Day 4 (Present), April 13th — 4:09 PM, Metro Manila
It's a typical hot afternoon in the urban sprawl. The city hums with its usual hustle and bustle — motor vehicles crowd Marcos Highway, stuck in traffic under the setting sun, releasing plumes of exhaust that mingle with the already heavy air. Horns blare, sirens wail, and the rumble of the light rail transit echoes through the urban jungle. Pedestrians amble along the sidewalks, some hurried, others idling by the street vendors selling everything from street food to accessories. Homeless people navigate their harsh realities, some pushing carts in search of a livelihood, others sitting quietly, eyes closed against the noise and hunger.
Just across a footbridge, inside a four-story, air-conditioned mall, the atmosphere is cooler but no less busy. People stream through the entrance, greeted by a middle-aged security guard who checks their belongings with an inspection stick as they pass through the metal detector.
"Welcome, ma'am, sir," the security guard, Isko Halili, says to each entrant, smiling despite the fatigue brought on by the relentless heat outside. His uniform bears his name on a patch:
Minutes later, a haggard-looking college student in uniform appears at the entrance. Isko greets him with a lighthearted question, "School's over? You're not skipping, are you? If that's the case, I can't let you in."
The student, Rio Nieva, smiles and opens his backpack for inspection. "No, sir. Classes just got dismissed. They let us out early because of some disease that's been spreading recently."
Isko's brow furrows with concern. "A spreading disease? How do you catch it?"
"I'm not sure," Rio replies. "I only heard about some fishermen getting sick. There's not much information yet."
"Is it here in the city?"
"If they're canceling classes, it might be," Rio says. "By the way, I'm looking for a part-time job. Do you know any places that are hiring?"
"Try the fast-food restaurants," Isko suggests. "I've heard they accept students."
"Thanks, sir." Rio waves and walks off, leaving Isko to ponder the news.
"A disease, huh? Why hasn't management informed us?" Isko mutters to himself, pulling out his keypad phone and earphones to tune into the local radio station for news. All he finds is pop music and advertisements. Sighing, he switches channels, but to no avail. "I really should save up and fix the TV at home," he thinks. He looks up just in time to see an ambulance speeding through traffic outside the mall. Brushing off the uneasy feeling, he tells himself it's just another daily occurrence.
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Meanwhile, Rio navigates the mall, eventually finding himself in the head janitor's office, where he confidently hands over his resume. The head janitor, a stern butch with glasses, questions his awareness of the job's demands. Rio, unaware of the specifics but determined, assures her he's ready.
"Go to this address and apply at the janitorial agency," she instructs, handing him a slip of paper. "They'll call you after the interview and submission of requirements."
Rio takes the paper and thanks her, leaving the office with mixed feelings. The address is far, in the next city. "Mom was right. Finding a job is a pain in the ass," he mutters, folding the paper and heading to the restroom.
The sound of Rio's urine hitting the urinal wall reverberated in the men's restroom. Lost in thoughts about his mother's advice to focus on his studies, he was abruptly jolted back to reality by a man's agonizing groans and choking sounds from one of the stalls. Concerned, Rio called out, "Hey, mister. You okay?"
Instead of an answer, there was a sudden, eerie silence, broken only by a loud, wet smack against the stall door. "Putang ina!" the man's voice erupted, thick with saliva. "Mind your own business!" Through the gap under the door, Rio caught a glimpse of vomit and foamy saliva on the floor before the man slammed his fists against the stall, shouting incoherently.
T/N: The Tagalog word "putang ina" means "bitch".
Startled and unnerved, Rio fled the restroom, his heart pounding. "What the hell is his problem?" he muttered, shaken by the unsettling encounter.
Back at his post, Isko absentmindedly sent a text to his wife,
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In the annex part of Cainta, along Sumulong Highway, Maxine Uy, a nonchalant half-Chinese, half-Filipino woman in her late twenties, worked as a store clerk at a convenience store. She scanned the chosen items of her customer – stacks of canned sardines, canned corned tuna, instant ramen noodles, and big packs of seafood-flavored snacks. Alongside these, there were over-the-counter medications like paracetamol, throat lozenges, and loperamide.
Maxine's thoughts wandered briefly as she neatly arranged the items in a paper bag. "This customer loves seafood and seems to be unwell," she mused to herself.
"That's seven hundred sixty-four and twenty-five cents," she stated as she finished scanning.
She waited with mild boredom as the customer paid for the items. After the transaction, the customer swiftly took his purchases and left the store.
"Hey, your receipt," Maxine called after him, holding up the slip of paper, but the customer had already departed without taking it.
"Tch, figures," she muttered, crumpling the receipt and tossing it into a nearby trash can.
As she observed the departing customer, the sound of a police siren briefly pierced the traffic noise outside. Glancing through the store window, Maxine caught sight of a police jeep. In the backseat, a man appeared to be apprehended, resisting the officers' efforts to restrain him.
"Just give it up, idiot. You've already been caught," Maxine snickered under her breath, amused by the scene unfolding outside.
With a shake of her head, she returned her attention to her mundane duties, the evening at the convenience store continuing in its usual rhythm.