“They were only children.”
Dr. Wyn sighed as he took another drink. Whiskey on the rocks to calm his nerves.
It was the fourth death in three days, all under the age of 12. All the same disease.
Dengue.
It was at a point where it was a public health emergency. He had talked to the LGU (Local government unit) and expressed his warnings. They listened, thank God, and there was a drive to root out the disease.
They used the 4s as their campaign.
Search and destroy places where mosquitoes could breed.
Self-protection from bites.
Seek early consultation when the appearance of symptoms are evident.
‘Say yes to fogging’ with fogging being the use of a machine to spray insecticide in the air to kill off the insects.
These were done as a rapid deployment to control mosquito populations as well as educating the public where and why to seek medical care.
He volunteered to lead the initiative.
All to make sure he wouldn’t have to call time of death on another child.
Today he was in the emergency room, taking note of the new patients presenting with the disease.
To his surprise they were all so young, from 8 to 15 years old.
3 were in critical condition.
2 were too far gone.
The rest had varying symptoms, mostly blood in their stool or persistent vomiting.
They were under the best care possible but Dr. Wyn knew that they would have to tell their parents they did everything they could.
Why here?
Why now?
It seemed that the campaign was useless, with more patients coming in every day.
He went to his office and took another sip of whiskey.
There was a knock on the door and he told whoever it was to come in.
To his surprise, it was an elderly woman (He thought it would be one of the nurses to get him to the ER).
She sat down on a chair by his desk and looked him straight in the eye.
“So what are you doing to stop these children from dying?”
Anger welled up in his body.
“I’m doing everything I can do! How dare you come here and question my worth as a doctor. You can barely understand what we’re going through. Do you really think we want our patients to die?!”
“Do you really think that it is up to you? Now, when they congregate?”
“Congregate? You mean the patients?”
“No, something much worse.”
“Get the hell out of my office.”
“Not until you hear what I have to say.”
“Will it help my patients?”
“Only if you will do what needs to be done.”
“I’m listening.”
“Have you heard of the Mangalos?”
“What is that?”
“A pity you young folk don’t listen to us, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“The Mangalos is a creature that targets only the youngest of your people. In the dead of night it dances with diseases, consigning its victims to a painful death.”
“What are you talking about? These kids are sick because of Dengue, an actual disease, and you’re telling me it’s because of some creature I’m sure you made up?!”
“What makes you think it’s only one creature?”
“…what?”
“I am a spirit talker, a babaylan, and they pray to you to listen to me. I have never seen such a collection of the Mangalos in all my years of communing with the spirits.”
“Even if what you say is true. How can I, or anyone else, stop them?”
“I am here to give you aid. Every night they gather on the roof of this very hospital. Take this anting-anting (Talisman) and go there tonight at midnight. I will be waiting for you.”
With that, the old woman left his office, giving the doctor something to ruminate on.
The anting-anting felt warm in his hands. If the old woman was right, he would have to find something to fight with.
He would never say he was a good shot, even if he spent one day a month at the shooting range.
He kept his gun in a locked safe in his office. Dr Wyn always hoped he would never have to use it. But from what the woman said, these creatures targeted the young.
And there were too many dead children.
The clock read 11:45pm, 15 more minutes until midnight.
The moon was absent that night, almost as if she was hiding herself.
He waited by the stairs leading up to the roof and encountered the old woman.
“Iho, are you ready?”
Dr Wyn gulped and said, “No, but I will do it anyway.”
He opened the door to the roof and was shocked.
The old woman was right.”
The monsters were grotesque, looking like misshapen human-sized birds.
They were able to fly as well, with two of their number circling the roof from above.
In total there were seven and his gun had 10 rounds. But he didn’t even know if they could be hurt by normal means.
The babaylan must have sensed his trepidation.
“Hold the anting-anting close to you. They cannot see us!”
He took out his gun and shot at the nearest Mangalos.
It was a clear headshot and the creature fell to the ground.
The other Mangalos were confused, yet they did not fly away. They collected over the body of their dead compatriot and an ululating scream pierced the dark night.
There were six left.
Dr Wyn clumsily dropped the anting-anting and it took a moment before the creatures could register that they saw the human.
They swarmed him after he fired two rounds at the nearest creature, it was wounded, but still alive.
He thought he was finished as they rushed towards him.
He closed his eyes.
And nothing.
The old babaylan was a warrior as well. She brandished a heavy kris and sliced the head off of the wounded Mangalos.
Then there were five.
With the monsters busy with their new opponent, Dr Wyn took his chance to aim.
Two shots.
Two kills.
The three left could feel the tide of the battle was shifting and flapped their wings, ready to escape.
He didn’t know what to do, the words of the babaylan echoed.
If even one of them escapes there would be more dead children.
As if hearing his thoughts the babaylan screamed. He could only describe it as some sort of spell or incantation.
The creatures froze in place.
“I cannot hold them for long,” the babaylan exclaimed.
He emptied his rounds, felling two of the monsters.
And then there was one.
Instead of running away the Mangalos decided to attack the doctor.
It bit his right shoulder and he cried out, blood dripping from the Mangalos’s beak.
While this was happening the babaylan collapsed, the weight of her spell bearing down on her fragile frame.
“Take the kris,” she said to him, weakly.
The Mangalos was on top of him and its sharp claws dug into his skin.
He managed to push the creature away and grabbed the hilt of the sword.
He raised it high and stabbed the creature in its skull, the black ichor that functioned as its blood dripping on the doctor’s clothes.
As the sun rose, the bodies of the seven monsters disintegrated to the ether.
The doctor rushed himself to the ER to disinfect his wounds. He told the nurses that a large dog attacked him and they accepted this explanation after seeing the bite on his shoulder.
He didn’t know what happened to the babaylan but he remembered to think about her during his prayers.
Weeks after, the drive was hailed as a success. The 4s’s wiping away Dengue in the area.
No more dead children.
Not as long as he was there.
=————————————-=
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by the description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.
Mangalos Illustration by Tobie Abad of Diliman Generation Now
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