Sombi
Page 1
Sombi
ni Jonas Sunico
Karapatang-ari © 2015
ni Jonas Sunico at ng Anvil Publishing, Inc.
Reserbado ang lahat ng karapatan kasama na ang karapatan sa reproduksiyon at paggamit sa anumang anyo at paraan maliban kung may nakasulat na pahintulot mula sa may hawak ng karapatang-ari.
Inilathala at ipinamamahagi ng
ANVIL PUBLISHING, INC.
7th Floor Quad Alpha Centrum
125 Pioneer Street, Mandaluyong City
1550 Philippines
Trunk lines: (+632) 477-4752, 477-4755 to 57
Sales and Marketing: marketing@anvilpublishing.com
Fax No.: (+632) 747-1622
www.anvilpublishing.com
Disenyo ng aklat, kasama na ang larawang ng Quiapo Church sa pabalat: Ramón C Sunico
ISBN 9789712732584 (e-book)
Version 1.0.1
Dedication
I’m not a social person; I keep to myself most of the time. I’m not an introvert; I just prefer to choose the people I acquaint myself with. I did not have hundreds or thousands behind me while writing this book; I had a solid handful.
I had a family that molded me into what I am today, a family I aspire to make proud. Most importantly, I had family that gives me the strength to become better than what I am.
I had college friends who kept me sane and happy during boring school days, college friends who bombarded me with criticism (thanks a lot guys) to make me better (or just to mess with me). Most importantly, I had college friends that treated me not as a classmate, but as a brother.
Lastly, I had an inspiration. The text limit on this dedication is not enough to say what I have say, but you know what you are to me.
This book isn’t for fame, glory or riches. This book is for all of you.
About the Author
Jonas Sunico is a fresh graduate of Journalism from the University of the East. He hates the process of writing but loves the feeling of accomplishment when he writes the last word of his story or article. Most of his time is spent either on the bed, sleeping or in front of a screen, playing video games. He is a fan of stories with a post-apocalyptic scenario because he believes that during these times, humans become true to themselves. As a writer, he has a hard time developing characters so the majority of the characters found in his write-ups are based on or inspired by people he knows in real life.
PROLOGUE
Ang boses ni Mic Enriquez ay nanginginig at nawala ang kanyang trademark na tono habang inuulat ang isang balitang yayanig ’di lang sa Pilipinas ngunit sa buong mundo.
“Mga kaibigan, ang Alpha Phi Tsui Phi o mas kilala bilang Phi-virus ay isang virus na biglaan at kasalukuyang kumakalat sa bawat sulok ng mundo. Walang dalubhasang nakakaalam kung saan ito nagmula at wala ring nakakaalam kung ano ba ang lunas dito.
“Ang alam lang natin sa ngayon, e nagdudulot ito ng rage-like state sa mga tao. Ang mga taong infected ay nawawala sa tamang pag-iisip. Delikado po ang mga taong infected sapagkat mahahawaan nila kayo gamit ang pagsalin ng dugo o laway nila sa inyo. Sila ay umaatake at pumapaslang na parang mga animal.
“Ang ulat na ito ay hindi isang ulat lamang; isa itong babala. ’Wag kayong lalabas ng bahay. Isara lahat ng bintana at pinto. Tumawag na kayo sa inyong mga kamag-anak dahil maaaring ’di niyo na sila makausap pang muli. Mga kaibigan, ang ating mundo at ang ating buhay mismo ay maaaring magwawakas na. *ubo* *ubo*”
Sa una at huling pagkakataon, hindi nag-“excuse me po!” ang imbestigador ng bayan pagkatapos niyang umubo. Sa dulo ng kanyang huling ubo, nakita ng madla ang bangungot na nakaabang sa kanila.
