Chapter 32: The Heart of Hope in the Shadow of Sorrow
The next day in Plaridel, sorrow continued to envelop Georgia's heart, and her mind was filled with questions. She lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.
The image of Erik with a woman she didn't know kept replaying in her mind, haunting her. Each recollection of the moment she saw the two of them together felt like a dagger twisting in her chest.
This pain was intensified by Erik's claim that the woman was "just a sister," which only brought her more dismay.
"Why are you confusing me, Erik?" she whispered in frustration, tossing and turning on her mattress. Her feet hit the thin cushion, and the wooden frame groaned, seemingly echoing her anger.
"If you don't like me, why did you give me hope and ask me out on a date? You are such a despicable man." Her voice trembled with resentment, but she stopped herself from getting angrier at Erik, realizing to herself that the young man was genuinely kind.
She wanted to be strong, refusing to cry over a man like Erik. She also thought that she had no right to resent her friend, especially since their relationship wasn't deep, existing only as a friendship.
She sat up, holding her head, trying to rationalize Erik's failure to return home. "What if he left with that woman?" she asked herself, her heart pounding with fear and jealousy. The idea of Erik leaving with the mysterious stranger unsettled her even more.
Suddenly, she screamed, "Where are you, Erik?!" Her voice echoed in her small room, heavy with worry.
Her sudden outburst alarmed her family. The bedroom door flew open, and her grandmother rushed in, her face etched with concern. "Georgia, my dear, what's wrong? Why are you shouting?" she asked, her voice gentle yet anxious.
"Nothing, Grandma, I'm fine," Georgia replied, though her gloomy reaction hinted at her sulking. She avoided her grandmother's gaze to conceal the sadness and anger she felt.
Her grandmother observed her, as if reading the contents of her heart. "If you're not doing anything, why don't you go sell fish today? Don't you need money to go back to school?" she suggested, adjusting her shawl. "Or is there another reason why you don't want to go out?"
Georgia hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Grandma, I can't sell today. There are too many police in town. It's too dangerous if they catch me," she said, her sadness deepening at the thought of not being able to work because of the Spaniards.
Her grandmother nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "Speaking of which, why didn't Erik come home last night? Weren't you two together yesterday?" she asked with a hint of curiosity.
Georgia froze, clenching her cold hands. "I don't know, Grandma," she whispered. "I don't know where he went... or if he'll ever come back." The words made her even sadder.
Her grandmother's expression softened. "If you're not busy, why don't you help your grandpa sell peanuts? We're old, and it's hard for him to carry those sacks alone," she said, brimming with hope that Georgia would join them.
Georgia agreed, despite her heavy heart. "Alright, Grandma," she said listlessly. She stood up from the bed, her movements slow, as if carrying the weight of the world. As she fixed her hair and clothes, the questions swirled in her mind: Where are you, Erik? What are you doing?
Meanwhile, in a secluded area outside Plaridel, stood an old and spacious warehouse, full of rusted machinery and broken crates. It was dark inside, save for a few areas illuminated by streaks of sunlight cutting through holes in the roof.
In the center of the warehouse, Ifugao woke up, his hands tied to a sturdy post. His head throbbed, and his body ached as if pierced by a thousand needles from the fight last night. He struggled to break free, tugging his hands against the ropes, but they were bound tightly.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice laced with apprehension. He looked around, trying to figure out his location. Moments later, someone spoke from above.
"Good morning, Ifugao," said a man, his tone calm but authoritative. On the second floor of the warehouse, Ifugao saw the man in the wheelchair whom he had faced in battle the previous night. The man, with black hair and sharp eyes, seemed to be around forty years old. "How are you feeling?"
Ifugao shouted, his voice full of fear and confusion. "Who are you? What do you want with me?" He tried to stand, but the ropes restrained his movements.
The man merely smiled, unfazed by Ifugao's anger. "I am Apyong Mabin, a Filipino general who governs this country," he said, his voice like the wind through the trees—firm yet powerful. "My duty is to protect the people and eliminate threats to peace, including terrorists and vigilantes."
Ifugao's heart pounded with fear upon realizing he was facing a general. "If you're a general, why did you bring me here? Wait, are you a sugo like me?" he asked, his voice shaking with doubt.
Apyong nodded, his smile unchanging. "Yes, I am the sugo of Naic, chosen by the diwata Ada Sua Bati. But that is not why you are here," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on Ifugao.
Ifugao's anger turned to confusion. "If you are a sugo, why do you side with the Spaniards? Why do you allow Filipinos to suffer under them?" he questioned, his voice heavy with pain and disappointment.
