Makalipas ang tatlong linggo, natuyo na ang mga bulaklak sa ibabaw ng dalawang nitso.
Gianna Soldevilla.
Gen. Yndra Falconite.
Magkahiwalay, pero magkatapat.
Laging magkalapit kahit sa dulo.
Tahimik ang sementeryo. Walang ibang tao maliban sa mga uwak na dumadapo sa sanga ng acacia, at sa hanging dumadampi sa mga dahon ng damo.
Ako lang.
Ako at ang dalawang pangalan na binubuo ang mundong alam kong hindi ko na mababalikan.
Dala ko ‘yung maliit na kahon na ibinigay ni Hannah, mga gamit ni Yndra na nasagip nila mula sa operation site.
May patch ng uniform niya, may ribbon na ginamit niyang bookmark, at isang luma, may-dugo pang dog tag.
Yung dog tag, nilapat ko sa labi ko bago ko inilagay sa tabi ng lapida.
“Hindi mo man ako pinayagan sumunod, pero sinundan pa rin kita rito.”
Hinaplos ko ‘yung pangalan niya.
Mainit pa ang araw, pero malamig yung bato. Parang siya, dati mainit, matapang, puno ng galit at pagmamahal, pero ngayon, puro lamig na lang ang natira.
“Alam mo,” mahina kong sabi, “sabi nila, time heals. Pero wala namang orasan dito, ‘di ba? So paano kung ayaw ko pang gumaling?”
Tiningnan ko si Gianna sa kabilang side. May maliit na bulaklak na inilagay ni Mama.
“Ate, nagawa mong iligtas ako ulit. Pero ang kapal ng mukha ko ‘no? Kasi hanggang ngayon, buhay pa rin ako.”
Tahimik. Wala akong inaasahang sagot, pero parang naririnig ko pa rin silang dalawa.
Yung tawa ni Gianna na laging maingay, yung boses ni Yndra na palaging kontrolado.
Magkasalungat.
Pero pareho kong mahal.
Kinuha ko sa bulsa ko yung maliit na papel, sulat ni Yndra, pinunit sa bandang dulo ng mission file.
Basa na, gusot, pero nababasa pa rin.
Napangiti ako kahit nanginginig ‘yung baba ko.
“Too late, Yndra,” bulong ko.
“Nandito na rin ako sa dilim mo.”
Umupo ako sa damuhan, pinagmasdan lang ‘yung langit. Wala nang putok, wala nang utos, wala nang sigaw.
Just wind. Just silence.
The kind of silence that doesn’t hurt anymore, just stays.
Narinig ko ang yabag ni Hannah sa likod ko. Hindi siya nagsalita; umupo lang siya sa tabi ko, sabay inabot yung lighter na palagi daw hawak ni Yndra.
Sinindihan ko ‘yung maliit na kandila sa harap ng lapida.
Bago ako tumayo, nilagay ko sa tabi ng kandila ‘yung patch ng uniform ni Yndra, may nakaburda pa rin sa gilid.
Fight. Even when it hurts.
Huminga ako nang malalim.
“Mission accomplished,” bulong ko, halos di ko na marinig sarili ko.
Then I turned around.
Hindi ko alam kung saan ako pupunta pagkatapos nito.
Pero for the first time since that night, hindi ko na gustong mamatay.
The military base hadn’t changed.
Still smelled like dust, steel, and ghost stories.
Bumabalik parin ako kahit na hindi na dapat pwede.
But this time, I wasn’t here for closure. I was here for answers.
After Yndra and Gianna’s funerals, I promised myself I’d never come back. Pero gabi-gabi, when sleep started to sound like punishment, I kept hearing it, a faint hum, like a machine running somewhere inside my skull. I thought it was trauma.
Until last night, when the old radio at home turned on by itself.
A voice whispered through the static.
“Polaris isn’t done, Gucci.”
So now I’m here.
The receptionist at the gate barely looked at me when I said my last name. Soldevilla. The kind of name that used to open doors. Now it just made people stare.
I walked to the archives building, the same one where I watched Yndra’s training videos, where Gianna used to pull all-nighters reading medical reports.
The air was stale. The lights flickered like they were tired of keeping secrets.
When I reached the end of the corridor, I noticed something new.
A door that shouldn’t be there.
No label, no lock, just a keypad and a faint sound from the other side.
I shouldn’t have known the code. But my fingers moved on their own.
2-0-1-9-Y.
The year wil begin.
Yndra’s call sign.
The door clicked open.
Cold air hit me, that same antiseptic chill from the hospital. The room inside wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t an office. It was a lab.
There were machines I didn’t recognize, humming softly.
Screens with distorted vitals.
And at the center, a single containment pod.
Frosted glass. Human-sized.
My heart started to hammer.
I wiped the glass with my sleeve, and froze.
It wasn’t Yndra.
It wasn’t Gianna.
It was me.
Same scar on the chin. Same freckle below the eye.
Sleeping. Unmoving. Connected to wires that pulsed faint light through her skin.
I stumbled backward, hit the counter, knocked over a stack of old reports.
One slid open to the last page, handwritten in a familiar script.
Project Helix: Subject G-25, Clone viability successful. Memory transfer 92% complete. Behavioral instability predicted within 48 months.
Status: Active.
I couldn’t breathe.
Active.
Then, under the flickering fluorescent light, I saw a date.
Four years ago.
The same day the explosion happened.
The same day I thought I survived.
My knees gave out.
I crawled closer to the pod to myself and pressed a shaking hand to the glass. The skin inside was cold.
“What are you?” I whispered. “What am I?”
Behind me, the intercom cracked.
A distorted voice broke the silence.
“Subject G-25 detected outside containment.”
My pulse spiked.
“Initiate retrieval.”
The alarms wailed.
Red lights flared, painting everything in blood. The pod hissed open.
Inside, my other self’s eyes shot open, not soft brown like mine, but pitch black.
No... They're gone... Why can't I just accept everything?!
To be continued...
