Island's End

by Padma Venkatraman

  Seeing him approach, Ragavan and his men crouch down on the sand. Kara’s presence sends Tawai, Ashu, and his friends reluctantly back to the edge of our group.

  At last, all eyes turn to me.

  “Listen, my people. Last night I had a vision. A giant wave will roll out of the ocean and drown us all unless we move to higher ground at once.”

  My words seem to confuse the crowd. Many young men shake their heads in disbelief, while the girls whisper to one another.

  “What do you mean, Uido?” a woman asks.

  One of Kara’s hunters says loudly, “How could she know such a thing?”

  “Last night I had a terrible vision,” I say. “My spirit animal took me beneath the ocean to help me understand this vision. There, I saw the earth shake and heard the ocean growling with hunger. Giant waves will rise up from the sea and roll across our island this morning. We must climb to safety or we will drown.”

  “But why?” An elder’s voice carries across the confused babble. “Did someone upset Pulug-ame?”

  “Perhaps Pulug-ame is angry because a woman wants to be our oko-jumu,” Ashu suggests. His friends laugh.

  Mimi glares at Ashu. “If one of my children angered the spirits, it was you,” she says. “You lit a fire using the strangers’ fire twigs. My daughter has never done anything wrong.”

  I raise my hand for silence. “Our beach will be underwater very soon. We must leave for the cliffs at once!”

  But Ashu shouts, “Uido is weak. She did not save Tawai, the strangers did. Has everyone forgotten how my sister ran to their shores begging for help?” I see many ra-gumul boys nodding in agreement. Encouraged by their response, Ashu continues, “Uido is a coward.” He points at Ragavan and his men. “The strangers’ magic is stronger than hers. Tawai has told us of it, and I have shown you how well their fire twigs work. If the sea was going to swallow this island today, do you think the strangers would be here now?”

  My people’s eyes dart in confusion from my brother’s smoldering face to mine.

  “Ragavan,” Ashu says, “show us the gifts you brought.”

  Ragavan seems to understand what Ashu wants him to do. He clambers into his canoe and pulls out a long stretch of red cloth. He waves it at us and the cloth flaps in the breeze, flowing out behind him like a stream of blood.

  “We can all have beautiful things if we go to the strangers’ world. Powerful magic too.” Ashu’s voice blazes with anger. “Follow me there!”

  “You have no right to speak this way,” Kara roars. I am pleased to hear many people murmur in support of his words. But I do not want to see my brother fight our father.

  I hold up my hand again for silence. “Ragavan and his people have nothing that we need. On their island I saw a woman from a tribe like ours whose spirit had been killed by the strangers’ cruel ways. She did not even have enough to eat—she had to beg for food. If we leave our island, the strangers will take away our land to cut down our trees—”

  “Cut down our trees?” Ashu interrupts. “Why? Tawai said the things they have are better than ours. Their magic and their medicines are stronger, too. They cured Tawai.”

  “I do not deny their magic is powerful,” I say. “But so is ours.”

  “If our medicines work so well, Uido, why did you row Tawai across to them?” Ashu crosses his arms with a smirk.

  “Yes, Uido, answer that!” one of Ashu’s friends shouts.

  “Tawai’s fascination with the strangers weakened his spirit,” I explain. “He caught an illness they carried, a lau that made his spirit roam out of his body. I crossed the waters to retrieve his spirit. Without it, the strangers would never have been able to save him. So it was not only the strangers who healed him—I did too, by bringing his body and spirit together.”

  To my surprise, Tawai’s shrill voice carries across the crowd. “That is true! My sister helped the strangers heal me.”

  At his words, the tribe becomes still. I feel for an instant as if the waves have stopped moving.

  “What do you mean?” Ashu shouts.

  “The strangers needed Uido’s help,” Tawai replies. “Maya, their oko-jumu, told me so. She said the strangers could not save me on their own. I think my spirit entered my body only because Uido called to it.”

  For an instant, my heart leaps with delight. The old Tawai who admired me seems to have returned. I watch the tribe listening intently to him and sense his sudden support is helping to convince them to follow me. But I have no time to thank my brother for this unexpected gift.

