Chapter 2: A Charm to Ward Off Evil

It was a short two-hour flight and Jon felt comfortable in his first-class seat. He turned on the in-seat massager and tried to relax. Immediately, he felt the gentle movements of the massager loosen the tense muscles of his back. He then flipped the pages of the inflight magazine and started reading about new destinations available to the airline. When nothing took his interest, he replaced the magazine in the seat pocket and tried to take a nap.

He drifted in and out of sleep, seeing foreboding images of castles and howling wolves. Clouds drifted over the moon and casted eerie shadows over the walls and towers of a gray medieval castle. The wind blew fiercely, carrying dried leaves from branches of trees and leaving them as bare skeletons silhouetted against the evening sky. The leaden clouds continued to drift overhead and once more revealed the ominous silver moon to the delight of the howling wolves.

Jon woke up inside what appeared to be a dimly lit dungeon with weak yellow light streaming through the barred window and underneath the door. The air reeked of decaying matter and it was difficult to breathe. He covered his nose with his hands and realized how callused and rough they were. He shivered and felt the cold damp air surround him. He tried to stand up to walk towards the outline of the door, but was held up by heavy chains that were tied to his ankles. He tugged at the chains, but only felt the unyielding metal scrape his ankles and heard the cold clink of the iron. He suddenly felt dizzy from standing up and felt what little strength he had drain from his body. His vision blurred and he collapsed in a heap. He did not know how long he lay but when he came to, he felt a trickle of blood flowing from his brow which hit the floor when he collapsed.

He shouted for help, but heard no response. Stumbling in the dark, he curled up against the wall and tried to make sense of what was happening. It was then that he felt the presence of someone inside the room with him. Two eyes glowed red in the dark and a dark shape rose and obstructed what little light was streaming from under the door. The shape approached him slowly as the darkness became absolute.

"Would you like to have coffee, Ma’am?" Jon was roused from the troubling dream by the flight attendant who was serving the passenger in front of him. He smelled the aroma of coffee as well as heard the soft tinkle of a teaspoon hitting the porcelain cup.

"How about you, Sir? Would you care for some coffee or tea?" The flight attendant turned to him. Jon declined, but was happy to see the smiling face of the flight stewardess. He asked for water instead and it was poured into a glass and placed in his hand. He thanked the flight attendant and drank the water all at once. He felt refreshed by the cold water and he gradually forgot about his weird dream. In a while, the flight attendant returned to get his empty glass and to give him a hot towel. Jon placed the towel on his face for a few minutes and felt its warmth ease the remaining stress that he felt.

There was a sudden drop and Jon heard some of the passengers cry in surprise. After a few moments, the voice of the pilot was heard as he apologized for the turbulence. They were already descending towards their destination and the pilot advised everyone to take their seats.

Jon braced himself as more turbulence hit the plane while it descended further below the clouds. Then, he felt a milder bump as the plane hit the runway. He gave out a sigh of relief and listened to the recorded announcements from the plane's speaker.

*******

After getting his luggage, Jon proceeded to the airport lobby where a number of people were holding up placards with names of passengers. He did not find his name so he proceeded to the exit gate with his luggage in tow. Disappointed at having to wait, he walked towards a nearby bench when he heard someone shout his name.

"Mr. Jonas Estrella!" A man was walking briskly towards him with a placard bearing his name. Jon raised a hand.

"I guessed it was you,” said the man.

"How did you guess?" asked Jon.

"From what you're wearing, you were obviously from the capital and yet there was no one to meet you. My name is Jorge, Mr. Dante sent me." At this, the man hastily pulled Jon's luggage and motioned for him to follow.

As the two men walked in the parking lot, a young girl and boy ran to them with items for sale. Jon looked at the children and noticed their mismatched clothes over their thin frames. The girl's hair was disheveled and she carried a plastic bag of what appeared to be souvenir items for sale. Her younger brother who was no more than four years old could barely speak and was holding out his hands with garlands of white flowers to offer to Jon.

Jon was pulling out his wallet from his pocket when the two children were driven away by Jorge with an angry snarl and the threat of a kick.

"You didn't have to drive them away," said Jon, shocked with the way Jorge drove away the children. "They were just asking for a few coins."

"It's not your coins they want, it's your wallet. Life is hard in these parts, Mr. Estrella. You would do well to stop brandishing your wallet when you're dressed like that."

Jon slowly returned his wallet to his pocket and looked around him. The children were nowhere to be seen. He wondered if poverty really was the problem in these parts or the lack of charity. Still, he would not want to part with his hard-earned cash and kept his leather wallet out of sight of any possible thief, young as they may be. His phone vibrated, so Jon fished it out of his pocket. It was a text message from his client.

