[...] So when his old friend Constantino De Vera came tumbling out of the dark into the Church of the Feast of the Holy Innocents that evening, Father Ernesto Espiritu’s first question was to ask what vile deed he had committed.
“The Governor refused to debate me on my people’s natural rights to suffrage. He claims he does not want to breathe my expirations for fear of contracting doloria. So under the cover of darkness, I returned to his palace where I exhaled on all of the fruits in his orchard. Then I salted the earth. Nothing will grow there any longer."
Father Ernesto Espiritu blew out the match he used to light the sanctuary lamp. “You do not have to tell me that this was unsanctioned by the Ilustrado. Realize, Tino, that your destructive, rogue acts are detrimental to your Organization’s plight. You cannot demand an open dialogue on the subject of your rights as humans while behaving as an—.”
“An animal? If they will not address me as a man, then they will get the beast they want me to be.” Constantino De Vera snarled. “On the way over the wall, when a guard confronted me, I clawed at him. Yes, like an animal.” Father Ernesto Espiritu shook his head, crossing himself. “He was already faint, mad from the doloria that he really thought I was an ape. He jumped into the estuary to get away, almost drowning in the high tide. I know we can oust these sickly occupiers, Nestor. Talking like human beings has not helped. It is time for action. It is time to be apes.” Outside, they heard sprinting boots on cobblestones. Constantino De Vera placed his hand on the priest’s shoulder. “Grant me asylum in your church; they are here for me.” The priest dropped his head in a hesitant nod, knowing he could not refuse the request.
The wobbly group of Armadura soldiers, five stringy men, pounded on the heavy vestibule door with the butts of their rifles. “Send out the orangutan,” one of them demanded. After his refugee secured himself in the sacristy, Father Ernesto Espiritu opened the door a sliver.
“There are no orangutans here,” the priest did not have to lie.
“Nonsense. We followed it here. Or perhaps,” the one at the door looked back to his soaking-wet comrade, “was it a chimpanzee? Definitely a simian.” The soldier attempted to peek through the opening. Father Ernesto Espiritu intercepted his gaze with his reproving stare.
“No chimpanzees either. Nor gorillas.” The squad became agitated, their grips tightening around the triggers of their rifles.
“Father, we must euthanize the beast for the safety of all on this outpost."
“There are only men here,” Father Ernesto Espiritu dismissed the soldiers with a bow. “Of the human variety. Good evening to you all.” The soldier prevented the door from shutting with his rifle’s stock.
“We must insist on searching the premises, in the name of the Governor."
“The Governor has no authority on this plot of land,” Father Ernesto Espiritu snapped. Then he changed his tone after realizing the condition of those soldiers: “You men are not well. Go home. Rest. Again, good evening to you all.”
“Let us have that ape,” the soldiers persisted, “in the name of the Governor.” They simultaneously heaved against the entrance, using the rifle as a lever. Father Ernesto Espiritu put a shoulder against the door while using his fist to hammer at the jammed stock of the weapon.
“Do not bring these instruments of the devil in here.”
Constantino De Vera heard the commotion from his hiding place in the alb closet of the sacristy. He hurried to the vestibule to assist the priest, further inciting the ill mob outside whose presumption of the ape’s presence was verified. Those five Armadura soldiers, enfeebled by the advanced symptoms of doloria, despite their charged fury, did not have enough strength to pry themselves through. The two inside shook, swiveled, pounded at the obstruction in order to expel it, so they could seal the door to secure the heavy metal latch—when a loud report coupled with a blinding flash discombobulated all in the fracas. The door swung open. All seven men fell to the floor. When they reoriented themselves, only six arose. They all looked at the rifle. Then, to the still body of an Armadura soldier splayed next to it, blood oozing from a hole in his head onto the stone cobbles of the sanctified ground. [...]
