Covert Aim

Chapter 4

The long wooden table got more silent when David lastly sat, four chairs away from his father, Leon.

Leon stared at his eldest child at the table. "Tough guy, look at me."

"Um . . ." David looked back, "what?"

"Why have that look? Are you angry at me?"

"Nah."

"Tsk, I know you are."

The conversation made the people between them silent. They just continued to eat and munch what was served on the table—a small feast. The two continued to quarrel.

David said, "what are you into, Dad? This isn't true, right?"

"Nothing is true, son," Leon replied.

The children around Leon got thankful for their father confessed he had no connection with what the news was saying. Leon sighed then put his right hand on his left temple. He sipped a mouthful of cold orange juice.

He faced the person on his right, Ben. "Ben, how's life out there?"

Ben did not answer. He just continued to eat spoonfuls of half-cooked vegetable salad.

Leon stood up. "Kids, are y'all mad at me?"

Rita looked at him, so were Rosana and Ana. Efren bowed.

Marco moved his plate forward then bent his head in reverence. "In the years we didn't see you, we missed you that much, you know that."

"Then why—"

"Of course we'll be mad because our father is linked in such a crime he can't do," Ben said in addition.

Leon just smiled while nodding fast. He clapped his hands as quietly and as slow as he could. His left eye nigh brought out a tear when he smiled, stopping his emotion. He did not expect his foster children were that worried sick for him. He sat again then took a sip of water. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he got it. He stood up then excused himself from his children. He walked out of the house, then.

David looked outside the house. He could see Leon scratching his head, so he worried. He thought his father was talking to a sort of person so important, so he turned his look at Rita—who was tapping his hands in seconds, not noticing it.

Rita asked silently, "David, are you alright?"

"Um . . . yeah, I'm good," he whispered back. "I was just thinking of something."

"Something what?"

"Nothing," he stopped Rita, not wanting his younger siblings to hear what he could say. "Just do your meal."

Rita nodded in agreement and withal continued to eat. David looked at Ben—staring outside, too. He stood up and sat on the empty seat beside Ben. His move caught Ben's attention.

Ben wondered about his look, "why, David?"

"Hey, boy," David moved a little bit closer to him, "how were you four . . . I mean, five being adopted by Dad?"

"Um . . . I don't know, either. Dad said he saved us from our parents' fall, but I've got no info about how we were adopted."

"Ah . . . y'all don't know. I was adopted when I was just eight-year-old kiddo," David introduced. "Dad said he caught Rita's parents physically abusing her, so he brought her to his house at the right timing. Rosana and Marco were both in the same orphanage when Dad made papers for them."

"Oh—"

"You don't know where y'all came from?"

Ben bowed. "He just said our parents died. He doesn't wanna talk about it, then."

David sadly jounced his head. He rubbed Ben's back gently. They both resumed eating their second lunch. Leon was still outside talking over the phone.

When all was done, Rosana and Ana washed the dishes. Rita, Diether, and Efren managed the table. David, Marco, Ben, and Calixto went upstairs and went to the terrace. When the five persons on the ground floor were done, they came upstairs, too.

Seeing the nice view of rows and rows of tall coconut trees in the backyard, everyone was calmed. They could feel serenity in them while watching leaves fall and hearing the rustling of those. Everybody was seated on a long, comfortable, warm brown couch. Everyone thought of what would happen in those coming days. They thought about what kind of tomorrow they would face. The children were silent when Leon followed them upstairs.

Leon crossed his arms then tore. He could not bring words out of his mouth when he was in front of his children, so he stayed silent and bold when such times come. He could not think of even a slight reason why he and his children come into such a bad situation. He left a smile at their backs, wiped his watery eyes, and then went to the terrace.

He held onto the cold crisscrossing grills then inhaled the fresh air of a typical province. He faced his children, looking at them one by one, eyes by eyes. He felt the atmosphere they were in and then sensed the air was changing. He could not explain what was happening to his mind but he was sure he had an instinct something would happen. And what the person told him over the phone proved that it would happen.

So, he requested, "guys, where are your bags? Phones? Where are your stuff—"

"Dad," Efren interrupted, pointing downstairs. "On the ground floor."

"Get it . . . now."

Marco became curious, "Hey, Dad, why are you kinda panicking?"

"No . . . nothing. Nothing to worry about," Leon denied.

They would go downstairs when the continuous firing stopped them. They all ducked and cover themselves. The depressing sound of mixed firearms and shouts outside the house made them frozen at their positions. Seconds passed, the firing did not end, still.

Diether noticed a pattern of firing. He thought of an escape plan, so he led.

"Everybody!" he yelled out loud, making sure he was audible. "After the bullets go halfway to this room, we could crawl to our right! We should act fast!"

"Copy!" Calixto replied. "David, Marco, Ben, let's cover Dad!"

The three agreed. When they saw the bullets were on the room's half part, they began to fastly crawl and never tried to get up even an inch. They reached the stairs and went on their way.

Leon suddenly stopped his children when on the ground floor already, "go to the kitchen, now!"

With haste, all obeyed their father. They went to the kitchen and sat for seconds.

Leon worried, "are all alright?! No one's hurt, right?!"

No one replied, making sure they were not hit or bruised.

"I guess all are good, Dad!" Marco yelled.

The firing continued to sound but they got a little bit safer for the guns are focused at the second story of the house. Leon went beside the sink. He opened something on the floor—a trapdoor.

"Go get to the end of this tunnel!" he cried. "It's kinda muddy down in here but this could help!"

"How 'bout you, Dad?!" David worried. "We can't leave you here!"

"I'll follow . . . I promise—"

The seven people just agreed and started to crawl down the average-sized tunnel. The firing got louder and nearer, making Leon and David, who both were the ones left, alarmed.

David started to get down. He could barely see his siblings ahead. He turned his look upward again. He was worried realizing that the person they should protect is in the end saving their lives.

"Oh, I forgot, guys!" Leon's shaky voice echoed throughout the whole tunnel. "Get on the car!"