December 23, 2005, my world would never be the same.
This Christmas we decided to pay a visit to some of our relatives in Bulacan. Having no transportation of our own, we had to commute from Las Piñas to Bulacan. Don't ask, It was hell. It's not that I'm not used to commuting such a far distance, but the heat and dust was a pain and the traffic? <bangs head on keyboard>
We were on our way home, and we were in a jeep going to Sta. Cruz, we were supposed to take a shortcut because the main road was becoming congested, and guess what on our 'shortcut'? Traffic so damn still you could beat our jeep to its destination by crawling. WIth this in mind we decided to just walk the rest of the way because Sta. Cruz was just about 2 intersections away.
My sister was trying to keep me in her arm, saying that it's not safe and we should stay in groups. But I kept shrugging her off, thinking to myself that no one in the right mind would even try.
Very comforting, Einstein, but it would seem that that night there would be two jackasses who would do just that.
Just past the first intersection, was a dimly lit street. I kept myself at the back of the pack, just in case. Halfway into the street, 'just in case' became the case indeed.
As I continued to walk down that street, I felt a weak tug at the back of shirt, and finally, the magic words..."WAG KANG PAPALAG."
It was the fastest and most terrifying, and yet the most exhilarting, 60 seconds of my life.
My heart started beating faster, and i pretended not to hear, and he said again, "wag kang papalag", this time I would have none of it. I suddenly turned to face him, he obviously was startled, but what I saw in his hand startled me even more. I ain't really sure what that was, but it was something shiny and silver.
My intial thought that it was a gun, and I thought to myself that then and there I was going to die. But I will go down in a blaze of glory, I will go down fighting. In the struggle that ensued, I tried to get that gun out of his hand, and try to incapacitate him. But before I could get the gun, he shouted, "YUNG BARIL!", and threw the gun to God knows where. That was the time I realized that the bastard had an accomplice. But since bastard #1 was such a sniper, the gun just made a loud clang, hitting an idle jeep because of the traffic. And guess what? Bastard #2 bolted like a cat, running into the curve, leaving the poor bastard #1 behind.
By this time my aunt had heard the struggle and was helping me restrain bastard #1, it was then I was smelling fresh meat, and performed a submission move called "tazzmission", it's basically a choke hold. With all my rage and might I tried to choke the living hell out of him, but my aunt told me to let go, and foolishly enough I did, and bastard #1 ran, picking up the gun and following the path that bastard #2 took. I tried to give chase, but my other aunt stopped me, saying that he might come back, and this time, I thought that he would not hesitate to pull the trigger.
Hesitate. Why did he? It was clear that when I turned I was a dead man. In a split second he could've pulled the trigger. But he didn't. Anytime during our struggle, which for me lasted a lifetime, he could've pulled the trigger, but still he didn't.
Was he a n00b? Not used to having people fight back? Especially having a 6ft baboon pounce on you? Or was he scared that the people idling in their vehicles might realize what was happening and come and help? Or maybe the gun was fake? But damn that was one heavy, fake gun, that clang on the jeep was really loud, if it was real I guess it was a revolver. Or maybe his gun jammed?
Either way I was shaking in rage and excitement at what happened and explained the events that occurred to my family whilst walking the rest of the way. We didn't stick around to see what the bystanders' reactions were, fearing that the bastards might come back.
I got home relatively unscathed except for a scratch from the struggle. In every way I counted myself lucky and blessed. I was supposed to be dead, or dying, from being shot and bleeding to death. Looks like it's not yet my time. Somebody really loves me Up there. And I thank Him for that. But I am traumatized, only up to the point where when I'm alone at night going home from school, I'm always tense and ready to rumble. But if it happens to me again, I will do exactly what I did that fateful night, fight the good fight.
As they say, Good always triumphs over Evil, if and only if Good fights.
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