The Dracos of Tagpas Island

The Dracos of Tagpas Island (first draft) beware of treasures they’re often accompanied by danger and death Larry can hear the commotion from his hiding place. Their native guide’s scream of pain rends the September air of Tagpas, a tropical island in the middle of a Southeast Asian archipelago. Larry has achieved the liquid elimination phase of his personal mission to relieve himself. As for the solid ejection phase, the plan for that has to be scuttled now, postponed indefinitely until he can reach a place of safety. Their native guide and driver Kardo was clearing some dried leaves and twigs in front of a massive rock face, searching for a cave opening, when someone or something grabbed his left hand and bit off the tips of his fingers. Peering through the shrub, Larry can see the bloody hand of Kardo and the horrified look of his two partners John and Kevin. In a flash, everyone knows they are in deep trouble. Two reptilian-looking creatures emerge from a crevice in the rock face with weapons in hand. John is talking to someone in his cell phone but quickly drops it down to draw his sidearm. He is not quick enough. The bigger and seemingly older creature zaps him to non-existence. As the other creature obliterates the fleeing Kevin, the first one seems to be adjusting his weapon then lets off a blast that fells Kardo. But the latter’s body remains intact, visible. Larry knows it’s time to go and get lost. These are dangerous adversaries to take on and he has no one to save now except himself. His two partners and friends are dead or have disappeared. He had a gun strapped on his left leg, just in case, but it is no match to the firepower of those reptilian humanoids. He turns around and starts to leave the area as quietly as he can but gets startled and alarmed when he hears a rustle and realizes he is not the only intelligent being in the bush. Larry, John and Kevin are children of World War II veterans who saw action in the Asia-Pacific theater. Their fathers belonged to the same squad and their close friendship and camaraderie survived the war. They were with Gen. Douglas MacArthur when the latter fulfilled his promise to return to the Philippines to face the Japanese forces which he earlier evaded by going to Australia, it is said by order of higher command. MacArthur returned to the Philippines from Australia towards the end of the war, after Allied victory was secured in Europe and the United States could now face the Asiatic culprits whose attack in Hawaii served as its needed rationale for joining the war as well as a means for joining it as a united country. For if the American leadership declared war on the Axis powers right away, the US would have entered the war as a deeply divided nation because the Axis countries had a large number of sympathizers among Americans, especially among immigrants from those countries and those who traced their ancestry from the same. With the Pearl Harbor attack, however, Axis sympathizers were effectively silenced if not converted. But strangely enough, instead of punishing the Japanese right away, the American leadership quickly mobilized US forces to fight in Europe. The Japanese —  as well as the Filipinos for whose country he was responsible for defense preparation prior to the war —  could wait forever and a day. The Philippines was a commonwealth at that time under US sovereign control. Philippine Commonwealth president Manuel Quezon asked and appointed MacArthur to oversee defense preparation for the Asian country. As the US liberation forces swept the Philippine islands —  aided by Filipino guerrilla fighters and hailed as saviors by the civilians — the army unit of Larry’s father came across some fleeing Japanese troops who were reported to be hiding treasures they could not carry on their retreat. The American squad gathered as much information as they could and agreed to look for the hidden treasure on their own once the war was over. Their brigade was in constant move so they could not attend to the treasure-recovery effort at the moment. Back in the States, twelve former comrades-in-arms did meet frequently after the war to plan out their private trip to the Philippines. But they couldn’t seem to agree on the schedule and on a host of little details. They nonetheless enjoyed their frequent get-together and the mere discussion of their delayed trip to the Philippines was by itself a source of a special high for them. After several years, they finally came to a workable agreement. Even then, only seven former squad mates undertook the journey; the rest offered one excuse or another for being unable to go with them. The expedition finally pushed through but was plagued with problems from the very start. They heard rumors about reptilian beings and they found it hard to recruit local guides. The locals seemed afraid to venture in the area where the treasures were calculated to have been hidden. After two comrades disappeared without a trace, the treasure-hunting venture folded up. The fathers of Larry, John and Kevin were especially close, more so because they lived near each other in Texas. The three patriarchs served as the nucleus of the team that undertook the first treasure-hunting expedition to the Philippines. After the war, they held little reunions from time to time and their families became close to each other. That was how the three sons got to hatch the idea of undertaking a treasure-hunting operation of their own. Larry will have a lot of explaining to do to the families of John and Kevin when he returns to the US. “Dodong, what are you doing here?” Larry asks in a whisper as he draws near the local journalist he earlier kept out from the operation. They got acquainted through f*******: years ago as Larry’s team was preparing for their Philippine trip. The journalist was especially helpful in providing them data on local culture, on customs and traditions, as well as on current events. They needed all data they could get about their target area of operation to maximize their chances of success. Things turned sour later on. The journalist was too helpful and too earnest for his own good. He was also quite open with information that in due time, he became virtually unnecessary to the operation. Besides, it’s dangerous to give him a bit of knowledge because he could easily guess what the rest is all about. In the course of their online