CHAPTER SIX: Siklaon
As expected, the rebels seized the vendors' truck, leaving its passengers stranded on the road—except for one. On Alfredo's orders, the rebel leader, Erik was taken captive.
Erik's mind reeled. He couldn't fathom why the rebels had singled him out, but that question paled in comparison to the betrayal burning in his chest. How could Alfredo, someone he'd trusted, be part of this ruthless band of outlaws? To the townsfolk, rebels were criminals—disruptors of peace, hunted by the government for their attacks on innocent people.
The truck rumbled through the dense forest flanking the mountain, stopping at several rebel checkpoints hidden deep within the trees. Darkness cloaked the path, with only the vehicle's headlights cutting through the night to guide them toward their destination.
After half an hour, they arrived at the rebels' stronghold—a small camp nestled in the wilderness. As they disembarked, other rebels greeted them with cheers and raucous laughter, as if celebrating a grand victory. To them, the stolen vegetables were a prize worth celebrating.
Alfredo stepped down from the truck, barking orders to his men. "Store the vegetables in the warehouse and catalog everything we took."
One of the rebels glanced at Erik. "Boss, what about the kid we nabbed?"
"I'll handle him," Alfredo replied. "Just focus on the supplies."
He approached Erik, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, little friend? Don't be scared. You're safe here."
Erik stayed silent, his eyes scanning the camp. It was modest—five wooden huts pressed against towering trees, illuminated by flickering bonfires. The dense forest provided perfect cover, shielding the rebels from the authorities' prying eyes.
Alfredo gestured for Erik to follow him toward a massive tree at the camp's edge. Erik had no choice but to comply, though his heart pounded with uncertainty. He knew the rebels' reputation for brutality toward those who defied them, and he wasn't sure who Alfredo truly was beneath his gentle demeanor.
As they neared the towering tree, Alfredo spoke again, his voice soft with regret. "I'm sorry for my men's roughness back there. Sometimes they go too far, but you can't blame them. In our line of work, showing weakness can cost us our lives. Sometimes people fight back, and my men get hurt."
Erik kept his gaze lowered, unresponsive. Alfredo's words—tales of their operations and struggles—washed over him like distant noise. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man he'd once considered a friend.
Noticing Erik's silence, Alfredo tried to comfort him, gently touching his head. "I know you're angry and shocked, but trust me, everything will be alright," he said, offering a faint smile.
Erik's temper flared. He slapped Alfredo's hand away and shouted, "Alright? How can you say that? Nothing about this is alright!"
His voice trembled with rage as he demanded answers. He had believed Alfredo was a good person, a friend he could trust in the city. But now, that trust lay shattered, replaced by bitter disappointment.
"I thought you were different," Erik spat. "I thought I'd found a real friend in the city."
Alfredo's betrayal stung deeper because of the trust Erik had placed in him. Alfredo had helped him sell carrots, shared stories about the city that Erik had eagerly soaked up. That kindness had felt genuine—until now.
"Calm down, Erik. Let me explain," Alfredo said, his tone pleading.
But Erik wasn't listening. "Did you use me?" he shouted. "Did you pretend to be my friend just to get information about our truck's route and schedule?"
In his naivety, Erik had shared those details with Alfredo during their conversations in town, encouraged by the older boy's curiosity. Now, the truth hit him like a blow.
Alfredo sighed, not denying it. "Yes, helping you in town was partly to gain your trust and learn about your route. I'm sorry."
Erik's heart sank. He felt like a fool. His mistake had endangered Kardo and the others, left stranded on the road. Like him, they'd return home with nothing—no money, no goods. For poor families like theirs, who relied on every sale to survive, this was a disaster.
Overwhelmed, Erik sank to his knees, anger at himself boiling over. "It's my fault," he muttered, picturing Kardo and the others, abandoned and empty-handed.
He sprang to his feet, grabbing Alfredo's shirt. "Give us back our vegetables!" he pleaded. "We can't go home with nothing. My family worked so hard for those carrots. Do you know how much my parents sacrificed? Those crops are all we have to eat next month. My siblings' dreams—their schooling—depend on this!"
His hands shook as he clutched Alfredo's shirt, torn between rage and despair. He wanted to lash out, to hurt Alfredo for what he'd done, but something held him back. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was a captive, or maybe it was the lingering memory of the friend he thought Alfredo had been.
"Why?" Erik's voice broke. "Why are you doing this?"
His strength gave out, and he sank to the ground, his anger giving way to desperation. He knelt before Alfredo, begging. "Please, give us back our carrots."
Alfredo's expression softened with pity, but he looked away, unable to meet Erik's eyes. Despite his hardened life as a rebel, Alfredo wasn't heartless. He understood Erik's pain, the crushing weight of poverty in the provinces. Yet, he couldn't grant his request.
"I'm sorry, Erik," Alfredo said, stepping back. "I can't give you what you want."
