Hour 4 with no sign of possession, our phones pinged at the same time. Our friends were going to Pansol, Laguna to run an errand. One moment I was reading those words, the next my roommate was on my bed with her eyes shining, the moon full and pregnant behind her.

“Want to go?”

“To Pansol?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“For real?”

“For real!”

She looked unrecognizable at that moment. I didn’t know if it was the lunar glow or the buzz of anticipation or just the unexpected subversion of her character. I always thought of her as an unassuming girl, she was such a stark contrast to me—the type A to my type B. The girl who used to cover her head with her jacket whenever her social battery went past 30% was asking me to go on spur of the moment midnight adventure with her. Was there ever any other answer?

“Yeah, let’s go.”

I mirrored the maniacal grin on her face as we both spurred into action. We were a flurry of movement going to and fro the restroom and back, hopping on one leg to put on pants, grabbing our things, and texting the group chat that we were coming with.

Half an hour later, the five of us were in our friend’s neighborhood hiding at the side of a random car as we all snuck into his father’s sports car. He was one of those rich types—multiple cars, multiple houses, and multiple businesses. For this particular errand, we apparently deserved to ride in a car worthy of our coolness. Whatever that means.

This guy was the very definition of a great driver. He was gliding through the highway bypassing car after car. The confidence he had with his ease on the road begets an arrogance that made him reckless. The first time we rode with him, I would akin it to being on a rollercoaster with less secure seatbelts. Everyone was just slip and sliding into each other. I had to hold onto my seatmate for dear life which did not help at all. The greater mass we had together only contributed to the greater force we were thrown to every which side. One does get used to being in that human blender of a vehicle so even through the speeding and overtaking, we were all pretty unphased as we continued talking and singing out loud to the blaring music.

Pansol was a town located at the foot of Mount Makiling. It was known for its beautiful natural attractions or at least in the day, I imagine it so. As we traveled uphill, the winding road swallowed us into its grove of towering trees. What must’ve been beautiful foliage in the light of day looked like looming claws in the dark waiting and ready to snatch our car up as a protest against modern machinery. There were no street lights, our path only guided by the car’s bright headlights which managed to make the shadows look even more monstrous. My eyes traced tree after tree as I wondered if there was anything staring back at me too.

It was a steep climb up to their retreat house and when we arrived, house seemed inadequate of a word to describe this massive property at the side of the mountain. It was vast and covered in well-trimmed grass. We walked to the highest point, the lights of the distant city growing in number. The air was chilling, fresh the way it could only be in mountainous regions. We sat down and just breathed it in. The sky was beautifully clear. The moon seemed to shine down upon our little sitting place like our very own lamppost. The lights in the buildings twinkled from the distance. We just sat there as our friend talked about how he was stuck here during the pandemic.

“I used to take my online classes here because the view was better.”

“What did you do if the teacher asked you turn your camera on?”

“I’d say the Wi-Fi in the mountains isn’t doing so well.”

We proceeded to explore the property. Loud noises were prohibited because it was supposed to be a place of spirituality, wellness, and rest. We were the very picture of stealth what with all the giggling, whisper shouting, and occasional cartwheeling. The guy whose dad owned this whole place was attempting to jimmy the door open not that it was locked, rather it was just stuck. The spoils of our heist were beautiful scrumptious hard-to-acquire green apples.

After we exhausted all our options for procrastination, we finally got to doing the errand we were there for in the first place. Our friend’s dad tasked him to bring their L300 back to their village. His dad needed it for transporting supplies for their business. It was only supposed to be our three friends on this noble quest if my roommate and I didn’t tag along.

The two guys were on the beat up old white L300 while the three of us were on the car we took on the way here. The L300 left first since they were the most familiar with this place. We followed them as they went ahead. Despite already travelling on this road earlier, it was still just as creepy as the last time. I sat at the back while my friends were in front. We were all tense due to the atmosphere and unfamiliarity with this place. As we were all watching the road ahead, the windshield fogged up and the radio went crazy. Our friend driving immediately tried to clear the windshield as my roommate tried to fix the radio. I kept my eye on the taillights of our friend’s car to not lose them. The path diverged and we witnessed them turn left except when the windshield was finally cleared up, their car disappeared.

We kept driving because we were sure they went down this path but minutes passed by and still no sign of them. We tried contacting them but the signal was abysmal at best. Our friend decided to drive back to the retreat house because there was better signal there. When we got back, our friend started looking around for the car keys because he apparently misplaced them. Things were making less and less sense. How could we have traveled that far if the keys were nowhere to be seen in the car?

There was a pause where all we felt was trepidation. We frantically looked everywhere, the glove compartment, cupholders, under the seats, inside the seats, in our pockets; the driver even checked the trunk as my roommate kept calling our friends to no avail. Ultimately, we decided to just wait for them to call back. Our friend came back and found the keys right beside the clutch. The very first place he looked and suddenly, it was there. That was when my roommate’s phone rang.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“We took a wrong turn and lost you. We went back up to call you.”

“A wrong turn? There’s only one road going down the mountain.”

“What? But we saw…”

“Look, just meet us down the mountain. We’ll talk then.”

We all made eye contact with each other for a second. The driver turned the ignition on and sped up out of there. We spent the rest of the car ride silent, not yet willing to acknowledge all the unsettling events. This time, I didn’t watch trees nor the road. I kept my eyes closed, slouched in the backseat.

We reconvened at a small eatery that was still open. Steaming hot Lugaw was placed in front of us in five small bowls. The porridge was more watery than rice-y but its warmth was still comforting. We relayed the progression of events to our friends that were in the L300 that disappeared. They seemed skeptical at first but something in our insistence and shaken expressions might have convinced them. We took a moment to just finish the soup before one of our friend’s spoke up.

“So, want to go to Tagaytay?”

“Seriously?”

“That’s like 40 km away.”

“I think it’s 4 AM already.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

I looked around my group of friends in this little eatery and reflected on the events that transpired tonight. Instead of making any progress on my thesis or any of my pending school works, I went on a midnight road trip on a temporarily borrowed sports car, did a cartwheel, stole an apple, and had some kind of supernatural experience. Now, they wanted to go to a city approximately 40 kilometers away located on a plateau overlooking an active volcano at 4 AM on a Saturday.

Was there ever any other answer?

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