Sa kanang bahagi ng frame ng camera sumulpot ang isang naglalaway at nauulol na si Kia Guanio. Sa kaliwa naman sumulpot ang natatanging partner ni Mic, si Zelle Tiangco, na naglalaway at nauulol na rin. Walang awa nilang nilapa ang imbestigador ng bayan at punong-puno na ng dugo ang lente ng camera. Lahat ng telebisyong nakatutok sa 24 Hours ay nagkulay dugo.
Kumakalat na ang Phi-virus.
Nagkakagulo na lahat.
Natataranta na lahat.
…Diyos ko, guguho na ang mundo.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
1
NAIA is said to be one of the world’s worst airports. But the plane’s crew members were nice; some were pretty and some were downright ugly. The food… well, the food sucked, to be frank. The facilities in the plane itself were also good, aside from the fact that there was no toilet paper when I took a dump. Overall I didn’t think it was the worst… until we landed.
It’s been like… 10 days. 10 days since I became stuck in this god-forsaken airplane bathroom eating nothing but cans and cans of “Cow Ulam” of different flavors and drinking nothing but this “Xtra Diyos” mixed in CLEAN toilet water. Well… I wasn’t wow’ed by the food and beverage but being stranded in a zombie apocalypse doesn’t really give you a buffet of food to eat.
For entertainment, the only thing I’ve got are these couple of books, Libro ng Wika at Gramatikang Filipino and Diksyunaryo. These were all that I had with me when IT happened. During this 10-day bonding time with these books I learned—Shit!—I learned nothing.
Let me first introduce myself: my name is Joe delos Reyes, a Fil-Am from New York. My father is a Filipino; he met my mom in the States. They got divorced a while back and my dad won the custody battle recently. He planned on taking me back to the Philippines. “Our home” as my father said.
My father and I really weren’t that close. He didn’t teach me anything about “our home” or the Philippine language for that matter. But he DID teach me something. Years ago he saw a friend, a Filipino too, and they greeted each other with these exact words:
Dad: “Hoy Alvin! P*tang*na mo, ang gwapo mo na!”
Alvin:“P*tang*na mo rin, pre, mas gwapo ka, haha.”
The moment they finished talking I asked what they greeted each other with. He responded with “Oh, I just said to him that I missed him and that he became handsome.” That was my first knowledge of the Philippine language: “P*tang*na mo,” a Philippine greeting saying you’ve missed someone.
As we landed in Manila, shit got bad fast. The captain came out of the cockpit all pale and bloodied. We thought he had just gotten a horrible case of air sickness, but no. Hell no.
He charged at the nearest person next to him. I think she was a celebrity because people were whispering “Siya si Janet Napoleon, di ba? Yung sa Baboy Barrel.” Baboy Barrel must’ve been a blockbuster here since almost everyone says it. Well, the pilot mauled and ate her and then proceeded to eat another. It was chaotic: the doors weren’t opening and people were panicking.
The people bitten earlier suddenly rose and started feasting on still others just like how I feasted on “Cow Ulam” for days. Dad understood what was going on and so did I. It was what we had been witness
ing in video games, movies and television: a zombie apocalypse.
He grabbed me and threw me inside the plane’s bathroom and said “Stay there!” before shoving a box of canned goods and a bag of powdered energy drink at me, which he got from the plane’s pantry. Somehow I knew that that was the last I would ever see of him. But I wish it wasn’t. I never liked my father but I would choose him over being alone, especially in times like this. I hope he lives.
Outside I heard people screaming “P*tang*na! Takbo!” How could they greet each other so much amidst this chaos? Filipinos are so unpredictable.
The screaming didn’t die down for hours. After that, all I heard were moans from the undead.
It’s time I moved out of this bathroom. It will be either death from starvation or death from zombie bites. I sure as hell won’t die from starvation. Starvation would have to take my life over my dead body or whatever.
Let me clear up something first. I’m not one you could call “fit”. I’m 5’5” short. I’m somewhat chubby, probably 140 pounds. Physically, I look like a Smurf but my face is damn irresistible. Brown eyes, thick clean eyebrows, surprisingly well-groomed hair. I am one to look at but I am not one to be with especially during times of moving and doing things. In short, I’m lazy. I’d rather lay back and let the zombies eat my fat, waiting for them to slim me down rather than fight them. Zombies are the last thing I want to deal with the moment I step outside.