I am glad you arrived safely, Mr. Estrella. I have asked Jorge to take you to lunch before you board the boat to the island. I am looking forward to meeting you in person. – Dante.

The paved streets ended just as the small car bearing the two men left the small airport, giving way to dusty roads full of potholes and protruding rocks. Still, Jon had to admire the countryside of verdant hills and vast rice fields. Acacia trees, probably more than a century old, lined the roads and fruit vendors had their rolling stores parked under the shade. Several cows were grazing on the grass while carabaos were being led by farmers through the fields.

Jorge parked his car by the side of the road and stopped the engine. Not far was a small hut made of bamboo and dried grass. Just as Jon was looking at the open door, an elderly woman came out. She was wiping her hands on her skirt as she looked at the newcomers.

"My mother," said Jorge flatly as he pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out of the car. "She lives here by herself. She won't leave the house and live with me in the city no matter how many times I ask her."

"So you used to live here?" asked Jon getting out of the car.

"Yes, with my sisters and brother when we were young. We all have our own families now. Occasionally, they come to visit, but they couldn't stay long. Their kids get bored. No internet, no TV. At least mobile network's available, but weak."

"I can't see any of your neighbors. What if she needs anything?" Jon closed the car door.

"We have neighbors alright, just a short walk through the trees. Mostly old folks tending to their chickens and cattle or their vegetable garden. Their children have all gone to the city for want of an easier life. I'm lucky that I got employed by Mr. Dante. I get to pass by and visit my mother at least once a week."

Jon was about to get his luggage when Jorge stopped him.

"Leave those. We will just have lunch at the house and then drive to the dock."

Jon followed Jorge towards the old woman who decided to precede them and entered the hut. Inside, Jorge invited him to sit on a stool and went to an adjoining room.

Left alone, Jon looked around and saw the kitchen through a gap between the drapes that covered a doorway. He saw Jorge's mother appear from behind the drapes carrying a clay pot that was filled with steaming soup. She placed this on the table uneasily and with a shy smile, motioned for Jon to follow her to the kitchen.

Jon left his seat and entered the kitchen. It was a small room with a large window over the sink and a door that was fully open. The spaces between the bamboo that made up the walls allowed the cool breeze and sunlight to enter, giving the small room plenty of air and light.

Jon was surprised to see a dead chicken hanging from the low ceiling. Its legs were tied with a string and blood dripped down from its severed neck to a basin on the floor. The deep red liquid on the basin reflected the light and glistened as swirls of darker fluid formed from the ripples made by the congealing drops of blood.

The old woman mumbled some words and chanted in a language that Jon did not know. The woman then plucked off a few of the white tail feathers of the chicken and stuck their tips into the live embers that were still burning in the stove. She then proceeded by encircling Jon and waving the still smoking feathers up and down over him. It was then that Jorge appeared from the kitchen doorway and shouted at the old woman.

"Mother!"

Jorge's mother ignored her son and held Jon's head between her hands. She then released him after mumbling a few more words and making a slight bow.

Jorge was about to scold his mother, but she left the kitchen before he could say anything else.

"I apologize," Jorge said to Jon.  "I hope you were not freaked out or anything. She did not place a curse or some evil spell on you, if you were wondering." Jorge then took a clay pot with cooked rice near the stove and they went back to the adjoining room.

The two men ate silently as the old woman looked on. Jon invited her to the table, but Jorge merely said that she had eaten already.

The dish served was a broth made with chicken, papaya, and pepper, but a sprig of some plant made it soothing and aromatic. I must know what that herb is and bring some to Lisa, thought Jon.

"Sanaria," the old woman said.

"What?" said Jon.

"The leaves you just ate. That's what they are called around here," explained Jorge. "They are like small hands because there are five slender fingers on the leaf. They say the leaves ward off evil so people do a lot of things with them. They dry them and turn them into bracelets and charms. A lot of nonsense, I should say," said Jorge mockingly. "They are just good to flavor the broth." He then proceeded to hold the bowl to his lips and drank the broth noisily.

The two men finished eating and stood up. Jorge looked at his watch and hurriedly left to get the car running. Jon politely said goodbye to Jorge's mother who gestured to him to wait as she went to the kitchen. Still talking in her own language, the old woman placed something around Jon's neck. It was a garland of dried leaves. She then whispered softly to his ear, "Sanaria", and made a gesture with her hands.

Jon was surprised and did not know what to say. He just said a quick thank you to Jorge's mother and hid the garland underneath his shirt as he said goodbye.