Chapter Text
"An officer and a gentleman."
He looked at the grave where his body - his other body - was buried under with those words inscribed by Lt. Quinlan as his epitaph. An officer - yes - but a gentleman?
The truth couldn't be far more unlikely than that.
Did he have to experience dying to know just how much he had sinned? The hearts he played with and broke, the good men he had to torture and kill... Was his loyalty to his president warranted? The blood on his hands didn't just come from their foreign conquerors.
The old woman stood beside him, her gray-flecked hair pulled up in a tight bun, a shawl over her baro. "Mapalad ka," she said. "Mapalad ka at hinayaan ka nilang magbalik."
He woke up in her hut three days ago, alive and whole. His hand pressed against his chest, confirming the startled throb of his heart. But still the evidence of his death was right in front of him now, and he confirmed that his corpse truly was buried beneath his feet.
"Kung ako iyang nasa ibaba, bakit nandito ako ngayon sa harapan mo, senyora?" he asked in his most polite tone.
He had three days to think - three days to gather his thoughts. The woman didn't say anything during those three days and merely intruded in his room when she brought him his food. She watched him, though.
Speculating. Expectant.
He had time to gather his thoughts. He was a General no more, dead to the world as much as Luna was. As much as the Bernal brothers were. He truly was what they named him - a boy general who thought that he played with toy soldiers. He used his name and his face to charm women and satisfy the urge to satisfy himself - knowing that he would die young in the profession he had chosen. He followed the orders of his superiors blindly, putting his foolish, naive faith in them.
He believed that they would do nothing wrong - and paid for it with his own honor.
The woman's first words were to ask him to follow her. He felt his throat constrict when she brought him to the pass. Tirad Pass. "Diyan ka binawian ng buhay," she explained patiently. "Kinuha nila lahat ng gamit mo, maging iyong mga sulat na pinadala sa iyo ng mga babaeng pinaibig mo." There was no anger, no accusation in her voice. She still watched him with those cloudy, expectant eyes. "Binigyan ka nila ng pagkakataon, anak."
His mind was numb with disbelief when she discussed reincarnation to him - it was a ridiculous concept. But then again, waking up in his body, fresh and whole and unblemished, while the body he died in was buried beneath his bare feet, made it easier to believe her far fetched words.
Hope - ridiculous, childish hope - bloomed within him when the woman told him that he would redeem himself of his sins if he brought Luna and his men together once more. It might take centuries - if not millenia - but he would walk the earth as he is until he succeeded.
"Hindi ko po alam kung binibiro niyo po ako," he finally said - just to lighten the mood.
"Anak, hindi ka naman basta-basta ibabalik ng nasa itaas kung walang dahilan," the woman said.
He roamed and studied and searched.
He traveled the world, avoiding the solace of a woman's body like the plague. He hid like the coward that he had become when the two World Wars broke out. He was tired, so tired of wars and blood and carnage and death. He was tired of fooling and hurting women again and again and again.
He wanted to be a normal man.
He wanted to grow old and die as he should have years and years ago. He tried to - yes, he did. A knife to the heart, slitting his throat... he always woke up hours later fully healed.
The Tirad Pass Memorial issued during the Laurel government brought a cynical laughter upon his lips. Hero? Him? He just did what he had to. He wondered if anyone from the old days would recognize him if he emerged from his seclusion.
He cringed and fought off wave after wave of regret whenever his name came up in history lessons as he wandered from degree after degree, university after university, college after college.
He watched the Martial Law and People Power play out from the safety of the college dorm he was occupying under yet another fake name. Heneral Luna - the Heneral - was right. Filipinos were at their worst when they squabbled for power and fortune and family loyalties, and rose against the odds when they united for the nation. He shed a quiet tear for the fate of everything they fought and died for.
He still couldn't find any of them. Not even that journalist, who he lost track of after Tirad Pass.
They could be anyone, anywhere.
Thursday, 07-04-15, 12:00 PM, Dau, Pampanga
The smell of sweat and body odor mingled in the air-conditioned bus that he took from Pangasinan all the way to Pampanga. He overstayed his welcome in Dagupan and people were already starting to be suspicious of the fact that he looked like a twenty-something or even less for more than ten years already.
It was raining when the bus finally reached the station. He was just another anonymous person in the crowd, the hood from his black jacket pulled up to deflect the water though it did nothing for the bags he had with him. His stomach growled from the greasy smell of the fastfood joints around him. The ensaymada from a nearby bakeshop reminded him of Rusca and the young man's obsession with them.
Maybe he could poke around in bakeries to see if Rusca was involved with one.