  “I admit that I do not know everything that will happen,” I say. “Sometimes when my spirit has a vision of the future, it is like peering through the thickness of the jungle at night. But other times I can see more clearly than if I stood on the cliff top and saw with the eyes of an eagle. So, my people, I tell you now: the killing wave will come and we must flee.”

  As I finish, a sea eagle streaks down from the cliff toward the beach. The great bird’s shadow falls over us. It circles low over my head four times, its wings thrashing. There is warning in every line of its movement.

  Voices cry out from the crowd: “A sign!” “The sea eagle!” “Did you see how suddenly it appeared?”

  A shudder runs through the earth. The coconut trees on the beach sway as though a sudden gust of wind blows through them. A few of the children whimper like frightened animals and a little baby screeches in terror. Even Kara’s hunters look concerned.

  Just then Tawai bursts out, “The tide is moving very far out! Look!”

  I glance at the ocean. The tide has dropped much lower than usual. Stranded fish hop on the sand that was underwater moments ago. And the waters are retreating still farther.

  “Uido, the sea is shrinking,” Natalang cries. “It is the opposite of what you said would happen.”

  “Clearly, Uido is wrong.” Ashu laughs. “And unlike my sister, I am not frightened by every tremble in the ground. If you are brave, come with me.”

  “The waves will return to tear us apart,” I say to my people. “We are losing precious moments. We must go. Now.”

  Ashu folds his arms across his chest, his legs spread apart. “Stay here and prove your courage,” he challenges. “Men should not run like frightened rats.”

  “Ashu, this is not something to play at.” Feeling frantic, I rush to him and clasp his wrists. “You are risking all our lives. Listen to me for once.”

  He shakes me off.

  “Natalang,” I plead, hoping that she can help Ashu see reason, “tell him to come with us.”

  “You would choose my sister over me?” Ashu asks her.

  “Natalang, please.” I pull at her soft hands.

  She stares into my eyes, her own eyes wide with fear. But she steps away from me and takes my brother’s hand. “I should stay.” Her voice shakes.

  Behind us, I hear Tawai squealing, “Let me get some fish! I will follow later.” I turn to find him struggling to break Kara’s grip on his arm.

  I feel sure that to leave anyone behind would be to leave them to a certain death and I desperately want to convince Ashu. But there is no more time. Any moment now the sea will rush back and drown us all.

  Already I have risked the safety of my people by wasting precious moments with my brother.

  I do not want to split the tribe as Lah-ame did long ago. But I see no other choice.

  Raising my arms to the skies, I call out, “Biliku-waye, Pulug-ame, protect us.” To my tribe I cry, “Follow me, En-ge! To the cliffs!”

  43

  With Danna at my side, I move toward the cliffs as fast as I can without breaking into a panicked run. I hear footsteps behind us, like the first drops of rain before a storm. The sound grows, quickly becoming as loud as a thunderstorm.

  Only when I sense that most of the tribe is with me do I allow myself a backward glance. To my relief, Kara and Mimi are dragging Tawai between them. I see Danna’s brothers, his grandfather, Mimi’s sister and her family, oth
er aunts, uncles and cousins of mine. Many of the ra-gumul are at the tail end of the crowd, still looking unsure whether they should be following me or Ashu. A few of the women keep looking back as well, as though they have left someone behind.

  I cannot see Natalang or Ashu anywhere.

  “Keep going,” I tell my people, fighting to keep panic out of my voice.

  We enter the jungle at the foot of the cliff and trample over the undergrowth. The ground shudders again. Seeing the trees shake, I fear they might fall and crush us to death. For a moment, I even worry that once we get to the cliff, it may be torn off and hurled into the ocean.

  But it is too late to doubt myself. “Faster!” I shout, staying at the head of the group and quickening my pace.

  As I lead my people upward, I see a viper slither past my toes, climbing the rise as fast as it can. Four rats follow it, squeaking loudly, but in its hurry the snake ignores the easy meal.

