Gold Buddha Historical Novel Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

JUNGLE OF PALAWAN, PHILIPPINES

TEOFISTO AND MARIO REMAINED IN THE JUNGLE of Palawan watching the Indian tribe that had moved the Orphans. They attempted to locate the Orphans by following anyone leaving the village and hoping he would lead them to the hiding sight. They had been watching the tribe for many days without success. Each day was a new challenge with increased danger, but they were dedicated men who knew the Orphans were nearby. Their food supply had run low; so Teofisto prepared to return to Bill’s camp to get more supplies leaving Mario who stayed on watch.

Teofisto had hacked his way through the jungle for two hours, but suddenly the sky darkened telling him a storm was fast approaching. However, it was a strangely different darkness. The darkness had a heavy, thickness, and dust began to fall from the sky like fine sand. The air was still with no sign of wind—a deathly stillness gripped the jungle, but, undaunted, Teofisto continued to use his trusty machete to cut his way through the dense undergrowth.

After more than thirty hours on the trail, Teofisto stumbled into camp. Coarse dust was falling, and the atmosphere was dark as night. He found Beth and Nellie huddled inside the hut with cloths covering their noses. Neither of them knew what was happening. Bill had left them to go into town to check on the news.

Soon, Bill returned with the unpleasant news that Mount Pinatubo, a large volcano in Luzon, had erupted and was destroying many barrios and villages.

Teofisto expressed his personal fears. His family name was Punongbayan, and he was from a tribe of Indians who lived near Mount Pinatubo. Pedro had taken him from the tribe many years ago and he had never been back. “The tribe is very superstitious and call Pinatubo their God,” he explained. “My family is in danger.”

Unknown to Teofisto, only two nights before, his nephew Raymundo had hidden in the bushes and watched the elder tribesmen sitting on their heels around the nighttime campfire. Working his way through the brush to where he was as close to them as he dared, he listened carefully as they discussed the problems of the day.

He heard them mention his family name, Punongbayan. It had been a common tribal name for many generations, but the conversation on that particular night was mostly concerning his grandfather. The tribe’s spokesman said that his grandfather must leave the tribe. He had ordered him to move his family to the town of Olongapo, fourteen kilometers to the southwest.

Punongbayan’s choicest water buffalo had died. “It must have been a curse from Pinatubo,” the spokesman said emphatically. “A man cannot farm without a strong young buffalo.”

According to the elders, Pinatubo, the volcano god, had sentenced Punongbayan. The Aeta Indian tribe, of more than 50,000, worshiped and feared Pinatubo.

“It’s the will of Pinatubo,” another man said.

“Pinatubo is angry,” another stated, and all in the circle nodded in agreement.

“Punongbayan must leave soon, and we make sacrifice to Pinatubo.”

Raymundo watched his grandfather somberly stare into the fire without speaking. His grandfather looked old and tired. He was sixty-four years of age and nearly the oldest member of the tribe, but Raymundo had never considered him old. He had lived through World War II, and had watched the Japanese slaughter nearly the entire tribe, and had watched their cruel civilization invade their peaceful village. Now, he was agreeing to certain death for himself and destruction of his family unit. He knew that no Aeta family could keep its family ties while living in a town without the mountains and fellow tribesmen for protection.

Suddenly, as if voicing approval, a jolting earthquake shook the earth. The tribesmen fell to the ground and while on their knees began crying praises to Pinatubo.

“I have not angered Pinatubo,” Punongbayan cried as he kneeled with his face to the ground. “That big house angered him.”

He was referring to a large geothermal development project in the area of the 4,800-foot volcano. The Aetas were against the project from the beginning. Lately, there had been many tremors and signs of regenerating activity on Mount Pinatubo. The volcano had been dormant for six centuries; so now the god must be angered.

“Maybe true but you also have angered the God,” the leader quickly emphasized. “You must leave!”

The campfire was dying, and each man felt an urgent need to comfort his family. Each left the council area with his head bowed and his bodies slouched.

Grandfather Punongbayan sat silently for a few minutes then departed in shame. “I have angered Pinatubo,” he mumbled, accepting the verdict of the council.

Raymundo scurried from his hiding place and rushed to his hut. He arrived ahead of his grandfather and went directly to his corner of the hut. Listening in vain, he tried to hear the conversation.

He could understand only small parts of the discussion, but he determined that his family was being forced to leave the village immediately—it was Pinatubo’s will. He eventually fell asleep wondering if he had really made the God angry.

Next morning at dawn, the village was a scene of bustling activity. Raymundo busily gathered his personal treasures. Although nobody spoke to him about what was happening, he knew he would be moving soon.

The move began sooner than he had even expected. As the rays of the sun were beginning to penetrate the mist of the jungle, Raymundo’s father called a family council. He announced the family of eight must leave the village that day.

Expressions of disbelief passed among the family members. Each was saddened, but began preparing for the move. After all, it was the will of the tribe and Pinatubo. Even the small children gathered and clutched their crude toys.

Raymundo tried without success to imagine his family’s future. They would be leaving the safety of the jungle to live in a town with no way to grow food.

The events of the day seemed more like a dream than reality. It was difficult for Raymundo, a young boy, to leave friends and favorite hideaways. Each day he would miss riding the water buffalos. What would he do in an unfamiliar town full of strangers wearing unusual clothes?

Around midday, the family gathered and prepared to leave. The older children carried the infants, and the adults hefted large bundles. To Raymundo’s delight, he was selected to ride the only water buffalo left in the family. It would pull an old wooden cart loaded with the family’s possessions, and it needed someone on his back to guide him because he was old and getting blind. He approached the familiar old animal and swung onto its back positioning himself behind its enormous horns.

With a silent signal, the family trekked out of the village and down a narrow jungle trail. The remaining tribesmen stayed inside their huts, afraid to look upon the Punongbayan family. They were sad in some respects, but also relieved that the cause of the God’s anger was being removed from their village.

The Punongbayan family trudged steadily throughout the day, only pausing long enough for a quick meal. About three kilometers from home, Raymundo’s father signaled to stop and make camp.

Nearly everyone rested near the trail except Raymundo. He had ridden the familiar lumbering beast so was really not too tired. He leaped from his water buffalo and began investigating the area. He had never traveled so far from the village; so he pretended to be in a foreign country checking for wild boars and other creatures.

As the sun began to descend, Raymundo hurried to camp. He was fully aware of how rapidly and completely darkness could cover the jungle.

Raymundo saw that his younger brothers and sisters had unrolled their bed mats. He carried his mat to a tree about ten meters from his family and rolled it on the ground. He wanted his privacy, even if it meant being separated only a short distance.

Darkness settled in as the Punongbayan family relaxed from a long and trying ordeal. The trip had been exhausting for nearly everyone. The adults had worked physically and were under mental stress, and the children were weary and sad because of the friends they left behind. No one could understand the reason they had to leave their comfortable village. Perhaps the noble effort made by the family would appease the volcano god. To them it was simply a matter of tribal decision. They left because of the decision, and they acted without hesitation.

Raymundo questioned the move without voicing his opinion. “My grandfather’s buffalo was old and sick,” he said to himself. “It only worked too hard, the god of Pinatubo didn’t kill it. I know it!” Like all Indian children, he followed the advice of his parents, and the move had became just another activity.

He slid his mat close to a tree and sat resting against it. He watched the flickering light of the campfire become brighter and the light in the sky turn into blackness.

The darkness that surrounded Raymundo was comforting; but as he put his hand near the tree to scoot himself into a comfortable position, his hand fell directly on top of a live creature. The unexpected contact frightened both the creature and Raymundo, and Raymundo screamed a blood curdling yell. He struck at the creature, in the blackness of the night, as it frantically ran across his body. Not knowing what type of creature he had encountered, Raymundo fought like it was a battle for life. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight out as he leaped to his feet. Then the sounds of a clucking chicken broke through the confusion and the cheeping of small chicks followed.

