After the Ashes

by Sara K. Joiner

  Wait.

  The Groesbeck statue?

  That was from the Catholic cemetery at least half a kilometer away. It shouldn’t even be here.

  Yet here it was, a two-meter-tall statue of the Holy Mother leaning against the Rutgers angel with a broken wing.

  I wanted to tell Tante Greet about the power of the water. To point out how it had moved rocks buried in the ground. But she was gone.

  A terrible dread enveloped me. What if . . .

  Tante Greet wasn’t a stone. She was a living being. She could cling to the tree like I did. It was a living thing, too. It was still standing. I willed her to show up. Why wasn’t she here?

  I was on the verge of panic when a clamoring noise filled the air, joining the rumbles from Krakatau. It came from all around me. It was the sound of children wailing, women moaning, men screaming.

  It was agony.

  Despair.

  Devastation.

  “I want to go home,” I said aloud.

  Home. Ja. That must be where Tante Greet was. I didn’t know why she hadn’t waited for me, but I would go home and find her. And change my clothes.

  I reached to push my spectacles up, forgetting they were gone. My vision was poor without them, but I could still tell that tree branches, leaves and debris littered the ground. My spectacles were probably down there somewhere, but I would never spot them.

  I could remedy that at home, too. I would simply grab my dust-covered spectacles again. After I found Tante Greet.

  I set off, crashing into bizarre obstacles along the way: broken bits of furniture, mangled trees, hunks of coral. Strange structures loomed in the gloom before me. Without my spectacles, much of the world blurred into one giant indistinct mass, and the smoky air did not help. My legs grew more bruised with each step. Don’t think about the pain, Katrien, you’ll recover. Get home. Get Tante Greet.

  The ash continued to fall, and in my wet clothes, the grit couldn’t be brushed off. The ash turned to mud wherever it landed, whether it fell on the ground or on me. I wiped my face but only smeared the awful stuff. Layers of filth covered me now. Even my eyelashes were heavy.

  The muck squelched beneath my feet. Wherever the wall of water hit piles of ash, a massive gray quagmire had formed. The mud weighed down my feet like bricks and oozed over the tops of my shoes, squishing between my toes.

  I passed a house. At least, I thought it was a house. It had most of its roof but only one wall, like a child’s unfinished drawing. Nothing remained inside.

  Would our home be standing? What if I couldn’t find our house? What if I couldn’t get my other spectacles? What if Tante—

  Oof!

  I crashed into a dining room table. The teapot and cups still resting on it rattled. Leaning on the table to catch my breath, I coughed in the filthy air.

  Almost everything around me showed signs of devastation. I had no idea where I was. All my points of reference—Mr. Vandermark’s red door, the De Groots’ tamarind tree, the Ousterhoudts’ beautiful flowers—were gone.

  Where was my home? All my life I had lived in Anjer. I knew every street and corner. I moved to push my spectacles up before remembering, yet again, that they were lost.

  Mud, trees, more piles of debris. I skittered over everything in my path.

  Closer to town, the cries of Anjer’s citizens grew louder, more distinct over the rumbles of Krakatau. My legs sagged beneath me, and I collapsed into the mire.

  “Mother!” cried the voice of what sounded like a little child. “Father!”

  His wails melded into howls from other people calling for their loved ones.

  “Annalien!”

  “Nicolet!”

  “Stefanus!”

  “Ernst!”

  “Luuk!”

  “Drika!”

  The wave didn’t spare the natives either.

  “Harta!”

  “Buana!”

  “Nirmala!”

  “Lestari!”

  What about Indah and Slamet? Were they safe? Had they even made it? The mosque was a kilometer from Anjer. They had gone there to pray. Surely God wouldn’t let His followers die in a house of worship. Then again, the Dutch Reformed Church had been smashed to bits. I hoped desperately that no one had been inside.

  The thought forced me to stand once more. Fumbling my way ahead, I walked under a roof being held aloft by posts and beams. There were no walls. It was like a pavilion.

