XXVII - Nighthawk

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n. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

* * *

The moment that I return to the game, I wasn't surprised to find myself in the middle of the woods. And like the usual things, the first one who've seen me is none other than but Isidro. Finally, I am in the side of the Philippine revolution. At least, this warms my heart that I am not in the hands of the Americans compared to last time. However, the deep frown that he has suggests that he is visibly unhappy. His expression is foreign and shakes me down to the bone.

I am about to acknowledge him when he suddenly speaks up, saying, "Ngayon ka lang."

I bite my lower lip and nods. "P-Pasensya na. Nagkaroon ng problema."

He inspects me before sighing heavily. He looks around for a second as we both hear a nearby voice of men. Probably, we are not at all that far away from the camp. However, when he turns to me again, he tells me to follow him.

The two of us walk much farther away from where I suspect the rest of the soldiers are, him leading me close to a nearby river bank. And when the only sound that envelops us is the soft rushing of water, he finally faces me again as he keeps his arms cross across his chest. "Kung ano man ang naging problema, ang pagkawala mo sa laro ay naging mas matagal kaysa sa inaasahan. Ang usapan ay hintayin lamang gumaling ang iyong sugat, di ba?"

I turn to look at my shoulder, remembering that I've been shot during that battle in Quingua? Or was it in Calumpit? And when I've returned, there is still a mild throb in the wound. But today, my shoulder feels like it had been as good as new. I immediately look at him. "Bumalik ako bago ngayon. Kaso, noong dumating ako, nagulat ako na nasa kampo ako ng mga kalaban."

Isidro frowns at that. "Ng mga Amerikano?"

"Oo. Nagulat ako na nandoon ako sa kampo nila. Maging sila din ay nagulat sa akin. Mabuti na lamang at nakakaintindi ako ng Ingles at nalusutan ko sila kaagad. Nabanggit sa akin ng sundalo na nagtagpo raw ang mga Amerikano at si Goyo. Kaso, noong dumating ako, kakatapos lamang daw ng pulong at nakaalis na raw si Goyo at yung kasama niya."

"Ah..." Some sort of understanding crosses Isidro's features but it didn't ease the deep frown that remains on his face. "Baka yung Schurman Commission ang tinutukoy nila. Pinadala ni Presidente Aguinaldo si Goyo sa Intramuros upang makipag-ugnayan sa mga Amerikano. Kaso, hindi naging matagumpay. May mga kumalat na balita na bakit daw si Goyo ang pinapunta; halatang-halata na bata at wala masyadong karanasan sa totoong ganap ng digmaan."

"Naiintindihan ko ang panig nila. Bakit nga ba siya ang napili ni Presidente Aguinaldo?"

Isidro has that look that is telling me that I already know the answer, and why do I even bother to ask him about it if I've already come through some conclusion inside my mind. I nod to him, understanding that Goyo is practically the soldier whom President Aguinaldo favors. The one he can truly trust among his many generals, and such loyalty that Goyo has is slowly turning him to some dog who'll just follow any order given to him. I am starting to worry and wonder if it is the real reason that this very game had been invented; to divert him from being a henchman who'll not even question what's right and wrong just to continue being the favorite.

I shrug my shoulders. "Anyway, hindi ko nga sila naabutan. Kaya, ginamit ko yung oras na gulat pa yung mga sundalo. Humingi ako ng mangga at umalis kaagad. Mahirap na maging hostage nila. Ano, gagamitin pa nila ako laban sa inyo? Sabagay, kahit gamitin nila ako laban sa inyo, wala rin naman silang mapapala sa akin. At sino ba ako sa inyo? Di naman ako heneral. Wala nga akong hawak-hawak na titulo eh."

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