I open the door and there are no zombies in sight... Dad isn’t here too.
Dad… I wonder what happened to you. I never really cared about you. I’m sure you don’t care about me too. #daddyissues. The last, best memory I have of him is when he was persuading me to learn Filipino. He would talk to me in Filipino all day and he would say things like “Bibili kita ng mga laruan. Gusto mo? Oo o hinde?” or “Gusto mo ng isang libong dolyar?” God knows what opportunities I have missed. He said that learning Filipino would be “fun”.
Wrong.
It’s not that I find it difficult to learn, it’s because it’s, well, baduy, as dad would’ve said.
Anyway, I smell bad and need a change of clothes. And there it was, a pink t-shirt with the words “TV&J” printed on its back. In front was a picture of three middle-aged men, one of whom looked like a potential politician. I saw a black hoodie too. The temperature here in the Philippines is hotter than back home but I like being covered in clothing and I especially like jackets. They make me feel like I’m being hugged.
I love hugs.
After changing, I grabbed whatever supplies I could including the two books. I made a weapon out of a 2x2-inch piece of wood I had inside the comfort room and some clothing material. I wrapped one end of the wood with a cloth to make sure it wouldn’t slip. Genius.
I went to see if there were any zombies in sight; there weren’t any. I looked on and saw that chaos did ensue in the Philippines. A land I was very unfamiliar with.
I would’ve welcomed a zombie apocalypse on any occasion. But not this time. Not when in a land where the only thing I know how to say in the native language is a greeting about missing someone.
Not in a land where I’m alone.
“P*tangina my mom.”
“P*tangina my friends.”
“P*tangina my dad.”
And here I stand at the entrance of an airplane, facing a world I’ve yet to explore with a language I’ve yet to understand.
*Bang!* *Bang!*
From out of nowhere came, “Sombi! Sombi o! Dali tirahin niyo.”
“Sombi? The hell is that?” For a second I thought they were talking about zombies. They were. Zombies were near me or running in my direction.
*Bang!* *Bang!*
I feel the bullets zing by me. I hear the airplane windows shatter and I also hear bullets bouncing through metal. They must think I’M a “sombi” or whatever it is they call zombies here in this country.
Blood starts to drip from my right arm: I was grazed by a shot. I recall one of the words I saw in the dictionary: “masaket” I think it was. It means “painful”. The shots continue once again. This time I know I have to run away from this plane. I’m a sitting duck here.
All I can think of is “Shit,masakit.”
2
Masakit.
I guess that’s my word of the day. Those shooters finally stopped chasing me. They knew I was human (I think), but still, for a while there, they continued pursuit. All I could remember was the running, the running, (some shooting), then bleeding, bleeding and some more bleeding and even more running. I wish that there was some fighting involved. I hate those people. I’ll get them back, I swear.
They stopped chasing the moment I stepped out of NAIA. Maybe this was their territory and I was just an animal trespassing. I can’t blame them for their claiming their territories this soon. If I were strong enough, I’d take over a bank.
I mean the vault there would be a great place to starve to death.
They wore clothes as if they were straight-A gangsta’s from the 90s. Shorts so low you could see the skid marks on their underwear (apparently they shat themselves upon becoming part of this apocalypse), shirts so big they looked like clothes hangers and shoes so fake the trademark swoosh of Nikey went the other way around.
But another distinguishing factor was the way they spoke…
“Eyyowwww Phowszssz jEjejeje”
“Khuyah waq kah mathakotszs jEjejeje”
“amBiliszs namun netoww tumhakbhow bwiszit”
“Ma3tripan nih Bosxhz Maldhitah to!”