  “Look!” one of the elders shouts from close behind me. “The animals know Uido is right. Their spirits have sensed danger, too.”

  Encouraged by those words, I leap across the stream gushing down from the cliff. At my feet, a water snake wriggles upward like a band of earth come alive. At the same time, a monitor lizard, nearly as long as Tawai is tall, waddles along our path. The jungle is emptying out—animals that usually sleep during the day, animals that usually eat one another, all making for higher ground.

  As the slope grows steeper and the trees give way to bushes, I see more animals huddled together close to the tree line. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs, but I keep moving, up, up, up.

  Stones cut at my feet as we move across the rocky stretch. Yet we keep climbing higher, until at last we reach the flat top of the cliff.

  Far below us, the sea’s voice has dulled into a distant murmur. Standing near Lah-ame’s grave, in the shadow of his prayer rock, I stop and turn to face my people.

  I can smell fear in the sweat pouring off our bodies. Couples lean on one another wearily, while children cling to their mothers’ legs. Many of the elders collapse on the ground, exhausted. Even a few of the ra-gumul boys wobble as they try to remain standing.

  “Group into families, so I can tell who is missing,” I call out.

  As my people obey, I see that Kara’s arms are curled around Mimi’s sobbing body. His jaw is tightly clenched, as though he is trying to hold back his tears over Ashu. Tawai hangs on to Mimi’s grass skirt, his eyes wide with confusion. I hear Natalang’s mother wailing as her family bunches together.

  When I finish counting, I realize that four of our ra-gumul are not with us: Ashu has stayed behind with his two best friends, and Natalang remains on the beach with them too. I long to rush back through the jungle and bring them to safety, but I know it is too late. Instead I scramble up to the top of Lah-ame’s rock to see as much as I can, while the rest of my tribe remains on the cliff top just below me.

  The beach looks almost unrecognizable now. The tide has gone so far out that the curved stretch of white sand is twice as wide as usual. Sea creatures are writhing everywhere, like nightcrawler worms blinded by daylight.

  I see Natalang, Ashu and his two friends running between branches of coral, scooping up armloads of fish. Further out, Ragavan and his men are grouped around their boat, which has been stranded on a sand bank by the retreating tide.

  Then the ocean’s rumble loudens into a warning hiss. The tide changes direction in the distance.

  I watch with horror as the sea charges back with a fury I have never seen before. Giant waves swell like cobras spreading their hoods to kill. Spray flies like venom dripping from curved fangs.

  The water rolls over Ragavan’s boat. I hear the crunch of splintering wood, the clang of metal against metal, the wails of pain cut suddenly off. In an instant, the men are gone—there is only water where they were standing, water that is growing taller as it rages closer to land.

  Ahead of the tide, four black streaks race inward. Natalang, Ashu and his friends are running for their lives and all I can do is pray for their safety.

  “Ashu! My son!” Mimi’s terrified voice reaches my ears.

  I see the earth quaking in front of my brother and his friends, while behind them the sea keeps gaining ground. One of the figures stumbles.

  I tear my gaze away from them and shut my eyes. But the noise of the oncoming water is even more terrifying. I hear the grinding of stone against stone as blocks of coral are tossed around like tiny pebbles. It sounds as though the spirits have lost control of their power and forgotten everything they created.

  My eyes open again to see the first line of waves striking land halfway up our beach, with a crash so loud it seems to split my head apart. The coconut tree that Tawai fell from topples into the water. The first waves try to return oceanward, but they are dragged back toward land by the next group of waves. Stronger and fiercer than the first, the second line looks ready to swallow the island whole. It climbs over the receding water, gaining height, then tumbles down at the edge of the jungle in a confusion of blue and white. As it tries to roll back into the sea, the third swell approaches. Waves smash into waves traveling in the opposite direction, making spray leap into the air like rain going the wrong way. And all the water is pushed landward again.

  With each passing instant, the sea is piling up on itself and we can do nothing but watch. Our beach is now completely underwater. Our canoes are hurled backward.

