by J. E. Park
Nothing was any clearer. “Master Chief, I don’t get where I fit in to all this. Why aren’t they interested in figuring out why those guys were trying to kill me?”
“Trust me, Doyle, they’re going to get to the bottom of this very quickly. They got two of the shooters alive, and they didn’t take them to jail. They took them to an old shack up in the hills and are making them sing as we speak. If I had to guess, we’re going to know everything by tomorrow. As far as these guys here are concerned, though, you’re irrelevant. The crooks shot a cop! The police faction that wants this place to go legit, a faction that includes TJ by the way, has the excuse they need to declare war. They want to dismantle the gangs right here and now. Even the cops on the Barretto payroll are turning on them. My guess is that a lot of these punks are going to die before they can implicate the police that they were paying off.”
Darrow put his hand on my shoulder. “We have two things going for us. First, the fact that these guys were after you complicates the narrative that Tejada was the intended target. That’s why we need to get out of here before the reporters show up. They want this kept on the down-low. Second, these guys know we’re considering going into business with TJ. Some of them are also. That means we’re all on the same side. They don’t want this interfering with that. Understand?”
I nodded, rubbing the knot on the back of my head. “Can you help me up so we can get out of here, then?”
Darrow stood and offered me his hand. He had to steady me when I got to my feet, holding me upright until my light-headedness passed. As I was led out of the alley, I asked, “Does anyone know why these guys were after me?”
Darrow shook his head. “No, that’s the big mystery at the moment. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s personal, not business.”
“Krause?”
Rolling his eyes, my master chief said, “Possibly, but I don’t know. I’d believe it if he sent these guys after me, but not you. You’re not nearly as much of a threat to him as I am.”
A thought occurred to me. “You think it could be related to that fight we got into outside of the Pagoda?”
We were walking out of the alley through the same opening I had entered when Darrow answered. “That’s a possibility, I guess. It could have been a matter of these gang bangers trying to save face. Did any of them look familiar to you?”
I was shaking my head as we emerged onto the street. “Not really, but truth be told, I was pretty drunk that night. I wouldn’t have recognized anybody if they’d…” I froze as I saw the body of the kid I shot lying in the middle of the street. He looked even younger as a corpse. Without taking my eyes off of the boy, I said, “Master Chief, I killed someone.”
Darrow nodded. “You did. Congratulations. You’re in the big leagues now. The cops are impressed, by the way. Those motherfuckers sent five gunmen after you. Two of them are dead, a third is dying, and you’re standing here with a little bump on your head. The guys have already given you a nickname.”
“Yeah? What’re they calling me?”
Darrow grinned. “Duck Holliday, after Wyatt Earp’s trusty sidekick.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” I asked. “Why the hell are they calling me a duck?”
My master chief shrugged. “Because of their accent. They can’t pronounce ‘Doc’ right.”
Once we were out of sight of the police officers, Darrow reached into the small of his back and pulled out an old revolver. He stuck it down the front of my shorts and covered it up with my shirt. “What the fuck is that?!?” I gasped.
“I found it in the alley by a pile of pallets,” Darrow told me. “I picked it up before the cops got there. Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don't know who the hell those people were. If they come back, though, you should have something more effective than your swinging dick to fend them off with. If you do end up needing it, be frugal, though. There’s only two rounds left in it.”
*****
CHAPTER 26
M ari was hysterical when I got home. She threw her arms around my waist and completely broke down. The little girl was babbling so fast that I could not understand a word she said. After everything I had gone through, my mind was spent. I could not even try to decipher Tagalog at that point. All I could do was spend a couple of hours rocking Mari on the couch. After she finally drifted off, I carried her to bed.
When I returned to my apartment, I was pretty cross. I went to the refrigerator, opened up a beer, and then tried to ease my shaking hands with another Marlboro. I broke into a coughing fit when I inhaled the smoke. My lungs were still raw from the hell I had put them through while running amok through Olongapo’s alleys. After I finished hacking, I turned to Tala, who was still sitting on the couch. “What the fuck were you doing tonight? That guy was going to kill us. If Master Chief had not gotten there when he did, you’d be dead. So would I. Your daughter would have been left here all alone.”
Tala hung her head. “I trying to save you, Doyle,” she told me as a tear ran down her cheek.
“Wha-wha-why?”
“Because I…I…” Tala was on the verge of saying something, and I was pretty sure of what it was. At the same time, I was hoping she would change her mind and keep it to herself. She did, probably because she was too afraid that I would not be able to return the sentiment. “I no know, Doyle,” she finally said. “I no t’inking, I worry dat you going to be hurt and I apraid op what dat do to Mari.”
“What do you think you getting killed would have done to her? What do you think would have become of her if that happened?”
Tala sobbed. “She be better off. Doyle, I know you good man. You no let anyt’ing bad happen to Mari ip I die por you. I just a whore. You gonna be somebody. You do da right t’ing.”
