Chapitre 42: A Glimpse Of Hell

[Johan's POV]

"Are you sure? I can drop you off in front of the bus station. No need to be shy, Pal." Rafael persuaded, opening the patrol's door lock with reluctance.

Johan shook his head at the young lieutenant. "It's okay, really. I just need to buy something before my trip home. I can't go back empty-handed."

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Rafael gave in. "Alright. Want me to accompany you? I know a place where you can buy souvenirs."

"No offense, but I'd rather not be seen shopping with you."

"Uhh..." Rafael looked exasperated as Johan exited the police car. "Why do I feel like I'm dealing with a spoiled brat?"

Johan ignored the comment and gazed at the blue and purple building. He asked to be dropped beside the outlet mall, which wasn't that far from the bus station.

"Hey!" Rafael called before Johan walked to the entrance. "What's your Facebook account? Lemme add you!"

"Just invert my name!"

"Oh, okay!" Climbing back to the patrol car, Rafael realized too late one vital information. He popped his head outside the window. "Wait, what's your last name?"

Johan pretended he didn't hear him and blended with the bustling crowd, pulling on Adrian's beige jacket. The mall was smaller compared to the malls in Olongapo, but who was he to complain? He just needed to shake the man off of his back before he could start asking questions, like where he used to live or who his relatives were in the city.

After buying pizza, Johan exited to the opposite side of the building. But instead of walking to the bus station, he hailed a tricycle and instructed the driver to drop him in a particular village. He's already in Alaminos, anyway. It's best to make the most out of it.

He may have temporarily escaped the situation he put himself after getting into fights, but he was sure the consequences were waiting for him once he got back to work.

Johan needed precautionary measures.

Nostalgia hit him hard as the vehicle zoomed past an elementary school he once attended. Faces of the kids he once played with were now a blurred memory, saved from those who had a direct connection with his family. The green metal fences he remembered were now painted fresh with yellow color, the posts, red.

'Bloody hell. They should have done that a long time ago.'

Johan was still far from his destination, but he asked the tricycle driver to drop him off beside the school instead. Walking to an empty alley, he stopped in front of the school's back gate.

What's with their horrible color matches? Red posts and blue gates. Seriously? And they didn't even lock it.

With a pause, Johan felt the sudden pull to enter the school premises. It's summer vacation, so no students loitered around the place. Glancing from left to right, he kicked the gate open. "Oops! My bad. Let me find the janitor to close it."

Johan removed his face mask and dashed inside the school grounds. If somebody saw him, he'd say he's from the regional board of education dropping by to give the janitor a pizza.

Sighing, Johan leaned his back against a tree. What the hell was he doing? He's acting like a kid. It must be the spirit of childhood.

A gentle breeze ruffled the trees above, and the cool scent of eucalyptus enveloped him, along with a memory of a boy kissing him on the cheek. And it almost knocked him to the ground. Johan flushed beet red.

'Fuck! Have I been gay since grade three?'

Johan was sure it happened before his Grandpa caught him playing Chinese garter. And it's not even the same boy because it's a classmate he should know the name of but couldn't remember.

Frustration slid Johan down to sit on the grass. "I have so many potential love interest back then, but here I am stuck in a fucking affair."

Pathetic.

As his mind wandered back in time, Johan wondered what kind of life would he have if his grandfather didn't ruin his chance for a happy, normal one? He was ten, end of fourth grade, when Don Juanico showed him a glimpse of hell.

———

[Flashback]

"Grandpa, where are we going?" Johan asked. He blinked the sleep in his eyes and as Don Juanico buckled him in the car's passenger's seat at early dawn.

"Didn't you say you wanted to see your father?" the retired Colonel questioned back, starting the engine of his car.

Johan's eyes lit up. "I'll get to see Daddy?"

"Yes, Young General. You will."

Johan gave his grandfather a fond smile. Clutched in his hand was a new toy gun his grandfather bought him. After he lost his slingshot, the replacement he got was an almost real-like replica of an M1911 pistol.

Growing up in the same roof with a former high-ranking military officer, Johan couldn't help but admire Don Juanico despite the harsh punishment whenever he messed things up. As his Grandma Louisa advised, just do what pleases the old man's eyes and he'll be out of trouble.

