"Oh, they finally defrosted Jose Mari Chan," one student said.

  "You're kidding, right?" his friend said. "I've been hearing him nonstop at the mall near us since September."

  "Yeah, which rock did you just crawled out from?" his other friend said.

  That's true. In the Philippines, not just in our city, Bastillio, Christmas is not celebrated on December. It's celebrated at the start of BER months( SeptemBER, OctoBER, NovemBER, DecemBER). One way to know that BER months or Christmas is here is when you started hearing Jose Mari Chan's Christmas songs playing everywhere, but most specifically, inside malls. So to say that he hasn't heard him yet is wild.

  "Maybe they only play Mariah Carey near his mall?" Cana said.

  "If he heard Mariah Carey, then there's no way he haven't heard Mr. Jose songs yet," I said. "Those two are played back to back. It's like the law of the universe."

  "Yeah, you do not go against the universe," Cana agreed.

  "Not even Azgarmoth would dare," I added.

  We were inside an internet café near the school, making idle talk, sharing jokes and laughter as we waited for Mr. Jerry to finish dealing with his customer's print-outs.

  We have the cultist's address. But we don't know how to get there or where that is exactly. If we are going to get to the cultist's location, we're going to need Google Map.

  When Mr. Jerry finished with the last customer on his counter, I stepped forward.

  "Mr. Jerry, hi," I said.

  "Oh, Vergil!" he said. "You haven't been coming here for a while. What's got you—"he stopped when he saw Cana besides me. "Oh, I see, I see." He said, smirking. "You've got yourself a girlfriend. The boys aren't going to like that, you know?"

  "She's just my classmate," was all I said. I didn't check to see Cana's reaction but who cares? "Listen, can we rent pc?"

  Seeing as I'm not in the mood for any banter, his smile faded. "Take any empty one. How many hours?"

  "Actually," I said. "I just need to google map something real quick."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah," I said. "And we don't have any money on us. I was hoping to pay tomorrow."

  "Nonsense," he said. His head went down as he typed on his computer. "I'll give you 5 minutes."

  "You're the best, Mr. Jerry," I said. "Oh, can we borrow this pen?"

  He raised a hand and we took that as the cue to go.

  "He knows you?" Cana said. "And "the boys?"

  "Yeah, well," I started. "Every day after class, me and the guys hang out here before going home."

  "Oh," Cana "Is that what you were arguing about with Gerald with? His Morgana missing his arrow or something?"

  "Mirana," I pulled the chair of PC 10 and pushed down the power button of the computer. When the pc booted up, it prompted me to a log in screen. "And yeah, it was."

  Cana leaned down, her hair coming down like a curtain. "You need an account?"

  "Yeah," I said. "Most internet café basically requires you to create an account with them." I pulled out the journal out of my disguise jacket and handed it together with the pen to Cana.

  "Give me the address."

  I typed in my username and password while Cana flipped through the pages.

  There was the custom start-up sound when logging in and then I was met with a familiar scene.

  The screen was filled with icons of various games. Some dating back to 2010-2012. On the left side of the screen is a large sidebar. The top of the sidebar displays the internet café's name. Below that is a box with my account name and the time 4:55, counting down every second.

  Reminded of the limited time, I immediately double-clicked Google Chrome and searched for Google Maps.

  When I turned to Cana, she already had the page open where the address is. She hovered the journal over the keyboard. It didn't matter that the journal was blocking my view of the keyboard since I pretty much knew where all the letters are. I easily typed in the address and hit enter.

  Google Map zoomed in to the location. It was along the Deoteto St., near Makamisa LRT Station.

  "How do we get there?" Cana asked.

  I clicked on Directions and was prompted to type in our current location. But I ended up using the auto-complete suggestion which is near to our location--our school, Padua High. The moment I clicked on our school address, Google Map zoomed out and a blue line connecting us to our destination appeared on the map.

  The travel mode defaulted to driving. It showed that it would only take us 22 minutes to get there. If we have a car. There is also the two-wheeler for motorcycles. And transits for trains. Which we don't have the fare for.

  "We can always walk it," I said. Which is really our only option. So I clicked on the Walk icon. Google Maps zoomed in again and for some reason the blue line broke up into individual blue balls forming the line.