A trace of sadness crossed Apyong's smile. "You are too young, Ifugao, to understand everything, and you know nothing of how complicated the world is," he said, his tone like a teacher addressing a student.
"My duty as the sugo of Naic has nothing to do with my obedience as an official of the Spanish government. Spain currently controls this country, and that is a reality we cannot change."
He rolled his wheelchair to the edge of the balcony, looking down at Ifugao. "To protect Naic, I must ensure order. I need to keep the people law-abiding. For me, it doesn't matter who rules the country—be it Spanish or Filipino—my diwata's command is to keep my territory peaceful. Serving the government became my way to fulfill that mission."
Ifugao listened in silence, but with doubt in his heart. "I've heard that many sugos in the Philippines choose to become vigilantes or terrorists to protect their towns," Apyong continued, his voice remaining calm.
"I don't blame them; they have a point. Filipinos have never accepted the Spaniards as co-owners of their own land. But it is foolish to think that we can kill them just because we don't want them around."
Ifugao retorted, his voice full of emotion. "Filipinos do that because they are oppressed! The Spaniards abuse them! If they were treated fairly, I don't think they would rebel!" His hands struggled against the ropes, as if wanting to confront Apyong.
Apyong nodded, seemingly agreeing. "You are right—some Spaniards abuse Filipinos. Life is hard for many, especially in poor areas like Plaridel. But I believe violence is not the answer to our problems," he said logically. "Many Spaniards desire peace, and many cities are implementing laws against abuse."
He looked at Ifugao, waiting for a response. "Some believe the Philippines is only for Filipinos. But the truth, Ifugao, is that Filipinos cannot survive without the Spaniards. We lack the education and knowledge in politics and even in running the country. If the Spaniards leave, Filipinos will only fight among themselves for power and who should rule. Because of our incompetence, famine and violence will start, and many will surely die."
Ifugao stared, grasping their situation. Even if he wished for a peaceful country, it seemed impossible for life to be comfortable even if they achieved independence.
"We, the Filipino generals, aim to run the country alongside the Spaniards. We are ready to turn our swords against anyone who opposes this government," Apyong said with determination.
Even though it seemed like a betrayal of his race, Ifugao understood the general's argument, yet he still felt something was wrong. "We are fighting our own countrymen, Sir Apyong. All they want is freedom from abuse; why does wishing for freedom seem like a crime?" he asked, his voice laced with pain.
Apyong smiled bitterly and sighed. "Freedom? It sounds like a noble thing, but achieving it requires a bloody battle full of sacrifice," he said. "Are Filipinos ready for that? Are you ready to sacrifice your fellow Filipinos, Ifugao?"
Ifugao looked down, unable to answer. All he wanted was peace without many casualties.
"I just want peace, Sir Apyong. A place with no more violence," he whispered, his voice heavy with sadness.
Apyong smiled, seemingly seeing his past self in Ifugao. "Our beliefs are not so different, Ifugao. When I was young, I fought for a world where Filipinos and Spaniards could coexist without violence. A peaceful town for everyone, but the world we live in is not that simple," he said, his voice full of experience.
"I tried to convince both sides—Spanish and Filipino—that peace was possible. But I failed. The Spaniards want supremacy, and the Filipinos want independence. If I kept chasing an impossible dream, the bloodshed would never stop," he said, his eyes full of self-reproach.
"Only the law can stop the violence, Ifugao. And the law requires people to follow it, no matter how difficult, we must comply," he added logically.
Ifugao's spirits sank as he listened. "So you'll arrest me too? Imprison me and hand me over to the Spaniards?" he asked.
Apyong chuckled briefly. "I'm not that bad, Ifugao. I only capture terrorists and vigilantes who mercilessly kill people. So, tell me—are you one of them?" he asked, his eyes piercing into Ifugao's soul.
"I don't know what the right thing to say is, but I know I'm not a terrorist or a vigilante," Ifugao said firmly. "I am a hero."
Apyong laughed again, intrigued. "A hero? What does being a hero mean to you, Ifugao? Tell me how you differ from the terrorists and vigilantes?" he challenged.
Ifugao looked down, his heart heavy. "Like other Filipinos, I want order. I understand why some use violence—because of oppression. But I believe peace is possible. For me, the guilty should be punished, but I don't agree with killing; no one has the right to kill another," he said sincerely.
Apyong smiled, seemingly pleased with the answer. "That is a good answer, Ifugao. I'm not cruel enough to arrest you and hand you over to the Spaniards," he said understandingly. "But Hustisya is different."