When Don Juanico deemed him as a good boy, he spoiled him with toys or a trip to a place he wanted to visit. Pleasing his grandfather wasn't that hard. Johan has always been an obedient boy, anyway.

Excitement had Johan's legs jumping up and down as he watched the scenery outside his grandfather's car. It's seldom for him to see his Dad. It's because his Dad was studying to be a great soldier like Grandpa.

Being a non-talkative child, it was a silent journey for him. Only accompanied by music his grandmother would sing, Johan dozed off several times during the entire trip to his father's location.

"Johan, wake up. We're almost there."

Head pressed on the car's window shield, Johan groaned when Don Juanico tapped his cheek like fluffy bread. With a yawn, Johan woke to the sight of wide fields and lush trees. "Where are we, Grandpa?"

"This is the place where best men are born." Don Juanico pointed outside.

Johan rolled the window just in time to see a sepia-colored concrete arc with a small statue of an eagle. It sat atop of the signage: First Scout Ranger Regiment, Camp Pablo Tecson, San Miguel, Bulacan.

It's a military camp. But Johan's young mind couldn't comprehend how men were born in such a place. 'Is there a hospital here?'

As they ventured inside, their car passed by a group of military recruits clad in camouflage uniforms, singing as they marched beneath the blazing sun. Johan's keen ears cringed inwardly at the out-of-tune chants.

Astonished eyes trailed their marching form. However, his amazement morphed into dread upon seeing a few trainees gagging on the roadside.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! I think they're sick!" Johan panicked as another man fell on the ground, dropping the rifle he's holding.

Don Juanico only scoffed. "Weaklings."

Officers and medics helped those who have fallen, and their car followed the ambulance closely.

Dread ran down Johan's spine. His hand clenched his toy gun unconsciously, eyes widening upon seeing more of them on stretchers, vomiting, body convulsing, bawling like babies as medics tended to them with water and ice.

"What is wrong with them, Grandpa? Why aren't they taking them to the hospital?" Johan asked, tears welling his eyelids.

"That's what will happen if your body can't withstand the heat of the sun."

Johan gasped. "A heatstroke!"

Don Juanico raised an amused eyebrow. "How do you even know what heatstroke is, Johan?"

"It's 'cause I read lots of science books! I wanna be a scientist!"

"That's quite noble, but..." A heavy hand landed on Johan's shoulder, forcing him to look up to the sharp gaze of his grandfather. "What I want you to become is a Scout Ranger like me—the most elite fighters in the military."

"But Grandpa..." Johan's voice died down in his throat as the grip tightened, his favorite red shirt crumpling under Don Juanico's fingertips. "Y-yes, Grandpa..."

He looked outside the window again. His hazel eyes scanned the faces, hoping he'd see his Daddy among them, but he couldn't spot him because they almost looked the same. They're all bald.

'They're all baldies!'

Johan didn't like to become bald. He'd rather kneel on table salt and get whipped in the butt than get his hair shaved!

The seatbelt holding Johan in place unlatched, and his grandfather ushered him outside. Don Juanico made him watch more of the military training; recruits rolling on the ground and crawling on the mud between tall grasses like earthworms.

When Johan finally caught sight of his father, he was knelt in front of a scary-looking demon cat statue, being fed with crushed chili pepper. Emotions overwhelmed his ten-year-old body, and before anyone could stop him, he rushed to the Reception Rights Ceremony.

"What are you doing to my Daddy!" Johan roared, his toy gun raised.

"Johan?" Ivan, his father, called between swallowing and gagging.

"What's a kid doing here?" The Scout Director turned to him, a permanent scowl on his face that would have scared an ordinary boy.

But it didn't deter Johan. He cocked the toy gun like how his grandfather taught him and fired. The plastic pellet popped and flew into the air, right at the center of the Captain's eyebrows.

The camp went silent, except for Don Juanico's proud guffaws.

[End Of Flashback]

L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS
K_Contiello

Took me a while to write this coz I need to research. Hope this another little glimpse of Johan's childhood shows how he can stand up to bullies, and corporate authorities. And why he's not scared at big muscled guys like Adrian and Diego (they're six-foot-tall while he's five-foot-nine).

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