To Raymundo, the thought of being attacked by a wild chicken wasn’t funny; but to the adult males who had rushed to his rescue, it was hilarious. All the tension and frustrations of the day seemed to vanish in a single outburst of laughter.

“Maybe we need to place a chicken guard by Raymundo,” his father said to the others as they returned to the campfire.

“It wasn’t funny,” Raymundo said to himself. “Wait until they are surprised by an animal in the dark. I hope it’s a wild boar.”

With the tensions of the day relieved somewhat, the fatigued family fell into deep sleep. Several small earth tremors occurred during the night, but were unnoticed by most members of the sleeping family.

The father, who usually slept soundly, was aware of each tremor. “The god of Pinatubo is punishing someone else,” he thought, “Maybe he wasn’t angry with us at all.”

Unknown to the Punongbayan family or anyone else, Mount Pinatubo was building up pressures from deep within the earth that would explode soon. The explosion would be more powerful than any known to this part of the world, at least within recorded history.

To the natives, Mount Pinatubo was a god, but it was only one of many volcanoes encircling the Pacific Ocean. Scientifically, the earth’s solid crust floated atop a deep layer of semi-molten rock known as the mantle. It was broken into several crystal plates that move continually against the arc of islands. The Philippine islands are part of an arc of two hundred fifty islands called the “Ring of Fire”.

An earth shaking explosion broke the early morning slumber of the Punongbayan family. Their eyes were wide with fear as their bodies reacted to the thunderous explosion. Each member of the family believed Pinatubo had come to carry him into the volcano. Women clutched the small children in their arms, and the other children rushed for safety. Even the brave Raymundo found himself instinctively clutching his mother.

The sky filled with a billowing cloud of smoke that darkened the rising sun. The smoke rose twenty thousand kilometers into the sky as the frightened family stared in disbelief, too frightened to move.

Ash and debris began pelting them from the sky. They ran for cover in the trees as rocks fell to the ground. The father, being concerned for his one remaining old water buffalo, rushed to drive the beast into the trees.

By the time they had protected themselves under a large overhanging tree, rocks up to the size of their hands were falling from the sky. Sand and white ash accompanied the rock’s covering everything—sulfur smell hurt their noses, and the ash burned their eyes. They remained huddled in a solid mass, the adults protecting the children.

At the same time, in the Aeta village, total disaster had occurred. A three-year-old boy had suffocated from sulfur fumes, and an old man lay dead after being struck by a bolder the size of a gourd. Thousands of primitive Aeta tribesmen fled on buffalo and ox-drawn carts. The dead were left behind as molten rock rushed down the steep mountain slopes.

Complicating the confusion, thick ash, pumice and steam shot eight kilometers into the air masking the sun, causing a dismal darkness. The tropical villages and mountainsides soon became a thick carpet of white debris. Escape was paramount, as the confused people rushed for their lives: men, women, children and old people ran helter-skelter, leaving their possessions and animals behind. Large super-heated boulders, some the size of cars, littered the gullies and riverbeds. Heat, dirt and darkness combined with the terrible stress caused by fear and confusion caused many to collapse into unconsciousness. The sight of people dragging unconscious loved ones and others carrying small children created a hectic scene.

Fear gripped the Punongbayan family; and as with an unspoken decision, the small family group of eight people rushed toward the road, as if they were all one body. Fortunately for them, they had the presence of mind to salvage their meager possessions. The father hooked the old buffalo to their cart, swung himself onto the big animal’s back and moved off after his family.

In the darkness, they could sense and feel the heavy white coating of ash covering their bodies. They protected their mouths and noses by wrapping rags around their heads as they stumbled down the road toward Olongapo. They hoped to find safety there.

Finally, the Punongbayan family approached the town. They were dismayed to see hundreds of people streaming into the disrupted town.

Nearly eight inches of ash had accumulated in Olongapo disrupting the electrical service. Snarled traffic jammed the streets, and masses of people wandered aimlessly everywhere.

Raymundo was on the verge of tears, like many others who were crying as they pushed through the crowd. Tears mixed with the white ash on their faces created a pathetic sight. He held tightly to the wooden cart and stumbled along in total confusion.

The father led the family behind a building, and they fell to the ground in complete exhaustion.

The volcano’s fury could still be heard, but fatigue had taken its toll on the Punongbayan family. It was pitiful: All eight people were covered with white-ash as they huddled closely together on the ground trying to adjust into a comfortable position for sleep.

The night passed restlessly for everyone. Raymundo was the first to arise from the heap of family members and began scouting the area. He was the curious type and always had been independent.

His grandfather saw him leave but didn’t bother to give instructions. He simply looked through blurry eyes and lowered his head.

Volcanic ash was still falling, and earthquake rumblings were heard and felt continuously. Although they knew it was morning, they could barely see. The dark smoke, steam, ash and debris that spewed from the volcano were being thrown miles into the air, obliterating the rays of the morning sun. The dreary atmosphere of a foreign area, covered with several inches of ash and dirt, caused an eerie feeling to pass through Raymundo’s mind. He did not dare venture far from his family. He turned to glance toward them and saw a trail of his footprints in the fallen ash.

Suddenly, the gleeful sounds of happy playing children captured his attention. He rushed around the corner of the building and saw ten or twelve children spraying each other with a water hose.

Without hesitation, Raymundo raced toward the action. Some children were naked and some were dressed like Raymundo, in sandals and a cloth tied around his waist and brought between his legs.

The water washed the white ash from his brown body and felt refreshing. He was having so much fun that he had forgotten, for a few moments, his family’s plight.

Then, suddenly, he intuitively became aware that his family must now be preparing for the day. He spontaneously left the fun and returned in time to see the last child stirring from slumber. They looked with amazement at Raymundo. He was clean and full of vigor; while they were still filthy with half-shut, sleepy eyes.

“Where you been?” His mother asked.

“Just playing.” He responded without breaking his stride toward his water buffalo.

“You stay close,” His mother instructed as she turned to help the other children.

The Punongbayan family was in desperate straits, but the suffering people who had remained at their village were going through a horrendous devastation. A thundering wall of mud and boulders roared toward a river near Mount Pinatubo, burying homes as residents looked on helplessly. Mudflows, including huge waves of volcanic ash and debris capable of entombing whole towns moved down the volcanic mountain. Rain had also begun to fall in unprecedented amounts contributing to the mudslides. In fact, the Porac River in Pampanga had risen three feet because of rain and ash accumulations.

In the village of Pio, near the Porac River, residents fled without their belongings as a mound of steaming earth and boulders, as large as refrigerators, rolled down the banks of the river, burying houses up to their roofs. Everything was a mass of confusion. Nobody could be warned in advance because of poor radio communication; the electricity had been knocked out by mudflow. Soldiers in the area who were trying to warn the people could only fire their weapons into the air. More than 200,000 had fled and nearly 350 died in the first onslaught. About 40 tribes had hidden in caves, in a feeble attempt to escape the fury of the volcano; but unknown to those poor souls, the volcanic debris would bury them alive. The rapidity of destruction was sudden and unexpected.

Raymundo and his family were like hundreds of other people, struggling for survival. Government help, that they needed desperately, didn’t enter their minds because of their self-sustaining heritage. Their food would run out within two weeks.

The family’s buffalo was attached to the cart, and Raymundo assumed his place behind the horns. Not knowing what to do or where to go, the father led his clan aimlessly onward searching for shelter. Through the falling ash he spotted a concrete Jeepney bus-stop shelter and made his way toward it. Finding the shelter empty, he instructed his family to unload and use it for protection from the elements. The mother began setting up a cooking station and arranging a living quarters in a four foot by eight foot space. It was open on two sides, but at least it had a roof.