He turned away, exhaling heavily, and began explaining the rebels' needs. "My group depends on these supplies to survive out here. We've been running low on food for days. I understand your situation, but as their leader, I have to prioritize my people."
Alfredo admitted that while he and his men could enter the city, they had to move carefully under the Spaniards' watchful eyes. One wrong move could lead to capture, torture, or betrayal of their hidden camp.
"I know you're smart enough to understand why I can't help you," Alfredo said.
Erik shook his head, his voice sharp with defiance. "You want me to understand your crimes? You cause chaos and tragedy for people like us. I'll never understand you."
Alfredo didn't argue, offering only a faint smile. He knew their actions were wrong in the eyes of many, but he didn't try to justify them further. Silence fell over the camp, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves.
A sudden gust of wind swept through, forcing Erik to shield his face with his arm. In that moment, a strange sensation prickled his skin—a chilling presence he couldn't explain. Was it the cold night air, or something more sinister?
Alfredo's voice cut through the quiet. "I admit, sometimes we're harsh, but it's not what we want. We do what we must to survive—and to fulfill Siklaon's great mission."
Erik frowned. "Siklaon?"
"Siklaon is our group," Alfredo explained, his voice steady with conviction. "We're not mere bandits. We're Filipino soldiers fighting to free our land from the demon Spaniards ruling Urdaneta."
He recounted the abuses his group had suffered at the hands of the Spaniards—land stolen, rights stripped, daily humiliations endured as if they were mere slaves to be used and discarded. Alfredo's memories were raw, his years in town marked by powerlessness, with no court to defend them and truths twisted to punish Filipinos who dared resist.
"We know many see us as criminals," Alfredo continued. "They may hate us, but we had no choice. We fled to escape the Spaniards' cruelty, to join Siklaon and fight back."
Living far from town, the rebels struggled to secure food and water. That's why they ambushed travelers, taking what they needed to survive.
"The Spaniards will feel Siklaon's wrath—the strength of Pangasinan!" Alfredo declared, his voice thick with anger.
As he spoke, Erik noticed something unsettling—a dark aura seemed to emanate from Alfredo, though he couldn't tell if it was real or a trick of his exhausted mind.
Alfredo's rage boiled over, his words turning venomous. "I'll destroy their greedy officials and make them pay double for every abuse they've inflicted on Filipinos. I swear, I'll take back Urdaneta—Pangasinan itself—from the governor-general's hands!"
Another fierce wind whipped through the camp, scattering leaves around them. Alfredo turned to Erik, his face lit with a terrifying grin, his eyes blazing with fervor. He extended a hand, holding a bandana emblazoned with Siklaon's symbol.
"Join me, Erik. Help me reclaim our town and crush the Spaniards."
Erik swallowed hard, stunned by the transformation in Alfredo. The gentle, kind friend he'd known was gone, replaced by a man consumed by vengeance, speaking of death and destruction with chilling resolve.
"You're insane," Erik whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Startled by his own boldness, he stumbled back, tripping over a rock and falling to the ground. Alfredo's expression softened, realizing he'd frightened the boy. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"I'm sorry," Alfredo said, his smile returning, though it felt forced. "I got carried away. Don't be afraid."
He knelt beside Erik, placing a hand on his head as he often did to comfort him. "I know this isn't fair to you, but I promise, once we take back our town, we'll pay for your vegetables."
Erik couldn't respond. It wasn't the promise of payment that silenced him—it was the fear and confusion swirling in his mind. He understood Alfredo's desire for freedom, the pain driving Siklaon's fight. But to him, their actions were still a crime. He wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but who was he to judge? These men had suffered abuses he could barely imagine, their rebellion born of a desperate need for liberation.
"But how can you fight the Spaniards?" Erik asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "They say there are thousands of them, and you're so few. And… there are rumors they have strange powers, unnatural abilities. If that's true, what chance do you have?"
Alfredo grinned, pulling Erik to his feet with a gentle tug. He led him toward the massive tree at the camp's center—a towering giant, over hundred feet tall and ten meters wide, its gnarled roots sprawling like ancient sentinels. It stood apart from the surrounding trees, exuding an almost otherworldly presence.
Alfredo placed a hand on the tree's rough bark. "I know about their leader's powers," he said, his voice brimming with confidence. "But don't worry—we have our own weapon."
Turning to Erik with a proud smile, he gestured to the tree. "Meet Siklaon, the guardian of this land. This is the one who will help us reclaim Urdaneta from the foreigners."
Erik stared, dumbfounded. Was Alfredo serious? Introducing a tree as their savior? He couldn't tell if this was a cruel joke or if Alfredo had lost his mind, believing an ancient tree in the heart of the forest could challenge the might of the Spaniards.
"Huh?" Erik managed, his voice small and uncertain.
End of Chapter