Hamzadi.

Hamzadi took the red crayon. He stood facing the blank canvas.

"Who am I?" whispered Hamzadi.

He began to draw. Not a giant. Not a victim, but he drew a Tiger.

Back to the real world.

KRAKKKK!

One of the wooden windows in the kitchen broke. The invisible fence in that sector had been breached.

A shadow creature, shaped like a giant mangy dog ​​with a forked tongue jumped into the house. It roared, its saliva dripping onto the floorboards Look like a mixture of dog and tiger.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri, who was sitting guarding Hamzadi, quickly got up.

"Haiyargh!"

Ustaz Ismail Bakri pounded the floor with his cane. The floorboards exploded, wooden splinters flying like bullets through the shadow dog's body. The creature roared, its body disintegrating into smoke.

But that was only one.

From the same window hole, two more came in. Then three more.

And from the front door, the banging sound grew louder. The hinges of the main door began to come off.

"Allah..." Ustaz Ismail Bakri took a step back, shielding Hamadi's body behind him.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri closed his eyes, chanting Seru Maha Sakti. The roots of the fig tree outside the house moved in his direction, entangling several creatures outside, but Ustaz Ismail Bakri's strength was dwindling. His old heart was beating too fast.

BAM!

The main door collapsed completely.

Dozens of shadowy creatures, some crawling, some flying, some walking like broken-bone humans rushed into the living room.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri opened the steps of the Gayung martial arts. He struck left and right. His staff burned when it hit the creatures' heads.

Dum! Prak! Zass!

Each swing of the staff knocked down an enemy. But for every one that fell, two more came to replace it.

A creature with long arms like a monkey managed to sneak up behind Ustaz Iamail Bakri. It scratched the old man's back.

"Argh!" Ustaz Ismail Bakri was pushed forward. His clothes were torn, blood was flowing down his back.

The defense was leaking.

The creatures didn't care about the injured Ustaz Ismail Bakri. They rushed towards the 'main course', Hamzadi, who was lying stiff.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Ustaz Ismail Bakri shouted. He tried to get up, but his legs were grabbed by other shadows.

Five shadow creatures were now surrounding Hamzadi's body. They opened their mouths wide, ready to bite and suck the last of Hamzadi's life.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri's eyes widened. He didn't have time.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Suddenly, the sound of automatic gunfire broke the atmosphere.

The creatures surrounding Hamzadi trembled, their bodies riddled with bullet holes, then exploded into smoke.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri turned towards the collapsed main door.

In the doorway, stood a mangled figure, holding a smoking MP5 sub-machine gun in his hand.

Inspector Rizal.

Rizal's face was bruised, his clothes torn, and he walked staggering, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's.

"Sorry I'm late. Come on," Rizal said, breathing hard.

Rizal stepped inside, stepping on the door frame. He raised his gun.

"Are you okay, Ustaz?" Rizal asked, firing two shots at the creature that was trying to pounce from the ceiling.

"Rizal... how are you..." Ustaz Ismail Bakri was shocked. He thought Rizal was still in a coma on the Skybridge.

"I woke up when the police stormed the bridge. I stole someone's gun, then I ran down the fire escape," Rizal explained simply, quickly reloading his bullets.

Rizal stood next to Ustaz Ismail Bakri, forming a last line of defense.

"There's a lot more outside, and I don't have many bullets. Maybe enough for 5 minutes." Rizal said, pointing the muzzle of his rifle into the darkness of the night outside the door.

"Enough for 5 minutes. In that case, we'll make the most of these 5 minutes," Ustaz Ismail Bakri said, getting up, fighting the pain in his back. He held his cane back.

They both stood with their backs to Hamzadi. A policeman with modern technology, a shaman with ancient knowledge.

The second wave of attacks began.

This time, the incoming creature was bigger. An eight-foot tall creature, with the body of a gorilla but the head of a crocodile, charged in. Its skin was as hard as stone.

Rizal fired. Rat-tat-tat! The bullets grazed the creature's skin, but did not penetrate it.

"No way!" Rizal shouted.

The creature grabbed his hand, almost hitting Rizal's head. Rizal rolled to the side.

Ustaz Ismail Bakri tried to startle the creature, but the creature was too fierce. He grabbed Ustaz Ismail Bakri's staff and broke it in two.

"It's over..." Ustaz Ismail Bakri whispered. The weapon was destroyed.

The crocodile creature lifted Ustaz Ismail Bakri with one hand, ready to slam the old man against the wall.

Rizal ran out of bullets. He pulled the Rambo knife from his waist and rushed to stab the creature in the leg, an act of futile courage.

But before the creature could kill Ustaz Ismail Bakri or Rizal.

The temperature in the room suddenly rose sharply. Very hot.

The floorboards beneath Hamzadi's body began to smoke.

GROAAARRRRR!

A loud tiger roar echoed, not from the animal's mouth, but from inside Hamzadi's chest. The roar was so loud that the window glass above the tray shattered.

The crocodile creature was startled. He let go of Ustaz Ismail Bakri.

All eyes were focused on Hamzadi.

Hamzadi's body slowly floated off the floor. His eyes opened.

This time, his eyes were not gold. Not red.

His eyes were pearly white. Calm, but terrifying.

The wound on his stomach glowed white, then closed tightly, leaving a scar in the shape of a tiger painting.

Hamzadi stepped to the floor. He looked at the crocodile creature.

"You're noisy," Hamzadi said.

Hamzadi raised his right hand. He didn't touch the creature. He just made a circular motion in the air, as if drawing a picture on a canvas board.

The giant crocodile creature's body suddenly stiffened. Half of its body just disappeared, as if it had never existed. The rest of its body fell to the floor and disappeared.

Rizal gaped.

"What is that thing?"

Ustaz Ismail Bakri smiled weakly even though he was in pain.

"He understands... He no longer paints for blood. He paints for Essence."

Hamzadi looked towards the outer door which was filled with hundreds of other shadow creatures.

"Rizal, Ustaz... rest," Hamzadi said softly.

He walked towards the veranda of the house. With each step, small white flowers sprouted in the cracks in the rotting floorboards.

He stood on the bridge, facing thousands of Pandika's dark soldiers.

"Tonight I will not paint death," Hamzadi roared.

He raised both hands to the sky.

"I will paint Subuh."

A white light burst from Hamzadi's body, illuminating the entire Bukit Tunku like the sun rising at midnight. The shadowy creatures screamed when hit by the light, burning and disappearing into dust.

The siege was over. A new king had risen. But Hamzadi knew this was not a complete victory. Pandika was still alive. And he was only revealing himself.

In the distance, on the KLCC tower still shrouded in black clouds, Pandika (who had survived the fall) was watching the white light from afar.

"Interesting, so you chose the Sufi path. Let's see whose art is more eternal. Your light, or my darkness." Pandika whispered, holding his shattered body.

This civil war will end tomorrow

To be continued….