I did not know how to respond. Flabbergasted, I asked, “Is that what you were thinking? That if you get yourself killed that I would feel obligated to take care of Mari? Jesus Christ, Tala! I can’t even get my own shit together! What makes you think I can take care of your daughter?”
Standing up with tears now pouring down her face, Tala screamed, “I no t’inking anyt’ing out dere, Doyle! I only t’inking I can’t let anyt’ing happen to you! I want to protect you! Like you protect me and Mari when Danny come here dat day! I want to do por you what you do por us!”
Sighing, I put my cigarette out in the ashtray. I then walked over to Tala and took her hands in mine. “Okay. You can’t do that ever again. We’re even now.”
Tala yanked her hands out of mine and slapped me across the face. “Puck you! I don’t want to be even! You t’ink I do dat out dere because I t’ink I owe you somet’ing? You son-op-a-bitch! I do dat because I care about you! I do dat because…because…oh, porget it! I can’t do dis!”
Tala turned to run out of the apartment. Before she could go anywhere, though, I dropped to my knees, grabbing her around the waist. “Please, Tala. Please. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for what you did, but if you got hurt on my account…Tala…I don’t think that I would be able to live with it. Please don’t leave. Stay with me.”
“Stay wit you?” Tala cried. “Por how long?”
“As long as you want. As long as you can.”
Turning around, Tala looked down at me and took my face in her hands. “I can spend a long time wit you, Doyle. How long you t’ink you able to spend wit Mari and me?”
Suddenly I was not feeling very good about myself. Tala Bono proved that she was willing to give her very life for me that night. In return, I could not even give her an honest answer.
*****
When I left the ship the next day, I did not take a trike home like I usually did. I walked. I had a lot of stuff to work out before I got back to my apartment and spending fifteen minutes in a motorcycle sidecar with a chatty driver was no way to do it.
I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around the events of the previous night. In particular, I struggled with Tala throwing
herself between me and a street assassin. “You no let anyt’ing bad happen to Mari ip I die por you,” she said. It had me wondering if she was trying to sacrifice herself because she thought I would take care of Mari if she died.
Would I have taken care of Mari if Tala had been killed? I meditated on that as I strolled down Gordon Avenue. At least I tried to. Gordon Avenue was a noisy thoroughfare, and it was hard to think listening to the never-ending parade of trikes and jeepneys flying by. Passersby had to almost shout to be heard over the traffic. It was nearly as loud as the alarming hum of electrical cables strung haphazardly above my head. I had never heard them previously as I usually traveled by trike. From the sidewalk that day, though, they made enough noise to break my concentration. Being an electrician in Olongapo must have been scarier than being a police officer.
Would I have taken care of Mari? I pondered that again once I recovered from my distraction. After walking two blocks and risking my life crossing two intersections with no traffic control devices, I decided that I would have.
Could I have taken care of her, though? Absolutely not. I lived on a ship. There was no conceivable avenue open for me to stay behind and provide for an orphan that I was not even related to. Mari did not speak English, and I could just barely get by in Tagalog. No matter what my intentions might have been, had Tala been killed, there was no way that I could have followed through on them. I would have left her behind. She would be forced to face the unforgiving realities of shantytown life all by herself. I shuddered as I thought of her ending up another nameless Pagsanjan pam-pam.
Could I take care of Mari now? I could. I could marry her mother and get them out of this place.
Would I be happy that way? I doubted it. I had no idea why I was even considering it. How could I be in love with Tala when I barely even knew her? We had been together a little over two weeks. As much as I tried to convince myself that I was not judging her for having to rent out her body for money, I knew I would never get over it. I would end up like Randy Green, driven insane with distrust and jealousy if I tried to pretend she never did it, no matter what feelings I eventually developed for her.
Feelings. What feelings do I have for Tala, anyway? Not love. I’ve only known her for a month. I keep telling myself that. I’ve only known her for a month. We’ve only been sleeping together for a couple of weeks. That’s all the time it took for her to decide that I was worth throwing herself between me and an aspiring murderer for.
Would Yukiko have done that? No. Would any other woman in the world? No.
Passing by a sari-sari store, I stopped and bought myself a bottle of San Miguel. I then took a seat on a rickety folding chair on the sidewalk and lit a cigarette. Watching the people go by, I took a drink of beer and admitted to myself that, despite my best efforts, I cared deeply for Tala. And I needed to leave her.
If I gave myself to that woman, I knew that I would destroy us both. At some point, I would develop suspicions about her fidelity, and the more I fell for her, the more it would kill me if she ever betrayed me. I was terrified that it could send me into one of my rages, like the one I fell into when I beat Randy Green. Or the one that made me bludgeon the Hockey Mullet Frat Guy for what he did to us in Mexico. I would not want to hurt her, but I was terrified that I would not be able to control myself.
But what about Mari? What about her? I loved her to death, but she was not my responsibility. You could help her. I could. And I would. Just not by marrying her mother. I could send them money to help Mari get what she needed to grow up without following her mother’s fate.
