X

Dale's wandering thoughts came to a rendezvous as the tone in Pablo's voice switched to a much solemn and serious one. Dale shifted his gaze from his furnitures to Pablo's face. All of a sudden the wrinkles on Pablo's face seemed more prominent and this caused his complexion to look haggard. The air around them seemed to be in a standstill until Pablo decided to go on with his story.

"It was a couple of months after you sent him to us. It was a Sunday, I remember, because the new stock of fruits were supposed to arrive that day. But they didn't. They usually send it here at around 10 in the morning but it was already noon when I decided to phone them. I couldn't get through to them so I called the company. Turns out they were dispatched at 8 in the morning and should be back by then. They waited another hour before sending out a few people to look for the missing truck. Turns out they did, and all of them said that they wish that they didn't." Pablo paused and sipped at his beer. His last five words sent a certain chill down Dale's spine. "The driver was found dead."

Dale's eyes widened as he scanned Pablo's face for any hint of humour. None was found. 

"The reason why the news never got out was because the company wanted to cover it up. No good for their reputation it seems. Some marketing mierda. They just shoved the case in the basement as the poor fella had no friends or next of kin. Only the company, me, and your tia knows about this," Pablo hesitated for a couple of seconds and Dale realised that for that brief moment Pablo lost the sternness in his eyes and instead looked sad, afraid almost. "At least that was what I thought."

"A few days later when I was tidying up the store room, Caleb came into the room with his favourite play toy. It was a Lego figure of a fireman. He adored that thing, although it seemed as old as me," Pablo smiled, but only ever so slightly. "He stood there while I shifted some things around. I asked him to play elsewhere but he just stood there. He seemed scared. I stopped packing and knelt down next to him and asked him what was the matter. He just looked at me. What happened next was so weird that I've never gotten the guts to tell your tia. Caleb's eyes, it went from a pair of timid looking eyes to...calm ones. In just a split second, it was as though he was falling asleep. Then he touched my face."

This shocked Dale so much that he almost choked on his drink. His mind spun in a million circles as he recalled Caleb touching his face earlier in the shop. He could still feel his stone-cold fingers on his face "What's the matter, my boy?" Pablo asked with a concerned look. Dale waved his hand in the air while pounded his chest with the other. "cough...no-nothing, tio. Go on. I'm fine."   

Pablo flashed Dale a questioning look before continuing. "He reached out his hand and brushed across my cheeks. Then I saw visions. I saw a crashed vehicle. It was blur but I could make out the company's logo at the side of the truck. It was the company which delivered our goods. And I saw the body in the driver's seat," Pablo gulped. "He was without his head."  

IX

Pablo leaned back and cleared his throat. "After you left Caleb with me, things were fine. Normal, to say the least. He was in shock ya know? Your tia and I didn't know what to do. He was a missing child after all." He shifted his gaze unto the table in front of him. Dale noticed the tiredness on Pablo's complexion. Somehow it made him look ten years older. "So we just took care of him. Like how a parent would. Your tia and I always wanted a child, as you already know. So to us, Caleb was like our chiquito."

"Then months passed. Nothing happened. We wanted to send him to school, but since he didn't have a birth certificate attached to him, we know we couldn't. And judging by the state in which you found him, I'm guessing whoever his previous guardians were, they have absolutely no rights in handling any child whatsoever. So we refrained from exposing Caleb to outsiders," Pablo shifted in his seat. "And as to why you did not follow-up on the poor boy after sending him to us, I would like to know why." Pablo's gaze was petrifying. Dale averted his eyes and stared at his hands instead. "But unanimously your tia and I decided that Caleb was seven, based on his height and weight. Besides you and your friend, what's his name again?" Pablo pondered as his stare never left Dale. Dale struggled in his thoughts. "Uh, Mike. His name is Mike." Pablo nodded, as if struck by a revelation. "Ah, that's it. Mike. So, besides both of you and both me and your tia, only people who lives in our street knows about Caleb. Things were going well between us." Pablo stared at his coaster. It was a thin one with red and white stripes. There was a short pause before Pablo lifted his chin and stared straight into Dale's eyes.
"And then that happened."

