The Samaritan

One time, I saw a person being carried out of a jeepney. He had no arms and no legs. He only had his body to support his head, and he did it so easily...he's used to it. After being carried out of the jeep, he stood on the waiting shed, silently, as if he's waiting for something, someone.

Like a good samaritan that I am, I approached him. He said he needed to go somewhere but no one from the jeep wanted to take his offer. Well, it was indeed an offer. He offered a couple thousand pesos to lift him from place to place. He said he's applying for a job. I needed money, so I gladly took the offer.

As his support, he demanded that I never leave his side until he has landed himself a job, or else the deal will be void. Well, it's not like he can fight me without his arms or legs, right? But of course, I'm not that kind of a person. I only meant well. So I did as I was told, and so to a company we went.

Because of his condition, and the predicament I let myself in, we found ourselves caught in the stares of each and everyone who managed to stop whatever they're doing to examine us... Sort of.

He talked to the guards, handed them big bulks of cash. He only meant well. He had the papers, he had IDs, he had everything an applicant ever needed. But the cash, I don't know. Must've had something to do with the discrimination. They took it though. The audacity of humans...

So there we go, up up and away. I got used to carrying him on my arms. I only get to rest whenever there's a seat to sit down on.

Anyway, we managed to go to where the applicants were meant to be. And just like the deal, he demanded I don't leave his side. I didn't. Again, he handed out big bulks of cash to the people who thinks what he's doing is nothing but pure nonsense. And so, we got in.

When we got in, I was sure the interviewer let out a smirk, a laugh even. He scanned Mr. No arms and legs. He scanned him from his head to his, below? Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. No arms and legs here doesn't look like any disabled guy. He wore a suit, good perfume, and a good haircut to boot. He was well, groomed. Well-groomed.

When the interview started, my ears became deaf, my eyes started to cry, my mouth ceased to close. It was like I was experiencing something so, surreal.

Mr. No arms and legs talked like he was fluent in numbers and equations and stuff that I don't and won't ever understand. He explained numerical graphs through a slideshow he had with him, and a couple notes he demanded I read aloud. It was all but figures of the company's profit and income, together with the debt and all. It's like he knew everything about the company he's trying to get into.

Well, he does. He does know everything about the company, all of it. The interviewer was in complete shock. "How did you know all of this, may I ask, Sir?", nervously he asked.

"I own this place. I built it from the ground up. Using my brain. This company, is, my everything."

Of course, I was in complete awe. I didn't know what was happening. I was confused, dazed, dissociated, even.

And then, a loud gunshot echoed through the room.

Mr. No arms no legs, limping from the very seat I sat him on.

Blood everywhere. Seconds after, and Mr. No legs no arms is dead.

The interviewer, dead. A bullet through his eyes, two of them. A precise shot. It was hell.I was in hell. 

I didn't know what to do.

I ended up banging on the door, trying to get out. But the door won't budge. I screamed and screamed, but no mortal ears managed to hear my cries.

I see only blood. Two dead bodies. 

No gunman.

What happened? What happened here? I asked.

And then, I woke up.

There. Still. Blood. Two bodies. Dead. Still. There.

The end.