The Last Bastion of Ingei: Day 1

by Aammton Alias

  I am alive, as the stinging wakes me up, stops the shivering. I run the knife again, even more gently, creating the most perfect -almost surgical- striations across my thigh, each thin slice calming me and reminding me that I am lucky to be alive, lucky to feel pain again, whilst my former captain, my 'savior' brandished and out-casted as the ‘unlucky captain’.

  No one believes our version of events, the tragedy that had beset my former unit. The First Recon Unit.

  I wipe the stain of fresh blood from my dagger, and then wipe the excess blood off my thigh.

  Here comes the good part.

  I grab a bottle of antiseptic alcohol swipe and splash it on the wound, singeing me to new heights of pain, gasping and clenching my teeth ever so tightly. I don’t deserve to live and yet here I am.

  I turn towards the table and pick up my silver talisman on the bedside table. I will need this for tomorrow’s mission.

  1st December

  Adib: Rain

  Location: The University

  Rain, it was once a rainforest, now it is just rain and no forest

  Aammton Alias

  It has been raining all day. Dark, grey & black fusion, with not a single strand of white or silver in these angry clouds, large raindrops stream down in lines, claiming all beneath them. All the terracotta rooftops in a row of cream-white university houses and buildings, all the staff and student cars, and even the silent switched-off lampposts have a ghostly white halo shadow of raindrops splashing.

  A white car with its headlights beaming through this curtain mesh of rain, snakes its way round the wet black asphalt bend of the university campus. Slowly it pulls up outside the entrance of the university main hall, and the driver door flings violently open. Out steps a young man named Adib with a red backpack and no umbrella.

  ***

  “Oh man, umbrellas are usually a waste of money! Of all days, today is the day, I need a damn umbrella!”

  I slam shut the car door fast but not before a splash of rain manages to soak wet the car seat. Dashing across the car park, the rain neither spares nor forgives me, each step I take seems to bring more rainwater, splashing from above, splashing from the sides, splashing from the rainwater on the asphalt floor.

  “My precious… bag”

  I cradled my much cherished bag between my arms for added shelter. The ferocity of the rain stinging across my face, makes me wonder if I will ever make to the university main hall. By the time, I reach the main hall, I look back in astonishment and grateful for making it across the sheet of water that is the car park. The cold seeps into my skin and bones, and like a wet feral cat, I shake off the water from my hair - how I envy dogs and cats for being to able to do this more vigorously.

  I look at my backpack, thankful for choosing it for its special hydrophobic coating, so that it does not soak up any water. There are many small and large water drops on the bag, like the seeds of a large giant strawberry, which neatly slide off the red bag with a little nudge.

  How did I end up with such a red bag?

  My thoughts are interrupted and I turn around, something is watching me.

  I am only all too familiar with this feeling, the ‘Presence’. I recall the time I was first aware of it, when I was a child. Recently, it has become more frequent, especially this month - much than before. Instinctively, I look out towards the smaller building next to the main hall. The rain fuzzes everything.

  Did I just see a large shadow there?

  I squint and move my head side to side - a little trick I learned on how to improve vision in poor light conditions - but there is nothing there, and yet I can feel there is something out there, waiting, watching.

  I challenge it, “I am Adib, a 25-year old man and I am not afraid of anything - not even you, Oh, hidden one!”. Goosebumps rapidly cover my limbs.

  “Probably just the cold rain,” I say to myself. “No need to ‘challenge’ it this time” I wonder if my ‘Kedayan’ ancestral roots have had any effect on this supernatural presence.

  Ignoring the feeling, I walk across the brown tiled floor, careful to ensure I don’t slip on the now wet-floor, and head into a ground floor work office - my office. I grabbing a remote control from the wall to switch off the air-conditioner – it is blood freezing.

  The sound of the torrential rain drumming onto the roof, windows and through the gutters of the building brings up a memory of a lecture I was in with a biology professor who mocked the local people for being so heat sensitive and air-conditioning dependent, unlike our ancestors who had grown very accustomed to the heat and high humidity of this tropical country.

  There is an ‘Ikea’-copycat brand wooden table in the middle of the room, surrounded by wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with reference books and void of any fiction books. There is a small mirror on the wall in between the bookshelves. Placing the bag on the table, I remove its precious hold, a silver laptop, with a logo of a white apple on it. The white apple begins to glow, as I switch it on.

  As the laptop loads up to my last work ‘page’, I walks across to the mirror on the wall and stares at the mirror - I am dripping wet; I look like I just took a shower five times over. The stubble on my face remind me that my last shave has been a few days ago, and the darkness under my eyes tell me I really should try to stop my life of staying-up-late nights.

  How do I get myself to sleep early like all the other normal people?

  I am trying to complete his PhD thesis on protecting the ‘Sungai Ingei Forest’, a wildlife sanctuary as well as my ‘hobby’: environmental conservation activism.