  "1 hr 18 minutes," Cana said. "5.3 km walk. And that is assuming nothing goes wrong or we don't get lost on the way."

  I looked at the time at the sidebar. It reads: 4:48 PM. Meanwhile, Cana mumbles as she writes down the street names and the nearest landmark on the journal, "Tangere St. near the Fulibisterismo Public Market...Makamisa Mall..."

  "We won't make it before 6 if we walk," I said. "Let's ask Mr. Jerry." I stood up. The pc automatically shuts down when the session expires so I didn't have to worry about logging out.

  "Thanks, Mr. Jerry," I said as Cana returned the pen on the counter.

  "Hey, come look at this," he said. He turned the monitor sideways so all three of us could see.

  It was open to a live stream. There were three people. It was a shot of a desk draped in red fabric. Their background a curtain of the same color. One sitting behind the desk. 2 other people were standing behind the sitting figure. I caught a comment on the sidebar saying unkind things to these people.

  I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Because all 3 of them are hiding behind white masks with red lips that are always smiling. But the similarities of the masks stopped there. Each of their mask was adorned in different ways. The one on the left had colorful feathers attached to the edges of the mask to resemble the tail of a male peacock when courting a female. The one on the right had an elaborate design of shiny beads and blue paint. The one sitting had no design or adornments on his mask but he does have a jester cap to go with it.

  "They admitted to burning down the museum," Mr. Jerry said.

  "The Shade Museum?" The shock in Cana's voice was pronounced.

  "The same one," he said. He unplugged his earphone. Suddenly, the figure's voice could be heard out of the speakers of the desktop computer. It was a man. Mr. Jerry dragged the volume up to 100%. "They thought that someone imitated what was on the books on the museum. That it made the Shade more powerful."

  Cana and I exchanged looks.

  So that answers our question. Why did no cultist find us at the Shade Museum? Because it was never them.

  I turned my thoughts back to the livestream. Their wild appearances are in stark contrast to their serious demeanor. And even more serious message:

  "—is only the beginning. So long as the government insists on hiding the truth. So long as their secrets put Bastillian lives at risks. Then shall the Bakunawa continue its work. To prevent further tragedies"—a picture popped up on the right side of the screen. It shows the picture of the guy in red shirt, cut in half. His body lying on the blood, blood and guts everywhere. The same picture Major Coleman showed to us when he briefed us on the attack on other military installations. On the other side was the video of us when the Shade chased us to the church. "—the Bakunawa will not rest. It shall devour the—"

  "Excuse me," Cana interrupted. "But can you pause that for a bit? We need help." She then opened the journal to where the address was written. "How do we get to this place? What do we ride?" Cana said, pointing at the address.

  Mr. Jerry took a quick look. "Just ride a jeep going to Makamisa route. You can see them just out front."

  "Thanks so much, Mr. Jerry," I rapped out. "I owe you one."

  Mr. Jerry just waved his hand in response and disappeared behind the counter. Armed with the new information, we headed outside.

  "I see it," Cana said, pointing at a parked jeepney across the street with a colorful, neon, signboard that read Dimasalang on top, Makamisa on bottom. "But we don't have money."

  "We'll have to 1,2,3 it," I said.

  "1,2,3?" she said.

  "You've never done it before?" I asked.

  "My dad and I go to the same school, you know," she said. "So of course I'd be tagging along with him in his car on the way. But that doesn't mean I've never ridden a jeep before."

  "No, I don't mean riding a jeep," I said. "But 1,2,3—Ok look, 1,2,3 is what we call the act of riding a jeep without paying."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah, you know how jeepney fares are based on trust?"

  "Of course I do. You pay your fare to the drivers themselves since there are no conductors like in buses," Cana said. "But sometimes, you get seated far from the driver so you have to pass along your fare through the help of the other commuters. That's where the trust part comes in. Because the driver is dependent on the passengers' trustworthiness to pay and pass along fares."

  "Exactly," I said. "That's what 1,2,3 is. Exploiting that trust. So what we do is take a seat nearest the exit and when we're near our stop, we go out without paying. That's why its called 1,2,3. 1,2,3, go! Then you run away once you're off. Of course, nobody actually runs because the driver cannot take stock of who's paid and who hasn't so he won't have any clue."