VIII

Pablo winced the moment Dale opened the door. The stench was literally piercing his eyes. He stood outside for a second or two, pushing back and preventing the bread he ate for breakfast from flushing out. "Dios mio," Pablo whispered to himself. The horrifying smell wafted through the stale air as he entered the apartment. If it wasn't for the pale white light emitted from the forlorn-looking lamp in the kitchen, Pablo would have assumed something died in here.
"It's a little messy in here," Dale admitted casually. "Haven't gotten the time to clean up."
"A little, kid? Wait till your tia sees this," Pablo replied, still covering his nose with his palm. "She gonna slaughter you like you're a big fat cerdo."
"Not to worry. I'll spring clean soon. Now, water or beer?"
Pablo walked across the living room (this place looks as dead as it can be. Oh, the irony) and sat down on the couch. He grimaced at the pain in his back as he sat. He gave the offer a lengthy consideration and replied: "Beer will do just fine, Dale." Something in a can will be much better compared to water coming from a pipe, especially in a place like this. Don't wanna catch myself some cholera, he wanted to add, but did not.

Pablo looked around as Dale prepared the refreshments in the kitchen. The place was indeed unkempt. The couch he was sitting on had holes in almost every corner with cotton sticking out of them. The wallpaper was stained with what he believed to be moss, if that was even possible. The only decent looking piece of furniture is the flat-screened TV. It was a gift from both himself and Juannita to Dale when he first moved into this apartment. Apart from that, it was mess in almost every corner of the place. Piles of clothes were found everywhere; magazines and takeout boxes were lying around; the place looked like it was inhabited by a caveman, if not by cavemen. Pablo's revolting observations were abrupted by Dale's entrance into the living room.
"There," Dale muttered as he passed Pablo a glass of ice-cold beer.
"Gracias," thanked Pablo as he sipped at his drink. The chilling sensation was so refreshing it cleared his mind off of the unpleasant smell and sight of the apartment.
Dale dragged a wooden stool and sat in front of Pablo. "So, uh, how should I start this." Dale picked at his stubbles as he stared at his own glass of fizzling beer.
Pablo waved his hand in the air as he gulped his drink, as though he wanted Dale to stop talking. He placed his glass unto the coaster on the table and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked straight into Dale's eyes and gave himself a slight nod.
"Let's do this two ways, shall we?" Pablo said. "I tell you about Caleb, and you tell me all about your life after Olivia's death."
Dale's heart skipped a beat as the last two words struck him like a flash of thunderbolt from Zeus. He was astonished by Pablo's bluntness and straightforwardness. Images of Olivia appeared in his mind like strips and strips of negative from a roll of film. He swallowed the bitter thought and gulped.
"Fine."
Pablo gave him a grin and this made Dale feel even more uncomfortable.
"Well then, let's begin."

Above them, the spherical suspended lamp creaked as a gentle and cold breeze swept across the room.    

VII

A voice snapped Dale out of his trail of thoughts. Dale shook his head at searched for the source of it.
"They are coming."
Dale looked at Caleb. "I beg your pardon?"
"It's them."
"Who?" Dale was getting impatient. "Who on earth are you talking about?"
"No, no."
"What? Come on Caleb."
"No. Not here. Not on-"
Caleb's words were cut off by the sudden entrance of Pablo. "So you're awake, son!" Pablo ambled across the room and gave Dale a tight hug. "You and your alcohol again."
"Sorry, tio," Dale said. "And thanks."
"Ah, no mention it, boy. Scared the ell out of me, know? Your tia wants an explanation, too."
Dale heaved a sigh and got up. He paced towards the door and exited the room, pausing along the way to look at Caleb.
"Problem, son?" Pablo asked, raising a curious brow.
"Uhh, no," Dale dismissed. "Let's get out of here."