interaction, Larry noticed a good number of times that the journalist has a long antenna. For instance, they didn’t tell him about their treasure-hunting project. He guessed it on his own, presumably by putting two plus two together. Furthermore, the journalist was also too superstitious for comfort. Larry and company knew that Filipinos were a superstitious lot. They read how CIA operative Edward Lansdale in the early 1950s fought Filipino communist rebels with some whacky psychological tricks exploiting this superstitious predisposition. Working with the Filipino government troops, Lansdale had some cadavers with punctured necks scattered in the area where the rebels were active. The implication was that there was some bloodsucking creature abroad in the land. This lessened rebel activities, especially at nighttime. But this local journalist was something else. He was not only superstitious. He also seemed to be an ardent fan of fantasy and science fiction. He talked about reptilian monsters with high tech weapons and gadgets. He also began to interfere with planning and operation, suggesting somewhat strongly that high-powered sniper rifles should be procured. That was the last straw. The next time he would jot down a message, they could visualize him asking for an equal share of the loot. In his painstaking studies of Philippine folklore, Larry came to know about the shapeshifting aswang, the body-splitting manananggal, the huge horse-like tikbalang, the small tiyanak, the sea-dwelling siyokoy, the gnome-like nuno sa punso, the sylphlike lambana, and the fairy-like diwata. But draco? He never came across it in all his readings. His first and abiding impression of the journalist is of someone who is honest and earnest, although there is a peculiar touch of naivete in his behavior and worldview. Now he was forced to consider the question: Is he pulling our legs? “I think he is trying to do a Lansdale on us,” John commented one day with a sneer as they were finalizing the preparation for their Philippine trip. “What does he think of us — Filipinos?” “I heard about reptilian beings from the lips of my dad,” Kevin interjected. “Till the day he died, he maintained that it was what scuttled their operation.” “That may well be,” John shot back. “Someone did a Lansdale on them. Then, this guy being familiar with local lore, is now trying to do the same trick on us. A copy cat.” “That’s plausible,” Kevin granted. “But why? We have a map; they don’t. Otherwise, they would have recovered the treasure long ago and wouldn’t need to scare us away now.” “Maybe they didn’t want our presence, maybe they didn’t want us to touch anything,” Larry surmised, remembering the acrimonious controversy over the ancient burial grounds of American Indians. “But then, why did that guy provide us with all information and assistance we asked for? Something doesn’t add up.” “In fairness,” John said, “there are also stories about reptilian beings in my own home town. But we dismiss their adherents as nuts and nitwits.” In the end, it was decided to keep the journalist out of the loop from then on to prevent him from developing a sense of proprietary claim or of entertaining any thought of having a rightful share over the outcome of the project. Nevertheless, so as not to upset him, Larry was given the task of maintaining contact with him although in a gradually diminished way. From then on, he was given the barest tidbits about their forthcoming trip to the Philippines and the subsequent treasure-hunting operation. However, they found it necessary to assure him that he would get a generous reward in case the operation pushes through and succeeds. Of course, they were determined to push through with the project. But they didn’t have to announce their determination to the whole world. The more quiet they went about their business, the better was the chance for their success. Larry asked a moment ago what Dodong was doing in Aniwan but the journalist ignores his question. “Come, follow me,” the latter says. The American treasure hunter has no option now but to comply. After a long hike along a circuitous route behind trees and shrubs, they find a motorcycle concealed among brushes a few meters away from the Aniwan road. Dodong mounts the motorcycle then motions Larry to piggy-ride. “Those are the dracos I am telling you about,” the journalist declares as they drive away. After they have motored for about a mile, Larry suddenly and rather vigorously asks the journalist to stop the motorcycle at the roadside. Then he scampers away to keep a postponed date with Mother Earth. Emerging from the cogon grass a few minutes later, he looks like someone who saw a beatific vision. “The experiment is successful!” he declares triumphantly. The chief of police, Superintendent Max Fabula, will not offer any help nor do anything when they reached the town. “Why only now? You should have gone here before starting your operation. I would have dissuaded you from going there.” After Larry briefed the law officer about what happened in the Aniwan Cliffs and stated the police assistance he is seeking, the latter declares: “You cannot see your friends anymore; they have disappeared for good, melted or whatever.” Max then fills up the American about local incidents involving dracos, the various sightings, and the alleged victims.” He concludes his creepy spiel with an apology: “I’m so sorry, we cannot make for you a death certificate or affidavit. Who would believe it? I lost some of my men when they investigated prior incidents. But our regional office wouldn’t send a special unit to hunt down the monsters. All they sent was one officer to investigate what this is all about. They called us nuts. They asked what bottles we were drinking or what drugs we were taking.” Larry listens in rapt attention as Max ticks off local police statistics regarding the intelligent reptilian beings. Larry is not interested about it, frankly speaking, but he got to interest himself on it now. He just lost two friends and he saw dracos with his own eyes. He earlier asked how he could get a death certificate or an affidavit explaining the circumstances of his friends’ death. But it is becoming clear by now that he will go home to the US empty-handed — without recovered treasures, and without a credible explanation for the total disappearance of his two friends. And why is it that the chief of police is providing him all these