Suspending a blanket over the front and back openings, the father tried to keep the ash out. Then, he joined the rest of the family sitting along the outside wall and awaited a scanty meal of rice. Each person by then, even the young children, had devised an umbrella-like protection that could be held overhead. The protection kept the constantly falling ash from getting in their eyes and noses.

Somehow, the mother cooked a meal that filled the air with familiar odors making everyone’s stomach churn. Soon they ate the welcome food consisting of rice cooked in oyster oil and spices.

After the meager meal, three of the smallest children and the mother crowded inside the concrete bus stop to sit on the floor. The others sat against the outside concrete walls with rags wrapped around their heads.

The Punongbayan family, like thousands of others, was left to fend for themselves. Many would survive, but many would suffer and die; while politicians and leaders like past President Fernando Marcos and his wife, Imelda, lived in luxury with billions of dollars in gold in foreign banks.

It began raining during the night and continued the next day. Of course July was the beginning of the annual rainy season; so, normally, the rain would be tolerated without complaint. However, the weather that year, with the combination of rain and volcanic ash, was nearly unbearable, even to the natives.

To make matters worse and unknown to the suffering people, a storm by the name of Tropical Storm Brendan, with reported winds of up to 60 mph, was moving rapidly toward the northeastern coast of Luzon Island. That would mean a devastating disaster would be descending upon hundreds of thousands of people if the report were true.

The general populous would never receive a weather report. All they could do was huddle in groups hoping the terrible winds and rains would quit soon.

Raymundo disliked the annual rainy season because it meant that he would be unable to roam through the jungle by himself. He had to remain near the family. As he sat leaning against the concrete bus stop, occasionally he would peek from beneath the old coat above his head and stare into the darkness. The combination of the storm clouds and the volcanic ash had so darkened the sun that day and night seemed nearly the same. No children dared stray away from the family.

The rains were not only irritating; they were causing the river to rise to dangerous levels. Water rushed down the hills and into the normally peaceful river causing torrents of swirling eddies that carried all kinds of debris. The slippery mud had captured many children throughout the years of rainy seasons.

Even in times of turmoil, Raymundo accepted the responsibility of caring for the family water buffalo. After all, it was the family treasure, and he always had been the one who anxiously volunteered for the chore. Carefully, he made his way around the edge of the concrete shelter and could barely see the outline of the buffalo laying in the foliage. Ducking his head, he leaned into the storm and made his way toward the drenched animal.

Upon reaching the buffalo, Raymundo rubbed the creature’s ears and patted his neck in a familiar gesture of encouragement. “I don’t like it either,” he spoke with a small voice that caused the buffalo to turn his massive head toward him. “It won’t last too long,” he said. Not wanting to stay in the rain, he returned to the shelter after a few minutes. The moment he turned, the earth shook with a tremendous jolt. More than eighty earth tremors had been felt during the night, but this one was especially hard and sudden. Raymundo rushed with genuine fright to his family.

“He’s okay?” Raymundo’s father asked, referring to the buffalo.

“Okay,” Raymundo replied as he pulled the coat over his head to return to his thoughts. He wondered about his friends. He wondered about his village, it had been his home all his life, and now it seemed so far away.

The tropical storm began slamming into the coast causing tons of debris from Mount Pinatubo to be washed down its slopes, burying scores of homes and forcing thousands of people to flee as mud and debris tumbled down Mount Pinatubo. They fled with only the possessions they could carry; even the family pigs and chickens were carried. Most creatures that refused to be herded even in the best of times were completely out of control. Animals left on the ground were quickly lost and overcome by the mud. Huge adult pigs were hung on sturdy poles with their legs tied together and carried by two men. The sight would have been humorous if it was not such a desperate situation.

Enterprising young men carried frightened maidens across knee-deep mudflows by means of lashing a large wooden chair between two poles. The maiden in distress sat in the chair and four men lifted it in the air, barely inches above the mud. The current against their legs splashed mud into the air up to their waists making the trip treacherous but was greatly appreciated by the girls.

Many lives were lost in the mountains. The massive exodus was one of disorganized confusion. Families clung together to survive; a wandering child would be lost.

The volcano continued to spew ash thousands of kilometers into the air. The earth shook and a veil of darkness covered the land. Raymundo reasoned that the volcano god must really be angry.

It was a pathetic situation. The Philippine government, as might be expected, acted in complete disarray. Emergency measures, for this type of crisis, were never properly planned. The mentality of leadership in this third world country is best demonstrated by a ridiculous statement by President Aquino as published in the national newspaper: “I suggest that the Philippine consulates sell souvenir ash from Mount Pinatubo to raise money for rehabilitation projects.”

Bill Goodwin, meanwhile, had gone into a survival mode. Because of the volcano fallout, island life had been seriously affected. Everyone on the island spent nearly full time cleaning the volcanic ash from living areas—the economy had come to a standstill. Teofisto had returned to Mario with all of the supplies he could gather and continued watching the tribe of natives.

Early one morning, Nellie approached Bill with the suggestion that he should work with her uncle on the selling of the five bars of gold.

“I must send a message to “Big O” today and explain our dilemma; so maybe we could talk to your uncle today. I can’t do anything until Teofisto finds those Orphans.”

“My uncle is anxious to see you again.”

“Give me about an hour,” Bill said and walked into the hut to get a writing pad.

After he prepared the message, Bill, with Nellie and Beth, drove to town. He went directly to the telephone office and Nellie telephoned her uncle. Her uncle was happy to hear from her and arranged to meet them.

The situation was still the same—he had five 10 Kilogram gold bars hidden in a cave and needed help selling them.

Bill agreed to arrange for buyers meet him in Manila and purchase the bars, as soon as he could verify that they were pure gold. “I have an acid testing kit to check the karat of the bars,” Bill told her uncle.

“That’s good. We already checked it; so you’ll find it is okay.”

Bill asked, “How soon can I see it?”

Maybe tomorrow, okay.”

“That will be okay. Who will be going with us?”

“I have some co-workers who work with me,” Nellie’s uncle answered.

“Okay, here’s the deal I’ll make. I’ll have the buyers go to Manila, and after we get the five bars, the co-workers and I can take the gold to the buyers. When we sell the bars you and your co-workers keep the proceeds for four and I get all the money from the fifth bar.”

Nellie’s uncle nodded in agreement and turned to look at the co-workers standing behind him. Nobody spoke a word or indicated affirmation, but her uncle turned back to Bill and presented his hand as a gesture of acceptance.

“We’ve got a deal,” Bill said. “I’ll go back to my hut and meet you here tomorrow about noon.”

“We have to get the bars at night,” her uncle explained. “Many relatives know we have them hidden, and would like to steal them from us; so we must be careful.”

Bill realized that it would always be like that on the islands. Families had searched for buried treasure for forty-five years and many have found it, but jealousy and greed have kept them from capitalizing on their finds.

“I’ll meet you at 4 p.m….is that okay.”

“Just fine,” her uncle replied.

Nellie spoke up, “Beth and I want to stay here tonight. Is that okay, Mr. Bill?”

“No problem, I’ll be all right.”

With that statement, Bill stood and left. It began to rain as he drove, making it difficult to travel, but eventually, he arrived at his hut and collapsed on his cot. In spite of the rain, the air temperature was 95 degrees, and Bill was beginning to feel ill.

Bill’s mind reeled as he tried to sleep and broke into a sweat—his body temperature continued to rise. Sporadically, he dreamed of his miserable conditions, on the Philippine Island of Palawan, five hundred miles from the erupting volcano Pinatubo. Three to six inches of volcanic ash had fallen to the ground and mixed with rainwater. The resulting cement-like mud covered everything. It continued to rain. The July rainy season was emphatically upon him.

Bill was still laying on his cot early in the morning trying to sleep. His body fever of one hundred two degrees had kept him restless all night, and his illness seemed to be moving into his lungs. He might have pneumonia or even malaria.

