Charlie broke the silence. “I met this girl the other day.”
“What?”
“A girl. I met this girl.”
Bruce wiggled back against the bark. “The one at the pool?”
Charlie leaned up and frowned. “I thought you guys were too drunk to notice.”
Bruce looked astonished. “Not notice a looker like that?” He leaned his head back and recited, “Blond, a little over five feet tall, probably, oh, an even hundred pounds… Age…?” He turned his head. “How old is she?”
“About twenty. A college student.”
“Jail bait. Watch out, comrade. That means her old man is here on Clark and will be gunning for you — you dirty old man. What’s her name?”
“Nanette.”
“Does she have a last name?”
Charlie shrugged; his face grew red. “She didn’t tell me.” At Bruce’s stare, he amended himself. “Okay, okay. She wouldn’t tell me. Why, I don’t know. Maybe she just wants to play coy.”
“I don’t know. You sure she’s single?”
“What the heck do you—”
“All right, just asking.” It was one thing to razz a guy about robbing the cradle, but to accuse Charlie of adultery.…
Bruce mused for a moment. That’s cool, he thought. It’s about time Charlie found something other than those damned books to stick his nose into. He’s been moping too long about not getting into pilot training.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“Yeah.”
“I … Well, hell, I met a girl too.”
Charlie turned to him. “You’re bagging me.”
“No, really. That night we went to the Fire Empire …”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me — you fell in love with the girl in the floor show.”
“No, honest.” Bruce’s voice grew quiet. He remembered the narrow street, the crowds of people.…“We toured the city — remember that jeepney ride? I stopped for some gum.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, there was this girl in that sari-sari store.” He drew in a breath. Man, she was beautiful, he thought.
Charlie frowned. “I didn’t see any Americans around there.”
“She’s not American.” Bruce turned to his friend. “Yolanda Sicat. She’s a Filipino.”
Charlie looked at Bruce hard. “You’re not joking.”
“No. Why would I?”
Charlie relaxed back. “I can think of several reasons.”
Bruce chewed on his lip and caught himself; it had actually started to taste good. “Hey, uh, what do you say we get together, go out on a double date — you know, something nice for the girls, where they don’t have to worry about us putting the moves on them.”
“Us?”
Bruce set his mouth. He felt that Charlie’s insinuations were starting to get a little out of hand. Sure, I might have a rep as a hell-raiser, but give me a break, I’m only human! “Come on!”
Charlie held up his hands. “Sorry. Uh, sure — let’s make a double date when we get back.”
Something whistled past Bruce’s ear. Two more sounds cracked through the air.
Bruce and Charlie threw themselves down and sprawled on the ground. Bruce’s face was smeared with leaves and mud. A pungent odor of decaying plants filled his nose.
Silence. Bruce looked up cautiously. Nothing.
He swung his eyes to the tree that he had sat under — buried into the bark, four feet above the ground in a tight symmetric pattern, quivered three long darts. Steel, needle-thin tips came out of each dart’s head.
Bruce nudged Charlie. “Look behind you.”
Charlie’s eyes widened at the sight of the darts. He whispered, “Where did they come from?”
“Guess.” Bruce turned back and squinted into the jungle. He thought he saw something, but couldn’t make out the form in the dense growth. Dark green blended with brown, black.
And then he could see as if it were clear as day.
Abuj stood just outside the clearing. The Negrito had a batch of colored sticks stuck in his thick, woolly hair; his body was painted a ripple of green and brown. He held a long, thin pole — a blowgun. He held Bruce’s gaze.
Bruce slowly nudged Charlie. They watched the Negrito for what seemed to be minutes, no one speaking.
Then just as suddenly as he had appeared, Abuj was gone.
“Wow.” Charlie let out his breath.
Bruce scrambled to his feet and turned for the darts. One by one he pulled them out of the tree. He turned them over in his hand. A foot long and as thin as a pencil, each had tiny feathers in the back and a sharp steel needle in the front. “Take a look at this.”
Bruce turned and surveyed the jungle. He had not heard Abuj approach or leave. He had just been … there. Bruce shivered. “That guy’s like a ghost. If he had wanted to hit us, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”
“What do you think he’s doing?”
Bruce touched the tip of the dart, then jammed all three back into the tree. “He’s trying to teach us something — or warn us. If he can get that close without us hearing him, he’s one guy I’d like to have on our side.”
“That’s a rog.”
Bruce recalled the Negrito’s stare, as if he had been telegraphing him something — maybe about his responsibilities. And if that were so, then it started with his carrying his weight and helping Charlie out. He reached for the plastic topographical map, shook water from it, and located the next checkpoint. “I’ll navigate this time.”
“Okay.” Charlie handed over the compass with a sigh. “Ten to one we’ll wind up in Rangoon.”
Pompano entered the sari-sari store. He nodded at the two boys sitting outside. One of them drank a Pepsi, the other sipped on a San Miguel.
The one trying to drink the beer looked slightly green around the jowls. Pompano repressed a laugh. Everyone needed a chance to grow up, experience life. Better that the boys be experimenting at his store than trying it while hawking one of their sisters to the Americans.
The Americans. If it weren’t for them, he would never have had his store.
The grant monies had poured in from the American base nearly forty years ago, the last result of blackmail by the Marcos regime. The base had tried to win over the hearts and minds of the local people by giving out grants to needy families. Pressured by the Marcos government, the Americans had participated in the flow of money.
Only when it was found that most of the money had been diverted into the wrong hands had the grants stopped. But not before Pompano Sicat had gotten enough seed money to start his store. It had even allowed him to amass enough money so that twenty years later, when his newly-wed wife has passed away giving birth to a baby daughter, he had enough money to care for the young girl.
Yes, Pompano, he thought. How ironic that the very Americans you hate so much should be the ones responsible for your success.
And here he was again, searching for American goods. Looking to the black market for the sensors that would help protect the Huk encampment.
Yolanda came from behind the counter. “Father! You are back!”
“Little one!” Pompano laughed and gave his daughter a squeeze. She towered over him by a good five inches. “How are the sales?”
“Very good. Fireworks are starting to move fast with the Fourth of July coming up.”
“Good, good.” He started to duck under the counter, but a sharp pain ran through his back.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Just my back acting up. Too much lifting for an old man.”