Chapter V: Memory

The next day started in the afternoon and young Berto Timbreza, who had been awake all night, was still sleeping soundly in the comfort of his soft, cushioned bed when it happened. It was his mother who managed to wake him up abruptly, as it was always his mother who manages to wake anybody up with her strong arms and powerful powers of persuasion over the unconscious. Groggy and disoriented, Berto did not even notice that the neighbors were clearing out their houses, children outside were crying, karabaos pulling huge carts filled with valuable furniture and clothes, pregnant mothers and other things that they were able to pull out.

The whole city of Manila was in chaos.

“Wake up,” Doña Encarnacion Timbreza said out loud, almost shouting, “War has found us.”

Berto who had a headache from oversleeping and a massive urge to eat something, could not help but look outside the window of their big two storey house. He noticed that a huge cloud of black smoke was rising from the horizon, and the constant words of “Dios mio, chinggada, konyo bunana,” from his mother. What’s going on?

“Mama, what’s going on? Where’s papa?”

“Your papa, is out there, help me get our clothes. We are going to the mountains with your uncle.”

The mountains? Why there? What the hell was going on? He peeked outside and he saw the eyes of chaos. The streets were overrun with familiar Filipinos that were scrambling out their homes, screaming, some old men were crying. He looked at his Mom, who was constantly trying to keep her emotions controlled, her hands began to shake as she tried to put his husband’s clothes inside a box. Stay calm, be fast, don’t forget my underwear, the voice of her husband still very clear in her head. This home had been their home since they she could remember; now it was time to leave all the memories behind. She was not afraid, nor saddened by the fact that she had to go and leave, but rather, Doña Timbreza was surprised that it was too easy, just a bit too easy for them to be leaving their house behind. She almost smiled.

It was then that he heard a faint whistle. It was getting louder and louder with each second.

The loudness of the explosion nearly leveled the streets that surrounded them, and it nearly uprooted even some of the trees. It shook the house in such a manner that it threw Berto to the floor, hitting hard against the wooden lay out, kissing dust, kissing blood, kissing everything. Through the cloud of dust and smoke he tried to cover his mouth as to keep his air from killing him. He reached out his hand, feeling for his mother. He looked, and found nobody, except a great heat that had engulfed the dark crevasses of the house with a yellow and orange light. Their house was on fire.

“MAMA!” he screamed, but after every scream he would cough, and after every cough, he would cough some more. He covered his mouth with a stray piece of clothing; it was his father’s toalya. He put the cloth in front of his mouth and nose to protect him from the smoke. He was still looking for his mother.

“MAMA!” he screamed, and coughed, and coughed, and felt a little light headed. He started to feel an unwelcoming pain on his skin, as if he was standing three inches from an open fire, he made his way down the crooked stairway and into the entrance of his home. The smoke had travelled quickly, and vastly. It engulfed every room like a swarm of bees, praying on something, if it were able to kill. The black cloud engulfed the floors, the walls, even the ceiling. Even Berto’s soul.

“MAMA!” he cried out, desperately.

Faintly he heard a cough inside. Without hesitation he lunged into the black shroud and immediately crawled on all floors. The heat was immense and the smoke was hurting his eyes. He listened carefully for that faint cough. Just one more, mama, I know it is you. Let your lungs give out, he kept thinking. Just one more…

“Berto!” a voice called out from behind him. He turned around almost immediately and lunged forward to feel for her. He could not see anymore, the smoke had engulfed even the lawn, he reached and reached. She has got to be here, God let me find her!

Instead, she found him. She heard heavy breathing pass by in front of her and she immediately jerked out her arm to where it was going, and it caught something. Something, that felt like an arm. Berto grabbed hold of his mothers arm and carried her into the light, towards the door. If only we can make it in time. He carried her mother’s dead weight through the main door, and they both kissed the pavement. Berto rubbed his eyes so that he could see his mother, and check whether or not she was okay. He carried her off and set her carefully against a stray mango tree that everybody in their part of the city shared.

“Mama, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Hijo. Go find your father. He might be somewhere here looking for guns.”

But Berto could not think of anybody else, but Kathleen. From the moment he woke, all he could think about was her, and now that all of this is happening, he could not help but think about her. The planes that had round red circles in them were hovering above them, and flew directly to the heart of Manila. The aircrafts flew in perfect unison, headed to the center of manila, dropping destruction to what was the beginning of a great misfortune for mankind.

He could hear bombs go off, like a demon’s drum beating against us, poor, defenseless, helpless humans. Berto could not move. He could see that the house that they laid in the night before was burning bright, its walls shattered and caved in, as if a sacred ruin from long ago. He felt the urge to turn the corner, just one corner. Please let her house be alright, God, please.

He ran, like a boy possessed, towards her house that he knew so well.

All that was left of his hope, his love, was an empty expanse of space. Walls still intact, doors wide open, but nothing but space inside. He entered their home, and looked around, but he could find nothing. No tables, no chairs, nothing. He looked and looked, unknown to him what he was looking for. He wanted to see if Kathleen left something for him, anything that would keep them together despite this chaos and fear. He scanned every inch, and scratched anything that felt loose, but he found nothing. He ran back to his mother, maybe she needed some help.

They were completely gone.

And for one teenager, who is in-love with another, the pain that comes when a girl leaves without saying goodbye, without anything ever happening, nothing but questions of what could have been, if things were different, if I had only made a move sooner, if I had only woken up sooner, if I had never willed myself to get to know her, and what have you, will always leave a pain so great, it would cause any youth to do something stupid thereafter, no matter what the cause.