To further complicate matters, Bill had an unexpected visitor approaching him. He was unaware of a spider, the size of his hand, silently creeping toward the wooden leg of his cot. He had encountered that type of creature before, but had managed to avoid it. This time, however, he was laying in a half-sleep, oblivious to the impending danger.

The wooden leg of the cot was no obstacle for the spider as it felt the leg with a feeler and began climbing. It climbed to the canvas and along the edge until it was within an inch of Bill’s bare arm. Hesitating several minutes, it studied its next move. Then in a quick lunge, it sprung to Bill’s arm and inserted its pinchers upon contact. The pain was as if someone had plunged a knife into his arm. He screamed and leaped to his feet instantaneously grasping his injured arm. A spider hanging on his arm was a total surprise.

Screaming and yelling, Bill waved his arms frantically, striking the tent with fury. The sight of a spider hanging on his arm was a total surprise to him. The spider dropped and scurried to a darkened corner of the tent.

Bill quickly grabbed a shovel and attacked. His high fever and sudden awakening affected his aim. He eventually smashed the spider against the dirt floor and collapsed on the cot to examine his aching arm.

The arm immediately began pulsating and swelling around the reddened area of the bite. Most likely, the spider had injected its poisons upon impact with the intent of stunning its victim. Bill shook his head in total disgust. “That’s all I need,” he moaned as he began sucking on the spider’s pincher marks. Unable to realize noticeable exudates from this effort, he grabbed his knife and pushed the sharpened end through the skin and into the marks. As the blood began to flow, he sucked vigorously and felt as if he were accomplishing some good. The damage had been done and the venom was spreading rapidly.

He grabbed his first-aid kit and opened it to retrieve some disinfectant. Freely dousing the injury with iodine he wrapped his arm to hold the medication against the wound and fell back on his cot.

“What a night, what an adventure, where’s Doug when I need him?” He declared aloud.

The heat of the early morning sun pressed against the canvas of the tent. Bill was still restlessly laying upon the cot. His clothes were wringing wet, and perspiration ran off his bare skin in small rivulets. He slid to the edge of the cot and sat hunched over with his fevered head resting in his hands. It was enough being eight thousand miles from home, but to be sick and now poisoned by a spider compounded his misery. “When I get out of this mess,” he said to himself with gritted teeth, “I’m staying home.”

Still groggy, he dressed and dragged himself from the hut. While sitting at the table, he felt his swollen arm and decided to hike to a nearby barrio for some help. The decision was irrational, but his foggy mind told him the local natives would know better than anyone how to treat spider bites.

He stumbled along the jungle trail with his head hanging low as he stared a few feet ahead making his way through the intense heat. He found no relief by stopping to rest. The heat of the day was causing the moisture from the ground to meet the moisture of the atmosphere, and he was caught between the layers of air.

Finally, after thirty minutes, Bill approached the small barrio that he had in mind. With possible relief in sight, he received his second wind and hurried toward the first large hut. The local native living in the hut understood Bill’s plight and took him to a native doctor. The doctor, resembling a witch doctor portrayed in the movies, greeted him with a beetle nut smile. Bill felt certain that this unkempt man could handle spider bites. The doctor had seen many such bites throughout his lifetime. He immediately packed Bill’s arm with a gooey concoction that resembled wet gelatin and wrapped it with a cloth bandage. Bill watched offering no suggestions as the doctor performed his duties, knowing that his opinion was of no value in this situation.

Handing the old man nine pesos (45¢US) for his services, Bill turned and headed back to his hut.

After leaving the witch doctor, Bill rested for a couple painful hours and drove to town. He went to the local medical dispensary and got an antibiotic hoping to control his fever. Ampicillin was not available; so Bill took a drug recommended by a nurse and went on his way.

He drove to the hut of Nellie’s uncle. Meeting Nellie as he approached the hut, he said, “I’m in bad shape, Nellie. Can you help me?”

She rushed to his aid as soon as she saw the look on his face. “Here, Mr. Bill let me help you get inside,” she said putting one her arms around his waist. Fortunately, Bill was not helpless or her tiny frame could never have handled the tall Bill Goodwin. She guided him toward a bamboo hut.

The co-workers were in the bamboo hut preparing for that night’s gold project. They recognized Bill’s plight and left the hut allowing Bill to lay on a mat and rest. He remained inside the hut all day and into the early evening. Finally, Nellie came to the hut at 7:30 and awakened the restless Bill.

“It’s time to go, Mr. Bill,” she said cautiously.

Bill was on his feet in an instant trying to regain his coordination. “I feel like death warmed over,” he moaned to himself.

The team was ready and waiting when he stumbled out of the hut. Everyone looked his way. “You okay?” one men asked.

“I’ll make it,” Bill responded as three of the men came to his assistance. “Let’s go,” Bill said. “I’ll wake up in a few minutes.”

The trip was a two hour hike and difficult for everybody. Through dedicated internal determination and persistence, Bill managed to keep up with the others. They arrived at the site in the black of the night. Because of the volcanic ash still in the sky, neither star nor moonlight was visible. Bill sat down on the ground to rest while the others cleared away the brush that hid the entrance of a cave.

The next few hours would prove to be a religiously spiritual experience for all concerned. The Filipinos had brought religious candles to light inside and held a prayer service before entering. Bill participated in the service and felt the sincerity of the occasion. They prayed for awareness of danger and protection from enemies so they could successfully remove the gold. They also prayed that they could sell it safely and use the revenues to help the poor families in the village. Bill was touched emotionally by the unexpected manner in which they proceeded.

After the prayer, they crawled through a small opening that led to a cave large enough stand. Then, they lit the religious candles and uncovered five bars of gold. As Bill lifted his selected bar, the weight surprised him. The bar weighed ten kilograms (22 pounds) and was only 3"X3"X6".

They scrubbed each bar with a white cloth using strong soap to cut the dirt that covered the gold. The debris on the gold had collected for forty-five years in a rat and bat infested cave.

After several minutes, gold bars glistened in the candlelight. Bill suddenly became aware that neither he nor any of the others had mentioned the monetary value of the gold during the cleanup. The thought had not entered his mind. It was then he realized that the process of cleaning the gold had been a religious experience.

They proceeded to leave the cave and secured the opening, making sure there was no evidence of activity.

The trek back to the village was in silence, each lost in his thoughts as they carried the gold bars, which were now wrapped in concealing foliage.. Upon reentering the uncle’s hut, they sat on mats and waited for the uncle to speak.

“Tell no one about this, or we might all be killed,” the uncle explained. The men nodded in agreement and passed all five of the bars to the uncle as he placed them into a hidden compartment under the floor. Continuing to speak, the uncle asked Bill if he wanted to sleep in his hut.

Bill said that he did; so the uncle wished him a good rest, and everyone left. Bill lay down still fully clothed on a sleeping mat, which covered the loose floor boards, and lapsed into deep sleep.

The following day, Bill felt much better in spite of another restless night. He arose and washed and met Nellie at the outside table for breakfast. Nellie had seen Bill at the faucet; so she prepared a plate for him.

“I’m planning to make a telephone call today and leave for Manila tomorrow to meet the buyers,” he said to Nellie. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Oh, Yes, Mr. Bill. I do,” she answered with happiness in her voice. “Maybe to Manila also.”

“I don’t know about Manila, but I have to go to the telephone office in town.”

“Okay, I will go too.”

Bill didn’t want to send a fax and have to wait for a response, but the subject matter of his request was too important to risk the ever present eyes and ears of the locals; so he took the time to prepare a fax for “Big O”

The fax was sent and a response arrived within an hour. The necessary contact would meet him in Manila with the money in two days.

Bill and Nellie returned to her uncle and plans were made to transport the five bars to Manila. The following day Bill would leave for Manila with his gold bar. Four other men also would carry a similar bar. If the bars were of the value that he presumed, they would be the nest egg needed to complete this mission. They also would be Bill’s ticket home.