statistics about draco sightings and draco-related crime incidents? Is it to reassure him that what he reported is valid and that he is not being regarded as one who is crazed, drugged, drunk or hallucinating? Is it to console him that he is not alone in this tragedy, that there are other similar cases involving the same reptilian monsters? Or is it that the tragic fate that befell his two bosom friends is now being treated as part of the statistics —  statistics that are being tallied but not acted upon? “Where did they come from?” Larry asks. He decided that the best thing to do now is to gather as much information as he can about this esoteric subject. The police chief takes a deep breath before he replies: “Sometime in the late 1940s, as the nation was trying to recover from the ravages of war, there was a rumor circulating in town that a spaceship crashed somewhere in the Aniwan area. That was also the time when reports of abductions and disappearances started to grow in frequency.” “What kind of weapon do they use? It seems pretty much high tech,” Larry presses on. “It’s called ‘vril’, a high energy sort of gun,” the police chief replies. “It’s hard to describe. It seems to be a three-in-one kind of gun. It can stun, it can kill and it can vaporize.” The police chief pauses, as if drawing something from his inward parts, then with earnest emoting reveals: “It is its vaporizing power that is dreaded most of all. My men can take the thought of being hit by a bullet, even the thought of dying in an encounter. But they just cannot bear the thought of being vaporized, of disappearing without a trace.” “Do the dracos go outside the Aniwan area?” Larry inquires. “Yes,” comes the reply. “Mostly in adjoining areas. Dracos are quite territorial creatures. They fiercely defend their territory. They stay put where they are, going only further off when their food supply is dwindling. Because they were seen in other places, there arose the impression that there are more of them than there really are. But I surmise what people are seeing are the same dracos — two in number, three at most.” The journalist has been silent throughout the conversation as though indifferent or as though in a state of listening grace, letting the American ask all the questions and letting the police chief provide all the answers. “What do they eat?” Larry persists. The chief of police glances at the journalist as if asking for comment or advice. But no response nor utterance is forthcoming at the moment. Dodong seems absorbed with something else in his mind. Max clears his throat then declares: “They’re pretty much carnivorous,” he reveals, “but there seems to be a pronounced preference for cattle and humans.” Then he adds, as if as an afterthought: “Of course, the literature on the subject tells about a particular liking for kittens. But so far, we haven’t come across any report nor evidence of that.” “What do they use for locomotion?” Larry is comfortable asking questions now. He knows he is not pressing his luck too far. The police chief welcomes questions, like a bearer of arcane knowledge who is glad to have found at last someone who is willing to listen to his unusual story. Max gives a quick glance at the journalist, who remains quiet and motionless, then answers: “Clawed feet and hover board.” “And this reminds me,” the chief of police continues after a brief spell of silence descended upon the room. “Did the dracos see you? Per the information that we gathered, they to town from time to time, usually at night, to hunt down people who have seen them or who have been spying on them. They are quite a secretive lot. They do not want their presence to be known and they eliminate those who know about their existence. Better be on guard.” With the last statement of the police officer, Larry feels goose bumps all over his body, what medical people call cutis anserina or horripilation. “They haven’t seen me. They cannot trace me,” he says, turning the last sentence from interrogative to declarative, as if by doing so he can somehow magically banish the danger. “They have monitoring devices scattered around the Aniwan area. And they have this handheld gadget that can trace you in the same way that a dog can trace your smell,” Max counters empathically. Then his tone softens as he adds a hopeful note: “I hope you weren’t detected. There aren’t so many of them to man their monitoring system 24/7.” “I have a proposal,” the journalist offers as he and Larry leave the police station. “Take it or leave it.” That very moment, two non-human beings are following recent traces of incursions in the Aniwan area. They soon came upon the spot by the side of the road where Larry earlier secluded himself to do an exlusive private activity. The elder draco was so disgusted with what they found that he called off the hunt and led his companion back to their home base, there to partake of a little feast waiting for them. The following morning, Gene arrives and confers with the two survivors. He is the president of Asymmetric Defense Manufacturing Corporation and an old pal of the journalist from the good old days during protest rallies against Chinese incursions in the West Philippine Sea. After listening to their narration, much of which he already knew through the phone, he at last declares: “It isn’t dangerous at all.” Then he adds, “That is why I come alone. We can handle this by ourselves.” An hour later, the journalist introduces a quiet and simple-looking man to his two partners. “His name is Dencio. He will be our driver,” he simply says. Larry is amazed at the central coordinating role Dodong is now playing in the treasure-hunting operation. The latter has virtually wrested control of the project although he has this consultative approach in doing things that somehow keeps everyone feel important and properly appreciated. But there is no way the operation can move forward now without the journalist stepping up to the plate, they both understand that. Take it or leave it, that’s what it means. He himself was already thinking of going home to the US after his two friends died or disappeared in the Aniwan Cliffs. Dodong saved the project or at least keeps it going. “Some journalist,” Larry observes. “Journalist without camera,” that was how his new partner was described online by one of his town mates, an elderly lady. He just couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or