  "Oh," Cana said. She looks a bit uncomfortable about the topic. "And you've done this before?"

  "Yup," I said.

  "And you've never been caught?"

  "Nope," I said.

  "Surely someone saw," Cana asked.

  "Doubt it," I said. "Most of the time, passengers are either sleeping or minding their own business, either by sticking their noses on their phones or too busy chatting with their friends to notice. Because you know, it's not their job to take note of who hasn't paid. And if someone did, they never do anything about it."

  "Well, you seem to be the expert," Cana said. "Lead the way, Lupin."

  "Hey, I only did this one time," I protested while we crossed the street. "And the situation called for it."

  "What situation?"

  "I've lost my wallet."

  There was no queue so we got up at the back of the first jeep in line in the loading/unloading zone. There were long seats cushioned on the left and right side of the jeep. As planned, we sat on the left side nearest to the entrance/exit.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "We're the only ones here," Cana whispered. "He'll know."

  "Trust me, he won't," I whispered back. "With all the driving and handing out change, he won't be able to keep tabs on everybody. And also, since we're the only ones here, no other passengers would know if we hadn't paid or not so relax."

  She nodded. "Okay."

  Outside, the jeepney barker keeps barking out the route of our jeep to attract more passengers. Our route was on the way to several malls and schools so it didn't take long before the jeep was full and we went our way.

  The jeep provided us cover from the eyes out in the streets. Our caps prevent us from being recognized. Though looking around, I can see that I was right. Not a single commuter even glanced at our direction.

  "You know, I used to hate that creepy thing where our heads disappear in pictures," Cana whispered. "But now, I think it's the only reason we've got so far without getting recognized."

  "Who would have thought, right?" I said.

  Our current situation lulled me into a sense of security. Couple this with the boredom of the ride, exhaustion had once again found my tired body.

  I held onto the long overhead handrail and rested my head on that arm. I tried to close my eyes, but the constant rocking of the jeep making my head bounce on my arm made it hard for me to sleep.

  We made good time, only stopping to drop off or pick up passengers. But this time, we were stopped in the middle of the road. I thought it was just heavy traffic. But then I started hearing shouting ahead.

  Shade kills! Media lies!

  Children of Bastillio dies!

  Cana tugged on the sleeves of my jacket. She pointed ahead of the jeep. Through the driver's windshield, we saw the spectacle growing in the street. I counted at least 5 people, man and woman with unzipped jackets. Underneath was a bright orange t-shirt.

  They were all over the place, blocking my sight so I couldn't get a good read on what was on their t-shirts. Then they proceeded to spread out and chained their elbows together, effectively creating a human barrier blocking the vehicles on the street. The drivers responded with a barrage of angry honks.

  Shade kills! Media lies!

  Children of Bastillio dies!

  They repeated their chant. There was a small white car parked in the middle of the road. On top of that was a young man, helping an adult woman with bob cut stepped up the hood and to the roof of the van.

  A nasty feedback cuts through the protesters when she switched on her megaphone, stopping them from chanting their slogan.

  "A man got sliced up in half and they want us to believe it was revenge killing? Do we believe that!?" The woman's voiced boomed through the megaphone.

  "NO!!! The crowd shouted in unison.

  "What about that night guard at the church?" The speaker said.

  "How did they know that?" Cana whispered. "Wasn't Major Coleman supposed to keep this thing under wraps?"

  "I don't know," I said. We were living in Birigan where we don't have internet and landlines, explicitly to prevent leaks like this. So if someone leaks this information, it wasn't us.

  "They say it was a robbery gone violent," the speaker continued. "Do we believe that?!"

  A chorus of "NO!!!" was their answer.

  "No, no," the speaker said. "We are not stupid. We are not blind. We know who did it, don't we?"

  The crowd cheered "Yes!!!"

  "Who did it? Say it!

  "The Shade!"

  "Louder!"

  "The Shade!!!"

  "Again! For our blind brothers and sisters."

  "The Shade!!!! The crowd answered and cheered once more. Waving their cardboard banner and wooden planks where their messages are written in black ink. I didn't get to read much because they were waving it in a frenzy. One guy stopped waving his cardboard in the air when he was approached by a bystander. As he was explaining, he held his cardboard banner at his chest. It read:

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  Don't trust the military,

  They're lying to you!