The following morning, after eating a breakfast of rice and vegetables, Bill went to the local airport. Propeller driven airplanes could leave and land on the ash covered airstrips of Manila, but the jets could not; so Bill signed on a small “puddle jumper” and collapsed on a hard wooden bench to await departure.

Nobody in the waiting area paid any particular attention to the fatigued American on the bench. He appeared as scruffy and miserable as the rest of the people; so he blended into the crowd. To an outside observer Bill would look as if he were just one step above a vagrant. His usual careful grooming and dress had given way to the basics of daily survival. His beard had grown in its usual splotchy pattern, but was unusually long. His illness and high fever had taken its toll, and his demeanor reflected his fatigue. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Suddenly Bill became aware of potential danger. It was as if an internal voice brought him to full alertness. Glancing around the terminal and over his shoulder, he noticed a police officer talking to a well dressed Filipino. As Bill’s attention was directed toward the police officer, the officer’s gaze shifted toward Bill. Bill looked casually past the two men, and tried to appear disinterested. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the police officer beginning to move in his direction. He approached Bill with a friendly greeting, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Bill returned the greeting in a submissive tone of voice. “How are you today?”

“Okay. Are you going to Manila?”

“Maybe, if my friend comes. I’m tired of the rain. Maybe I’ll go to the United States.”

“Oh, the United States, I was there once.”

“Where were you?”

“California”

“Yes, I know California. Do you have relatives there?”

“Oh, yes, many. They all live in National City. Do you know where that is located?” the officer asked.

Bill mentioned that it was just a few minutes from San Diego and continued the conversation in his usual friendly manner to prevent a hostile confrontation. They conversed for several minutes, and the police officer finally walked away without asking further details.

Bill sat back on the wooden bench acting as if he were relaxing, but he was far from relaxed. Glancing around, he had a feeling that others were watching him. Two suspicious looking men suddenly appeared. They leaned against the wall and occasionally looked toward Bill.

Bill gathered his bags slowly and walked casually toward the restroom. Stopping near the side door, pretending to tie his shoe, he glanced to see if he had been watched. When he saw no one looking in his direction, he darted out the door and ran behind some heavy bushes. He waited several minutes checking to see if anyone followed him outside. Only one man exited the building. He lit a cigarette, but didn’t look suspicious. Before leaving his cover, Bill waited for the man to finish the cigarette and return inside the terminal.

An announcement finally came that passengers could board the plane. Bill gathered his bags and shuffled toward the open door. He watched to see that the co-workers in the recovery team were also boarding. Each man, with his valuable package acted as if he were a total stranger.

Suddenly, without a sign of evident trouble, the headman of Bill’s group, Edwardo, left the terminal. His unexplained leaving was a sign for the others to abandon their initial travel plan and return at their hut to make secondary plans.

Bill watched out of the corner of his eye as the other three partners casually left; then he walked to a bench and sat for a few minutes. He could not see any danger, but he had total confidence in the judgment of the Edwardo. He was a small quiet man who had a mind that was always alert to danger.

He had survived his very difficult fifty-five years by using his wits and brains. Even as a child during World War II, he aided in protecting his people by infiltrating the Japanese secured areas and pretending to be a lost child. He observed troop movements and directions of military action. He had passed that critical information to the village leader so the Filipinos could avoid capture. Since then Edwardo has been active in fighting every invading faction, including the communist rebels.

Now, he was the leader of small group of men who were attempting to leave the island with gold. This gold represented enormous wealth for his family. If he could do this successfully, he would become their salvation from the miserable conditions under which they lived.

Quickly, Bill made his exit through the side door again and hid in the shrubbery as before. He watched for anyone who might be following him. In a matter of a few seconds, three men ran out of the terminal and obviously were searching for him. Fortunately, they pursued his supposed trail toward the parking lot, and Bill immediately left in the opposite direction. He ran down a dirt road between tin buildings and into the neighboring jungle.

After resting for a few minutes, Bill traveled on side trails to the uncle’s hut two miles away. The others had arrived ahead of Bill and were deep in conversation.

“Jealous relatives were in the airport with the police to capture our treasure,” Edwardo explained. It would be difficult to avoid detection anywhere on the island. “We must go by boat and not have the treasure in our personal packs.”

Bill looked at the others sitting on their heels and staring at the floor and asked, “Do you have a plan?”

Edwardo answered with confidence, “I’ll contact Manuel in Manila. He must come to help us. Manuel owns a salvage company and can take our treasure in sealed drums with scrap iron.”

Nobody spoke a word for several minutes, and finally Bill broke the silence. “Can we trust him?”

“With my life!” came the reply from Edwardo. The others nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do it!” Bill said with an inflection of haste in his voice. He was tired of the weather, living conditions, food and everything in general.

Edwardo turned to the youngest of the group and instructed him in Tagalog. He then repeated his brief instructions in English, for Bill’s sake. “Say to Manual we have a problem and need his help to move some scrap iron, he’ll know.” Then Edwardo continued, “Say it is urgent, and he must come by Friday because we must leave by Monday for sure.”

As the young man rose to leave, Bill handed him a piece of paper and asked Edwardo to have Manual call this telephone number on the paper collect and get a message to his brother, Doug, that everything is okay. Have Manual tell Doug that I’ll call him Monday. Edwardo gave Bill’s instructions to the young man in Tagalog who took the paper without another word and left the hut.

Bill also left the crowded hut with two men to sleep on the beach. As he relaxed on the beach, he closed his eyes to help him mentally picture life in America. The ninety-two degrees temperature and high humidity bore down on him extra heavily as he thought of home. It’s hard to live like this, he thought, but at least I get to leave. These poor souls have to stay forever. He opened his eyes to a rustling sound in time to see a wild chicken walking near the trees. Just as he thought “I’d like to have that chicken for dinner,” he saw a dart speed through the air and strike the chicken directly in the head. A Filipino had used a blowgun to kill the chicken. Bill’s wish had been granted, for they were eating chicken within a half hour. “You men certainly are resourceful,” he said as he savored the fresh meat.

Manuel was contacted by the young man within an hour’s time after he had left the group. Manual had quickly agreed to come to their aid. He had been a freedom fighter with Edwardo most of his adult life and knew any request from him was of utmost importance. “I’ll come Friday,” Manual agreed. He was then given Doug Goodwin’s telephone number and agreed to call him collect. “Okay,” was the only word spoken.

Immediately Manuel placed the call to Doug, knowing that it was early morning in the States.

Doug was sitting at his computer when the phone rang and the operator told him he had a collect call. When he accepted the charges he expected to hear Bill’s voice; but to his surprise, the voice on the telephone was not Bill’s but that of a Filipino. Doug immediately thought that something was drastically wrong, but felt relieved as he listened. Manuel explained in broken English that Bill was okay and would be arriving in Manila by boat in five days. Doug thanked him for the message.

Bill prepared to await Manuel. As he sat contemplating the future, Edwardo approached him. “I think we should not be seen with you,” Edwardo said to Bill. “Maybe you should go alone on airplane, then we meet you.”

“It’s interesting that you should say that. I was thinking the same thing,” Bill said. “Should I go with Nellie?”

“That would be good, like lovers.”

“Get out of here,” Bill laughed and shoved Edwardo.

“Maybe you check it out in the morning.”

“I’ll do that,” Bill responded and lay back to think it over.

That night on the island of Palawan an unexpected storm moved into the area. It was nearly typhoon strength. The night was torn apart by sounds of destruction, as if all Hell had broken loose.

The next morning, looking over the scene of destruction, Bill saw chaos at every turn. The storm had passed through the island leaving devastation and confusion in its trail. The army and police were in full force trying to control looting. Masses of scurrying humans defied control. Large numbers of people were like the waves of the sea: as soon as one problem area was under control, a larger one developed. The only law, in this type of situation, appeared to be the law of survival of the fittest.