derision. The fellow is widely known as a journalist, or at least as a writer, but Larry understands that journalism has never been his profession. Dodong was working in a government agency when Larry got acquainted with him online many years ago. On the side, he was writing a weekly column for some town paper. Then he retired early and moved to a city in the large island of Luzon. That is why Larry was surprised to see him in Aniwan. If Dodong’s career is murky, Larry’s career is murkier. He is variously known among his friends as a waiter, teacher, soldier, poet, stringer, bit actor, security guard, doorman, CIA agent, Peace Corps Volunteer and whatnot. He cannot seem to settle for long in one job or in one place. There is a certain kind of restlessness in him that impels him to move to and fro — here, there and yonder. Yet despite his checkered and spotty career, he is known among his close friends as “Lucky Larry” because of the perception that he is lucky in life and in love. He remains unscathed despite all the scrapes and dangers he went through. The Aniwan incident is a good illustration of the seeming aura of indestructibility that surrounds him. And he gets all the beautiful girls all the time! Tall, well-built and handsome, he is the epitome of the athletic intellectual or the intellectual athlete. Oftentimes quiet and reserved, he got a silver tongue to use when necessary. It was in preparation for the Aniwan operation that he joined the Peace Corps. He wanted to be assigned in Tagpas Island itself but there was no slot available. So he settled for an assignment in a nearby province from where he could visit Tagpas from time to time. It was during his Peace Corps days when he meet Bernie, a fellow volunteer who used to work for a shipping line as ship captain. After amassing a lot of money, Bernie retired, bought a sturdy yacht, and traveled where his fancy bade him to go. He soon got tired of that kind of life and decided to enlist as a Peace Corps Volunteer to be of some service to his country and the world, leaving his yacht to his athletic and adventurous daughter Sandra. Sandra is Bernie’s female though younger version. Like father, like daughter. Gene purposely chose a hotel room good for two so it can serve as a meeting place for the new partnership. He later ordered two extra mattresses after they agreed to encamp in the hotel so they could hold continuous discussion. The encampment provides them with two other benefits — enhanced security and quicker mobility. It is much simpler to secure one venue than three venues. And it is easier to move around if they are already assembled in one place. They went to the beachfront rest house rented by Larry and his two dearly departed friends not so far away from the town center. Larry packs up all his belongings and confers with Meldy, the landlady. “They are not coming back anymore?” the landlady mutters, more of a statement than a question. “But why?” “It’s hard to explain but they aren’t coming back so I’m going to take their belongings with me and return them to their families,” he answers. “It must be the dracos,” she says. “How did you know?” he inquires. “The whole town knows it. When people suddenly disappear without a trace, it must be the dracos,” she replies. “Wait,” Meldy says then disappears. When she returns, she is carrying a medallion which she puts on Larry’s neck. “I brought this from Lourdes, France. This miraculous medal will protect you. Be careful, Larry,” she says as he touches his face. When it’s time to go back to the hotel, Larry brings only one travelling bag with him. The three hastily assembled partners decided that time is of the essence, that it is unwise to dilly dally. Two men are shadowing them from a distance as they move around town preparing for the next day’s operation. But it seems they do not notice the two strangers. It seems they are also unaware of other beings observing their every move. Before hitting the sack that night, the new triumvirate go into a more earnest discussion about their forthcoming operation. As Gene is taking out a long rifle from its case, they hear a faint scratching at the door. Gene and Larry draw their gun, ready for action, even as the journalist opens the door. They can see a man in bell boy uniform hurriedly making a turn at the nearby corner. Inspecting the door, they find a listening device cleverly placed to avoid easy detection. They place it in the bathroom and open the shower. Dencio arrives before the break of dawn the following day. There is a big goat inside his well-maintained yellow-colored heavy-duty vehicle. Not long after, they proceed to the Aniwan Cliffs. There are hardly any vehicles passing through the road going to the Aniwan area and beyond. It is the short cut to the next town of Faros westward but motorists usually prefer to take a longer road somewhere to the south. The driver notices two men on a motorcycle, clad in black leather jackets and wearing tinted eyeglasses. “Those two men in black jackets seem to be following us,” Dencio informs his companions. He turns right, treading on a barren hill covered with short grasses. The motorcycle proceeds to Faros. They locate the concealed vehicle the first triumvirate used the other day and take three cream-colored duffel bags from there. Then with the use of telescopes, they thoroughly survey the surrounding areas from a distance. Gene assembles three long-range rifles and instructs his companions again on their proper use, a sort of review lecture. “Shoot between the eyes if you can,” he reminds them. He also provides everyone with a gadget by which they can communicate. Then they select three vantage points closer to their target. The journalist tells them which spots to avoid in the area to evade detection, to evade the dracos’ monitoring devices. They deploy quietly, hiding from shrub to shrub, from tree to tree. They position themselves a few meters apart from each other, each one sufficiently concealed. They begin to scan the target area with the telescopic sights of their respective rifles. They are still a good distance from the cavern where the reptilians live — that’s the chief aspect of their strategy. The destructive power of the dracos’ weapons might be impressive but these humans will fight them from a safe distance. Once ready, the three-man hastily-assembled assault team instructs Dennis to tie the goat in a large tree