  Glancing up to keep tears from leaking out, I gasped. Painted constellations decorated the ceiling. Scorpius was above my head—just as it was every night.

  It was my room.

  I was standing inside my room.

  But nothing was left.

  My bed. The dusty pile of clothes. The vanity. All of it had vanished. I swallowed.

  I would not be getting my other pair of spectacles. Without them I had the eyesight of shrew, at least for seeing distances.

  And where was Tante Greet? Why wasn’t she here?

  She had been clinging to the tree when the wave hit. I had, too. But she was gone.

  In my head, Vader said, “Think, Katrien.”

  “A grain in the balance will determine which individual shall live and which shall die.”

  I tamped the thought down to keep it from taking root in my mind. I would not let Mr. Charles Darwin’s words turn against me.

  But they kept gnawing on me like a Brahminy kite feeding on a dead fish.

  I whispered, “If the wave destroyed our house . . . then it could have . . .” Destroyed Tante Greet.

  I couldn’t finish the sentence out loud.

  And Vader?

  He was in his office at the docks, closest to the giant wave.

  Giving no thought to the violent ocean before me, I walked toward the beach.

  Chapter 30

  I hadn’t gotten far when another explosion from Krakatau ripped across the Sunda Strait.

  People on the beach screamed and clambered for the jungle, away from danger.

  One man ran by and used me like a log, pushing off my head with his hand. Grime from his palm trickled down like worms wriggling in my hair.

  “Vader!” I cried. Even on a good day I was standing too far away from him to hear me, only about halfway to his office.

  The air around me moved as people continued to rush past. Should I continue to look for Vader? Or should I run?

  Again, I heard my father’s voice. “Think, Katrien.”

  The answer came from Mr. Charles Darwin: “The slightest advantage will lead to victory.”

  I sprinted toward the forest.

  About three-quarters of the way there, I tripped over a downed tree and crashed face-first into the muck. I stood right up but the tree shifted, and I fell again. Bracing myself, I managed to stay upright on my second attempt, and I rubbed my eyes.

  When I opened them again, I stared at the tree, and realized it wasn’t a tree at all.

  It was a man.

  I scrambled away from him and ran once more, wiping my hands down the front of my dress. A cold, tingling feeling ran through my fingers as my imagination turned all the strange shapes around me into dead bodies. Those inert shapes couldn’t be humans . . . could they?

  When I reached the jungle’s edge, people crowded near the trees. Was my aunt here? My father? Several thousand people lived in Anjer.

  But several thousand were not sitting here now. It was more like several hundred. At most. Where was everyone?

  “Katrien!”

  “Tante?” I cried.

  “Katrien! Over here!” Someone grabbed my hand and jerked me around. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  It was Brigitta who stood before me. Her hair was a mess, as if six different types of birds had tried to build a nest in it. My own braid was a series of tangles and knots.

  She clutched my hand. “I’ve been calling for you.”

  “You called me?” I stared in disbelief. Half the town had been washed away, and she still wa
nted to antagonize me?

  “Ja.” Her grip on my hand tightened. It hurt, but I refused to wince in front of her. She would pounce like a leopard.

  But she was scared. Her face twisted with anxiety. I softened. “Are you all right, Brigitta?”

  She ignored my question. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  Had she gone simple? “Krakatau erupted.”

  “But why is the sky black? Why did a giant wave attack us?” She clung to my arm like a terrified child desperate for answers.

  Placing a hand on her shoulder, I tried to comfort her. “The air is black from the ash. From the volcano. The wave . . . well . . .”

  A memory from years ago leaped to the front of my mind, of Slamet throwing pebbles into a large puddle. I had watched the circles form where the rock hit the water. They had moved from the point of impact in precise, concentric rings to the edge. I had talked him into throwing larger, heavier rocks in the water “to make a giant splash.” We had succeeded, but the experiment drenched our clothing. Tante Greet and Indah had not been pleased.

