Cillian Del Mundo

Chapter One

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE,” I counted and snapped my eyes open a second before my alarm clock rings. My left hand shot out under the covers, fumbling onto the bedside table to press the stop button and prevent it from ringing.

      New day, possible progress and new findings.

       Sighs.       

       Come on Lian! Move your ass to action! You endured a year and a half familiarizing and inducting yourself to blend into the Queen City of the South. Another day won’t hurt. You’re one step closer to unearthing crucial information on your suspected targets. No time to slack off.

Pulling myself up to a sitting position, rubbed my face twice and brushed the remnants of sleepiness as I dusted off imaginary morning stars on my eyes. “I must lose my mind. I don’t do self-pep talks. Gah! Enough of this!”

I get up and do push-ups on the cement floor. Stops after completing 150 rounds, got up, pulled out the black tee I discarded last night that landed on the lamp shade just beside the alarm clock on my night table and walks toward the opened window as I wipe the sweat on my face and upper body. It is still dark outside, but few people are already milling on the streets. Cities never sleep. My mouth quirked into a grim smile. So does crime. Too many times have I witnessed it happening. From simple bullying, mugging to murder. And every time it happens, a sliver of faith in humanity’s innate goodness in me dies. At the rate it’s going, I won’t be surprised if by age 17 I’m a certified misanthropist.

Aren’t you now? One facet of my other selves sneered.

Shut it! I warn and break off it before my thinking goes out of hand.

Lian closed the window then padded his way towards the closet to retrieve a pair of black socks and clean hoodie, that turned out matching his gray string pants and tossed the tee he used to wipe the sweat into the laundry bin at the foot of his bed. He pulled his pair of navy blue running shoes under it, then checked his pockets for cash before he went out for his routinary run. 

The early morning chill hits his face as he breaks into a moderate jog. He turns left on the first street corner and increases his pace as he passes lines of houses and two or three-story buildings, boarding houses, since this is the residential area inside the city. Another right turn around the corner and he’ll be greeted by dust and fume emitted from both public and private transports traversing the national road. He holds his breath upon nearing a dumpster overflowing with what he considers ‘identified piled objects’ and knitted his brows for another delayed pick-up from the garbage team. Government officials and workers, where did your oath of dedication to public service go? Is the simple task of maintaining a clean and disease-free country hard to fulfill? I shake my head as I continue to sprint. One more street and I’ll reach my destination.        

The smell of freshly baked breads whiffs my nose as I near the bakeshop where I buy my morning fill of heavenly delicacies and hot choco. I inhale deeply to savor its sweet aroma and remove the imaginary stench I smelled earlier when I passed by the dumpster.

       “Maayong buntag (Good morning), Nong Toto!” I beamed and greeted the owner-sales personnel on the counter.

       “Maayong buntag pud (Good morning, too), Dong,” he nodded, motioning for me to come closer. “Unsa may atu-a karon (What’s it for today?)? Mao ra ba gihapon? (Your usual?)”

       “Yup! two hundred and fifty-peso worth of sizzling hot pandesal separately packed into eleven paper bags and eleven regular cups hot choco. Take out.” I hand him a five-hundred-peso bill. “Oh!” I winked. “And keep the change.”

       The elderly man breaks into a wide grin before leaving to tend my order. I sat on the nearest plastic chair and placed my arms on the table while I wait. Few people come and go who also bought their share of pandesals and hot drinks. The skies are slowly turning bright, signaling Mr. Sun is on its way to grace the heavens with daylight.

       My thoughts wander off the homeless as I pass by on my way back. They remind me of my childhood before I am adopted. Life is only about survival.

  I had an intimate brush with losing everything I have. It’s the very reason I hate seeing other people suffer from it too, so I try to help in ways I can no matter how little.      

       “Dong…” Mang Toto’s voice broke my reverie and watch him place my orders on the counter. I get up with a happy mug and took my orders with excitement. The mere thought of putting smiles and sighs of reliefs I see on their abandoned and forlorn faces gives me a sense of peace.

       “Thanks! See you tomorrow. Same time.”

       I stroll towards the pedestrian and waited for the green light. While waiting, I adjusted my hold on the eco bag because I felt it was slipping and had a glimpse of something wrong going on. My instinct told me it’s trouble and when I crossed the street and came closer, it was proven right. A group of four kids around 11 and 13 are harassing a grubby-looking grandmother. One boy gruffly shoves her, and she falls.

       “Hey!”

       I have been a resident for a year in this neighborhood. I can tell who’s from here and not. These faces I haven’t seen before, so they are not from here. “Stop that!” I reprimand that gets their attention. When they saw me coming towards them, they break for a run, leaving the old woman on the cold, unclean ground.

