The B-Dog was rather tired to make its round today, a hot, humid Wednesday. Peter could not believe what’s happening as he pulled his bulldozer, the B-Dog, to the side and hear its 2-decade machine went from bad to worse. He went somewhat reluctantly down the stairs of his truck which had undergone repair and overhauling last week. Peter, Mang Pilo to his close friends, relatives, and local scavengers, is a bulldozer driver in Breakridge, one of four dumpsites in the city of
After what seemed eternity, he finally felt the all familiar dampness of the soil, fecal matter, garbage or whatever was underneath his sole. He proceeded to the back of his earthmover to check its engine. Sweat ran down his befreckled face under the scorching sun that was reported today might reach heat-wave proportions. But Mang Pilo’s steady and hobbling gait is an art he had mastered over the years especially in the unstableness of his workplace, he easily made it to the back. Smoke was billowing from the engine and a sharp hissing sound was audible. In earlier days, this would have been nothing and would be easily taken care of by the old guy. But that was centuries and firm muscles ago; he decided to head back to the office and let the younger mechanics handle B-Dog. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed something was stuck in one of his truck’s front-mounted blades. It was not unusual to find the weirdest things in a heap of garbage but it was glowing extraordinarily so he decided to check it anyway. The glow came from a new gold ring that must have cost a fortune. This would definitely be a great reward for Peter for his hard work and perseverance that is unequalled. This made him daydream a little and a smile showed on his face, a smile that quickly transformed into shock and dreadfulness. The ring was still attached to a severed hand.
Angel was awakened by the ringing phone. Who would call in the holiest of all hour? It’s 3 in the morning! It must be the devil, in mockery of Jesus’
“Let it ring baby.” Rolly continued pressing delicately her behind
“It’s just a sec honey. Could be my mom, you know. Oh, God! I hate these time zones!”
“Yes!?” Angel with an angelic voice
“What? Are you serious? Where? When?” The angelic voice became satanic in an instant.
“I’ll be there. Thank you!” She concluded
“What’s the matter, baby?” A concerned look on Rolly’s face.
“Raymond’s dead! They found his dismembered body parts in a dumpsite up central state!” the usually composed Angel wailed.
The Mcmillan family owns Pinoy Air, named after PAL, the first commercial airline in
Rizniel was pacing up and down the stairs leading to the penthouse of Le Grimaldi. He received the news of Raymond’s body, or body parts to be exact, through his secretary who nonchalantly greeted him with a chopped up body newsflash. Riz was certain that something went wrong during the body identification and that the crime scene investigator was drunk. Shit happens. Especially when you’re working in a dumpsite, he tried to console himself. Denial is a good buddy for now. He was about to go into oblivion when his cellphone rang. It was Sean.
“Rizniel here, Good morning”
“How are you Riz? I’m just out of words to say right now. How could someone do something as grisly as this to Raymond?”
“I don’t know Sean, I just don’t know. He never told me anything about a serious problem that merits this! We should take the responsibility to get to the bottom of this.” A resolute voice echoed in the halls.
“You’re his bestfriend, and we are partners for life but don’t you think we should leave this to the proper authorities?”
“And deal with this goddamn bureaucracy? We don’t even know there’s a conspiracy shit going on! You know those feds and csi’s!” Riz couldn’t contain his anger
“Hey! Calm down! I’m on your side. We are on Ray’s side. What I’m trying to say is we should make decisions and take actions only after we are settled. There are a lot of things to be taken care of. We shouldn’t be hasty. Besides, if your silly theory of the feds’ conspiracy shit is true, they would have busted your door right after you mentioned them.” Sean said at his best diplomatic mode.
“OK. You’re right, How do you that?” Rizniel was calmer now.
“Do what?”
“That! Being so calm and composed and think clearly even with all this pressure.”
“Ha! let’s meet at the Café in an hour. Take care. Bye!” Sean ended
“Dr. McBride, Proceed to OR, Code Blue” Stat Operator announced.
“OK we have another one, coming.” The young and gorgeous Dr. Cherry McBride just finished talking to Rizniel, her boyfriend of five months.
Cherry was somewhat worried knowing how her boyfriend feels for his bestfriend. It was a shock how a president of a big airline company could be murdered grotesquely and end up in a garbage pile. The society we are in is slowly losing it. What happened to our morality and religious upbringing that our state is known for? Cherry took a series of deep breaths. Knowing deep inside that answers to this kind of questions never really existed. She had her share of family misfortunes in the past. A rather subtle way to put it considering her father and younger sister were victims of a breaking and entering crime. A notorious group of youngsters in the suburban were high on crack and entered their home and what was supposed to be a simple act of vandalizing, but we always forget that the devil also works in mysterious ways. Mr. McBride went downstairs upon hearing voices. That was the end of him. Cherry’s younger sister was found dead with 28 stab wounds. Autopsy revealed she was raped over and over again.
Dr. McBride shed a tear, thinking for about a second and then she realized she had an operation waiting.
She immediately put on her surgical gown, mask and shoe cover and made a dash to the OR. It’s fascinating to see a lovely doctor jog on her way to the operating room knowing that another person’s life is on the balance, and his savior is on her way, jogging though not flying.
“Martin, what do we have here?” Cherry addressed her co-doctor
“Patient suddenly collapsed 20 minutes ago. Signs point to a heart attack. He has had angioplasty before, no bypass yet. He is 68 years old and quite a personality doc. I bet you we have media people outside the hospital as we speak.”
“Really? And he is?” Cherry had a quizzical look
“Frederick McMillan, the CEO no less of Pinoy Air” Martin beamed with smugness
“And father of a butchered man,” Cherry added.
Some 620 miles away a sinister character contacted Malacañang. It’s done.
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