First Chapter
Jose Rizal dipped his pen in ink then wrote the first line of his final poem.
Adios, Patria adorada, region del sol querida,
His tears were flowing to his cheeks. He wiped them with his hand. He wrote the next lines.
Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido Eden!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
After he finished the poem, he folded the paper and put it inside the alcohol stove which he used to light the room. He sat back on his chair and whispered things to himself.
Adios, queridos séres morir es descansar.
"Goodbye dear creatures. To die is to rest." Rizal said, getting ready for his execution next morning.
La historia se repite.
* * *
Marco Monteverde woke up. It was midnight when someone called him on the phone. He picked up the phone and frowned.
"Marco Monteverde is here. How may I help you?" He asked the caller.
"Sorry to disturb, Marco. But I am here, needing your help." The caller said.
"Rico? Oh, I thought it wasn't you." He then laughed.
"Okay. Rise from that bed and proceed here in the Rizal Shrine." The caller replied and cuts the call without even a goodbye.
Marco rose from the bed and folded the blanket. He headed for the door and turned the doorknob. He saw Rico.
"Goodness, Rico! I thought you were at the Luneta Park." Marco exclaimed.
"Yes, a while ago, I had been there. But, you are too slow. So, I picked you up here." Rico explained. "I have a helicopter that landed on the helipad of this hotel to make transporting quickly."
They rushed through the stairs as if they were being chased by crocodiles. Upstairs, on the rooftop, a long helicopter about 13 meters long with light-blue and white color was resting.
"Is that the Presidential helicopter?" Marco became surprised. After a while, he got confused.
"Not just a regular Bell412. But it is a Bell412EP." Rico discussed, smiling.
"Meaning?"
"It has 'Enhanced Performance'."
They walked inside the helicopter. The Bell412 could hold up to 13 people. There could also be two pilots that maneuver the aircraft.
"Where are we going?"
"To Kilometer Zero, Marco, this is a very precious place but has a very troubled predicament."
The aircraft floated above the helipad then moved toward what we less commonly call Kilometer Zero.