The ruined hotel

Twenty years ago, my friend K. and I were giving a workshop on writing and producing a newsletter for staff at Ateneo de Manila University. We held the workshop in Baguio and one day we saw Tony Perez in the city. The master ghost buster invited us to join his group on a Friday night. They would go to the location of the Hyatt Terraces Hotel, which was flattened by the 1990 earthquake that laid the city to waste.

We did go, and something mysterious happened. This is a fictional recreation of that hair-raising event.

* * *

But today, I was going down the bus to watch the Spirit Warriors at the Baguio Terraces Hotel. The staff wanted to see the Spirit Warriors appease the spirits that allegedly still roamed the hotel. Or what used to be the hotel. For now, in front of me, was just a wall of galvanized-iron sheets painted green enclosing the area where the hotel used to be. Lito knocked, and a guard in white-and-blue uniform opened the gate.

The ruins of the hotel where almost 500 people died had been cleared. Not a stone remained standing. And the Spirit Warriors were already there – a group of teenagers half my age together with Marlon, their mentor. Marlon walked over to us and then he told me: “Lisa, you cannot just watch the Spirit Warriors. We want the observers to be participants as well.”

“Lisa, you and the lady beside you should go there!” Marlon said to us, pointing to a place shrouded in darkness.

Melody, the secretary of the Department of English, held my hand. With reluctance, I followed her and 10 teenagers in the direction pointed at by Marlon.

It was on the far side, a spot parallel to the northern end of the street. I was stupid enough not to bring my cardigan, and so in my plain T-shirt I shivered as I walked. When I looked up, the stars seemed to shiver as well in the cold darkness of the sky.

“Let us form a circle on this area,” Dingdong our leader said, hitting the ground with the end of his cane. We obeyed. “God of Light,” he began to chant. He had already chanted it three times when he suddenly stopped. “There is somebody here.”

I looked to my left, then to my right. But there was nobody.

Ding-Dong continued in a more formal tone. “Good evening. We are here at the Baguio Terraces Hotel because we have been asked to help the spirits still roaming in this place.”

Silence.

Suddenly, my thighs and legs seemed as if they were being punctured by many pins and needles. My nape, my shoulders, and then my whole back also felt heavy. It was as if a boulder had been placed there. And I felt as if my head was beginning to swell, to bloat into a very big globe.

Then I began to see her, amorphous at first, like smoke, then turning into something solid, visible.

She is wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt. Her jeans are faded. She is sitting on a brown sofa with soft cushions. Her head is resting on her left arm. She is sleeping. There is a sudden jolt, which makes her sofa move to the right. She wakes up with a start. People are running before her. She sees them as if in a blur. When she looks up, the ceiling is already crashing down on her.

But she thinks it is just a dream. She has been waiting for Jeremy to come home from the convent of the Good Shepherd nuns. Jeremy likes ube and strawberry jams, and their stock has run short. She is waiting for Jeremy because after he comes back, they will take a walk. They will walk on the roadside, in the bracing air, and admire the sunflowers following the terraces of the sun.

When I spoke to her, my voice seemed to come from a source deeper than bone. I told her that she must let go. She was not dreaming. A strong earthquake ripped through Luzon. The hotel did crumble. Nobody among the hotel guests survived the sudden crash of concrete slabs and twisted iron bars. That happened 10 years ago.

Suddenly, I began to shiver. My hand clutched my chest. It was painful, like a strong fist had gripped my heart and was wringing it. My shirt was already wet with the tears I didn’t know I had begun to shed. In the chaos I heard Melody talking. “Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you all right? Ma’am?”

Just then, I felt a bolt of red fire streak from my heart. It zigzagged down my gut, then up again. Its movement was swift but painful. In a flash, the red fire blazed past my head and like a torch shot up into the sky.

“She has left,” Ding-Dong said, “she has moved on to the next world.”

Melody was hugging me. She was wiping my face with her handkerchief. She kept on asking, “What happened, Ma’am? What happened to you?”

I got her handkerchief and wiped my nose and chin. I looked at her. I felt so drained, as if I had just come from a long journey. “Nothing, Melody. I – I just told her to let go. To let go and to move on.”

Melody just nodded and tried to smile. The teenagers also asked me if I was all right.

“I’m fine,” I said. I checked the time. looked at my watch. Twelve midnight.

Back at the hotel, I sat in the restaurant and ordered a cup of decaffeinated Earl Gray tea. I knew this was not the way to drink tea, defanged of its bergamot and its bite. But I just wanted to calm down and to have a good sleep afterwards. After finishing the cup of tea, I walked to the elevator and went back to my room on the fourth floor. I shut the windows, bolted the door, and turned the lights off. And sleep I did after a few minutes – the kind of sleep I had not had in a year, long and deep and without dreams.

Comments can be sent to [email protected]. Remoto Control will air live on Monday and Tuesday, Oct. 31 and Nov. 1 at Radyo 5 92.3 News FM with telecast at Aksyon TV channel 41. Livestream: www.news5.com.ph.