  ***

  Outside in the torrid rain, lurking by the smaller building, and silent as a shadow, stood The Presence. Invisible to everyone – he was a dark powerful being, unnatural to this world, more than two storeys tall, cloaked by darkness beyond shadows, watching Adib intently. The Presence is disturbed by another dark but lesser being, slightly smaller and subservient to him.

  “Have you come to end his life today?” asked the newcomer.

  “Not today, but his time is coming soon.”

  “When is that time? Must you observe him from now till then?” the curious underling beckons.

  “We must all follow our orders,” the Presence answers, irritated by the imposed delay.

  “If only he knew, then he probably wouldn’t be so busy with all of this,” The underling ponders.

  Suddenly, the two beings sense a signal in their wraith-like dimension – they have been summoned to a higher ‘kill’ mission.

  With that, they both disappear immediately from nothing into nothing.

  Not a single person or creature notices them, not even the frogs celebrating in croaks in the rain.

  1st December

  Selym: MATA

  Location: Ingei River, Deep Inside the Jungle of Belait

  Centuries surround me with fire

  Osip Mandelstam

  Selym is not from this world.

  The truth is much further and deeper than that. Selym has been here since the dawn of Man’s arrival to Earth. Standing over forty feet tall, cloaked in complete darkness on such a hot and yet cloudy humid day in a real tropical rainforest, almost as tall as the trees. If a man or any jungle creature could see him, he would be a true Lord of Darkness in their eyes. The jungle is quiet, its creature inhabitants sensing great danger but unable to see where is the danger. The man who was fishing at this isolated and remote bend hangs in mid-air, 10 feet above his wooden outboard boat.

  Selym removes his hand from the chest of the poacher he had just killed, a lifeless body drops back into the boat, crushing the Styrofoam boxes below.

  ***

  ‘What a pathetic human, stealing our fish with no shame - not even planning to eat it, just keeping it for his petty amusement’

  “I feel really good taking this human life who does not deserve to live. He is nothing but vermin.”

  Azilah moves towards me from the river bank. I cannot see her beauty in this world, a
lthough she is like me a mere fragment of darkness, I feel something warm about her. She is just so new to this. I should try my best not to frighten her too much. The key is rate of learning.

  I look at her eyes or where her eyes are supposed in the shroud of darkness that covers her entire body.

  “Your first time to see something like this”

  Azilah nods and says nothing.

  “Don’t worry, the first time we kill a human - all those questions come flying in, and you have doubts but you must remember your training. You must remember who we are, you must remember it is they who take from us, and they who started it all in the beginning’

  Although, I cannot see her tears, I can feel it. I can feel a soft ache in my heart that should not be there, which must be for her and not for these destructive humans.

  I look and I wonder why does Azilah make me doubt myself. I clench my fist and convince myself I have great resolve; I have a great mission. Azilah will become my greatest apprentice, she will be the most incredible destroyers of humans.

  I breathe in confidence, straighten my back and turn to Azilah, who is awfully quiet, “Let’s get back to our home world Hilaga, back to our people”

  The dead fisherman’s boat starts to flow down the brown tea river.

  In an instant, both Azilah and I race across the jungle, still invisible and unseen. Our rendezvous, an ancient well the humans call the Seven Princesses Well. Unknown to them, there is a portal that bridges between their world, Bumi and our home world Hilaga. We call this portal ‘MATA’, a swirl of pitch black darkness, a few feet off the ground. I cringe at the thought of going through ‘Mata’ but I have no choice.

  We both step into the void inside it. I have been through this so many times but it does not get any easier as I feel the horrible coldness envelope my body, squeezing me, I am too afraid to move and I am too afraid to breathe. My body, the giant figure of darkness transforms back into a more human form. My real form in my home world.

  I have frequently asked myself why do we look like the humans when we are in our world. I used to ask myself why is it our achievements mirror to that of man, we build cities just like them, our people have jobs and have a society of structure, except in times of war. And like Man, we too have wars. The last war destroyed so much progress, but our current leaders have worked together to bring peace and more importantly change.

  “I am a part of that change, I am an agent of change, I am saving my people from them, the scourge of Man”, I remind myself over and over again before almost passing out as I exit the portal and land on the hard black and red marble floor of the Mata portal room.

  “What a relief to be back” I take a deep breath, my cold nostrils become warmer and the light sweet scent of incense invigorates my stiff and hurt body.

  I turn round and see Azilah, now in humanoid form, lying next to me, her beautiful royal blue suit does match her blue eyes. She stares at me; her light brown hair covers the floor like dreams being connected to something else much bigger than us. I could get lost in this moment for the rest of eternity. I remind myself I have a bigger purpose in life.

  ‘I have chosen to be her mentor, and I should not abuse that’

  After picking myself up from the floor, I put out my hand and help her up. Her hands are cold; her eyes refuse to meet with mine. I wonder why.

