The Posted Bicycle by Pocholo Peralta (book series for 12 year olds .TXT) π
'So he flew on air.'
'Exactly. He landed on the front of an incoming van that broke his neck. All the witnesses remember was a red car. Of course they were looking at Jim instead of the car. After Jim was taken by an ambulance, the owner of the art shop kept the bike and informed me. I suddenly had the idea of welding the bike to the post in front of the shop in hope that someone might know more about the red car. Or that the car owner might know or admit involvement.'
'Well that's a brilliant idea sir.'
'Thank you. Now you can see why I'm so grateful to you for Melissa. If Melissa died too, I might commit suicide either slowly or fast. You might have saved me from hell too!'
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- Author: Pocholo Peralta
Read book online Β«The Posted Bicycle by Pocholo Peralta (book series for 12 year olds .TXT) πΒ». Author - Pocholo Peralta
I was on my way to my office at the Philippine Times at past nine when I saw a burning car ahead. Three vehicles were involved. While I was running towards the scene, I was also starting to pull my notepad to start writing when I noticed that someone was still inside the burning Mercedes Benz. Apparently, she was unconscious and a man whose car was involved was trying to get her out. There goes my scoop I cursed silently. I put my pen and notepad back to a pocket and joined the man to help him. The car could explode at any moment so it's a race against time. What more, the earlier we could get the woman to safety, the earlier I could write the scoop. Journos and papers race against each other at publishing their scoops β the stress of news publishing you know.
We couldn't force any door of the burning car open. 'You have something to smash the window with?', I asked.
'I've thought about that but no.' I ran to my car which I left about 25 feet away and picked the heaviest wrench. I immediately started hammering at a window when I got back at the burning car.
'I've called 911...', the other rescuer said. 'They're on the way. Call me Mark.' It took about 15 seconds when I managed to create a hole big enough at a spot near the door lock. By that time, the car fire was big enough so that I could feel the heat searing me. Mark's hand got through the hole, pulled the lock, then opened the door. The car's unconscious driver was a beauty and about 25. I took her by the neck and shoulder and pulled. Mark snatched her handbag and carried her feet. We were already 10 feet away from the car when it exploded. But the explosion only damaged other vehicles. We carried the driver to my car and laid her down at the backseat. I wondered why she was unconscious when there was no visible injury on her.
A patrolman arrived, asked for our ID's, then interviewed Mark. Now I could start with this scoop.
I opened her handbag and searched for an ID. I copied her name (Melissa Buendia) and address, went back to the crash site, and wrote down the brands and plate ID's of the vehicles involved. I started writing a draft of the story while waiting for the EMT's. After a few minutes, the ambulance arrived and carried her away. I have a scoop now but it was a stale one. Other journos have definitely published the story by now. Well, at least Mark and I possibly saved a life.
About 4 hours after at the office, I was summoned to the office of my boss John. He said, 'Sit down Karl' while smiling. 'You're scoop isn't a waste after all.'
'Oh? How's that?'
'The father of the woman you saved. He's my tycoon friend and he wants to meet you.'
We were silent for a moment then I said, 'I wonder why. Don't tell me her daughter cried sexual harassment against me boss.'
'No. He wants to give you a little reward... I hope you don't leave us if it's a big job offer.'
'And I hope I wouldn't be tempted to do that.'
'Here's his number. Call him if you want a driver to fetch you. If not, be at The Heritage downtown 8 tonight. Don't forget to write this story before you get drunk huh?'
I laughed. 'Sure boss.'
Mr. Buendia was already at the posh restaurant when I arrived. A thin, tall man about 60. I introduced myself and we shook hands. 'Take a seat Mr. Zafra.', he asked.
'Just call me Karl sir.'
'Ok Karl. Let me tell you a story while we eat. Have you ever seen the art shop where a bicycle is welded into a small post on Herrera avenue?'
'Sure sir. I pass by it whenever I visit a nearby bookstore.'
'That bike belongs to my son Jim who died two years ago. He was19, younger than Melissa.'
'Sorry to hear that sir.'
'Thank you. You see, what happened was that while Jim was passing by the art shop, a speeding car suddenly cut his path.
At the dinner date, I politely refused both the cash reward and job offer from Mr. Buendia.
'Anyway, you're better off as a journalist. You might save another life while on legwork. But you can't refuse the reward. I won't feel at peace feeling indebted to you all my life. If you don't accept this check now, I could ask John to include the cash in your next pay. If you think the reward isn't enough, just tell me and I would gladly make it bigger. I don't want to shock you with a bigger amount lest you refuse more you see.' He waited for my answer.
'Well sir, to save you the trouble, I might as well take it now.'
'That's better. Here.' He pushed the check on his table.
I read the check on my way out. I was a hundred-thousand dollars richer now and my scoop would be the best of all no matter how late.
Publication Date: 12-12-2011
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