closer to the target. The driver then unlatches the dog muzzle they earlier put on the goat’s mouth. Soon after, two draco kids come out from the opening in the rock face, apparently attracted by the bleating of the goat. Dennis quickly hides behind the large tree, then he carefully crawls away. An adult draco emerges from the rock face and runs after the draco kids. Not long after, two figures familiar to Larry also come out with their weapons ready. “Larry and Dodong, aim for the guy behind — the one with a gun,” Gene instructs. “I’ll take out the guy in front.” At a prearranged signal, they fire. The two armed dracos fall down almost at the same time. The three other dracos are also taken out without mercy. The assault team pump more bullets to the reptilian bodies for some time, just to make sure. Finally, Larry and Gene rise and start drawing closer to the cavern. The journalist remains behind to provide them cover. As they go nearer to inspect the reptilian bodies, the nearest draco moves its hand, as if trying to reach for its vril which fell several inches away. But Gene is ready for his quarry. He let off a burst from his short rifle. He instinctively picks the draco’s weapon, then zaps the greenish creature to non-existence. Larry does the same with the four other dracos. “Dead men tell no tales,” the journalist wryly mutters as he observes what is happening from a distance. “But nobody will believe the existence of non-existing dracos.” His two partners motion the journalist to come forward. While he does so, they place a listening device at the entrance of the cavern to detect any sound or movement inside. At last, the three partners are together again. Entering the cavern where the dracos lived, they discover it has several compartments. They find inside assorted articles, both draco and human — some precious, others semi-precious, and the rest practically worthless. They also find some huge eggs which they immediately destroy, suspecting them to be draco eggs. They are ready now for the fun part of this horrible adventure. They lay down the empty cream-colored duffel bags they carry in their knap sacks. Larry begins to count. “One, two, ready …. go!” The three partners are now in an earnest competition to scoop up whatever they want to place in their respective duffel bags. “Yahoo! Awowowowo!” their celebratory yells reverberate in the cavern. A pair of non-human eyes is watching them intently as they emerge through the crevice. “Why don’t you pick up the rest?” Larry asks his two local partners as they leave the cavern. His bulging duffel bag dangles by his right shoulder, the knapsack at his back is bulging as well, and his left hand carries a smaller bag of extra loot. “Let’s leave that to the driver,” Gene says. “This is heavy enough for me.” The journalist is likewise not interested to pick up the bulkier things. He chose mostly smaller but more precious items to place in his duffel bag. With a twinkle in his eyes, Gene adds: “Besides, remember that gun manufacturing is my passion and my profession. The vril is a priceless treasure for me. It’s the Holy Grail of hand guns. So I am well contented with my share.” “I need to carry more,” Larry explains, “because I’ve got to share the blessings with the families of John and Kevin…” “Nice, thoughtful friend,” the journalist cheerfully comments. Nobody bothers to state that Robert, being bigger and stronger, can carry more load than his smaller partners. Per agreement, before leaving the area, they carefully wrap their weapons and tuck them inside the knapsacks in their back to guard against treachery. “Keep them as souvenir,” Gene offers when the other partners try to return the long rifles they used in assaulting the dracos’ lair. Gene actually wants to dispose unnecessary weight so he can carry more important items. Like some interesting draco devices he picked up, for example. “Once I get back to Manila, I will have my technicians thoroughly study the vril — how it functions, what it is made of, and the ammo it uses,” Gene tells his partners as they hike towards the place where they left their vehicle. “By the way, Larry, before I forget, be careful with your vril. Do not use it again until I have advised you about its proper handling which I intend to do once my people have thoroughly examined my own vril. It can kill its user.” “Thanks but no thanks,” Larry replies. “ I can manage on my own. I felled four dracos with it, remember?” “It’s because the vrils where already c****d when we used them,” Gene explains. “But how do we uncock them, or shift them to another mode, or take care of them?” “Meeeeeee!” the goat bleats loudly as they pass by the large tree where Dencio tied the animal. They set the goat free, free to graze and roam in the area just cleared of deadly monsters, a fitting reward for its participation in the dangerous but lucrative treasure-hunting enterprise. Dencio is glad to see the three partners approaching. He is under instruction that if anything goes wrong, he would immediately leave the area and proceed to the police station. Unknown to the driver, when they left for Aniwan Cliffs earlier in the day, the two men clad in black jackets made a U-turn and hid their motorcycle within viewing distance of the parked vehicle. “Everything seems fine,” says one of the black-clad pair, peering through a telescope. “Then let’s go. Let’s follow them,” replies the other. “Two men are tailing us,” the journalist tells Gene matter-of-factly as they are heading back to town. He pauses as if making up his mind then adds, “They have been casing our area of operation the whole day.” Gene looks at his friend a bit surprised then smiles. “It’s alright,” he says. “Nothing to worry about.” “Just observe,” the journalist texts back to the texter. “Don’t make any drastic move unless they do.” Three sources kept Max informed of the situation the whole day, one of which puzzled him. Max was wondering about the sudden change of behavior by Richard, the police inspector sent by their regional office to get to the bottom of the draco story. Richard, although of lower rank, is not under him but reports directly to their regional office. Richard never reported to him about his activities — except today. The reason for the change in attitude soon became clear. “Sir, requesting for a backup of at least four men,” he said to him through the phone at nine o’clock in the morning, “I am