Rudy's Rock Read online



  Rudy's Rock

  By James Hold

  Copyright 2014 James Roy Hold

  RUDY'S ROCK

  PART I

  The sky was burning, as the Bad Company song goes: a blazing blanket of blistering blue, possibly the hottest ever to shine down on the Kalambaguhan River. Sweat poured from my body as I guided my raft along the slumbering waters and my wet shirt clung to my body like a... well, like a wet shirt.

  Yet the sizzling sky could not hold a candle to the slim brown village girls steaming up the banks. Like most rural Filipinas, they were scantily attired, and it proved a pleasing distraction watching them splash in the shade of the Lambago trees. It is said in some villages a man can get a sack of rice, a bushel of corn, a gallon of booze, and a wife all for about twenty bucks. Tempting though the sight of those young ladies might be, I was not ready to settle down and give up my life of adventuring. Plus I hear the booze isn't all that good.

  Hello. Buck Stardust here. You may remember me from such tales as "Paralyzed in Bakersfield" and "Strapped For Cash," the story of a country music fan heavy into sadomasochism.

  I was headed for the Cagayan Valley, my services temporarily on loan from the Kabayo Banana Growers to the Overland Oversea Parcel Service. OOPS for short. Mr Kayumanggi, the owner, was a close friend of my boss. He had heard stories about me (all of which I strongly denied) and felt I'd be just the guy to deliver a box of machine parts to the Bakante Ski Lodge. My boss instantly assured him of my expendability and ordered me on my way.

  Naturally I balked at first at the idea of playing delivery boy, but the boss promised to make it worth my while—mainly by not firing me. And so, with the motto "What can Kayumanggi do for you?" in mind, I found myself drifting downriver with a box of mechanical parts intended for the Rudy Bakante Ski Lodge and Resort.

  Okay, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: when are we going to get back to those girls skinny-dipping in the river? Some of you might also be wondering why anyone would put up a ski resort in a country not particularly famous for its winter season or its snowfall. And the geographical experts among you might especially question why it'd be in the Cagayan Valley, which boasts the record for the hottest temperatures ever recorded in the Philippines.

  I wondered this myself and so, before leaving, I called Mr Bakante to inquire.

  "Well, Buck," he told me over the phone, "the way people talk about climate change and the coming ice age, I figure it's only a matter of time before things reverse themselves. And when it does, I'll be there waiting."

  "So, I suppose yer bookin' reservations in advance?" I asked.

  "They're not exactly pouring in," he admitted, "but then we've only been here three years. It takes time for word to spread, you know. And if nothing else, the rates are cheap."

  "Oh? How much?"

  "Twenty bucks. Only the whiskey isn't too good."

  Anyhow, with that out of the way, we can now get back to our girls in the river.

  Eager to inquire about directions to the lodge, I waved to one of the girls and she swam over.

  "Hey-ju," she greeted me with a smile.

  "Hey yerself," I smiled back. The little cutie was wearing next to nothing, and that nothing did little to hide what it was next to. Getting down to business, I asked, "D'ya speak any English?"

  "A little," she answered.

  "How much?"

  "Twenty dollars; only the whiskey not so good."

  Apparently that joke was more popular than I thought.

  It turned out the ski lodge was only a few miles inland. It also turned out the girl's sister, Kuneha, worked there.

  "Well then," I remarked, "I'll try an' git hold of her."

  The girl shook her head. "I wouldn't if I were you. She's very ticklish."

  That "few miles inland" was a bit misleading. As the crow flies, maybe. As the man lugging a crate of machine parts goes, it was another story.

  Leaving the main river, I followed a narrow tributary past a fishing camp. The fishers weren't there, else I'd have asked for help. The tributary soon dried up, leaving an uneven bed of rocks, from which rose shimmering waves of mirage-inducing heat. The larger of these rocks had tumbled into the riverbed from a huge dome rising from the ground. It reminded me of the Enchanted Rock State Natural Area back in my native Texas. It was near the foot of this batholith that Mr Bakante had built his Alpine lodge.

  The girl who answered the door was beautiful. Stunningly so. As I paused to wipe my glasses with my bandana, I couldn't help but think, "Wow! I wouldn't mind seein' her swim naked in th' river."

  The welcoming smile immediately left her face and I became aware of a most unpleasant sensation pounding my conscience.

  "Uh-oh," I mumbled uncomfortably; "did I say that out loud?"

  The girl gave an indignant humph and slammed the door in my face.

  I knocked again.

  "What?" Her greeting was much less friendly than before.

  "Allow me to introduce m'self," I lifted my cap. "My name's Buck—"

  "We don't want any!"

  She slammed the door again, only I fooled her by sticking my foot in the doorjamb. She, in turn, produced a machete and sliced off the tip of my hiking boot.

  Making with a loud, "OOPS," I jumped back, grabbing my toe and shifting the box to one arm. This threw me off balance so I leaned my toe-holding hand on the doorframe. She whacked it with the flat of the blade. I moved that hand, and, in doing so, dropped the box of machine parts on my other foot.

  For the next few minutes I demonstrated my tinikling skills until finally falling backward over the box.

  "OOPS," I said again, less enthusiastically than before.

  "It'll be worse than 'oops' if you don't stop bothering me!" She held the chopper menacingly.