  I was certain something similar was happening with Krakatau and the ocean in the Sunda Strait. Krakatau’s eruption was impacting the water in a massively powerful way. That’s why the wave had been so large. I was about to explain this to Brigitta when a man standing nearby cried out.

  “Listen!” he yelled.

  Every head turned toward the beach. There was that sound again, like a thousand pots of water boiling all at once. I couldn’t see anything, but I recognized that awful roar.

  “Not again,” Brigitta whispered, and even under all the ash and mud, I could tell her face was ghost white.

  “Climb the trees,” I shouted to the people gathered near us.

  “I can’t,” Brigitta said.

  “What? Why not?”

  “It wouldn’t be proper. Mother would not like it.”

  “Hang being proper, Brigitta! Your life is at stake!”

  I climbed up a nearby cempedak tree. She followed reluctantly, like a snake being forced to slither after a big meal.

  Steadying myself on a sturdy branch, I reached down. “Brigitta, give me your hand.”

  She stretched her arm out to me.

  “Climb a little higher.” She wasn’t even half a meter off the ground.

  “I can’t, Katrien.”

  “Ja, you can. Come on!”

  Other people around me moved into the trees, but some, like Tante, refused to climb. They will probably die like her, too.

  No.

  I couldn’t think like that.

  Tante was fine. I just had to find her. And Vader. Everything would be fine.

  With bark biting into my legs and arms once more, I stretched as far as I could for Brigitta without tumbling down. I couldn’t reach her.

  The second wave moved toward Anjer with the sickening rushing sound of a million whirring bees. I gave up trying to save Brigitta and concentrated on saving myself. Wrapping my arms around the branch, I shut my eyes and waited for the wall of water.

  More splintering sounds. People screamed. Others prayed. I waited and waited with eyes scrunched shut tight.

  But the wall of water did not reach us this time.

  After what seemed like hours, I opened my eyes again. The awful boiling sound had vanished.

  Cheers erupted from everyone around me. “Thank God,” someone cried. “Allahu akbar,” praised another.

  Brigitta still clung to the tree below me. With a thud, she plopped to the ground, and I scrambled down after her.

  Even though the ocean had quieted, Krakatau continued its incessant rumble. Would it ever stop?

  “Think, Katrien,” said Vader’s voice in my head.

  “We should go farther into the jungle,” I said, more to myself than to anyone in particular.

  Brigitta whipped around to face me. “What? Why? The water didn’t reach us here.”

  “Because that volcano is still making noise.” I pointed to Krakatau. “It hasn’t stopped since yesterday afternoon. It may never stop. Who knows? But I don’t think it’s finished erupting, and I would like to be as far away as possible when the next bout comes.”

  She crossed her arms. “What about your father and your aunt?”

  “Tante Greet and I were running for the jungle when the first wave hit.” Even in those last desperate minutes, my aunt wanted me to reach safety. She insisted I go on without her.

  “Where is she?”

  Hesitant to tell Brigitta the truth and not wanting to voice my own worst fears, I finally said, “We got separated.”

  “And your father?” Each question was an accusation. She thought I didn’t care about my family.

  “He’s at the docks. He’s sending telegraph messages to Batavia. He’s doing his job.” Pride rang through my voice.

  “Then he is dead,” Brigitta spat. “Your aunt is dead, too.”

  I jumped back from her words, as if they were living things floating in the air. If I avoided their touch, then they couldn’t be true.

  “How can you say that?” I demanded.

  “Because my father is dead.” Her voice cracked. “My whole family is dead. The water took them all.”

  Chapter 31

  Brigitta’s words hit me like another wave. Aghast, I asked, “What do you mean, your whole family is dead?”

  “The water came and swirled me around my room like I was a spinning top. When it receded, mine was the only room still standing. The rest of the house was destroyed.” She choked back tears. “Mother was under a collapsed wall with my brother in her arms. Father was not far away.”