Bill was caught in the middle of this chaotic activity. Electricity was nonexistent, and water was cut off completely. All markets were out of business—soon food would become scarce.

Bill decided to take Edwardo’s advice and try leaving the island by air. He went to see Nellie.

“Can you go with me to Manila today?” Bill asked.

“Why sure Mr. Bill, if you want,” she answered.

“How soon can you be ready?”

“I’m ready now.”

Bill did an unplanned double take and smiled, “Let’s go to the airport in one hour. I’ll meet you here.”

“Whatever you say,” Nellie said with a quick submissive smile then looked quickly away.

“Ask Beth to come with me; so she can protect our equipment while we are gone.

Nellie, with the sparkle sill in her eyes said, “Okay, Mr. Bill.”

Bill’s emotions surfaced instantly when she said that, but quickly gaining control of himself he replied, “See ya’ in one hour,” and walked away. He glanced back just in time to see the long black hair disappear into the jungle. He had mixed feelings for Nellie: admiration, respect, love and many other emotions that were indefinable. Doug would have told him that he had been in the jungle too long.

Bill had to return to his hut to contact Teofisto and secure his possessions. The storm had made the road nearly impassable, but Bill zigzagged his way around obstacles and finally arrived at his hut. Miraculously, it was only slightly damaged—mostly wet from rain. His cloths were soaked, but the radio equipment was safe. It had been stored in waterproof containers.

After arriving, it took twenty minutes to contact Teofisto, but Bill was grateful he finally responded.

“Mr. T, this is Batman, come in!”

“This is Mr. T. I’ve been trying to contact you for all day.”

“I’ve been away from the hut. Have you seen the Orphans?”

“Not yet, but there is much activity here, and bad weather. I think someone will check the Orphans soon.”

“I have to go to Manila for a few days. If you see the Orphans, come back to the hut and wait for me.”

“Roger, we will be fine.”

“I’ll contact you when I return.”

“Ten four,” Teofisto said and ended the conversation.

Bill said good-bye to Beth and returned to Nellie, and they traveled immediately to the crowded airport.

“You lead the way,” Bill shouted above the noise of the bustling people at the airport terminal. He was trying to speak to Nellie, but she could barely hear him.

“Stay close, Mr. Bill,” Nellie shouted over her shoulder as she pushed through the “quick sand” crowd of short people.

Instantly Bill felt alone in a crowd. Nellie melted into the throng of people.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Bill spoke courteously at first; but soon, out of necessity, became as pushy as the rest of the people.

Shortly, Nellie was lost from his view, but continued moving in the direction of the ticket counter.

One would think that a man whose height was head and shoulders above the rest would have an advantage, but such was not so in that situation. The smaller people filled all empty space like flowing sand. Bill had developed techniques of moving through crowds in third world counties without creating much antagonism and soon found himself within view of the ticket counter. He spotted Nellie speaking with an airline employee.

“Nellie!” Bill shouted above the noise and caught her attention.

Glancing in Bill’s direction, but not losing the attention of the airline employee, she spotted Bill’s head above the crowd and raised an arm signaling for him to come to her.

The news at the counter was all bad; no planes could leave the island.

“We must get to Manila,” Bill said. “Can you think of any other way?”

“This is desperate. Maybe we can get on a boat to bigger island, then fly to Manila from there,” Nellie replied.

“A boat? What kind of boat?” Bill asked as he stared with his mouth hanging open in dismay.

“It’s really a ship.”

“What kind of ship?”

“Plenty big.”

“Brother! That doesn’t sound like a good idea, there’s a storm out there.”

“Maybe not too bad.”

“Well, let’s check it out,” Bill said with hesitation in his voice.

“No telephone, We have to walk to the dock.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Bill grabbed Nellie’s arm, and together they worked their way through the mass of people and hailed a taxi.

“Man! It feels good to sit,” Bill said with a fatigued voice.

Bill casually looked at Nellie and wondered how she could look so fresh. She had to be tired too, but she looked crisp and refreshed.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Bill said.

“What?” Nellie replied.

“You always look so nice.”

Nellie coyly turned her face away without commenting. This simple naive act caused a rush to pass through Bill’s mind. These Filipina girls are sexy in a feminine way, Bill thought as he looked at Nellie’s long dark hair glistening in the sunshine.

Being caught up in his thoughts caused a brief time lapse to occur, and the heavy congested traffic passed without Bill’s awareness.

“There’s the dock office,” Nellie said, breaking a long silence and bringing Bill back to reality.

“We can walk from here,” Bill said to the driver and paid him generously, fifty pesos.

Rushing toward the dock office they saw a crowd of people moving toward a large open cattle boat.

“Is that the ship?” Bill asked coldly, pointing toward the foreboding boat.

“Maybe,” Nellie responded and led the way to a ticket window.

Bill held onto Nellie’s arm but kept glancing toward the boat that Nellie called a ship.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Bill commented.

“There’s no other way,” Nellie said and directed her gaze downward waiting for Bill to make the final decision.

“We have to do it, I guess,” Bill said, finally.

Nellie turned to face the challenge of buying tickets. She switched her language from English to Tagalog and changed her countenance from one of submissiveness to determination.

Bill thought as he watched her in action, These Filipina girls know how to “hold their own” with these Filipino men.

After a few minutes of intense conversation, Nellie turned to face Bill with a satisfied smile on her face and two tickets in her hand.

At first they were both happy, but their happiness was replaced quickly with doubt and fear.

“It is a cattle boat!” Bill remarked at the sight of the open hulled craft.

“These ships are from the war,” Nellie tried to explain.

“Which war?” Bill asked sarcastically, “and let’s call it a boat not a ship.”

Bill’s comment passed by Nellie without notice. She was already involved with the complicated task of boarding the boat. About three hundred people were pushing toward the boat and funneling into a narrow gangplank. The usual jostling into position, without confrontation, took place for the next hour. Finally, Bill and Nellie were climbing into the hull looking for a place to sit. The boat felt like an oven as they leaned against the steel wall while sitting on the floor to await departure.

There was no definite departure time, and the prolonged wait turned into hours. At last, with the sound of clanking metal and a roar, the engine started.

Bill watched as five men moved the gangplank, and realized that he was at the point of no return.

The noisy straining engine finally caused the large hulk of a boat to move, and they began a fifteen-hour journey that would push their endurance near the breaking point.

Moving from shore, the boat made its way through a narrow channel toward the open sea. The water was choppy in the bay, but the waves increased in the ocean and were breaking at four and six-foot heights. The recent storm was still in control of the ocean, and the ocean was in control of the boat. The boat immediately picked up the rhythm of the moving water and rolled from side to side in an unending, pounding beat.

To make matters more uncomfortable, the darkness of night moved in early because of a volcanic ash cloud cover drifting from Manila. Darkness came so silently and quickly that it was a surprise to everyone. The constant rolling motion, interrupted by crashing waves, played havoc with the emotions and physical stability of the passengers. Children were crying from fear and pain, and many people began retching from seasickness. More and more people were caught up in the hopelessness of the situation, and the stench of vomit became overwhelming. Bill hid his head under his shirt and regressed into a shell of self-preservation and fought his personal war, trying to maintain confidence in their safety.

“If we live through this one, I think I’ll write a book,” Bill groaned to Nellie. “Nobody will believe it.”

Nellie was sitting quietly holding a cloth over her nose and staring into empty space. She had often suffered difficult trials, but this situation was barely tolerable. She was accepting the circumstances better than Bill, but was still miserable.

“What in the world am I doing in this mess?” Bill moaned to himself.

He had to smile in spite of the situation, when he mentally pictured himself saying to his brother, Doug, “What a fine mess you got me into this time, Ollie!”

Soon everyone became nauseous: men, women and children. Vomit was sloshing around on the floor as the boat rolled from side to side. The stench and the feel of the regurgitated rice and rancid oil had a mushrooming affect on all the people. Nobody could contain himself.

