Past In The Spotlight (SUNSET TRILOGY #1)

Chapter 15

[Capítulo Quince: Ang Kaguluhan sa Plaza (The Riot in the Plaza)]

THE once bustling square transformed into a chaotic scene. People scattered in disarray, like a mischief of rats disrupted in their dens. Panic swept through the air, palpable and suffocating, as an unknown terror loomed over the plaza, casting shadows of fear on every face.

"Something's might be definitely going on," I panted, my breath catching in the cold early morning air. Marianne's worried gaze lingered behind me as I sprinted, urgency pushing me forward like a force of nature. Clara stood motionless, her eyes wide with the unspoken terror that engulfed us, the chilling uncertainty palpable in the silent exchange of glances.

"Uy, Jong! Baka naman mga NPA iyan! Pag-initan ka niyan, bahala ka (Hey, Jong! Those might be NPA 「New People's Army」! They might target you; it's on you)!" Marianne's voice sliced through the tense air, her fear-laden words hanging like a heavy shroud.

Before my outstretched hand could graze Clara, she bolted towards the right, a glimmer reflecting on her cheeks in the dim light, carrying an unspoken secret.

As I closed the distance, a scene unfolded: two figures confronted a friar, encircled by a group of soldiers. Tension hung in the air, the tableau revealing a complex narrative of conflict and uncertainty.

Clara was immediately grabbed by someone from the people standing beside the streets.

Clara's escape was abruptly halted as strong hands seized her from the crowd lining the streets.

Amidst the chaotic tableau, a man lay sprawled on the ground, blood oozing from a wound on his chest. The grim scene spoke of a confrontation, the visceral evidence etching the severity of the situation into my consciousness.

"Susmaryosep!「A Filipino exclamation: Jesus, Mary, Joseph」" Marianne's exclamation reached me, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "Bakit may pari (Why is there a priest)? Bakit may mga sundalo (Why are those soldiers there)?"

"Marianne, stay behind me!" I gestured urgently, attempting to shield her from the unfolding uncertainty. Despite my plea, she stood defiantly in the middle of the road, a silent witness to the escalating drama.

"Itay (Father)!" the man in front of us cried, his anguished voice slicing through the turmoil. His knees collided with the ground, a desperate entreaty unfolding as he confronted the fallen men sprawled on the ground.

"Bagay iyan sa mga Indio na kagaya ninyo (That suits the bastards like you)!" the priest's words thundered, his face contorted with anger, eyebrows furrowed in disdain.

"Padre, ¿ese hombre pertenece al Katipunan (Father, does that man belong to the Katipunan)?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Uy (Hey)! Ano ang sabi nila (What did they say)?" Marianne asked.

"What?"

"Ay, oo nga pala ang hina mo sa Tagalog (Oh, right! You can't understand Tagalog)," she groaned. "I was asking you if you understand what they are saying there."

I nodded. "They were asking if that man over there is also a member of the Katipunan," I replied.

"Su padre era el único en la lista (His father was the only one on the list)," the priest replied. "Pero upang hindi na siya makasapi pa, mátalo también (kill him, too)," he continued.