***

"Hey tia Juan," Dale greeted.
"Ah, Dale!" Juan called out. "What happened to you? All the beer and vomit."
"Eh, let's not talk about it, tia. Plus, I can't really remember. My head still hurts from the hangover."
"You made us worry sick! You better change this routine of yours, Dale, before you get one of those colon cancer."
"Will do, tia," Dale promised half-heartedly. "Say, tio, could you walk me home?"
Pablo chuckled and patted Dale on the back. "Still a kid, eh Dale?"
"Heh, guess so.."
"You wait here, let me go get my coat. Sky looks dark."
Dale reached for a wooden crate and sat on it. He lifted his gaze to the skies and squinted at the overcast weather. A mild wind blew across the street and brushed against his flushed cheeks. Dale shifted his gaze to the telephone wires across the street and stared at the row of birds sojourning on the rubber wires. A nearby car honked loudly and the birds took flight all at once. A few curses followed.

What WAS all that, anyway? Dale thought to himself. It was no hallucinations, that he was sure. During the solemn months after Olivia's demise, Dale fell into a deep depression and had several hallucinations of his own. He would often see figures loitering in the corners of his house and would occasionally hear noises within his own house, as though it is trying to talk to him. Every single time he would be reminded by his own conscious that what he was experiencing were indeed illusions. But not this time. Not Caleb. This was real.

Minutes later, Pablo came out with two beige-coloured raincoats. "Here, take this. Seems like the angels are about to take a shower." Dale chuckled at the thought and grabbed the coat. "Gracias, tio."

Dale and Pablo walked down the street and took a left turn at the T-junction, passing by Albert's Fish Market and also Henrietta's Chocolate Haven. They remained silent throughout most of the journey, until Dale broke the silence two blocks away from his own apartment.
"Hey tio, could we talk?"
"What's the matter, Dale? You don't seem like yourself. Even though at times you can be quite confusing."
Dale tightened his jaw and gulped forcefully. It was tougher than he thought.
"It...It's about Caleb."
Uncle Pablo's expression changed immediately. It was like those street performers who wore masks and impressed the public by changing their facial expressions in a matter of seconds. With just a little more practice and Uncle Pablo could be one of them, Dale thought. In what seemed to be a fraction of a second, his normal, cheerful look morphed into a grim, solemn frown.
"What about Caleb?" Uncle Pablo's voice was somehow deeper, sadder.
"Let's do this in my place, shall we?"
Uncle Pablo looked Dale in his eyes, pondered for a second-as though hesitated-but nodded in the end.

With that, both of them walked the remaining half of the journey yet again with the inevitable cloud of silence hovering just above their heads.          

VI

Uncle Pablo was shipping in boxes of fruits when Dale went to see him. Michael had offered to give him and the child a lift to Uncle Pablo's shop. Dale fumbled as he stepped out of the Sedan.
"Oh, Dale!" Uncle Pablo called out, clearly surprised by the sudden visit.
"Hey tio, I need help."
"You doin' the sniff sniff, hijo?"
"What?"
"You know, the powder?" Uncle Pablo furthered his effort by closing one nostril and sucking in air with the other.
"You mean drugs?"
"Shhhh, the cops might be around. They like hyenas, know?" Uncle Pablo glanced around like a guilty child after stealing a jar full of cookies.
"Heck no!" Dale looked at Uncle Pablo in disbelief.
"Watch your language, boys!" Aunty Juannita called out from inside the shop.
"Sorry, Tia!" Dale shouted back. "You think your hijo would do such a thing?"
"Sheesh, siento, alright?" Uncle Pablo wiped his sweaty forehead with a grey handkerchief. Was that a sigh? Dale thought. "Can never be too careful these days, know? With all the street gangsters and the getto kids."
"You mean ghetto," Dale corrected.
"Yuh, getto. That's what I said."
Dale led out a grin and patted Uncle Pablo on the back. It sure was sweaty.

Dale spent the next hour explaining the whole story to Uncle Pablo, verbatim. Uncle Pablo wore a worried and amused expression throughout the whole session.
"Okay, so you telling me that you found a child in the forest, all naked?"
Dale nodded.
"Sounds like rape to me."
Dale was shocked. He was both dumbfounded and bemused at the same time. Perhaps it was because Dale has never considered the possibility of this child being sexually assaulted. "You think so, tio?"
"I don't see why not. He not talking, he not eating, just lies there. Could be trauma, know?"
Dale rubbed his chin with his index finger and gave the idea a thought.
"Hm, whatever the reason, can I ask for a favor, tio?"
"You want me to bring him to the office?"
Dale shook his head. "No, no."
Uncle Pablo raised a brow and waited for an answer. Seconds later he sighed and rubbed his forehead with his palm. Perhaps he saw the question in Dale's eyes.
"You want me to take him in. And take care of him. Like a little cerdo."
Dale chuckled at the comparison.
"Yes, tio. Like a little cerdo."