  "The government is lying to you!" The speaker resumed his speech. "The Shade cause all those deaths in—"

  He was interrupted by a traffic enforcer who jumped on the hood of the car and grabbed his mic from him.

  "We should get out," Cana said.

  "Get out?" I asked.

  "Yeah, look," Cana insisted, pulling on my sleeves. "Past the protesters."

  So I followed her finger to where it was pointing. It was the entrance to the Makamisa LRT Station.

  "We're here," Cana said. "And I don't want to get caught by them." She said, meaning the protestors. "I think now's the time to..."

  She brought up her hand in a ball and then started counting with her fingers, 1, 2, 3.

  "Let's go then," I said. The jeep was practically parked so we had no problem getting off. We raced through the idled vehicles on the road while their drivers shout profanities at the protestors. We jumped up the curb and squeezed through a crowd of curious bystanders. We ran past building after building, only stopping to ask for directions, and kept running until we found ourselves inside Fulibusterismo Public Market.

  "Hoy! Don't run inside!" A meat vendor scolded us. "This isn't a playground." We apologized and slowed down to a walk. We were panting but decided to keep walking until we were in front of the concrete stairs leading up to the second floor, right next to the escalator that wasn't working.

  We sat down on the step to breathe. For a minute, we sat in silence as we filled our lungs with air, watching people pass us by, not paying us any attention. So it seems like we're in the clear.

  "The Bakunawa group," Cana said. "Now this protestors..."

  "I know, I know," I said.

  "The Dark Year..." Cana said. "I can't believe it. It's going to happen again. And we're smack dab at the middle of it..."

  "Let's worry about it later," I said. "One thing at a time, right?"

  "We'll, we should be near," Cana said, consulting the notes she made on the journal. "We just need to find Makamisa Mall and then it's just a small walk behind it."

  "Oi, you can't sit there," A man said. He wasn't in uniform but he was holding a baton so I guess he works here.

  "Sorry mister," I said as I got up. "Hey, can you tell us how to get to the Makamisa Mall?"

  He turned sideways and pointed at the pedestrian footbridge behind him. "It's across. Up the bridge. Follow the curb to the right. And it's a straight walk from there."

  "Thanks so much!" Cana said.

  And we were off. Thank's to the stranger's direction, we found the Makamisa mall with no issue. After all, it is pretty hard to miss a mall. But we continued walking along the building. The rest of the walk was thankfully uneventful. We passed by bakeries and cafes. Crossed the street. Continued walking down along Deodato St. Turned right at the next intersection. Got barked at by someone's dog who leaped at their gate. Walked along Kalihim Avenue. Until finally, we were standing in front of a tall, 6-story building. with a huge, imposing, metallic gate.

  Above the doorway of the gate was the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary, which stood out against the huge, imposing, metallic black, gate adorned with embossed Greek columns and LED Lamplights, giving it the impression of the castle walls of a Transylvanian vampire but with modern advertisements for the hotel inside and the public café situated at the top floor.

  "This is it," Cana said, consulting the journal. "13C Gen. Teazon St. Brgy. 6."

  It matches the address plaque installed to the right of the open doorway.

  "I guess so," I said.

  "Are you ready?" Cana asked.

  "No," I admitted. I exhaled a lungful of air. "Shall we?"

  Since it was my idea we were doing, I stepped in first. Upon entry, there were no staff to greet us. Or guards. Not even a guard station. The "lobby" of the building is really just a door with a sign Silang Hotel hanging on it and the spiral concrete, staircase to its right.

  "4th floor, right?" I said.

  "Uh-uh."

  It took us no time to reach the second floor. Up here, there is only the hallway leading to the rooms of the hotel and the stairs. The place was dead silent. I guess that's to be expected with a hotel. And so far, we encountered no other visitors. The only sounds were our shoes echoing on the winding staircase as we climbed up to the third floor.

  Behind me Cana was laughing.

  "Look at this," she said.

  I went to her side. She was looking at the poster on the wall on the landing of this stair to the next floor.