The miserable situation seemed to last beyond endurance. The moaning and crying of babies continued, but each person’s individual pain was too much for anyone to be concerned about another. Each had to live through individual suffering.

At long last, the clouds caught a trace of sunlight, and dawn began to break. The sight within the boat was nearly inhuman: contorted exhausted bodies huddled under clumps of clothing. A normally embarrassing situation was now one of mutual understanding and mutual empathy.

Nearing his point of collapse, Bill quietly spoke to Nellie hoping she was doing better than he, “Are you okay?”

“Okay.” came a muffled reply.

“Do you know how much longer we will be?”

“Maybe two hours.”

They had traveled all night in a living nightmare. The thought, that it might soon be over, was a slight relief to Bill. He then could grit his teeth and endure the rest of the ordeal.

They continued in silence for over an hour, and then a shout was heard from the rear of the boat. A crewman had spotted an island. “It’s land!” he cried.

Of course the people in the hull of the boat could see nothing, but the activity of the crew told them that land was in sight and relief was near.

Soon the size of the waves diminished, and the rhythm of the ship movement changed to indicate they were entering a bay. Gasps of relief were heard as the men prepared to moor the boat at the dock. People staggered to gather their meager belongings. Bill and Nellie did the same. Their few bags of possessions seemed like treasures, now that they were returning to reality.

“Let’s stay close together,” Nellie suggested to Bill as the pressure of the crowd increased.

Everyone wanted to leave at the same time, and nobody was available to supervise the disembarking. It was like a stampede in slow motion, totally out of control and unable to stop. Bill and Nellie flowed with the sea of humanity. Soon they were on solid ground. The firmness created a loss of equilibrium at first. It felt good and uncomfortable at the same time. Nothing could explain the rush of emotional energy that flowed through each person as safety was realized.

There was no time to waste. Bill and Nellie still had a long trip ahead of them to get to Manila. Damage caused by the recent storm was evident here also. Everyone on the island was trying to go somewhere else. The enormous crowd of people was nearly overwhelming.

Bill hailed a taxi, and they stuffed their bags on the back seat and climbed in beside them. At first it felt good to sit on a soft seat, but the heat of the day was bearing down on the top of the metal taxi making it excessively hot inside even with the windows open.

The taxi crept along until it was about a mile from a bridge that led to the airport; then it came to a complete stop. Hoards of people pressed in on the taxi from all sides. Suddenly a male pedestrian lunged his arm inside the taxi to grab one of Bill’s bags. Bill reacted by twisting the man’s arm in time to stop him, but the act of that one man triggered an explosive action from others around the taxi. Soon many were trying to get inside. Nellie quickly rolled her window up and pushed the door locks down into the locked position; but as Bill rolled his window up, several hands held the window in an attempt to prevent its closure. Bill pounded desperately on the gripping fingers that held tightly to the window and gradually succeeded in closing it. Now they were safely inside an oven that was quickly becoming unbearable. The people outside began to become hostile. They recognized an American inside and probably assumed that he had valuables with him. People began pounding on both the glass and top of the taxi. One man even climbed on top and began jumping up and down.

“This is out of hand”, Bill said, turning toward Nellie who was staring in fear. “We have to get out of here. Grab that bag and your back-pack and hang on to me.”

With that set of instructions, Bill handed the driver 50 pesos and both gripped their belongs. Bill kicked the door open with a tremendous burst of energy and exploded outside the taxi. His height, high above the crowd, made him a powerful spectacle. His unkempt bearded appearance sparked a moment of fear in all those near him. With a loud, deep throated karate yell, a temporary path of escape opened before him, and he charged rapidly through the sea of stunned faces. Nellie held tightly to his arm—with a pack on her back and another bag in her other arm.

After escaping immediate danger, they continued at a constant pushing pace to avoid being cornered again. Eventually, they arrived at the bridge. The cause of the “grid lock” traffic jam became evident. The storm had damaged the bridge. It had actually caused the bridge to separate in the middle. They continued pushing their way through the crowd of people until they came to an open crack that completely separated the bridge.

Looking across the three-foot open space, Bill turned to Nellie and asked, “Can you jump that far?”

“If you catch me,” she responded looking trustingly into his eyes.

Without hesitation, Bill said, “I’ll go first,” and jumped across the space. Turning toward Nellie he had her toss the bags; then he motioned for her to follow.

Ordinarily a three-foot jump would have been easy, but a roaring river below made it a frightening leap. Nellie jumped with pure faith into the arms of Bill. A sigh of relief was expressed as Bill felt her hot body.

Looking into the eyes of one another, a slight smile formed, and Bill winked, showing his approval, and said, “We’d better hurry.”

Nellie felt a closeness to Bill that she had never felt before. It’s interesting how struggling together, in a common cause, creates a unique bond between two people—it is also a precursor for other emotions.

They walked two miles farther before they could hail taxi. The taxi ride was relatively easy, and they arrived at the airport within an hour.

The crowd inside the airport terminal was nearly the same as before, but fortunately they managed to get seating on a flight leaving in six hours. Collapsing on a bench, Bill threaded his belt through the handles of their bags, wrapped it twice around his arm and closed his eyes.

Nellie snuggled close to Bill and rested her head on his shoulder. Bill’s unique smile formed on his lips as he dozed.

Time passed quickly, and soon their departure flight was announced. They boarded the plane with the usual scramble for position but managed to sit together. The plane finally departed, but they remained behind schedule throughout the flight because of heavy headwinds. While they were in the air, an earthquake rocked Manila and central Luzon creating more havoc and forced the evacuation of ten thousand people. Heavy rains drenched Manila throughout the day. At least two people were killed as they stepped on submerged electric wires.

MANILA, PHILIPPINES

Most of the airport was in a disastrous condition, but one airstrip was clear, so their plane was allowed to land. It was with relief that Bill and Nellie stepped from the airplane and rushed through the torrents of hot muggy rain to the shelter of the airport terminal.

“It’ll take me a week to recuperate from this experience,” Bill said turning to Nellie as they worked their way through the crowd of people moving toward customs inspection.

“Mr. Bill, you did just fine. It wasn’t that bad,” she replied.

“Not that bad?” Bill thought as he smiled at Nellie. This girl has seen more disaster and had more stress in a week than most American girls have in a lifetime, and still she doesn’t complain.

It had been a memorable experience for Bill Goodwin—one that he could reflect on for the rest of his life—particularly when he felt like complaining about being uncomfortable.

He watched the constant wave of people as they swarmed through the terminal and could not help but slip into a contemplative mood. These people are exactly like the hoards of people in Vietnam and all the other third world countries. They don’t even realize that real peace and comfort exists in the world.

“I’m ready to go home,” Bill spoke aloud without realizing it.

“You take me too?” Nellie asked.

Bill didn’t hesitate: “I take you too!”

With a smile Nellie turned and began her verbal hassle with a customs officer. She had earned her wings to fly out of this hole to the land of her dreams, America.

“Can I stay here with your people for a while?” Bill asked.

“Maybe with my cousin,” Nellie answered after a slight pause. “It’s dangerous for you here. They always ask me if I know where you are, and I say maybe in America.”

With a worried expression on his face, Bill said, “I need to contact Doug right away; so maybe I’d better stay at the Sheraton—it’s visible but I need to rest my beat-up body.

“Don’t worry Mr. Bill, you worry too much,” Nellie said with a smile.

Bill relaxed and began thinking about the next step toward the recovery of the Gold Buddha. “I’ll get the money from the gold bars and send it to the ”Big O". He can use it to help Suwat’s team and pay for the boat we’ll need for moving the Orphans."

Bill and Nellie dragged themselves and baggage through the crowded customs area and into a taxi. “Take us to the Sheraton,” Bill instructed the driver. The very words seemed unreal. Had they actually arrived in civilization? Were they really going to the Sheraton?

