Midnight sale
I ate lunch in a hurry. Then I rushed upstairs to the outbound calls section, to find the lights out. The hum of the air-conditioner blended with the synchronized snoring of tired call center agents taking advantage of the hourlong break to steal a catnap. My luminous watch told me I still had 40 minutes to sleep.
In the dark I frantically searched for chairs, at least four of them, to align into a makeshift bed. I found five—my lucky day! I quickly dozed off, my own snoring and grunting blending in perfect harmony with the ridiculous musical performance in the room.
Alas, they came. They walked in, pretending to try to stifle the noise they were making—in vain. They huddled around the supervisor’s big desk, where all sorts of merchandise were laid out in a hurry. We call this the “midnight sale,” when business-minded officemates take advantage of the noon break to sell assorted stuff as a sideline.
“Is this phone charger China?”
“It is, Evelyn. I’ve sold dozens of that and not one has blown up. It works, I assure you.”
“These thongs are gorgeous. I’m wearing one now. Try it, Nimfa, I’m sure the boyfriend’s gonna love it.”
“Grace!”
“Just kidding. Well, just because you’re born again doesn’t mean you can’t wear thongs, right? Who’s to find out, anyway? Does Brother Mike check you down there before a prayer meeting?”
“You crazy bitch!”
“Hey, watch your mouth. You’re a born-again Christian, remember?”
The snoring concert had stopped, replaced by giggling and teasing, as those awakened by the noise eavesdropped on the sales talk.
That night I went home with a fever, which I knew I got from the girl seated beside me in the UV Express who coughed and sneezed the whole trip.
I fell asleep as soon as I got home. Soon I faintly sensed the door slowly opening. I heard the voices of women, making small talk interrupted by bursts of laughter. Midnight sale again, I said to myself. But wait: I had just come home from work, so they couldn’t be here. I recalled the day’s events when I entered the dark room and napped, the midnight sale, and my trip home seated next to the sick girl. Maybe it’s the fever, I thought, I must be hallucinating. But the more I tried to make sense of what’s going on, the more I got confused, and frightened.
I listened intently to the voices and felt my head spinning, and my hair standing on end. There were no words now, only growling sounds from what seemed like wild animals.
Odd. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t wake up.
They must have noticed my agitation. The laughter grew louder, as though taunting me. Someone sat on the bed; I felt the mattress settling from the weight. Then I sensed a heaviness on my groin. She was on top of me, her long slimy hair covering my face. They were laughing out loud now, cheering, heckling. I felt her teeth tearing into my neck. And still I couldn’t move.
(Strange voices coming from my room caught my landlord’s attention. He thought I had left the TV set on. When he entered, he found me in bed struggling and gasping for breath, eyes shut. I was rushed to the hospital…)
Adel Abillar is a private law practitioner with a small office in Quezon City where, he says, “I alternate between being boss and messenger.” He obtained his law and prelaw degrees from Manuel L. Quezon University and the University of Santo Tomas, respectively.
