The wind howls and the rain falls relentlessly throughout the province of Cebu. A powerful storm has toppled trees and caused massive landslides on major roads leading to the southern part of the province.

At the provincial hospital in Badian, wealthy businessman Don Vicente kneels on the floor, crying. His ten-year-old daughter Maya is dying and needs an immediate heart transplant. The problem is, the donor heart that will save the child is stranded in a hospital in Carcar City, more than fifty kilometers away. Due to the flood and fallen poles, no ambulance or any four-wheeled vehicle can get through. There is only a four-hour grace period before the organ is completely destroyed.

Don Vicente is known throughout the province not because of his wealth, but because of his fierce campaign to ban and revoke the franchise of all habal-habal drivers in the area in order to expand his monopoly on buses and vans. Thousands of riders lost their jobs because of his petitions. There was no secret between him and the drivers—their feud was open and there was no misunderstanding about it; they all knew they were enemies.

But at that moment, as a desperate father, Don Vicente put aside his honor. He ran to the nearest waiting shed in Carcar where the riders were sheltering under the leadership of Lando of the ‘Agila’ group and Teban of the ‘Kalasag’ group, two rival gangs who often fought over passengers.

Wet and trembling, Don Vicente laid a large bag full of money in front of the men he had called the ‘scourge of the road’ in recent months. “I beg you,” the businessman pleaded tearfully. “Take the heart of my daughter Maya to Badian. All these riches, I will give you. Just give my daughter back her life.”

Lando stared at the money, then looked at Teban. He and Teban had been at odds for a long time, but this time, they understood with a glance. Without hesitation, Lando kicked the bag of money away. “We don’t need your wealth, Don Vicente. We’ll do this because no child should die without a chance.”

The two groups quickly organized themselves. Since it was impossible for a single motorcycle to make the entire journey due to the depth of the flood, they decided to create a relay system. Five riders from Agila and five riders from Kalasag were stationed at different dangerous parts of the road. Lando tied the medical cooler tightly to his back and started his old motorcycle, charging through the zero-visibility rain.

Page: SAY – Story Around You | Original story

The journey felt like a war with nature. On the first part of the road to Sibonga, Lando was almost swept away by a raging flood from the mountain, but Teban’s rider quickly helped him up. The cooler was passed to the next driver. Every kilometer was a life-saving measure. Some riders slogged through the thick mud, sustaining deep cuts and bruises, but no one gave up. The precious box passed from hand to hand among men who once killed each other for a penny, but now united for a life.

In the last five kilometers into Badian, a section of the road collapsed. Teban was carrying the cooler at the time. When his motorcycle could no longer move forward due to a fallen mango tree and knee-deep mud, the man got off without hesitation. He ran barefoot. His helmet was cracked, his arm was bleeding from scratches, and he could barely breathe from exhaustion. He made his way up the steep, muddy road to the hospital, battered by strong winds.

Exactly fifteen minutes before the deadline, the emergency room door burst open. A bloody, muddy, and panting Teban entered carrying a cooler. The doctors immediately greeted him. Teban was left sprawled on the floor, smiling as he gasped for breath before finally losing consciousness from exhaustion.

The next day, Maya’s surgery was successful. The child was safe. In the hospital lobby, carrying a gratitude that no amount of money could repay, Don Vicente sought out the riders. He expected them to charge him and demand financial compensation, or ask him to withdraw the petition against them.

But they found nothing. According to the nurse, Lando and Teban quietly left after their wounds were treated, returning to their respective families to face the hardships of life again. No compensation was asked, no reconciliation was forced, but pure proof that in times of tragedy, the purest goodness comes from those we often consider worthless.