And on that day, Caleb was born.  

V

"Hey Mike," Dale whispered. "Wake up. Wake up!" 

Michael grunted, flipped his body to the other side and started to snore.

"My goodness, Mike." Dale slowly-very, very slowly-got to his knees and reached out to his backpack. He was directly above Michael now. Beads of sweat trickled down his chin and landed unto Michael's pants. Michael must have felt them, because he shifted his legs. Must be cold. Dale carefully unzipped the front pocket of his Overboard Backpack and dug for the wrench. Dale brought the wrench in case of an emergency. He has heard from sufficient sources about the sudden and deadly attacks of mountain bears and angry antelopes. Heck, maybe even the Sasquatch. Minutes later, Dale's fingers came into contact with the metal tool. Dale hurriedly (but so carefully) took the wrench out and sat down. He stared at the weapon and back to the figure. The figure was still sitting there, still as the Antarctic air. Dale got on his fours and slowly crawled towards the entrance of the tent. Behind him, he could still hear the occasional snores of Michael. He mustered whatever courage and strength he has left and reached for the zip of the tent. 

What Dale saw next not only made him drop the weapon, but also made him rush towards the figure. It was a girl, or a boy with a really long hair. And the figure was naked. Not half naked or barely clothed, but whole-ass naked. Dale hastily reached for the boy (now that Dale has seen his ding-dongs, as what Olivia would call it) and brought him into the tent. It was almost 10 degree Celsius above zero outside. Dale laid the child down, dragged his blanket and placed it over him. 

"Whut was that, Dil?" Michael muttered, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Look at this, Mike!" Dale shouted. "This poor, poor child!"

"Whut? Whut chil--"

Dale grabbed Michael's arm left arm and yanked it over. "Here!"

"Woah, where did ya get 'em?" Michael was awake now, definitely. 

"Outside," Dale was panting. "by the fire."

Dale spent the next hour explaining the whole thing. Michael spent the next hour listening, nodding as though he was a third grade student paying rapt attention to a science teacher. The child spent the next hour sleeping. So still, as if he was already dead. 

***    

"So whut d'ya plan to do with 'em?" Michael asked, slurping down his breakfast. "I mean, he wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat, he just sits there. And he was naked, Dil. He might have 'em rabies or sumthin'. Maybe the influenza." 

Dale kept quiet, looking at the child, now sitting outside the tent and staring straight at the fire. Sunrise at the hilltop was surely beautiful. Dale could not forget the touch of warmth spread across his skin as the morning sunlight filled the skies, turning the orange dawn into a yellow morning. In the background, Michael was still rambling on. 

"-might be a starchild, Dil. Ya knuh, hybrids of aliens."

The child looked up almost instantly. His gaze was fixed at Michael. 

"Come on, Mike. Don't scare him. Quit it with your nonsense, will ya?" Dale prodded Michael. "Give me some time to think about this. You keep an eye out for animals at the mean time." 

"You the boss, Dil." Michael said and got up. The way Michael said 'boss' sounded almost like 'balls'.

As michael was pacing towards the tent, Dale smashed his left fist unto his right palm. Michael turned back, half-expecting an animal attack. 

"I got it, Mike." Dale said with a grin. "Come on, let's pack up."

"Whut ya got there, Dil?" Michael asked, looking puzzled. "Children wilfare?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Dale answered. "I'm bringing him to a friend of mine."

"Francis? Ken?"

Dale shook his head.

"Dun tell me its Crazy Bob."

Dale looked out into the dense forest beneath the cliff.

"Nope, I'm bringing him to Uncle Pablo." 