Thursday, 07-24-15, 12:15 PM, Angeles City, Pampanga
The jeep to SM Clark was uneventful, but he wanted to go sightseeing first. It's been thirty years since he last stepped into Pampanga. At least he was prepared with an alibi this time, a fresh college graduate working in an online home-based setting. It was partly true.
The rain was worse than ever when he made it into the freezing cold mall, half-empty since it was a weekday. His stomach rumbled again and he knew that he couldn't delay it anymore.
Isa pa, isa pa, isa pang chickenjoy. Mehhhh.
Ten minutes later he was in Jollibee - yet again - a heaping plate of Ultimate Burger Steak in front of him. The place was crowded. Jollibee always was. He had to share his table with a girl who blissfully didn't pay him any attention. He didn't pay her any attention either - he was afraid of reverting to his old habits, craven as he was.
"Medyo mauran na naman ngeni ne?" the girl suddenly asked, pulling his attention away from his food.
Goyong understood exactly what she said - after all, he had enough time on his hands to study other local dialects - but he had to keep up the masquerade. "Sorry. Di ako taga dito," he said.
The girl smiled in understanding, though. She didn't look any younger than twenty or so, her long hair dyed a vivid red. "Ay. Sabi ko medyo maulan nanaman ngayon." She brushed her uneven bangs away from those round dark eyes of hers.
"Pansin ko nga." Goyong leaned back on his chair, heart thudding all of a sudden. He hadn't really made anything more than polite talks to women in the past years. Group works in school were hell. "Kakadating ko lang kasi dito ngayon. Di naman siguro bahain sa Angeles no?" It wasn't that bad pre-Pinatubo.
He was in Tarlac at that time and the disaster was hellishly devastating. He vaguely wondered if the descendants of his Kapampangan sweethearts fared well.
"Oks naman halos dito, may mga eskinitang bahain pati na din yung dinadaanan ng mga Checkpoint na jeep pero ayus naman sa ibang lugar." The girl shrugged and smiled. She wasn't heart-smashingly beautiful, but there was something childishly innocent and charming about her. "Ako pala si Jay - Jay Hernando."
Jay Hernando. Hernando. Kamag-anak ni Joven?
Goyong grinned in spite of himself - the girl's smile was definitely infectious. "Greg." That's how he styled himself these days - though of course he would always be Goyong in his head. "Greg Roman." He turned to using the others' family names whenever he had to change his identity yet again. It was easier to keep track and hopefully draw them out. It's been years and yet he found himself thinking as an old soldier should.
Jay chuckled and looked down - back to her half-finished sundae. Wasn't she freezing from the weather yet? "Cute naman ng pangalan mo. Medyo late na ako. Nako. See you when I see you na lang." She picked up her cup, gave him a small wave, and walked off.
There was something about her that was definitely different from the girls he preyed upon in his real youth, and he found himself staring open-mouthed at her retreating form.
Spunky. Outgoing. Definitely not a mahinhin na binibini.
Goyong shook his head to clear his thoughts. Kalma Goyong. Hindi ka na kilabot ng mga obaryo, huy! He took a deep breath and finished his meal in silence.
The modern times suited him well, but he still wished he was just a normal young man - maybe start a real family, have kids, die naturally.
Meal done, he stood up and left.
Thursday, 07-24-15, 2:00 PM, Angeles City, Pampanga
He was definitely not renting an apartment online again. He had people to look for but first he had to find out where exactly Brgy. Salapungan was and how the hell he would get there. The horrible traffic jams and muddy sidewalks brought about by ongoing road construction didn't do anything to fix his mood.
The rain hasn't let up yet so he decided to stop by a bakeshop right beside the city's major intersection. It didn't seem to be a busy day for the shop, having only a couple of students and a beggar girl taking shelter from the downpour.
That was when he saw him. Rusca - or at least his reincarnation - all but leapt out of the dark blue jeepneys headed to the heart of the city - the Cabalenan. He seemed to be Goyong's age now, give or take a year, dressed in dark jeans and a brightly-colored shirt.
Goyong shifted imperceptibly, keeping an eye on the reincarnated soldier who let out a small cuss as he nearly slipped on a puddle. Rusca's current incarnation made his way to the bakeshop. Goyong tore his eyes away from the man and kept it on his phone. Man, Candy Crush Saga really sucked.
Nyeta.
"Dalawang ensaymada po," Rusca said to the lady on the counter while he fished for change in his pockets. "Isang C2 na din, yung apple."
Goyong dithered - something he hasn't done for at least fifty years now. Should he approach the man? He didn't want to startle Rusca - or whatever name he was going by now. Besides, he'd look like some crazy man.
Watching Rusca walk off with his food to ride a purple jeep headed for Clark was harder than he imagined.