Lay witness to my so-called fundamental existence.

We have just finished the tour inside Fort Santiago. I look at the sky, not completely overcast, but I am not quite sure if the sun is obscured by the dark clouds or by the smog. The day is not bright enough compared to yesterday and the day before. I hope it will not rain. I have a flight to catch tonight. 

It’s the last day of our tour of Manila. We have visited a lot of wonderful places, some old, some new, some big. I think there are still places in Manila which are worth visiting. Three days is not enough. But thanks to our wonderful tour guide. We learned a lot about the city. When I get home, I want to start saving up again and plan another trip to the Philippines. 

We walked at the side of the sprawling greens in front of the fort. The tour guide is calling us to return to the bus. I looked at my watch. It’s already 10 o’clock. I get inside the coach. Almost everyone has already taken their seats, except for the tour guide who is still outside, waiting for a mother and her two kids who are approached by an ice treat vendor. 

The tour guide helped the kids hop into the bus. The mother led them to their seats, 4 rows behind me. I adjusted the curtain, pulled them apart and looked at Fort Santiago one more time. I pulled out my camera and checked on the photos I took. I said to myself that I have enough pictures to show to my friends in Hongkong. 

The bus began to roll. I heard the guide count off. “All accounted,” she said. I heard her say thank you for choosing Hong Thai Travel and for visiting the city. She looked at the clock in front. I saw her talking to the driver. She informed us right after that we would be dropping by Quirino Grandstand for an early lunch at Grand Lisboa before returning to our hotel to prepare for our flight later. 

I pulled out the map I picked up from the hotel lobby and searched for the grandstand and the casino. I traced the roads that the bus may possibly take. From Fort Santiago, I think the bus will exit towards Anda Circle, taking on Bonifacio Drive, turning right to Katigbak and then a left for Parade Street. 

I was right. Now the bus is slowly rolling through Parade Street. The guide pointed to the grandstand and said that two months ago, a new president took his oath of office at the platform. 

The bus was approaching the grandstand. We would soon be taking our lunch. I couldn’t wait to try some good food. I was excited. The bus suddenly stopped. I looked in front and saw the driver talking to someone outside. The tour guide was standing near the dashboard, trying to listen to what the conversation was all about. 

The man tapped on the bus door. He tapped it hard. The driver was screaming at the direction of the door. All I could understand was the man was trying to hitch a ride. It looked like the driver refused to give him one. 

We waited for a while. Everyone stopped and listened to the altercation. The driver refused his entry. The man forcibly opened the door. 

He got in and went straight to the driver. He produced a silver metal cuff and fastened the driver’s left hand on the steering wheel. He then pressed the button for the door to pneumatically close. He told the driver to shut up. He flashed something in front of us. 

We started to shake in fear. 

I heard people screaming. The kids were puzzled. A boy looked at his mom and asked as to why the man in a police uniform was holding a gun. His mom tried to hush him and drew him near her. The sound of fear grew. The man raised his gun and told everyone to shut up. 

Dead silence inside the bus. I just froze, shocked to be in this situation. I trembled in fear. I did not want to be here. But I could not run away. There’s no escape. 

The man was standing by the dashboard. He stood in front, arms crossed. He didn’t have a stern face. His was vexed, deeply troubled and sad. He scanned the seats, row by row. He was counting how many people were inside the bus. 

Most of us are tourists. We’re from Hong Kong. In fear, I forgot how many we were in the bus. 25? 22? I don’t know. I forgot. Dead silence. I could hear my hurt beating like crazy. Short, intense and loud, the palpitation drowned me in fright. I’m scared of what the man would do to us. 

The curtains were ordered to be closed. His anxiety made us glued to our seats. He began to walk through the aisle, stopping in every row to wait for the windows to be covered. Each step he made, a ray of darkness entered the coach. I saw the man walking almost up to where I was seated. I took hold of both sheets and dragged them close. Darkness added to the room. Hope slowly fading away. 

It had become dark. 

And silent. 

And frightening. 

And hopeless. 

Darkness is coupled with a deafening silence. I was on the floor, in between seats, face down. I didn’t know how long I’ve been lying on the floor. The air smelled foul. The bus was filled with smoke. My eyes are hurting. It took me some time to shake myself and return to my senses. I must have passed out. I don’t know. I was trembling hard. I bit my lips and tried not to make a sound. 

Is there an end to this? I asked myself. Oh goodness. Deliver me. Deliver us from this terrible situation. Why is it so silent? Where are the kids who were crying so loud? Where is the mother who tried to shut them up? Where’s the gunman? What’s he up to? Why am I not hearing the cling-clang of a gun, or the news coverage in the tube? What’s happening? Is it over? 

I let some moments pass. I didn’t know what was going on. I tried not to cough. My eyes were wet. I wanted to peek and look around but it was smoky. 

I got jolted. I hear heavy steps towards the front, towards the dashboard. I couple of steps, then gun shots. It was quick. Bullets rained on the windshield. They drowned the shots coming from the armed man. I heard glasses breaking. 

A few more gunshots. 

Silence. The sky cried and rain began to pour on the bus. 

I closed my eyes and hoped that it’s over.