Past In The Spotlight (SUNSET TRILOGY #1)

Chapter 18

[Capítulo Dieciocho: Ang Kamera (The Camera)]

"¿PODEMOS ir primero? ¡Tu amiga aquí necesita ayuda y es urgente (Can we just go first? Your friend here needs help, and this is urgent)!" My nervousness consumed me. Only then did I realize that my voice had escalated, echoing the urgency of the situation.

"Lo siento (I'm sorry)," I immediately added, attempting to soothe the tension that my urgency had created.

"No," she spoke. "Yo soy la que debería arrepentirse (I'm the one who should be sorry)."

With hands that seemed to shiver, Clara presented a woven basket bag. Delicately, she pulled something out-a vintage camera emerged, its presence suggesting a tale from a different era.

"¡Tómalo! ¡Ahora regresa (Take it! Now go back)!" she exclaimed, urgency in her voice as she handed me the polaroid camera she was holding.

"¿Volver a dónde (Go back where)?" I asked, straining to understand her words. Her nervous voice heightened my tension. "¿Qué quieres decir (What do you mean)?"

She took one of my hands, the ones holding Marianne, and placed the camera in it.

"Ella dijo que tengo que dártelo. ¡Tú puedes arreglarlo (She said that I have to give that to you. You can fix it!" she spoke.

Her last words hung in the air, and just as the echo of her voice faded, my focus shifted abruptly to the approaching footsteps resonating from upstairs. "Si quieres volver al lugar de donde realmente vienes, arregla eso (If you want to go back to where you really came from, fix that thing)," she added.

"¡Encuéntralos (Find them)!" The familiar voice echoed from above, a command laced with rage that reverberated through the space, intensifying the our escape.

I finally had a chance to escape, but I couldn't move. Questions flooded my mind, demanding answers. Who is Clara? What is she talking about? Is she a friend or a foe?

"¡Abajo (Downstairs)!" the man shouted once more.

As I reached for the door, my hand hovering over it, a sudden chill crept down my spine as the cold touch of metal pressed against my head, freezing me in place. "Lo lamento (I'm sorry)," Clara spoke. At my side, teary-eyed, Clara stood with a rifle aimed at my head. Slowly, the barrel shifted, now pointing toward the unconscious Marianne. "Tengo que hacer esto. Si no lo hago, podría matarte (I have to do this. If I don't, he might kill you)."

Frozen in place, I hesitated, uncertain of Clara's true nature. The potential consequences to the space-time continuum loomed large as the gravity of the moment played out.

"Narito sila (They're here)!" The man's voice echoed through the space as he finally emerged, soldiers in tow, rushing downstairs with rifles in hand.

"Are you trying to escape?" His question hung in the air as he descended the stairs, his intent clear in the authority of his voice.

"Who really are you, people?"

"Do you really want to know?" His voice carried a calculated edge as he circled around me. "I am Frederico delos Santos, a famous jewel seller here in the country."

"Who?" I responded, unfamiliar with the name, though his face struck a chord of recognition.

I scrutinized him from head to toe, but I couldn't recall encountering a small, brown-skinned man relentlessly pursuing us. My attention remained fixed on his every move when, unexpectedly, he tripped upon reaching the last step of the stairs.

The man teetered on the brink of imbalance, leaning closer to the floor, and his stick finally slipped from his grasp.

"Anak naman ng (Son of a) -" I heard him exclaim, frustration evident in his voice. Swiftly, he composed himself, adopting a serious expression and straightening his coat to regain formality. Step by step, he approached me, attempting to mask the earlier stumble with an air of nonchalance.

"Anyways, in real life, I WAS a professional. In fact, I already worked with you," he spoke, chin raised.

I scrutinized the man, noting his slightly smaller stature. As my eyes traced down to his leather shoes, a glint from a silvery watch on his wrist caught my attention. In that moment, memories flooded back, playing like a reel before my eyes.

.

"NICE shot! One more!" a man beamed.

Cameras flashed relentlessly as I stood in front of a green screen. In my hands, I held a branded perfume, playing the role of a model.

"Nice! How about another angle!" The echo of his direction resounded in my memory, revealing the man's identity as recognition dawned upon me.

I remembered being in a pose with the product. "Marianne, you may enter now," echoed his voice, filling in the details of the memory.

Marianne stood alongside me, both of us posing as models.

"Take five!" commanded the manager of the newly established perfume industry. He raised his hand, adorned with the same watch as the man who had kidnapped us, and gave me a high five.

.

"WHAT? Do you remember it now?" he teased.

"그 사람 여기서 뭐 하는 거야? Geu salam yeogiseo mwo haneun geoya (What is he doing here)?" I whispered to myself.

"Ah, ngayon nagpapakitang gilas ka na ng Koreano mo (So now you're using your Korean laguage to tease me)!" I heard him mumbled.

"What?"

"Like you care anyway?" he replied conceitedly. "I didn't even understand the first one you said earlier!"

"Touché," I replied.

"What language is that again? Why are you messing with me?" he once again groaned.

"That's French, but it is understandable in English as well," I explained. "You see, that word means-"

"I'm not here for lessons, Mr. Jong Hee!" he interrupted.

"Then what do you want?" I asked.

He grinned at me, then turned toward Clara. "Magaling, Clarita (Nice, Clara)," he spoke. "Maaari mo na iyang ibaba (You can lower your rifle down now)."

Clara's plea echoed in the room, "Pakiusap, huwag mo siyang sasaktan, Señor (Please, don't hurt him, Sir)."

"Ang nakatataas na ang bahala sa kaniya. Sa ngayon ay bibigyan muna kita ng pabuya nang dahil sa iyong ginawa (The higher-ups will take care of him. For now, I'll reward you for what you did)," the man replied.

"Ang nais ko lang na pabuya ay ang palayain mo na sila (The only reward that I want is for you to let them go)," she spoke.

"Pasensiya na, Binibini, subalit hindi namin iyon kayang gawin (I'm sorry, Miss, but we can't do that)," he added.

"Pakiusap (Please)," Clara pleaded, tears welling in her eyes once again.

The man once again smiled and reassured, "Gagawin ko ang lahat upang masunod ang iyong ninanais (I'll do my best to fulfill your request)."

Clara finally lowered the rifle. "Maaari ka nang tumakas habang hindi pa alam ng mga Espanyol ang tungkol sa samahan ninyo. Hindi pa nila alam na kasapi ka roon (You can escape now while the Spaniards still don't know about your group. They still don't know that you're a member)," the man whispered to Clara.

"Who are you again?" I asked. "How did you come here?"

"Simple. I came from the future," he stated before turning his back away from me.

"Lleva al mestizo de regreso a la prisión (Take the mestizo back to the prison)," he ordered. "La chica se queda conmigo (The girl stays with me)."