  I reached for her. “Brigitta, I’m so sorry.” It was a terrible thing to lose a parent. My experience with my own mother taught me that.

  “We were right on the water,” she shrieked. “Your father works at the docks. In that little shack! He’s dead!”

  I stopped reaching for her and my arms snapped back to my sides. How could she be so spiteful? Why was I bothering trying to comfort her? Why had she even made the effort to get my attention?

  “Why did you call to me today?” Rage filled my voice.

  “I thought you might know what was happening. You consider yourself so smart.” She poked my shoulder. “Even now, you act like you’re so superior,” she sneered with another poke. “But you don’t know any more than the rest of us.” One last shove.

  I stumbled. My fists clenched, and I fought to keep from pushing her back. She and I were nothing alike. “They may metaphorically be called cousins to the same millionth degree.” Mr. Charles Darwin was correct. She and I were both humans, and that was the only common ground we shared.

  Forget Brigitta. She would never be anything but a mean, hateful shrew.

  But Tante Greet’s voice rang in my head. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Katrien.”

  Brigitta was behaving like an injured animal, lashing out at anyone and everyone.

  This was my chance to do something ladylike. To rise above petty bickering. To help someone I despised. To make my family proud.

  But it was hard.

  Her eyes flashed fury. Her teeth bared. I half expected her to bark and bite me. “Don’t judge, Katrien.” Tante Greet’s voice again.

  I swallowed my pride. “Brigitta, I am sorry for your loss. And I don’t want to sound cruel when I say this, but we have to go into the jungle. We have to try to save ourselves.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” She shot me a mutinous glare.

  I forced myself not to walk away. “It just so happens that I don’t particularly want to go with you either. But we should try to help each other. Right now, we’re all each other has.”

  “We’re safe here,” she protested. “The water didn’t even reach us last time.”

  As if in response, Krakatau rumbled once more. “We got lucky,” I said. “I doubt we’ll get so lucky a second time.”

  “I don’t want to go in the jungle.”

  “It wil
l be fine.” The mud on my face was starting to dry, and I brushed it off.

  “No!” She stamped her filthy boot.

  “Why not?” I cried. She was wasting time. We needed to get to the clearing. It was four kilometers inland. We would surely be safe there. But we needed to leave. Soon.

  “Brigitta?” I turned to see Adriaan Vogel approaching us. His trousers were shredded, and mud covered his shirt. Even his mustache was stained with filth. “What is going on?”

  She pointed at me. “She wants to take me into the jungle.”

  His jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

  I rubbed my eyes. It wasn’t enough that Brigitta was dragging her heels; now I had to deal with Adriaan. “It will be safer,” I yelled at him. Grabbing Brigitta’s hands, I pulled. “Come on, Brigitta. You should come, too, Adriaan.”

  She resisted.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “No.”

  “Why won’t you come with me?”

  She took a watery breath, and her shoulders drooped. “My father always told me there were creatures in there that would eat me. He said I should stay away.”

  “What?” Her father had done Brigitta a disservice telling her that. There were animals that were dangerous, to be sure, but only when threatened or desperate. “That’s not true. Besides, Mr. Charles Darwin says, ‘The present condition of the Malay Archipelago, with its numerous large islands separated by wide and shallow seas, probably represents the former state of Europe.’ So you see? We’re practically in Europe! What would your father say to that?”

  “What about the bugs?”

  Bewildered, I asked, “The insects? What about them?”

  “They’ll crawl all over me and bite me and—” Her voice rose in panic.

  I grabbed her shoulders. “It will be fine, Brigitta. I know the forest. I know what’s in there. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “No,” Adriaan said, yanking her toward him. “I’ll keep you safe. Won’t I?”

  He was only a year older than us. I didn’t know how he thought he could protect Brigitta in the jungle, but she apparently trusted him. The tendons in her neck stood out sharply as she gave a short, stiff nod.