Ifugao's heart quickened. "Hustisya? What does she have to do with this?" he asked anxiously.
"I'm here in Plaridel because of the vigilante named Hustisya," Apyong said, his voice turning cold. "She has killed over twenty Spaniards. Central believes she must be stopped, no matter what."
Ifugao's worry intensified upon hearing this. "Don't kill her, Sir Apyong! Although she made a mistake, I believe she is a good person!" he pleaded.
Apyong's eyes sharpened. "It doesn't matter if Hustisya is good or bad, Ifugao. As long as she breaks the law and commits crimes, she is an enemy that must be stopped," he said logically. "But you have a chance to save her."
Ifugao's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Apyong smiled and presented a challenge. "If you want to save Hustisya, help me capture her," he said. "She probably won't avoid violence and will likely fight to the death, and I'll have no choice but to kill her when we confront each other. But if you capture her, she can be stopped alive."
Confusion filled Ifugao's mind. "You want me to capture Hustisya and hand her over to the Spaniards?" he asked, bewildered.
Apyong did not deny it. "Yes, you will hand her over to the Spaniards. In return, I will ensure her safety in the custody of the Cavite military forces," he promised. "Hustisya will never defeat the Spaniards with what she is doing. Within three days, she could die in battle when the Governor-General of Bulacan acts. You need to decide, Ifugao, before it's too late."
Ifugao fell silent, his mind conflicted. His conscience was eating at him, and he wasn't sure if he could trust the man in front of him. If he complied and captured Hustisya, it would feel like betraying a fellow Filipino, but Apyong's promise of safety for the young woman offered a glimmer of hope that she would live.
Apyong smiled, sensing Ifugao's hesitation. "I'm giving you a chance to be a hero, Ifugao. But before that, you need to pass a test," he said.
Before Ifugao could answer, the warehouse door opened, and a woman entered and approached. She wore a military uniform, her hair neatly tied back, her eyes sharp and ready for any fight.
"This is Jana, my lieutenant and the sugo of the diwata of Alfonso," Apyong said proudly. "If you want to be a hero, Ifugao, you need to be ready to face sugos like her—people with real fighting skills."
Jana looked Ifugao up and down as if scrutinizing him. "The Spaniards are skilled in fighting, far more than mere street thugs like you. I want to see if you can handle a true warrior," Apyong said confidently. "Jana trained well and achieved the rank of Rook in Spain."
He explained that Spain ranks warriors into five levels: King, Bishop, Rook, Knight, and Pawn. "I don't think you can defeat any general like me or any sugo with fighting knowledge," Apyong said, challenging Ifugao to defeat Jana. "If you can defeat my lieutenant, I will let you leave this warehouse."
Jana sighed, clearly displeased with what she heard from her general. "Why do I have to do this, General?" she asked, a hint of boredom in her voice. "Forgive me, but I see no value in giving this boy a chance. You want me to fight someone as weak as him? But you certainly don't want me to seriously hurt him in the fight."
Jana sighed again while looking at her smiling general. "Yes, I know I have no choice but to follow your orders."
She looked at Ifugao with disdain. "This doesn't happen often, so thank your general for his kindness," she mocked. "Get ready. Let's start this fight."
But Ifugao remained tied, his hands still bound to the post. He looked at Jana and asked, "How can I fight if I'm tied up?"
Jana smiled mockingly. "Those ropes aren't that strong. Don't tell me you can't break those ropes, yet you want to be a hero?" she taunted.
Suddenly, energy flowed from Jana's body, which surprised Ifugao. The energy moved like colorful and powerful water. After a few moments, large, octopus-like tentacles appeared behind her, like living energies ready to strike.
A tentacle lunged toward Ifugao and sliced the ropes binding him. They snapped, causing Ifugao to fall to the floor. Ifugao looked at the tentacles with awe, unable to suppress his admiration for the woman's extraordinary ability. "Your power is amazing," he said, his voice full of wonder.
Jana chuckled softly. "You look like a little child, Ifugao. However impressive this power is, it is still a weapon that can kill people," she warned. "Get moving. I will attack when you are ready to fight."
Ifugao knew he had no choice but to fight Jana to escape. Blue energy enveloped his body as he prepared for the battle. As the energy flowed, his bruises healed. Unlike most sugos, Ifugao could heal himself in a very short time because their bodies were made of the diwata's energy, allowing them to heal their wounds using that energy. His white hair became more vibrant, now dancing in the wind, while his eyes burned with determination.
He didn't know how he would win, but he was determined to leave that warehouse to save Hustisya.
End of Chapter