  “No matter how many times we go through the portal, it never gets easier,” I laugh, a feeble attempt to break the ice.

  “Forgive me, Master Selym - it is a quite a shock for me. Everything” Azilah still avoiding my eyes.

  I put my hand on her shoulder and notice how small and smooth her shoulders are, “I apologize for not making it much easier for you - I got this bad habit of just throwing everyone into the deep end and expect them to learn how to swim immediately.”

  “Or drown” Azilah laughs uncomfortably, her eyes momentarily look at mine - did I see tears? Did she cry for that puny human? - and then glances away on to the black and red marble floor.

  I brush off the dust from my shiny one-piece black suit and look at the digital clock on the wall - it’s 1900hrs.

  “Time to get to that City Hall council meeting” I feel uplifted, knowing today, a decision will be made, which will help my people move in the right direction, against Man.

  A MATA supervisor approaches me, taking smaller steps as he nears ‘Welcome back to Hilaga city, Master Selym’ and gracefully bows down whilst his eyes look up at me. I nod and wave my hand gracefully in the air, “Thank you Hermie, it’s good to be back in Hilaga.”

  Hermie straightens himself up “I trust your mission was successful”

  I do not answer him - he does not need to know - but I can’t help myself from a quick smile, which betray my sense of duty to keep secrets from those who are below my rank.

  We walk across a brightly white lighted huge atrium hall and towards a windowless and button-less lift, stepping into it - both Azilah and I are brought across to the centre of the city to the Hilaga City Hall - at such speeds we did not see the city but just a blur of lights streaking all around us. A miracle in itself, our great achievements of rebuilding took part so quickly, a blink in the eye of history.

  How quickly we managed to rebuild ourselves after the last war. When we are united, we can achieve so much

  Hilaga is the greatest and we will sustain our development by putting a stop to Man.

  1st December

  Adib: Deal

  Location: The University

  “Water falls downwards - it’s all gravity,” I remind myself.

  I take out my favourite comb from his back pocket, and starts combing his dark black hair in the same mannerism as the ‘The Fonz’ - a character played by Henry Winkler - which gives me a cool satisfaction, each stroke of the comb extracting water. I sculpture a new tall hair pyramid, grins as I admires my new gravity-defying hairstyle.

  “Who needs hair gel when you have a lot of rain?”

  As I ponder upon my eventual hairstyle, I take off blue t-shirt, hoping it would miraculously dry up on the chair next to me as the wet footprints all over the wall to wall carpeting. Sitting down bare-chested in front of my silver MacBook, looking intently at the screen, my eyes reflect the glow from the screen-light.

  ‘Facebook’ is everything in Southeast Asia, especially in this country, boasting the highest social media penetration in Asia. I’ve been doing well searching for Facebook message posts from poachers trying to sell endangered or restricted wildlife.

  There used to be only one Facebook (messaging) group but now everyone seems to have their own Facebook groups.

  On the display screen, to the unfamiliar, there is a photo of a strange-looking creature: small pin-sized head, black eyes, four-legged with claws like that of a mole, and even stranger are these brown armoured scales, and a conical snout to top its weirdness. You could have mistaken it for an anteater. Actually, it eat ants, the correct name would be pangolin.

  Pangolins seem to be popular around this time.

  This time the poacher is a girl, strange. No, it is not. She is selling it on behalf of her father, who caught the poor pangolin. $500 or more, and this beautiful ‘Sunda Pangolin’ will have an owner.

  I have got no deception, and no trickery up my sleeves. I send a message to the girl Fifie, being completely open and honest, telling her that I am part of a local environmental group, convincing her not to sell the pangolin, but instead release it back into the wild.

  “You know the Pangolin you have is very rare and so few are left. Please Google ‘Sunda Pangolin’. “

  “The people who buy the pangolin are likely to cook it because they think it has medicinal properties.” I continue typing away, and then share a disturbing photo of a dead pangolin in a cooking pot - scales half gone, flesh white underneath all, dark small black eyes are just dead white.

  Fifie does not reply quickly, but I know she is looking at the photo, as the message board says she is still ‘typing’.


  “I will talk to my dad and see what he says.”

  “Thank you Fifie, here’s my phone number. If you can convince your father that it is the right thing to do, we can meet up later and release the animal today. I am worried if it is kept any longer in captivity, it may die!”

  “Ok, Adib.”

  Let’s try to close the deal.

  “I can give your father and yourself our group’s T-shirts as a small token of our appreciation for your heroic act.”

  An hour later, my mobile phone beeps its usual 3-tone tune - I really should change the ring-tone, but who’s got time.

  It is a message from Fifie. Her father agrees to let go of the pangolin, and she would bring it to the meeting place where they can release the pangolin back into the jungle, safe from poachers.