under instruction by the regional office to apprehend those poachers.” Max has a standing order from the regional office to provide support to the work of the regional investigator. But he had to turn down the request made by Richard today. “I’m sorry, I cannot provide you with any backup. And I would advice you to just let those people be,” Max replied. “Sir, I must inform the regional office that I cannot do my work because you refused to provide me with the backup team I requested,” Richard said with a faint hint of threat. “Yes, please do so,” the police chief calmly responded. “But please explain to them that Camp Crame called me and instructed me to provide protection to the ADMC president and his team. There was a moment of silence at the other end of the phone. Camp Crame is a magic word that can make even regional bosses quake in their boots. Camp Crame is the police national headquarters, home of the highest-ranking police officials in the land. After a while Richard said: “Is that so?” “Yes, that’s right,” Max confirmed. “Otherwise, I would have provided you with all the backup you need.” A blue van is waiting for Larry when they arrive at the beachfront rest house he is renting. Meldy the landlady is waiting too. “Be careful,” he calmly commands as two youths take his bulky duffel bag. “Marble products.” Meldy hugs him before he boards the van. “Come back another day,” she whispers. As part of the security precautions usually observed by treasure hunters, the three agreed that after parting ways, they will not see each other nor approach each other for a period of three years. They may still communicate by phone or through the Net but only if strictly necessary and with due precautions observed including the use of code words. As the van is leaving, Larry catches sight of the journalist and gives him a relaxed, modified salute. Larry was the key partner of the first triumvirate composed of him and his two buddies John and Kevin. But he was the most dispensable member of the second triumvirate between him and his two Filipino partners. He is aware that the journalist could have excluded him in the second partnership in the same way he excluded the journalist in the first partnership. But he was not excluded, maybe in recognition of the hard work and sacrifices made by him and his fellow Americans. It’s time to bring Gene to the port. The ship he is slated to board is leaving within an hour — that is, if it keeps to its announced schedule and nothing untoward happens in between. As they pass the gate of the port, Gene takes a wad of bills and hands it to the driver. “For gasoline,” he says. “Thanks for everything, Dencio. Dodong will talk with you later. Please ensure his safety.” Dencio nods then notices something in the side mirror. “Those were the two men tailing us in Aniwan!” he blurts out. Gene and Dodong turn towards the direction the driver is pointing. What they see are two men clad in black-leather jackets and wearing dark glasses moving quickly towards them. The chief of police once again receives a phone call from the regional investigator. “Sir, the foreigner is proceeding towards Lubi. That is already outside your jurisdiction. I can already have him arrested there, right?” “So what’s keeping you?” Max asks. “I’ll coordinate with the Lubi police,” the regional investigator reveals. “If we succeed in apprehending the foreigner and Camp Crame asks why we did so, will you please tell them that I wasn’t informed about their instruction not to touch the poachers?” “If I do that, it would appear I am remiss in doing my duty,” the chief of police says. “The answer is no.” “I understand the protection Camp Crame sought is for that gun manufacturer,” Richard persists. “They are not interested in protecting the foreigner, more so now that their team are going their different ways.” “The protection sought was for the whole team,” the police chief simply states. “Sir, the team is no more. They are disbanding. We can now go after the foreigner,” the man from the regional office insists. “The decision is yours. I have nothing to do with it. As you said it’s now outside my jurisdiction,” Max replies. Richard calls the Lubi chief of police and asks for assistance. “They took the Punta road,” he says. “I suppose he is trying to get away through your port.” “Yes, that’s also what I think. Don’t worry, I will immediately deploy my men at the port. He cannot get out,” the Lubi chief of police assures him. There are two roads leading southward to Lubi. The secondary Punta road at the right is usually taken by those going to the Lubi port and the main highway to the left is usually taken by those going elsewhere. Someone called up Larry and informed him that he was being tailed. To mislead his pursuer, he was advised to take the Punta road then proceed towards the direction of San Esteban. Along the road are many fishing communities from which he could hire a boat to exit Tagpas island. When the two men clad in black jackets get close, Gene motions them to carry his duffel bag. As the two men proceed to the ship, the gun maker whispers to the local journalist: “My security escorts.” Then he explains: “I didn’t involve them in the actual operation. I didn’t want my share to be diminished.” Gene then starts to walk towards the ship but suddenly turns back. “By the way, Dodong,” he says, “dispose your articles very gradually, not all at once. And should you need advice or assistance, just give me a ring.” “Thank you,” the journalist replies. “He takes a small pouch from his breast pocket and hands it to Gene. “I need some cash immediately.” The gun maker gently nods as he mumbles “okay” then proceeds to board the ship. After realizing that the foreigner escaped the dragnet laid for him in Lubi, Richard surmised that Larry proceeded to San Esteban to make his escape there. He therefore contacted the San Esteban chief of police to prepare a dragnet in the town’s port similar to the one laid in Lubi port. What is their offense?” the chief of police asks. “Smuggling,” Richard answers. Richard also requested the police chiefs of San Esteban and Lubi to ask the barangay chairmen or village chiefs along the route to be alert for a Caucasian-looking foreigner who might hire a getaway boat in their respective communities. This is how they were able to monitor the whereabouts and progress of Larry’s van. A village chief even reported that they would