They spoke in a language that sounded like Filipino but… different. They put emphasis on theW’s, the Z’s and the H’s. Maybe it was a native dialect? Whatever it was, it was harder to understand than Filipino. And that last thing they said “Bosxhz Maldhitah,” that sounded like a person’s name.
Enough about those “jeje’s” (I named them this because of the way they laugh). My arm’s bleeding heavily and everything’s starting to get blurry. I need medical attention. Now.
I was so concentrated on my wound that I forgot the impending sombi threat. I was making takbo, takbo and takbo (another word I learned, it means “run”) not thinking of the noise I was making.
After getting out of NAIA I continued walking. But I had to lay low. There were zombies everywhere. Their faces were not in the state of decay. They should have been though, considering the fact that the outbreak started 10 days ago. These Filipino zombies sure are thin and short. Their physique might be a disadvantage to me. Who knows how fast they can run? I wouldn’t bother knowing anyway.
I managed to sneak my way to a place called EDSA. Dad told me about this place. It was a highway… At least it used to be. He told me how this highway was veeeeeeeery long and how it was the bane of commuters, drivers and walkers alike. Now, it’s just a street piled up with cars, mostly buses. From afar I can see a big globe and behind that globe is a mall and behind that mall I can see a Ferris wheel. I’m familiar with this place. That’s MOA. My mom used to tell me how much she loved riding this huge Ferris wheel called the MOA Eye whenever she made business trips to the Philippines. It’s sad that she isn’t here with me. But maybe it’s better that she’s not. I would’ve loved to ride this with her. (I’d also appreciate the help she could give me now.)
I looked at the dictionary and tried to find the Filipino translation of help. Tulong. I need tulong. Upon closing the book, another page caught my eye. It was a list of sayings in the Filipino language. There was this one particular saying that grabbed my attention, mainly because it was at the top of the page. It said,
“Ang di marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan,
hindi makararating sa paroroonan.”
It roughly translates to “Those who don’t look back to where they once were will not be able to reach their destination.” The short saying made me grin a little and at that moment I thought of looking back. Looking back at the airport. Looking back at the last place where my father and I talked. Looking at wher
e this “adventure” began. And I did look back, but I didn’t see the airport, the wreckage and the trail of blood I made in the pavement. There were zombies only a few meters away from me. There were at least 30 of those freaks.
They were angry and hungry, but mostly hungry. I must’ve really made a lot of noise earlier. In this condition, I’ll be zombie chow in no time. In fact, I’m sure that I’ll be zombie chow for them even if I were in top shape.
Once again, I say shit.
And once again, I run.
The piled up cars make it harder to run but I guess the zombies are having a hard time too. This time I’ll make the running worth it. As I run, I scan the area for possible hideouts but all I see are zombies coming at me from left and right—and vehicles... These zombies aren’t the walking type zombies you could power-walk your way out of. These zombies are the “runny, athletic and never-tiring type. Like the ones from Dawn of the Dead. For Christ’s sakes I just saw a 300-pound zombie running at the same pace as I was.
Is this it?
Is my adventure about to end?
Hell no. This place is filled with buses! Tall buses. There are zombies inside but I’m guessing they’re trapped there. I don’t need to get inside the buses; I can just simply hide underneath them. The moment I got in between the buses, I took my chances and dived under the buses to hide. Once I did, all I had to do was wait.
The zombies keep coming and coming but none of them look under the buses. Thank God for J-Liner and their buses.
“I will always make lingon sa aking pinanggalingan so that I can make rating sa aking paroroonan.” Hahaha, Filipino is not that hard after all. I can be fluent in this in a couple of weeks. My adventure will not end that easily.
Wait… What’s my goal anyway?
I’ve got no one to protect. I have no intention of curing the world of this virus. Heck, the only thing I’ve got going is studying Filipino and surviving.
It’ll have to do.
Read. Learn. Survive.
It’s not the deepest of goals but it’s better than none. Anyway, all this goal-thinking made time fly more quickly. Before I knew it an hour had passed.