The trip began with anticipation, but the ride to the hotel was another nightmare experience. Rain was coming down so heavily that the driver could barely see, and the major streets were flooded. The evening rush hour contributed to the confusion. Locals were navigating the side streets in quickly constructed boats and inner tubes. Bill slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes to tolerate the misery.

At long last, they pulled into the circular driveway at the Sheraton hotel.

“I’d better go to my house,” Nellie said quietly.

Bill, realizing that this was no time for romance, paid the driver and turned to look at Nellie. The look was one of deep fondness. Both felt emotions, as tears welled up in their eyes. Bill cleared his throat and said, “Thanks for saving my life,” and tenderly touched Nellie’s hand.

“Thanks for giving me a reason for life,” Nellie answered with an unusual depth of feeling.

“Bill wanted to grab her and hold her tightly but resisted the urge and patted her hand, smiled and slid out of the taxi. “See ya’ in a couple days,” he said without looking back.

The taxi pulled away, and Bill was helped from the taxi by the bell captain. “Service at last,” Bill moaned under his breath.

He hadn’t realized until now how filthy and miserable he looked. As he stepped inside the hotel, it seemed as though he had entered heaven. The cleanliness and spaciousness overwhelmed him.

“Are you okay?” The bell captain asked, looking at the bewildered expression on Bill’s face.

“Yes,” Bill responded quietly and turned to approach the check-in counter.

“Mr. Bill! What happened to you?”

Bill looked up to see a familiar pretty Filipina receptionist “I’ll tell you when I recuperate,” Bill responded with a forced smile. “I need some rest right now.”

A bellhop grabbed Bill’s bags, and they headed toward the elevator. Exhaustion was beginning to take over, now that the journey was complete. Bill barely made it to his room without collapsing. After paying the bellhop, he stumbled to the bed and fell upon the clean bedspread. Instant comfort was too sudden to be fully realized; he simply lapsed into unconscious sleep and awoke in the same position the next morning.

Still dressed, he slid to the edge of the bed and stripped off his still damp and dirty clothes. His white skin looked ghostlike as he looked over his weary body in the full length mirror. The effort expended getting undressed and dragging himself into the beautifully tiled stall shower paid great dividends. He was beginning to feel like a human being again. He unwrapped the soap provided, soaped himself from head to foot, practically emptied the shampoo left there for guests, shaved and rinsed himself off really well and then just stood under the hot water, for a few more minutes, as he felt his body being rejuvenated.

Time passed quickly as he relished the refreshing stimulation. Forty-five minutes later he stepped from the shower looking like a new man and feeling much better. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he returned to his bed and clicked on the television. Staring at the television program was relaxing though the news was covering the local disaster. Bill didn’t care that he was on the 12th floor of a high hotel, and after-shocks from the earthquake were continuing periodically. He was in comfort at last and needed some good old-fashioned R&R.

Although he was comfortable at last, he was still running a slight fever and needed medical help. His arm still ached from the poisonous spider but was slowly recovering. He closed his eyes to rest and dozed for nearly an hour. Upon awakening, he ordered lunch from room service and decided to stay in his room the rest of the day. He could get medicine tomorrow at Makati. “Some Ampicillin will fix me up,” Bill said aloud to himself.

With lunch, room service delivered a newspaper. That was the first time that Bill fully realized the devastation that had occurred, and was still occurring, on the main island of Luzon.

The Mount Pinatubo volcano was wreaking havoc upon the poor natives and residents of the towns within a twenty miles radius. Officials issued evacuation warnings for portions of about ten provinces of Tarlac, Pampanga and Zambales. Authorities also ordered the evacuation of other communities along the Abacan River, which flows near the U.S. Clark air force base. Because of the devastation to the air force base, the U.S. government announce that it had decided to abandon the base next year.

This move is almost ironic, Bill thought. Last year, with anti-American graffiti throughout the country, the Philippine government was waving an iron arm with exorbitant demands; now they are pleading with America to reconsider and not leave. The communist rebel forces were continuously creating skirmishes designed to cause the evacuation of the United States. They had reasoned that, by so doing, Russia would then be able to move in and fill the vacuum caused by an American withdrawal. Now, within the year, the Soviet Union was collapsing and could not expand anywhere. Those thoughts and many others flowed through Bill’s mind as he read the newspaper.

Later in the evening, Bill went to the hotel restaurant for a delicious buffet and returned to his room. His stomach had decreased in size causing him distress as he ate the delectable food—he had lost thirty-five pounds.

To complicate his life further, his eyes had begun to itch, and he could tell that an infection, or something similar, was beginning to affect them. With each blink of his eyes the condition worsened. Evening was setting in; so Bill lay on his bed with a cool washcloth over his eyes until sleep overcame him and he dozed off. The night’s sleep proved to be restless.

Morning finally came, but Bill was still in poor shape. His temperature was near normal, but his eyes were swollen shut with the eyelids sealed tightly together. Making his way to the bathroom, Bill felt for a washcloth and began trying to work his painful eyelids open. He had experienced many physical difficulties before, even eye infection, but had never been through anything like this. The onset was so rapid and devastating. “I’d better get to the hospital for this one,” Bill said to himself.

He contacted a medical friend, Dr. Torres, who had been brought into the circle by Lazer during their Recon trip. Dr. Torres was to be used for medical emergencies, gun shot wounds for example. Bill explained his problem and was advised to go directly to the hospital. Tediously he dressed and went to the elevator, barely able to see.

Squinting through one eyelid, he stepped into the lobby, and the doorman rushed to his assistance.

“Mr. Bill!” He exclaimed, “You have ‘Sore Eyes’!”

“Sore Eyes?” Bill questioned.

“Yes, you need hospital,” the doorman answered. “Wait here. I call a taxi.”

A taxi arrived and Bill crawled inside. “Take me to the hospital,” Bill instructed the driver.

“You have Sore Eyes?” The driver asked.

“I suppose so,” Bill answered under his breath. “That’s what they tell me, whatever in the world Sore Eyes is.”

He was soon to find out that the disease, Sore Eyes, was a viral infection similar to Pink Eye but much worse. It would have a two-week course and would be extremely painful for four days.

Bill’s response to this unwelcome news was, “Great, that’s all I need: sick with pneumonia, eaten alive by a gigantic spider and now blinded with Sore Eyes. I should have made Doug come on this adventure.”

With a hand full of eye drops and antibiotics, Bill caught another taxi and returned to the hotel. I’ll pull the old sick dog trick and just lay around to heal, Bill thought.

Shortly after Bill arrived at his hotel room, Dr. Torres came to him with a white liquid to rub into his Sore Eyes.

Bill was surprised when he learned the liquid was breast milk. He was so miserable that he’d try almost anything if someone said it would help. Dr. Torres left immediately to maintain their secret association, and Bill rested on his bed. “I’d better call Doug and let him know what’s happening. He’ll never believe me,” Bill said aloud to himself.

Bill calculated the time difference in America and decided to wait until 2;00 p.m. Manila time to telephone Doug. It would be 10:00 p.m. in the United States.

He dozed and awoke as if an alarm had rung. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was nearly time for the call; so he washed his face to help clear his mind, put breast milk on his eyes and placed the call.

Doug’s telephone rang in the central base headquarters where Doug was working late on the computer. Grabbing the receiver before the second ring, Doug listened to determine whether the call was local or overseas. The familiar hollow humming sound told him it was from overseas and most likely would be Bill.

“Hello,” Doug responded quickly.

“This is the Philippines calling for Mr. Douglas Goodwin.”

“Yes, I’m Goodwin.”

“Will you accept charges from a Mr. Bill Goodwin?”

“Yes!” Doug answered emphatically.

“Go ahead please,” the operator said, and Doug immediately came back with their private greeting, “Yooooooo!”

“Yooo,” Bill replied making an effort to sound up-beat.