have captured the van if only they were able to set up the road block on time. “We were late by two minutes,” he claimed. “I’ll get you this time,” the regional investigator mutters to himself as he increases speed. He is accompanied by five Lubi policemen, two of whom are riding on his car. His cell phone rings. It’s the chief of police of San Esteban. “Proceed to Carmina. Repeat, proceed to Carmina. A yacht has just arrived. See you there.” The blue van carried Larry to Carmina, a secluded barangay, or village, in the town of San Esteban on the other side of the island. Carmina has a lovely cove where a plain-looking but sturdy yacht is presently docked. The yacht arrived just a few minutes ago and didn’t bother to drop its anchor. There is only a rudimentary port in the cove. It cannot be developed because the place is near the town proper of San Esteban. Otherwise, it would easily outclass the town’s port which is open to the sea and offers no protection during typhoons. But then development would have destroyed its natural beauty. “Where are John and Kevin?” his friend Stuart inquires as the van crew board his luggage to the yacht. “They were unlucky,” Larry grimly replies. “I was talking with John on the phone and I heard a man screaming in pain. John mentioned something about bloody fingers. That was the last thing I heard from him,” Stuart says. “Yeah, there’s a lot of explaining to do when we get back to Texas,” Larry remarks. “Hello Larry! Welcome aboard!” a woman greets him as he boards the yacht. Larry’s face lights up. He regards her for a moment before responding with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “Hi Sandra! It’s nice to see you. You look more beautiful in person.” “By the way, Larry, what happened to your cell phone?” Stuart asks. “Oh, I lost it when I answered the call of nature,” Larry answers. “Bloody dracos,” he murmurs. “And how did you communicate with Bernie?” Stuart keeps on asking, referring to the yacht captain. That very moment, an elderly man with a white beard emerges from the cabin. “Through the Internet,” Bernie replies himself in behalf of Larry. Larry looks at Bernie and gives the order. “Let’s sail away, Captain!” The yacht is still very visible when Richard together with the policemen of Lubi and San Esteban arrive in Carmina. “They escaped me again. My boss won’t be happy with this,” the regional investigator reflects ruefully. He requests for the use of the San Esteban radio to contact the Coast Guard stations in the surrounding areas. “Break! Break! Break! Calling all Coast Guard stations. This is the regional police. Please apprehend a light blue yacht coming from Tagpas Island going southwest,” Richard calls on the radio frequency for the Coast Guard. “Name of the yacht and other identifying marks, please?” one station asks. After asking Carmina residents who have gathered by now at the wharf, it soon becomes clear that the yacht stayed only for a few minutes, only a few residents saw it docked, and no one can remember its name. “It’s going southwest from Tagpas Island,” he repeats, unable to provide any additional information. “Sir,” one station butts in, “per our experience, a fleeing ship would change direction any which way to evade pursuers. Also, yachts are dangerous to hail and board. They are oftentimes owned by bigwigs with powerful connections. We cannot do that at random. You must provide us with more details. By the way, what is the offense they committed?” “They stole and smuggled cultural artifacts from Osingan,” the police investigator answers. “From Osingan?” one station asks. “Is not that the famous Land of Lizard People?” “Hahahahaha!” Laughter fills the airwave with that last question. After two months of adroit maneuvering at sea, the yacht finally enters US territorial waters. “Here comes trouble!” Stuart blurts out when he sees a ship coming towards their direction. “What do you mean?” Larry asks. “US Coast Guard,” Stuart replies. “They can be very thorough in inspection and cannot be bribed. Be sure your goods are hidden well.” The Coast Guard inspection went well without any incident. “What did you say was the purpose of this trip, Captain?” The leader of the boarding party asks again before returning to their ship. “Gallivanting, sire, gallivanting,” Bernie replies. Dawn is breaking when they catch sight of land in the horizon. As the little port of Georgetown comes to view in a more detailed way, Stuart makes his move. He whips off a pistol and orders Larry, Bernie and Sandra to stay in one corner. Then he orders Bernie to tie up Larry. After Larry is bound, Stuart motions to Bernie to tie up Sandra next. The intention of Stuart is becoming clear. This is a last-minute hijacking. He knows about the treasure hunting operation. He feels certain it was successful and that Larry is bringing a valuable treasure with him. He wants it for himself. Stuart is also from Texas but he is not part of Larry’s inner circle, not being a son of a World War II veteran, and therefore could not be taken in as a full-fledged member of the treasure-hunting party. He served as a sort of utility man for them, someone they could order to do some little errands. But when sensitive or confidential matters were being discussed, he was not included. “I’m glad you came back alone, Larry,” Stuart says. “It makes things so much easier for me.” Then he goes on: “I don’t mean to hurt you guys, so please don’t make any wrong move. You may accuse me of being a thief but I don’t want to be a murderer, so don’t force me to be one. Don’t worry, I won’t take everything. I’ll leave some for you as a consolation for your efforts.” “How thoughtful,” Larry replies. “But look, Stuart, it would be difficult for you to haul off the goods. Why don’t we work together? 