       “Are you alright, Nay?” I asked while helping her up.

       “Yes. Thank you for helping me, Anak.” She responded as she dust off dirt from her rumpled clothing.

       “No problem. Let’s get you settled over there for a rest.” I guide her toward the nearest bus stop to where vacant seats are available for waiting passengers. “Wait!” I scratched my head. “Left my things on the pavement. I’ll go get them,” I told her when she was seated and I ran to grab the food.

       “Here.” I rummaged through the eco bag and hand her a cup of hot choco, and a bag of pandesal I bought earlier. “Breakfast?”

       “It’s alright, Hijo. I am not hungry.” But I notice the shaking of her hands.  

“I insist. I bought this food --” Raised the eco bag to show her. “to share with the homeless in the neighborhood. It’s just right beyond this block and am actually on my way there when I passed you by.” 

       I noticed her eyes grew misty as she stared at me. “You remind me of my great grandson. Kind to others,” she said and took the food I offered, still looking at me as if I was this great grandson she was talking about. I am touched by the sincerity and kind of felt sad for her too.

       “I’m sure I’m nothing like him at all.”       

       “Yes, you are. Too bad I lost him at a young age. His whole family was vacationing abroad when tragedy struck. I am all alone in this world.”

       “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can help you with after this? Like, take you to where you’re supposed to go before you were harassed by those kids? It’s dangerous to walk alone in an unfamiliar place and I’d feel better if I know you’ll arrive safe to your destination.”    

       She shakes her head successively. “You’ve done so much for me already. I feel bad because there’s nothing I can give you in return for the kindness.”

       “Think nothing of it. I can’t stand not doing something or anything when I see someone needing help.” 

       “Wait,” she paused. “I just remembered.” She fumbled something from her left pocket, take my left hand and handed what looks like a key chain or pendant. Its triangular enclosing a circle with a man in a fighting stance holding what looks like a wooden shield and a big machete with a single-blade edge engraved at the center. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”

        I examined the jewelry, then shook my head vigorously. “This is pure gold. You shouldn’t be giving this that easy, especially to strangers.” I attempted to return it, but she didn’t budge.

       “No material things could repay kindness. Still, I insist you take this. A token of deep gratitude for a good deed done.”

       “But…”

       “No buts. Like you, who cannot afford not to help people in need, I, too, cannot afford not to return the favor in my own little ways.”

       I sigh. She rivals my stubborn streak, which makes me think we’re really related. There goes the self-pep talk again, Lian. Stop it. “Ok. Since you insist,” and pocketed said memento. “Thank you.”

       “Go.” I get a gentle push from her to move along. “The homeless are sure waiting for the remaining pandesals and drinks from you.”

       I’m still hesitant to leave, but the sudden tough determination I see in her features convinced me otherwise, so I concede. “Be careful.” Is all I could say before I leave.

       She smiles and nods, then watched with utmost fondness and unceasing longing for his retreating back as he strolls toward his next destination.      

       May Maka-Ako bless and guide you, Lian. Your time ahead will be bleak, full of darkness and challenges. I wish I could do more than this. Someday, we will meet again. Not as strangers, but a great grandmother who welcomes you back for finally coming home. 

       Lian missed the chance to witness the old grubby lady’s slow transformation into an exquisite middle-aged woman. 

Her messy grayed hair transformed into rich raven curls that fell below her small waist, wrinkled skin, into smooth tawny shade, gnarled, tired and forlorn face into a radiant one with a deep set bright golden amber eyes, pert nose and bow-shaped lips. Luminous and intimidating looking but feminine tattoos covered half her face and peeked at her exposed arms and legs. She’s barefoot but her petite figure is covered in an intricate but traditional baro’t saya in bright reds, golds and blacks. The official colors worn only by the true predecessors for the Royal House of Cali Pulaco.          

      “Anduki.”

       Another woman, similar to her looks but only younger, materialized gradually beside her. “Mamang (Mother).”

       “He’s like his grandfather and mother.” Her shining eyes suddenly went misty. “Still compassionate, despite everything that happened to him. Make sure he doesn’t loose that along the way. It is the sole key for his success.”

       “I understand. Forgive me for loosing him in Valladolid. It will never happen again.” 

       “Good. Because there is no next time.” The matriarch of Cali Pulaco’s Royal House tone reverted to serious and commanding. “Instruct him well of our ways. He’ll need that to survive. Also, guard and protect him with your life. He’s our only hope in saving our House from extinction. Don’t fail me.”

       “Yes Mamang.”

       “I defied the rules and disobeyed the gods in what I did today. Do not waste my sacrifice. Now, go.”

       The said steward bowed her head in reverence before she vanished. Lian’s great grandmother threw another wistful look to where her great grandson last stood before her, too, vanished.