  KAPIRITO

  Coffee House

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  There is no elevator to success,

  You have to take the stairs.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Enjoy authentic Filipino coffee and cuisine with a great view of the city.

  Dine with us at the TOP FLOOR.

  "So they make their customers climb 6 flights of stairs," I said, smiling. I turned around to head upstairs. "Teased them on the way and people pay them for that?"

  "I think people pay for the view," Cana said, matching my pace.

  "Well, the view must be spectacular then," I said. We've reached the 3rd floor.

  "I like cafes with gimmicks," Cana said. "It makes them more memorable. Like, that time when Ms. Lacsamana treated us to that place where you can eat and drink while wearing unicorn onesies?"

  "Oh, yeah, I remember that," I said.

  "I remember how cute you look in the unicorn."

  That image, that forbidden image, long sealed away in the depths of my subconscious, broke through the surface of my memory with the force of a thunderbolt that I momentarily staggered.

  "Oh, no..." I said. Panic setting in in my voice. "What have you done? I'd forgotten all about that."

  "Don't worry, I have pictures."

  "Shut up," I said, my face feeling hot from the embarrassment. "It was Ms. Lacsamana's treat. She insisted. I-I had no choice!"

  My staunch defense of myself only made her laugh even harder.

  "But yeah," Cana said in between gasps of air, laughing, "It was Ms. Lacsamana's treat so it would be rude to say no."

  "It was an abuse of power."

  Cana laughed. "She had to take over our class, right? As part of her Student-teacher...program?—I forgot what it's called—While the other teachers watched and graded her?

  We've reached the 3rd floor. And immediately headed one floor up.

  "That's right," I said. Thankful for the subject change. "It was supposed to be our reward for being good students. Till today, I still don't know what we did good."

  "Nothing," Cana said. "We were just being our usual selves. Personally, I think she was just happy that she passed with flying colors."

  "So she was just in the mood to treat us?" I said. We've reached the 4th floor. I was looking at the door number. It was counting down from 401. There are only 6 rooms here. So the last one might be it. We walked down the hallway. "Not complaining. She deserved it by the way. Man, weird timing to be taking a trip down memory lane."

  Cana laughed. "It was only a month ago, silly."

  My jaw dropped. "Really!? A month ago?" I said. I honestly couldn't hide my surprise if I wanted to. "Felt like forever. For real."

  "It's crazy," Cana said. "Just a month ago, our biggest problem was the midterm exam."

  "You know what's even crazier?" I said. "I was so excited being a haunted. Missing the midterm exams and all that studying. But now? I'd give anything to take the stupid exam."

  "Silly us," Cana said.

  "So, so stupid..." I added.

  Before we knew it, room 406 was right in front of us.

  "406," Cana said. "This is it."

  "This is it," I repeated. "Our saving grace."

  "Or our final destination," Cana said.

  We looked at each other and shared a smile. We were joking. But also, we were not. Once we opened that door, once we stepped inside, then that would be it. Whatever happens, there will be no redo, no second chances. We would willingly enter a confined space full of cultists inside, with our only exit three floors down. And I doubt we would manage to get away from them again this time.

  "Well, if we're going to die," Cana said, stretching out her arms to the air. "Might as well get it over with, ha-ha."

  "It's probably locked, right?" Cana said. The moment her hand grabbed the doorknob, I grabbed hers.

  She looked at her hand, then at me. "Vergil?"

  "You know, the morning when October came," I started. Cana didn't turn the doorknob. She didn't remove her hand from mine. So I continued. "As I was leaving for school, my mom called out, "We'll see you soon," she said. Then my dad followed with "Or not."

  "What?" Cana said. The shock registered in her voice. "That's horrible."

  "Yeah, my mom didn't like it one bit," I laughed.

  My laugh faded as it echoed down this lonely hall. I looked down at her arm. I ran my thumb over the back of her soft hand. And breathe out.

  I looked straight into her eyes. "If I'm wrong," I said. My voice had become shaky. "Then that joke would be real. And if that's not bad enough, I'd be dragging you down with me."

  I gripped her hand tight, pulling her a bit closer. "I...I can't have that."

  We stood like that for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. Our breaths synchronized. Cana stepped in even closer. She stood so close to me that our bodies were touching. She put a hand on my face and caressed my cheek.