IV

Dale sat upright, pressed both his elbows against his shaking thighs and squeezed his temples with his left thumb and forefinger. First, there was the hangover. Now, this. Great, Dale thought. Just what I've needed. Extra mysteries in my already-mysterious life. More like miserable, a voice shouted back. Shut up, Dale replied.

Dale switched his gaze unto Caleb, who was minding his own business. "Hey there, sport," Dale called out. Caleb gave no response. "hey. Caleb." Still no response, it was as though he was in another world. His OWN world. Dale gave up and sighed. Caleb has always been a queer child to Dale. Up to this day, Dale could not forget his first encounter with Caleb. It was as dark as the Boogieman himself.

It was about three years back(when Olivia and Miley was still around), Dale was hiking with a fellow colleague. Back then Dale had a job(can you believe that?)as a factory worker.The only agenda of the day was to inspect and box third grade toys from 9 a.m. up to 6-sometimes 7 in the evening. Dale could still remember the stench of his boss, that sour, salty taste in the air whenever he walks past. Speed up, lads, his boss would chant. speed up if you're not all that bads. Dale disliked his boss. No, wait. More like despised  Yeah, that's a better word. He hated the fact that his boss was a stuffed up walking talking elephant toy whom was expected to have type 2 diabetes by the age of 40. Maybe even coronary heart disease, or perhaps high blood pressure. Dale also loathed the fact that his boss would utter the most ridiculous phrases just so they can rhyme. Work faster ladies, and later enjoy the candies. Dale wanted to tell his boss that there were in actuality no candies; no shit on a stick or stinking carpet candy; just a bunch of pathetic middle-aged men working for a pathetic boss in a pathetic factory. All these thoughts almost crushed Dale's desire of wanting to hike on that day.

It was around 5 in the evening when Dale's colleague, Michael first suggested that they increase their pace. Dale looked up and squinted at the radiant beam of the sun above. The strong, yellowish glare had already turned into a mild orange blanket of light. Soon, they reached the summit. It was a rather satisfying feeling, to be honest. Dale stood by the edge of the hill and looked into the skies while Michael pitched the tent.The twilight beam was warm as Dale enjoyed the evening air. The ambience was magnificent. Flocks of birds glided across the orange sky, chirping merrily along the way. The breeze was also cool and soothing. It was worth the time, Dale thought. A thousand times better than that old fart's factory.

"Come sit down, Dil. You ought to give them legs a rest, ya knuh?" Michael suggested. He was american but with a thick, native British accent. "Give it a little more and it will sound Scottish, ya know?" Dale would sometimes tell Michael. Michael handed Dale a can of sizzling hot tuna, freshly cooked by the camp fire. "Thanks, bud." Dale dug into the can of cooked fish with a metal fork with full enthusiasm. "Eh, dun mention it pal. What ya did back there was a saver, ya knuh?" Michael was referring to the 600 dollars that Dale had lent Michael. It was for a family matter, it seemed. "My wife is really really grateful. Thanks Dil." Dale slurped through the remnants of the tuna and nodded. "Don't mention it. A friends gotta do what a friends gotta-burp-do!" Michael looked at Dale and Dale squeezed out another belch. They both laughed.

By 10 p.m., Dale and Michael was already sleeping in the tent. Their fire was still on, but not as strong as before. Bits and pieces of charred firewood cracked and hissed as puffs of smoke rose to the air.

Dale heard a sound. Was it the snapping of a tree branch? Nah, probably my own imaginations. Spurred by the hordes of angry, dead tuna swimming in my tummy. Dale smiled at the idea and went back to sleep, this time clutching his own belly.

SNAP

There it is again. This time louder. NEARER. Seconds later Dale gasped. His body was stiff. Out from the corner of his right eye, a figure was moving towards their camp fire  It was crouching. No, more like crawling. Dale's mouth gaped open for what seemed to be forever.

There it was. A silhouette so clear and bold that Dale could almost make out the length of the limbs. The figure sat there silently. It seemed to Dale that the figure was facing their tent. What scared Dale most wasn't the stealthiness of the shadow, but something else.

Dale was afraid because the silhouette was that of a small child.