BANG.
A middle aged man with a slightly muscular build, squarish face, and a goatee slammed the door open. Sunlight spilled through the crack as specks of dust swirled around his huge frame. Intense black eyes scanned the room, looking at the various stunned faces before they settled on Angelica.
"Uncle Art!" said Angelica. "You've come!"
"Yeah, sorry I was late," said Art in a gruff voice.
After him came the employee they first met upon walking through Mr. Delfin's office. She looked extremely apologetic, as though she ran after Art and failed to stop him. Her breath came in short frantic gasps while she bowed profusely in front of Mr. Delfin and said, "I'm sorry sir. I tried to tell him that he needs to have a schedule with you but he insisted on coming inside."
"It's fine, Analyn. I was about to call him," said Mr. Delfin. The employee bowed again then scuttled out the door.
"Shouldn't you have called me the moment you picked up these kids?" said Art, annoyed.
"Good morning to you too Mr. Arturo Mendez," said Mr. Delfin, smiling and leaning back in his chair.
"Yes yes, good morning. Come along everyone. I already called your parents, unlike someone here."
"Give us some slack Art. You know we'll come along to it. You just move too fast," said Mr. Delfin.
"Well I surmise you've already asked whatever you want. You can't detain these kids any longer than you have, can you?" said Art. "Let's go. Get your things."
"But sir, you know we're just asking them questions. It's part of the protocol," said Inna.
"Yes, but they're not obligated to answer any of those questions are they? You didn't even call a healer shaman for these kids, seriously," said Art.
Before Inna could protest any further, he had pulled everyone else outside the room. Angelica caught Mr. Delfin shaking his head and Inna's crestfallen face as she glanced back.
"Let's go to the hospital first. Your parents will pick you up there," Art said. "Just because they want to catch someone, they even neglected your injuries."
"Catch who?" piped Mark.
"Who else? That person who helped you defeat the bungisngis."
"Huh? But why?" asked Joan. They stepped out into the hallway, bumping with some employees along the way who were casting them curious looks.
"Yeah she didn't do anything wrong," said Angelica, feeling indignant.
"It's an open secret that they've been looking for her for a couple of months now," said Art. "Before we discuss that, you better wear these masks. It's too flashy out there, what with the news media hounding the regional office."
"But they already interviewed us, Uncle Art. Why do we need this?" said Angelica.
"You're minors. You don't want to be stopped every time you walk the streets do you? Contrary to what one might think, a life of fame is not exactly sunshine and roses. Especially for young shamans like-"
"Sir Mendez, please wait up!" A shrill voice came from the other end of the hallway. Along with it came the sharp click of polished shoes against the tiled floor. It was Inna Alonzo. In no time at all, she wove through the surrounding onlookers and fell into a pace beside them.
"Is there something else you need?" asked Art.
"Sir- well, this is not r-really -" Inna hesitated.
Art's right eyebrow shot up. "Just spit it out."
"Well sir, this is not really related to the incident just now. But have you considered going back as a faculty member at the academy? It's been too long and we all know you were set up and Director Ferrer agrees as-"
"Ah it's this matter. I thought it's something important. Don't waste your breath. It's been too long and I have already moved on to other things."
Inna's eyes widened. "Are you really planning to open a center for late manifesters, sir? You know how difficult it is for them to control their sigla. It could be dangerous."
"All the more help they need. Don't worry about me Miss Alonzo. I'm doing just fine. Tell Director Ferrer I won't be seeing him anytime soon."
"Are you sure you really won't reconsider sir? The doors of the academy are always open for you."
"Oh I definitely won't. Anyway you've kept us far too long. The children need treatment. They're not licensed shamans that you can just drag around," said Art, handing over the face masks to each of them. "Let's go," he barked.
As they left the regional office building, a wave of hot air blasted them in the face. Squinting their eyes under the hot rays of the sun, they could see different news media outlets crowded outside the gates. Some of the camera crew wiped sweat from their temples as they made some adjustments with their equipment, while the reporters were fanning themselves with their hands. They had a look of determination on their faces, ready to run, in case someone came out to give a statement. The more eagle-eyed ones were already flashing the cameras their way, obviously having recognized the shaman apprentices.
"Bow your heads," said Uncle Art, as they followed him. "Don't look at them for far too long."
They moved swiftly and made a beeline for Art's car. Art patted down his pockets for the keys and found them in the larger back pocket. As they walked closer, Angelica and her friends noticed someone sitting on the front passenger seat.
That person rolled the tinted car window down as they drew nearer. Inside was a handsome young man with windswept jet black hair, brown eyes, and chiseled features. He looked to be in his late twenties. He said with a deep voice, "That was fast. I was expecting you to stay for several more minutes."
"Tch, it would have been faster if that employee of theirs didn't block my way in," said Art, settling at the driver's seat while everyone else squeezed at the back.
"It's her job to do that, no? Good afternoon Kuya Luke," said Angelica to the man who nodded back at her in greeting.
"That doesn't make it any less annoying," said Art, gripping the steering wheel with one hand as the car rumbled beneath them. He pulled out of the parking lot and into the driveway exit, where they were immediately swarmed by reporters. Unable to immediately pass right through, a security guard by the gates tried to make way for them as some individuals even tried to press themselves against the car windows with microphones in hand as they shouted several questions. Seeing the chaotic situation, Angelica and her friends shrank inside the car, pressing themselves as much against the seats in an attempt to hide from the intrusive cameras outside.
"Are they crazy?" asked Mark, aghast. He ducked behind Angelica's bag to avoid the blinding lights as multiple camera flashes penetrated through the dark tinted glasses.
Art was in no better state either. With his eyebrows knitted together, he glared at the nosy reporters who were relentlessly blocking the pathway. He punched the horn loudly and repeatedly, while the car tried to inch forward bit by bit but to no avail. He muttered all kinds of profanities under his breath as his knuckles turned white with frustration.
"Should we put them to sleep?" asked Luke, about to snap his hands.
"As much as I'd like to, we can't use sigla to harm innocent citizens, especially in front of the shaman- fucking - regional office. Don't they have security guards that can deal with this shit?" said Art, clenching his jaw.
Just as he said this, the wall of cameras began to subside as more security guards pushed their way through the crowd. They quickly formed some kind of human shield between the car and the news media, and asked the reporters to back out from the vehicle. Slowly, Art was able to extricate the car from the mass of people. Once they were free, he immediately hit the gas, and zoomed out of the regional office.
"That was so scary. Even scarier than the bungisngis. I couldn't even breathe," said Joan.
"What more do they want? Didn't they already interview us?" asked Angelica.
"The reporters always want more so you shouldn't give them anything. The best thing to do is to stay quiet," said Art.
"What if they follow us to the hospital? Then to our houses? Or the academy?" said Mark, terrified.
"Just ignore them and if they shove their microphones to your faces, say 'no comment.' The shaman academy always had good security so I don't think they'll let any of them inside," said Art.
"Where are we going again Uncle Art?" asked Angelica.
"To Capital Medical Hospital, that's the nearest one. We still need your injuries checked. Do all of you only have minor injuries?"
"I got my shoulder dislocated before we came to the shaman regional office, but Mr. Delfin popped it right back. It was really painful though," said Katie.
"I got several bruises too, and for some reason, my right wrist hurts," said Mark.
"Tchh, seriously those insensitive shaman officers, I can't believe they prioritized their interrogation over your injuries," said Art. "Don't worry, the hospital will patch you then and there," said Art, as he smoothly swerved the car to the right.
Lexicon:
Kuya - term used for older males in the Philippines