  "You won't," Cana whispered.

  I held that hand of hers in mine. "How can you be so sure?"

  "No complaints, no backing out, right?" Cana said. "Didn't we agree on that?"

  "Yes, we did—"

  "You always figure out things," Cana said. "We've been in desperate situations before, situations way worse than this. You fought Daniel in his Shade form and survived. You've saved us. You will do it again. I believe you."

  "But Cana I—"

  She put a finger on my lips. "I would never blame you," Cana immediately said. "You already did so much for us. For Major Coleman. For me. Without you, we would never have learned so much about the Shade. Without you, I wouldn't even be here in the first place. And I haven't even thanked you for that. So thank you, Vergil. For saving me."

  I was caught in her gaze. Her brown eyes tell me she's not allowing any arguments.

  "You're welcome," I said.

  "Whatever happens inside," Cana said. "We will go through with it. Together."

  I touched my forehead on hers and closed my eyes, "Together," I whispered.

  Suddenly, I've heard a click. And the door swung open slightly.

  Panic started to set in. I was about to come face to face with the cult members. I wasn't prepared. But when I looked down at the door, I saw Cana's hand on the doorknob.

  "They didn't lock it," Cana said. She swung the door fully open. At first glance, it seemed like no one was there.

  "H-hello?" Cana said.

  No response.

  She turned to me. "Shall we?"

  My heart pounded as we entered the quiet room. I left the door open, in case we changed our minds and needed a way to escape. But it seemed like my initial impression of the room was correct.

  It was quite small. I'm guessing this is a budget hotel? The bathroom was immediately on our right. Then the room itself, which only had the T.V, the aircon, a closet and the bed. That's it. There was no one here. Then it dawned on me how strange the room truly is. The bed has been made. The aircon wasn't even running. I opened the closet. It was empty.

  "Are we sure we are in the right room?" I asked. "Because it looks like no one's been using this room."

  Cana consulted the journal. "13C Gen. Teazon St. Brgy. 6. Room 406. 4th floor. We should be in the right place."

  I thought about it for a while. "Is it possible we've missed them?" I said. "I mean, the plan was to get us. But since I shot the guy, maybe they scrapped the plan?"

  "So we've come here for nothing?" Cana said. She sat on the bed.

  I don't know what to feel. Relieved that we didn't meet the cultists and therefore, not in any danger. Or worried. Because now, we're all out of options. And it isn't long until 6 pm.

  "What do you want to do?" I asked Cana. "We did my plan. It didn't work. Maybe let's try yours?"

  But Cana was already laying back on the bed, her feet dangling above the floor. "The police? Because it's already too late to go back to school."

  I sat next to her. "The police," I said.

  "Maybe we can take a short break first?" Cana said. She closed her eyes. "Aren't you tired?"

  "Exhausted, disappointed, and a bit relieved," I admitted.

  "That settles it, then," Cana said. "Who knows? Maybe they come back. Maybe they forgot something?"

  "Or maybe the staff comes back and lock the room with us inside," I said.

  "Maybe..." Cana yawned. "But...is that really...worse...than..."

  "Cana?" I said.

  Suddenly, my eyes started feeling heavy. Every second was a struggle to keep them open. My thoughts became hazy. In an instant, all I wanted to do was to pass out.

  I know I'm tired and starved but it seemed so fast to be natural body function. Suddenly, I saw a couple of people walking in wearing gas masks. I tried to stand up but my legs were jelly. They immediately buckled and I hit the side of the bed.

  "Cana," I said. My voice was groggy. I grabbed the nearest part of her, her ankle. "Wake...up..."

  One guy started to lift Cana in his arms. My legs may not be working. But my arms still have some strength left. With all my might, I tried to push the intruder away. But he didn't even budge. The masked individual ignored me, carried Cana in his arms, princess-style, and walked out of the room.

  "Stop..." I shouted. At least, in my head I was shouting. But the voice coming out of my mouth was nothing more than a whisper. "Give her back..."

  Then the other individual started to round the bed and walked to me. My vision was getting blurry. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

  The last thing I saw was the masked individual squatting down in front of me. He held up a mask attached to a canister to my face and everything went dark.