50–50.” “You should have offered that from the very start,” Stuart shoots back. “Aw, come on Stuart, you knew I had partners then,” Larry returns. “I have mine, too, so sorry to say. Besides, how could I trust you? Even an honorable man wouldn’t have to honor an agreement made at the point of a gun, right Larry?” Bernie has not yet tied up her daughter. Stuart motions with his gun for Bernie to hurry. Just then the cell phone in Stuart’s pocket starts to vibrate and he takes it out to read the text message. He starts to type his reply but hesitates for a moment and decides to call the texter instead. During that brief span of time, when the gun is still in Stuart’s hand but his forefinger is not on the trigger, Sandra sees an opportunity and seizes it. She closes the distance between them with a lightning move, grab his right arm, and pins him down to the ground. Bernie quickly assists his daughter in overpowering Stuart. After Stuart is bound and Larry is untied, they read the text message received by Stuart. “We are about ten minutes away. Shall we proceed to the port directly?” Sandra types the reply: “Take breakfast first. Coast guard here. I’ll text you when coast is clear.” She shows what she typed to Larry who smiles and gives the thumbs up. Not long after, Larry’s two brothers arrived with some companions in a little caravan of two cars and one van. After his baggage has been unloaded, he sets Stuart free. Per his prior arrangement with Larry, Bernie gives Stuart $20,000. “That’s not for your treachery but for your past services,” Larry says. “And don’t make any wrong move again or else you’d really get hurt next time. One forgiveness is enough. I now have the resources to hire people to hunt you down if necessary.” “Where’s my cell phone? It’s mine!” Stuart demands. “Ah, this one,” Larry takes out a cell phone from his pocket and throws it to the sea. “Buy a new one, Stuart,” Larry says. “Don’t disturb your friends while they are taking breakfast.” “f**k you!” Stuart curses. “Better get off, Stuart,” Larry gently tells him. “The captain and his daughter is about to sail away again.” Stuart gets off from the yacht and is promptly hauled off by Larry’s backup team to one of the cars. Larry can’t let Stuart go just yet for he can still cause trouble. He will be let off in an isolated secondary road, some distance from the highway, so he won’t have a chance to give chase or cause complication. For the meantime, Lucky Larry lifts up a small bag in a corner and hands it to Bernie. “Thank you for everything, Captain,” he says, hugging his Peace Corps friend. “Anytime, Larry, anytime,” the skipper replies. From his pocket, Larry takes a small pouch and hands it to Sandra. Then he suddenly materializes in his hands a magnificent antique diamond reviere. He places it upon the neck of Sandra and gently kisses her on the forehead. “Thank you, my heroine. Hope to see you again,” he tenderly pronounces almost in a whisper. Then they embrace each other. Larry spent the next three months trying to encash his large stash of treasures. One day, Gene contacted him online and provided him a copy of a technical report regarding the vril. He learned that his two former partners are doing well, making investments gradually but as inconspicuously as possible. He also learned that the journalist has established a security agency with Dencio, a retired security guard, as his principal partner. All the while Larry is researching about dracos. Browsing the websites of ufologists, esoteric societies, conspiracy theorists, arcane archaeology and the New Age movement, he learned that there are dracos too in the United States — more numerous, more organized, and buried deep in the bowels of earth in elaborate subterranean bases. The elite type of reptilians are said to be winged, blue-eyed seven footers and eight footers. But ordinary reptilians are wingless and shorter in stature. Nevertheless, it all depends on what source you are reading. He was startled to read that there are reported sightings of reptilians in Texas even as it is claimed that they have been sighted in all parts of the globe. It is said that reptilians live mostly underneath the ground although reptilians living above ground have also been reported. He even came across claims that some group of dracos has signed an agreement with the US government whereby the latter will provide them toleration and security in exchange for some advanced technology. That’s not all. There are even literature that state from which parts of the universe the dracos came from. Conveniently, the constellation of Draco is usually mentioned as their point of origin. So the dracos have a constellation of their own, Larry muses. Evidences are also shown of alleged reptilian beings depicted in ancient archaeological relics. The renowned writer and founder of Theosophical Society, Madame Blavatsky, is known to have written about an advanced civilization of reptilian beings in the long lost continent of Lemuria. And just when Larry thinks the matter can’t get any weirder, here comes this conspiracy theory that claims the power elite of the world are in fact dracos — including royal families and the wealthiest clans in the planet. Heading the vast gallery of reptilian villains are the British royal family and the Rothschild bankers. But how come they don’t look like reptiles, like the ones they saw in Aniwan? That’s the question that crossed the mind of Larry the first time. And the answer he gathered is that the reptilians are like werewolves —  they are shapeshifters capable of changing from one form to another. Really, really weird. He got some idea of shapeshifting when he came across an article that says the old long-running TV series titled “V” is an audiovisual presentation of the shapeshifting reptilians. In the said TV series, shapeshifting reptilian beings with giant spaceships and advanced technology invaded and took control of planet Earth. Larry’s critical mind finds the weirder aspects of draco literature unbelievable and unacceptable, especially the shapeshifting part. Eventually, Larry learned how to dispose his valuable goods. He is doing it very gradually and very carefully. He also tries to live as simply as he can so as not to attract undue attention. After amassing enough cash, he decides it’s about time to fetch Travis, the orphaned grade-school son of Kevin, from the latter’s boarding school. Together, they will pay a visit to Marsha, the beautiful widow of John. It is snowing lightly, a rare occurrence in these parts, when Robert parks his old reliable car in front of Marsha’s farmhouse one afternoon in early December. He alights from the vehicle with Travis in tow. They find the gate chained and padlocked. Looking into the spacious front yard, it seems it hasn’t been taken care of for quite some time. Larry and Travis will never know that a long gun right now is pointing towards their direction. there are many things happening on planet Earth that we don’t know of ignorance gives peace of mind but dangers lurk everywhere THE END