Hope was Coronel Follow´s last card to keep his job. He was hoping he could stumble on a solution that could redeem his fate with General Ver. He was intelligent and had never failed the general before. So, he pondered deeply. He knew that the airport security depended on surveillance recording around its parameter. He let his mind travel from one point to the other. He examined the buildings, and indeed there were several cameras in-place for security.    Immediately, he went to check the facilities personally. The airport security office was small on the first floor of the main building. This was where images of lesser or greater import were seen first. Inside, more than twenty blinking close circuit screens covering practically all corners of the airport was in front of three personnel in uniforms who were manning them. Smoke floated in the air. On their desk, the ashtrays were full of butts, for all of them were heavy smokers. Years of wo

     It was raining. The stream from heaven flowed down along the side of the mountain, dragging along branches, leaves of fallen trees, and whatever it found on its way. One isolated driftwood bobbed and rocked, slowly. It picked up speed, winding its way until it landed on a whirlpool at the mouth. In its moody disposition, the surging stream rambled to eventually become a torrent of angry waters, never letting up. The subdued opposition whispered and started mobilizing. There were condemnations of the blatant transgression of a person´s right to life. Scattered groups all over the country could not keep quiet. Little by little they raised their voices. One of these informal conglomerations was the Sulog or Breakfast Club.      The Breakfast Club condemned the assassination through the media, still in their covert way. Their idol, hope, and last resort had gone, eliminated by the monster. Now the

     Tessa Lopez’s childhood days never suffered economic downturns in spite of the national crisis. A good paediatrician, his father had a stable practice that never ran out of patients. He was a doting and devoted father who saw to it that his family had the best of everything. Her mother was once a model. So that in her married life, she did nothing but to spend all her time at the beauty parlour, which her father tolerated. The only responsibility she felt she had to do was to see that all of Tessa’s needs were fully met.      Oftentimes, Tessa’s mother would treat her to an ice cream sundae at Greenbelt Mall. They would take a walk around and shop. When her mother saw that she was tired, she would bring her to the ice cream parlour at the side of the mall.      Thus, they sat at a table by the glass window one afternoon. Young Tessa licked her ice cream at the sides to stop it from flow

 AFTER hours and hours on the road, JC believed that they were driving inward toward a plantation. The car chugged slowly when it entered a narrow dirt road. Its headlights threw dark shadows of the tall sugar cane at the sides. He looked back and he was blinded by dust recoiling upwards. Some blocked their view, so it was necessary to drive slowly to avoid swerving out of the road.      The summer house was hidden completely and one who was unfamiliar could easily be lost in the dark. From this dusty road, the car slipped out into yet another mile of the dusty road leading to a house with an iron gate. It was a mansion by local standards. Surrounding it was the plantation that made it a dot from a far distance. It was one of those houses made of bricks and strong logs in the heart of nowhere, a complete hideaway, hidden from the rest of the world by tall sugarcane.      JC saw a middle-aged man coming to

  He suddenly screeched the car to a halt. He made a c-turn, hoping it wasn’t too late. He stepped on the accelerator. He decided to take the risks and directed the car back to his apartment. They only knew Tommy’s Ford Escort, not the Beetle he was driving. Cruising on it at night was still safe.     Finally, he was back in Makati, and now was hovering in the vicinity of his apartment. The car sputtered to a stop. He waited for any unusual movements. Left and right he scanned the streets. Not a soul to suspect. He opened the door of the Beetle, stepped onto the pavement, and crossed the street. Darkness became his faithful ally. The hallway was eerily empty and silent. The peculiarity of silence bothered him, but this barely deterred him from pursuing what he returned for. Almost on tiptoe, JC dashed for his condo, pushed open the door, and got inside.     He knew it. Papers were all over the floor, the chairs