You could accept Darrow’s offer and see to it she’s taken care of yourself. You could also spend more time with Tala, get to know her better. You’d be able to make a better decision.
Going into business with my master chief...
When that thought popped into my head, my instincts tried to suppress it. After what happened the night before, there were warning flags all over that offer.
I finished my cigarette and slammed the rest of my beer. After giving the bottle back to the woman running the shop, I started walking again. I was likely dealing with a pretty bad concussion after I got hit the night before. Something that Darrow said to me did not resonate then, but it was starting to now.
“Congratulations. You’re in the big leagues now.”
What did he mean by that? It seemed like he was welcoming me into the club. I had killed somebody, a kid nonetheless, and my master chief was treating it as if I had completed some rite of passage. Not a single officer came to question me about what had happened. In fact, they seemed to be working to erase my involvement in the incident entirely. It took either fear or money to pull off something like that. I was confident that neither TJ nor Darrow had that kind of cash. That meant they were feared. The police officers were doing what they did because they thought I was one of them.
I was almost home. Approaching the bridge where Gordon Avenue ended and E 20th Street began, I stopped to look at the drainage canal it spanned one last time. It was not a scenic view. Dozens of those humming cables spanned the little river, intersecting the sight of filthy gray water. It smelled worse than Shit River. The banks were steep and lined with stone, strewn over with trash, fallen branches, and the occasional rotting fish. At the bend, where it curved out of sight toward Subic Bay, were a half dozen women washing clothes in the stream. I wondered how dirty someone’s laundry had to be before dunking them in water that nasty would be considered an improvement.
Watching those women do their laundry, I began to appreciate how powerless some people were. Especially in a place like Olongapo. I lived less than three blocks from that bridge and rode by it every day. I never even realized that people lived down the river because there was no road leading that way. The buildings were built right to the banks. Just to get home, the people who lived there had to balance along what would have been a curb in the United States, not a sidewalk. And all those humming wires? Not a single one of them led to any of the hovels built around the bend. I doubted any running water or sewage pipes did either.
The people that lived there were, for all practical purposes, invisible. As long as I could physically overpower them, be it through brute strength, numbers, or with a firearm, I knew I could do anything I wanted to them. I would get away with it. Robbery, rape, or murder, it was unlikely that my crime would even be reported. Why bother if it was not going to be investigated anyway? That was the kind of place Tala grew up in. They were all prey.
And who were the predators? The thugs that tried to kill me the night before were some, for sure. So were the pimps that owned the Magsaysay bordellos. So were the blue shirt security guards who could blow the peasants away for stealing bread in a moment of desperation. There were also their employers, who could work them from sunrise to sunset without paying them enough to feed their families. They could even take liberties with the women in exchange for keeping a job open for them.
Tala told me all about the injustices facing people that were that destitute. It was what motivated her to do what she could to keep Mari from ever ending up there. There was a system in place that worked hard to keep them down. It was one that forced a mother to sacrifice herself so that her daughter stood a fighting chance, and even then, success was by no means assured.
As I stood there, a police vehicle sped past me. The cops never stopped to look at the people washing clothes at the river’s bend, either. I spent a lot of time with Sergeant Tejada. He did it when he had to, but I did not see him as a man who got his jollies off by terrorizing the slums for fun. Still, he, the people he worked with, the men I would be going into business with if I accepted Darrow’s offer, were charged with maintaining the status quo. They upheld the system working to keep people like Tala and Mari vulnerable. So, in a way, they were the predators as well. Though I did not want to live among the lambs in Olongapo, I did not relish the idea of running with the wolves either.
When I started walking again, I kept goin
g when I reached my apartment. I retraced my steps from the night before and eventually found myself standing at the spot where I had killed that boy. The blood was still visible in the street. I did not regret what I had done. I had been in a situation where it was them or me. I knew that I never wanted to be in a position where I had to do something like that ever again, though.
But why did I have to do it in the first place?
That was driving me crazy. Five people tried to kill me sixteen hours before, and I had no idea why. Was it a case of mistaken identity? Did Tala’s ex have something to do with it? Or did his buddy Mulvaney put them up to it for kicking his ass in front of the Pagoda? Hell, somebody almost stabbed me then. That brawl was just two weeks ago, but it seemed like a distant memory. The realization that I was nearly killed twice in one month began sinking in.
I thought about all the violence in my life. I thought about my family, the high school fights, the bar brawls in San Diego, the girl in El Salvador, and the errant sailors in the Nixie Room. I remembered Randy Green, Hulagu in Mexico, David Miller in Japan, and the Marines in Olongapo. I felt as if I was perpetuating a vicious cycle that I could not break free of. Hannah Baxter, my estranged fiancée, had it right. I had to stop it or stuff like this would keep coming back to haunt me. One day, I would end up doing something that I could not take back. Like shooting a young boy dead in the middle of a Philippine street.