  "No-no-no," I thrust the box before me. "I'm from OOPS, th' Overland Overseas Parcel Service, an' I'm lookin' fer th' people who live here."

  "Well," she lowered her weapon, "in that case, you’ve come to the right place."

  Once inside:

  "Allow me to introduce m'self," I tried again. "My name's Buck Stardust. Ya may have read about me in such tales as 'Ronin With Scissors' an' 'Th' Torn Identity.' I'm deliverin' this here box of parts fer Mr Bakante's ski lift."

  "Put them there," she pointed to a corner. "Mr Bakante's not here. He went into town to meet with his accountant."

  His accountant, eh? I suppressed a leer. Well, they say figures don't lie.

  "Especially the way yer dressed!"

  I should mention Kuneha (she being the river girl's sister, remember?) was wearing a strapless tube-top mini-dress that went waaay up her thigh.

  I should also mention that she was once again pointing her machete at me.

  "Did I say that out loud again?"

  She nodded.

  "Sorry," I apologized, and tried changing the subject. "Why th' machete?"

  "It's an itak," she corrected. "It comes in handy against the olod— among other things."

  I'd never heard of this olod thing—pronounced like "Oh good" only with an L instead of a G—and put it down to local superstition. Meanwhile, I decided to smooth things over by turning on the old Stardust charm.

  "So then, if Mr Bakante's gone, I suppose it's just the two of us?"

  "Three," she reminded me, once more hefting the itak. "You mean three of us." By which she made it perfectly clear which of us was the more welcome.

  Still, I was pretty gamey after my sweaty journey and we both agreed I could use a bath. Plus it was getting dark out. So she agreed to put me up for the night.

  The bath did wonders to make me feel better. Seeing me come down clean-shaven and with my shirt buttoned seemed to do something for Kuneha as well. It was pitch dar
k by now but the inside was cozily lit when I sat at the table and she handed me a menu.

  "Good gosh," I startled at the prices. "Food must be scarce around here."

  "Food, no; tourists, yes." Kuneha took a chair beside me. "Still you wouldn't believe the amount of work down here. But I guess it's like they say, a woman's work is never done."

  Well, I thought, maybe if ya started earlier...

  Kuneha suddenly bolted upright.

  "Aw, rats! Don't tell me I said that out loud too."

  "Ssssh!" She shushed me.

  Outside the lodge came a creepy creaking noise. Me being a guy, I guessed it to be the rock dome having heated during the day now contracting in the night. Only Kuneha, being a girl, said it was the olod prowling and jumped up to fetch her machete.

  "Wait!" I went to stop her, grabbing the back of her dress by its elastic top. She continued to rise while the top of the dress stayed put, exposing a generous area of brown skin from neck to waist.

  Now believe it or not, I really didn't mean for that to happen. And I tried explaining this as her eyes narrowed and her bare bosom rose and fell in anger. Only I must've done too much staring and too little explaining because she banged me over the head with a serving tray and closed herself in the kitchen.

  "Um, I s'pose this means ya won't be serving supper?"

  The kitchen door opened and a box of saltine crackers, probably the nearest thing at hand, flew straight at my noggin.

  "Okay," I called back. "Guess I'll turn in then. Just put the crackers on my bill."

  As I headed upstairs I heard Kuneha suggest another place I could put them.

  Dejected, I went to my third-floor room and opened a window. The stifling night air poured in like thick molasses. The electric fan did little more than stir the heat. I lay in bed, eating crackers and thinking. I ate more than I thought.

  Around midnight there was a knock at my door and Kuneha entered, wearing the shortest nightie I'd ever seen. I was speechless at the sight of her; especially as her itak was nowhere to be seen.

  "I thought you might be lonely," she smiled sweetly.

  "Well," I managed cautiously, "a bit of company would be welcome."

  "Good." She stepped aside. "There's a fellow outside who needs a room."

  And that's how I found myself with a roommate.

  "I guess she didn't have any other rooms available," my roomie apologized.

  Somehow I didn't think that was the case.

  "Aw, well," I shrugged. "I'd offer ya some crackers, only..."

  I held up the empty box, the crumbs falling onto my bed.

  "That's okay," the guy waived a hand. "I had fish."

  "Really? Then that must've been your camp I passed earlier."

  "Probably," he nodded vigorously. "They're really biting today!"

  "Really bitin'," I repeated.

  "I'll say. I had to hide behind a tree to bait my hook."

  "Right," I answered. I was beginning to understand now why Kuneha had sicced him on me. "I s'pose they're fairly big as well?"

  "I hooked this one and it took me an hour to land it. Only then I saw it was too small so I had three other guys help me throw it back."

  "Oh, wow," I feigned a yawn, "would ya look at th' time!"

  Only my fisher-friend didn't get the hint.

  "Finally caught a good one. 'Cept it wasn't exactly a fish. It was more... Well, hungry men can't be picky. And we only ate the bottom half. The rest we threw back."

  The guy actually shuddered.

  "And?" I prompted.

  "Nothing," he replied, growing suddenly quieter. "Only then someone remembered the legend of the olod."

  Ah, so he knew about them too.

  "Whut about th' olod?" I asked.

  "Oh, nothing. It's silly. Anyway I only came up here for supplies. I'll be rejoining them tomorrow." Then with an abrupt, "Oh, wow, would you look at the time?" he rolled over in his bed and was fast asleep.