HOT SHOTS: A Fiery September Anthology

Island of the Illuminados by Bear

25th of September year 1977, a fishing boat containing several passengers went missing somewhere in the eastern region of the Visayan Islands for almost a week. One of the passengers was said to be the daughter of the provincial governor. Along with her fellow classmates, they went on a fishing trip to explore some of the undiscovered isles but after a few hours, the boat went off the radars, not to be seen anywhere. Due to the lack of evidence or tracks, a private investigator along with several policemen were sent to examine the nearby islands of their possible whereabouts.

One of the participants is a Psychologist named Simon Alejandro, who also happens to be a fresh graduate from the Military training corps, was dispatched for the sake of intelligence gathering. Eight more men joined him in the expedition: two doctors, four policemen, a documenter, and a skilled local guide. Though the governor would like to send more people, he is limited by the number of eyes watching him. That is why instead, he handpicked the best that he could find available for the search and rescue.

Using a speedboat, they arrived on the first island, which will be their main headquarters for the rest of their endeavors. Campanilla Isles or so what the locals call it for the number of lighthouses it is known for. The island is found on the western side of Masbate though the territory is within Visayas. The local guide also happens to be a resident on one of the villages situated, making the place an ideal focal point and reference for gathering information.

“We will have dinner on one of the houses here,” The local guide said. They walked a hundred meters at the side of the port where most of the wooden houses are situated. Behind the village is a thick dark forest that leads all the way to the hills where an abandoned mine was supposed to be at.

The group met with the village chief, a middle aged man wearing wooden earrings and traditional garments, they were accompanied for a brief introduction and to state their business in the island. Later on they were ushered to one of the spare huts for use. The sun was almost set, when they finished setting up their equipment. Amidst the darkness of the night, the moon was nice enough to shine its light towards the people of the island.

Everyone gathered to help prepare the food, as both young and old participated with the feast. The village chief prepared the best chickens, herbs, spices and vegetables for a ritual of thanksgiving before dinner. It is a ritual to thank the gods for letting us arrive safely in the island, and for the protection and prosperity of its citizens. It is a ritual similar to the northerners wherein they paint their paddles and boats with chicken’s blood for a safe voyage.

Music and instrumentals were being played as the chickens were slain one by one. The blood of the chickens were drained and placed inside several coconut shells. The village chief drank on one of the shells, and passed it around the circle of adults including the eight. 

Finishing the ceremony, the chickens were de-feathered while the rest of the people helped in slicing vegetables and preparing the cauldron for boiling food. The men carried water which happens to be a mixture of coconut water and fresh water from a nearby well. As soon as the pot got full, they dumped all of the washed up, cleanly cut chicken parts with the herbs and spices such as onions and whole garlic cloves inside.

Out of nowhere, Simon suddenly saw something glow on one of the lighthouses on the north western side of the island. He excused himself after finishing his task, and told them that he would roam around to familiarize himself with the view.   

He ran towards the lighthouse, carrying nothing but a Swiss-knife on his right pocket, and a pen with a small notepad on his left. His rubber shoes crunch on the sand as he is jogging his way to check what the anomaly is.

After several minutes’ worth of jogging, he noticed that the door of the lighthouse is rusted shut. But there appears to be someone on top, humming a tune, echoing all the way down from where Simon is standing. He held the knob to see if it still works and surprisingly, the rust went off, as he slowly turned it, pushing the door open.

Up the stairs, he could see lights flickering at the very top with the humming much clearer inside the lighthouse. He climbed up the rusty stairs as Simon’s boots clang on each step until he arrived finally at the source of all the noise.

While catching his breath, there he saw an old man, half naked full of tattoos similar to Pintados—sitting on an old wooden barrel with his back resting upon the remains of a large mechanism holding the bulb for the lighthouse, spiffing some weeds on his smoke pipe. The old man seems to be in his nineties although his muscles are still intact and well-shaped. Surrounding him are lit up candles with a lamp just below the barrel he is sitting on. 

Simon stared at the old man for a few seconds until the old man broke the silence.

The old man said, raising his eyebrow. His high pitched tone radiates wisdom and peace even though his husky voice is creepy, “I’m not for display young one… I’m just here to enjoy the view…” He blew the smoke he inhaled from his pipe, as it resonated within the room like incense.

Simon replied, stuttering in surprise, “I-I’m sorry… I’m just surprised that someone is living on top of this old lighthouse…”

“Hahahaha! No need to apologize, I do get that a lot here. Are you new in this island?” The old man asked.

“Yes I am…” Simon answered.

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had visitors like you here… I’m kinda surprised you saw the light…” The old man took another spiff, filling his area with smoke.

“What do you mean surprised? I would be insane not to notice something so obvious,” Simon said, curious with the statement the old man made.

The old man, shrugged, “Weeeeelp, not that I care if you did or did not… However, what brought you folks here?”

Simon went closer and sat on one of the empty barrels facing the old man. “Apparently, one of the governors lost his daughter on one of the islands. The eight of us were sent to do a search and rescue.”

The old man chuckled, he got off his seat and went towards Simon’s location, looking at him with judging eyes as if he is measuring his strength or something. A few seconds have passed, the old man went back to his seat and looked at the beautiful view of the shore.

“I have a feeling… But I don’t know if it’s a good one…” The old man said.

Simon is deeply puzzled with what’s going on, “Do you happen to know something old man?” He asked.

“My name is La’Ong young one… If you want to find what you are looking for then I suggest you start with this…” La’Ong pulled an old leather bound notebook beside him with various shells and bone accessories hanging on the spine. It is locked with an old bandage wrapped around the book like a present.

Simon took the notebook with a certain level of doubt. Contemplating whether or not it has something to do with their dilemma. After giving the book further inspection, he sat back down on the barrel.

“What is this?” He asked.

“The key that hold your answers of course… But which fated door does it open, would be the right question to ask yourself… Let the flames of courage drive you towards what you seek…” La’Ong replied with a satisfied smile on his face.

Suddenly Simon heard someone coming from the village, as he peaked down, he saw the local shouting his name from a far. Simon gave him a loud shout from the top of the lighthouse. As he was about to go down, he gave La’Ong a salute and thanked him for the notebook. The old man just smiled, and took a spiff on his pipe, waving goodbye to Simon.

Simon sprinted down the lighthouse and onto the beach, meeting the local halfway.

“How in the world did you end up in that lighthouse?” The local asked.

Simon replied in fascination, “I saw a light on top. So I was curious enough to check what it was. Later on I found out that there was an old man living there. He also gave me this notebook, saying this might help us with our search.”

“Did you get the name of the old man?”

“Yeah, he said his name was La’Ong. Does it ring any bell?”

The Local was shocked and looked at Simon with discontent and confusion. “Brother, La’Ong is the chief’s great grandfather. He has been dead for almost sixty years...”

(To be Continued)