  I see Kara shudder, while Mimi holds on to Tawai. His hands are shaking as he hides his face. Women clutch children to their breasts. Even some of our strongest hunters are cowering. Danna’s body alone remains still as a rock.

  The ocean continues its fight to drown more land. Monster waves push against the jungle, pelting the trees with blocks of coral. A huge beech tree totters, and I hear a tremendous splash as it falls in and swirls in the water like a capsized boat.

  As far as I can see, the outer ring of our island lies beneath the seething ocean. Still, the waves rage on. I pray they will not destroy our village.

  The ocean snakes through the jungle, biting at the great trunks of ancient trees. Some fall, but many stand firm. They block the sea’s path, weakening it; but not before the clearing where our village stood is completely filled with water. Not one hut could possibly remain standing.

  Then at last the waves slither back again.

  A second tremor shakes the island. But this time only the sand is drowned, and the jungle is not disturbed by the rush of water.

  The rest of the morning is full of noises and movement. A few more times the sea rises and falls back. But each group of waves is smaller and weaker, until soon after midday the sea coils lazily around our island again like a python with its belly full. I sense that the ocean’s spirit is tired at last and that it will not come at us again.

  I climb down from the rock, my eyes aching from staring for so long at the sunshine bouncing off the water. My people press in around me to ask if I can sense who among those on the beach is still alive. But rather than trying to search for the answer, I tell them to rest.

  Kara says, “Shall I tell my hunters to gather food for the tribe, Uido?”

  “Perhaps we should give the animals’ spirits time to rest as well,” I suggest.

  He nods. “I will tell them to bring no meat back yet.”

  After he sends the hunters into the jungle, I lead Kara, Natalang’s father and the two fathers of the missing ra-gumul down to the beach. I notice that the water flowing from the cliff is still clear and fresh, at least in the upper reaches. But as we move lower, it becomes muddy and undrinkable.

  The closer we get to the beach, the harder our walk becomes. We clamber over many uprooted trunks and fallen tree limbs. In some places, broken branches dangle overhead, threatening to crash down any moment. And the shaking earth has carved out pits that have filled up with seawater.

  “The air will be thick with mosquitoes soon,” one of the men mutters, staring at the muddy
pools dotting the jungle floor.

  When we step onto the beach, what I see is more frightening than even the swamp. The breeze stinks of drying seaweed, dead fish, and flesh that is already starting to rot in the heat. Rocks, broken coral, bits of wood, twisted pieces of metal torn off Ragavan’s boat, and the brightly colored buckets that were his last gifts to us lie scattered on the once-white sand.

  Corpses must lie there too.

  I turn my gaze away from land to the sea. The shallows are no longer clear and blue-green but muddy. Ugly specks of black and brown whirl on the foam. Pieces of the reef have been thrust up out of the water and they claw at the sky.

  “Let us look for people,” I say to the men, who are also staring in horror at the misshapen beach. We pick our way across. One of the men points to a human leg sticking out of the sand. Together, he and Kara dig up the body of one of the strangers.

  From farther down the beach, Natalang’s father shouts, “Another stranger is here.”

  It is a torn body—all that remains of Ragavan. His body is broken in two and his intestines are hanging out. The sight makes me want to vomit, but I force myself to help carry his corpse. We lay it down near the jungle’s edge, well out of reach of the waves.

  Staring at Ragavan, I feel relief and sadness mix inside me like mud and water. Despite all the problems he caused, my mind still has clear images of Ragavan helping clean Tawai’s wound on this beach and handing my little brother a box of fire twigs. As much as Maya is my friend, Tawai and Ragavan were friends. Maybe he has a son who is Tawai’s age who will grieve for him. There is so much I never knew about Ragavan and will never find out.

  We continue searching the beach for human remains. Of the third stranger, we find no more than a bloated arm floating in one of the pools. One of the men finds a crushed foot and another a piece of thigh. The parts are so misshapen that we cannot tell if both were torn off the same body—or even whether they belonged to one of our people rather than another of the strangers.

  After a thorough search, we find nothing else and I decide we must stop.