Terror<\/p>\n
By Sori Siregar<\/p>\n
When the sound of several gunshots was heard and a cry echoed
\nin the stillness of the night, my friends and I on duty in the
\nguardhouse were playing cards. We were stunned by the gunfire and
\nlooked at one another.<\/p>\n
\"From that direction,\" Baskoro said, pointing to the south.<\/p>\n
He stood up and took the stick leaning against the wall. It
\nwas approaching 10 p.m. Seeing that Fikar and I were still seated
\non the couch and looking at him, Baskoro said: \"Come, let's go
\nthere right away.\"<\/p>\n
Without waiting for further orders, Fikar and I rose and
\nreached for our sticks. I also took the flashlight lying beside
\nthe coffee cup. Hurriedly, we left the guardhouse. On the way to
\nthe place where the sound came from, Baskoro used a walkie-talkie
\nto communicate with the other guardhouse.<\/p>\n
\"We are approaching the site of the gunshots. A white sedan is
\nspeeding from that direction. It went to the north. If possible,
\nforce the car to stop.\"<\/p>\n
Just as he finished his words, a white sedan sped in our
\ndirection. Baskoro jumped to the middle of the road, stretched
\nhis arms out and gestured for the car to stop. But the driver did
\nnot reduce speed, and Baskoro leaped quickly to the roadside. The
\ncar raced through without any hindrance.<\/p>\n
For quite some time, the three of us did not know what to do.
\nLater, I heard Fikar say: \"You're crazy. Didn't you think that
\nthe man in the car could run you down. You'll die for nothing.\"
\nBaskoro shook his head and rose. After looking at us, he gestured
\nfor us to keep walking.<\/p>\n
When we arrived at the site, people were crowding in front of
\nthe big house. Other guards from the south guardhouse were around
\nHasan, a security guard who had a head injury. He said nothing,
\nonly pointed his forefinger at the house.<\/p>\n
We soon became aware that the main victim was not Hasan, but
\nthe owner of the house. Without any command necessary, the three
\nof us and another three security guards from the south guardhouse
\nrushed into the building.<\/p>\n
Putrana was bleeding profusely as he lay on the floor. His
\nwife and two sons wept and his other son shouted into the phone.
\nThe flow of blood and the touching wails; I did not know what to
\nmake of the situation.<\/p>\n
When I regained consciousness, Fikar was smiling at me. \"You
\nfainted just looking at the scene, and had to lie down here for
\n24 hours,\" he said dryly.<\/p>\n
\"Since it is not included in the working contract, you will
\nhave to pay the bill of the clinic,\" he joked.<\/p>\n
I had to sign a contract as a security guard at the housing
\ncomplex after I had not been able to get a job anywhere else.
\nBaskoro and Fikar assisted me in getting the job after
\nintroducing me to the head of the security department. Procedures
\nrequired me to sign a contract, which stated that it could be
\nterminated at any time.<\/p>\n
The murder of Putrana was a big blow and really embarrassing
\nfor me. I was ashamed, not because we as security guards failed
\nto maintain the security of the complex, but because I had become
\na burden for other security guards who took me to the clinic. I
\nfainted at the sight of the killing. Was that the expectation of
\na security guard?<\/p>\n
It was for this reason I submitted my resignation. The head of
\nthe security department accepted my resignation without saying
\nanything. For me, this was an obvious sign that I was not needed
\nin the department. By quitting the job, at least I could suppress
\nmy embarrassment. I was aware that I was nothing for him.<\/p>\n
But I felt I couldn't ward off another embarrassment. The
\nshame slowly rose and then reached its peak. The feeling stemmed
\nfrom frustration and jealousy.<\/p>\n
I had been unemployed for two years after graduating from a
\nwell-known university. Two years without a job, after having
\nbegged here and there, always bringing along my diploma awarded
\nto me for my hard work, was tremendous torture.<\/p>\n
I felt I was dragged into this mess by the worsening
\nsituation. An unexpected, uncontrollable feeling surfaced. I
\nneeded the generosity of others. Once I was aware how humiliating
\nthis was, I felt sorry for myself.<\/p>\n
This feeling developed into hatred and jealousy for many
\npeople. The rich, those who were working, those who caused
\nunemployment for others, became my enemies because I felt as
\nthough I had been humiliated. Top of the hatred and jealousy list
\nwas the rich.<\/p>\n
I did not want the feeling to keep on terrorizing me. I was
\nseriously disturbed and wanted to free myself. I tried hard and
\ndid whatever I could. It was such a disappointment when I
\nrealized that evil thoughts continued to flourish in my mind. The
\nthoughts pressured me to annihilate my enemies.<\/p>\n
Putrana, who hired a number of security guards, became my
\nprimary target. He was the most prosperous person living in our
\narea. But the affluence had made him arrogant. He didn't feel it
\nwas necessary to pay monthly dues for trash collection as he had
\nprepared a special lot as a garbage dump. He had never paid the
\nsecurity contribution because he had security guards of his own.
\nHe enjoyed his wealth for himself and his family.<\/p>\n
I didn't know him, not even by sight. But, he was my main
\nenemy who should be killed. Frankly speaking, I didn't know how
\nto do it. Obviously the desire to eliminate him was still
\nsmoldering.<\/p>\n
When I started working as a security guard, the feeling kept
\nme company all the time. It had become my best friend and
\ncontinuously urged me. I was waiting for an opportunity, and kept
\nwaiting.<\/p>\n
Then the tragedy occurred. Putrana was killed in a robbery by
\nseveral armed robbers. I myself saw the body of my enemy lying on
\nthe floor. I didn't believe what I saw. Other people had preceded
\nme in carrying out the act with their own reason and interest.<\/p>\n
Whatever their reason, it was not important for me. It was
\nobvious they had preceded me. The chance had been taken away from
\nme. That was what I felt when I looked at the body of Putrana. I
\nwas outraged.<\/p>\n
Concurrently, the smell of the blood had made me lose my
\nbalance. If I had been the one who did the murder, this was the
\nresult of my own action. The dead body lying on the floor and the
\nblood was still dripping. And, a number of person, the member of
\nthe family who lost their beloved one. What a horrible sight. How
\nfaint-hearted I was. I was struck by embarrassment.<\/p>\n
The hatred and jealousy continuously pushing me was at war
\nwith the feeling of shame which came like waves. I was helpless
\nand gave up. Baskoro, Fikar and other security guards had never
\nknown why I was shocked and fainted at the scene.<\/p>\n
The embarrassment has never ceased terrorizing me. I have no
\nidea where to run.<\/p>\n
The writer was born in Medan, North Sumatra, on Nov. 12, 1938,
\nwith the full name Sori Sutan Sirovi Siregar. He is a prolific
\nshort story writer, who mainly writes for Horison and Budaja
\nDjaja literary magazines. His formal educational background is
\nhigh school, but in 1970-1971 Siregar joined the International
\nWriting Program at Iowa University in the U.S. Between 1971 and
\n1973, he worked in the Indonesian section of the BBC London, and
\nin the next two years at Suara Malaysia Radio Station in Kuala
\nLumpur.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/terror-1447899208",
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