"Kung iyong ipahihintulot ay gagamitin kong kasangkapan ang bertud upang ako ay magkaroon muli ng pag-asa na makabalik sa aking mundo”
I willed myself to think. Within me is some kind of Bezoar stone-- a stony concretion that have been embedded, cultured and somehow passed down through generations in our bloodline; that this Mutya or Hiyas or Bertud-- or whatever it is called, is now “ripe” for harvest; and to "harvest" it is to surgically extract it?
He desperately needs it for something really important; but, he’s not forcing it. He could have ripped me apart to get it. But, somehow he didn't. It seems he can’t force it. That’s it. I have to “give” it to him-- or, at least, to acquiesce in to a surgery.
Folklore has it that deception and lies are second nature to his ilk. Deception is the game we are playing right now, but how much is deception and how much is the truth I could not sieve through. Everybody lies. It is not so much as telling an absolute lie as not telling all that is true. Truth is that which is true or in accordance with facts or reality, but sometimes the facts or reality could be unacceptable or incredible to us and for which reason even the truth is rejected and that which is untrue is embraced. The truth, I guess, is what we would like to believe in. Facts and reality are solid rocks we could anchor unto and walk upon, but we need faith to fly.
Humans are generally assumed to tell the truth in their dealings with other humans, but lie at every opportunity that would benefit them. His kind generally lie; does that mean he tells the truth for the same reasons and motivations we tell lies?
I need more time and a calmer place to think. But, all things considered what do I have to loose? Other than a few drops of blood and a wound that would eventually heal-- not much; in fact, nothing.
And so, I let him do what he had to do.
He told me to take the contents of one of the vial first, which I did. I felt slightly lightheaded. Then he deftly made a small incision on my chest. I felt pain. I felt blood oozing from the wound. It felt warm. But, it was over in minutes. Something like a sneer quivered over his gaunt features as he held up the bertud. He held it up in the air like a priest consecrating the Eucharist. Then he unceremoniously took one vial from my hand and poured its entire contents over the wound. It felt cold on my skin and in a minute a gel had formed over the wound. He said I should drink the contents of the last vial only if I experience pain.
"Para sa iyo..."
He tossed over what looked like a cylinder made of interlocking gold mesh; and as with most of his gadgets, it is studded with precious stones. It looks like a small telescope. I could grasp it in my hand with just a little of it sticking out of my fist. I looked into the eye hole. It’s a kaleidoscope of some kind. I rotated the tube and the rubies, diamonds and other precious stones within the tube interacted with the mirror-like surface inside the tube. It seems to do the reverse of what a kaleidoscope normally does. Instead of seeing changing patterns when the tube is rotated; it puts the Tikbalang in sharp focus. Through the eye hole I could clearly see the Tikbalang-- even with his camouflage turned on.
Then he tossed over a mechanical contraption with a jumble of miniature dials, gears, knobs and levers. It's face is a cross between a bejeweled clock and an intricately designed compass but with several dials. It looks like some kind of a multifunctional steam punk analog computer cum navigational instrument on steroids. The device looks remarkable for its level of miniaturization and for the complexity of its parts and is comparable to that of 19th-century clocks. It has more than 30 gears with teeth formed through equilateral triangles. The Tikbalang flicked a hidden lever and it revealed a dial resembling a clock with a round dial with symbols rather than numbers on them, it has only one hand and it's pointing directly at him. An analog GPS? Cool.
“Kakailanganin mo mga iyan kung nanaisin mo muli akong makaharap. Hindi na kita muli matutunton ngayong natanggal na ang bertud sa iyong dibdib.”
I stuffed them into my pocket with the Zippo.
It seems that the thing inside me is also some kind of beacon that he tunes into to track me. That is how he locates me. Without it, he cannot track me. And now he would want me to be able to track him?
Suddenly, he cocked his head slightly to one side as if he had heard a muffled or a distant sound-- a sound not unlike that made by a intruder in the night as he stumbled on furniture, and he is now straining to confirm it.
What happened next was a blur: he strapped a leather and metal contraption around my waist and torso; then he connected what looked like a cable unto it. He grasped me by my shoulders, looked into my eyes and said:
“Ako si Omas. Sa muling pagkikita.”
Then, without warning, he pushed me out of the door. Instinctively, I grabbed on to him-- I caught a leather pouch that hang on a string around his neck. A blast of white powder sprayed forth onto his face as I my hold tightened on the leather pouch. Anguish and confusion flooded his face.
The sight, smell and sound of the night enveloped me once more. I felt a rush of air. I could see the ground rushing up to me.
I'm falling...
itutuloy...
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