After the Ashes

by Sara K. Joiner

  “That way.” I pointed toward home. “Go that way, and you’ll reach Anjer.”

  Her eyes brightened.

  “It shouldn’t take that long,” I said. “We didn’t walk very far before the wave hit. You’ll be on your own, though. I’m going to the clearing.”

  She nodded.

  My hands and arms hurt so much it made gripping the tree difficult as I climbed down. It felt like a hammer had been bashing my fingers. I had never been in such pain.

  When I reached the ground, I guided Brigitta, telling her where to put her hands and feet. She leaned her head against the tree and took a deep breath. “I never want to climb another tree as long as I live.”

  I flexed my fingers and stared at the ground. “Well . . . I suppose . . .”

  “Ja,” she said, brushing off the front of her blouse.

  “Be careful.”

  “And you.” She offered me her hand. Surprised, I took it. “Dank u,” she said.

  With an awkward shake, we split apart. She followed my directions toward Anjer, and I headed for the clearing.

  I hoped I did the right thing letting her go off on her own. “Keep her safe,” I whispered aloud. Then I added, “Keep me safe, too.”

  Downed trees crisscrossed the ground. My strength was gone. I couldn’t climb over the ones in my path, so I walked around them. It made my route longer, but it didn’t matter. The sky was still gray. Ash still fell.

  By myself it was much harder to keep going. I needed a reason. Vader and Tante Greet were behind me, back in Anjer, and now Brigitta was heading that way. I knew I needed to reach the clearing, that I needed to move, but I could not take one more step. Even Mr. Charles Darwin couldn’t help.

  So I sat on the ground, leaned against a fallen tree, held my head in my hands and thought, just as Vader taught me. Maybe I didn’t need to go to the clearing. After all, Krakatau was silent. Then again, if it started rumbling again, the clearing was farther inland. It was certainly safer.

  I simply could not make a decision. I stood up again, looked around, and found my distance vision was even worse than before. My eyes were tired, too. I rubbed them yet again, hoping an answer would present itself by the time I opened them.

  Instead, a scream ripped through the ravaged jungle.

  I knew that voice. I ran toward the sound and found Brigitta hanging from a low tamarind branch. She’d managed to hoist her chest over the branch, but her legs dangled, and she was scrambling to pull them up.

  At the base of the tree stood a lone, growling dhole. The hair on its back was raised. Whenever Brigitta’s legs fell from the tree, it jumped.

  “Help!” Brigitta called.

  I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but I couldn’t let the angry dhole know I was there. Where was the rest of the pack? I scanned the area but didn’t see anything.

  Picking up a stick from the ground, an idea formed. Those dholes I had seen weeks ago hadn’t barked, so my imitating a large dog wouldn’t be much of a threat. But that strange cluck? I could copy that.

  “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,” I whispered until I was confident it sounded like the noise I remembered. With a deep breath, I did it louder. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”

  The dhole looked in my direction, and I launched the stick. It flew in a high arc and bounced off a downed tree before landing. The dhole took off after it.

  “Help!” Brigitta cried.

  “I’m coming!” I hurried to the tree.

  Brigitta was dangling a little over a meter off the ground when her grip slipped and she dropped back over the branch. I leaped to stop her slide, but when she stood before me, safely on the ground, I could see the front of her dress had shredded like cabbage.

  Brigitta didn’t seem to notice. Clutching me in a tight hug, she sobbed. “Dank u, dank u, dank u.”

  Stunned, I gave her an awkward pat on the back. “He’s gone. The dhole’s gone.”

  Pulling herself away from me, she wiped her eyes. “Which way is the clearing?”

  Chapter 35

  I was taken aback by Brigitta’s change of heart, but I pointed wordlessly toward the clearing.

  “Lead the way,” she said, squaring her shoulders.

  “Are you certain?” I asked.

  She nodded and brushed absently at the mud on her blouse. As she did, she finally saw the ripped linen under her collarbone. “Well, I always wanted some décolletage,” she giggled.

  I gaped at her in wonder.

  “Don’t look like a fish, Katrien. You can be such a prude.”

  My jaw snapped shut, and I blinked.

  “Are we going to the clearing or aren’t we?” she asked.

  I set off deeper into the jungle and she followed me. There was something I needed to say.

  “I wasn’t being a prude,” I said.

  “What?”

  Her ear. I forgot. Louder, I repeated, “I wasn’t being a prude.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “No.” I faced her. “I was just amazed you made a joke about your blouse. I expected you to cry even more.”

  “You really don’t know me, Katrien.” She limped closer. “You only think you do.”

  “Really?” I arched my eyebrows. “You think I don’t know you?”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “Tell me one thing about yourself that I don’t know. One thing.” I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

  She sniffed. “Last year I read that book you’re always reading. That Darwin book.”

  I gasped. “You aren’t telling me you read On the Origin of Species.”

  She nodded.

  “By Mr. Charles Darwin?”

  “Is there another book by him?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  Vader only had that one. “You read a book about science?”

  “Ja,” she growled. “Try to wrap your mind around the idea that I am not stupid.”

  “What did you—” I stopped. Did I want her opinion? Would it matter? It wouldn’t change how I felt . . . would it?

  But she knew what I was going to ask. “What did I think?” She tapped her lips. “I thought it was an interesting idea, but in the end, I didn’t believe him.”

  “How can you not believe him? He lays out his evidence so clearly.”

  She shrugged. “I just didn’t. Why haven’t we seen evidence of natural selection at work?”

  “Because it’s a subtle process that takes years!” I exclaimed. “He explains that. ‘As natural selection acts solely by accumulating slight, successive, favourable variations, it can produce no great or sudden modification; it can act only by very short and slow steps.’ Don’t you see?”

  She stared at me with her mouth hanging open. “You have it memorized?”

  I blushed. “Not the whole thing. Only sentences I particularly enjoy.”

  “Is that what those weird things you’re always saying are from? Darwin’s book? Good grief, Katrien. You need to get a hobby.”

  “I have—”

  She held up a finger to stop me. “I mean a hobby that does not involve Darwin.”

  I glared at her before stomping off, infuriated.

  “Wait,” she called, and hobbled after me. My fury ebbed slightly when I saw her limping. I must have pinned her ankles tighter to the tree than I realized.

  Our progress was also hampered by the changed landscape. The waves had uprooted trees and tossed them about like matchsticks. Giant fig trees that had been growing for centuries and that I once used as landmarks were gone. I hoped we were headed in the right direction.

  “Waaaah!”

  Brigitta and I stopped when a strange cry burst forth from somewhere nearby.

  “Is that—is that a baby?” she asked.

  “Waaaah!”

  “It sounds like it,” I said.

  “Hello!” she called. “Where are you?”

  “Waaaah!”

  I pointed to the right. “I think it’s over there.”


  We followed the crying until we reached an uprooted tamarind tree that leaned at a strange angle, supported by its branches. Trapped under those branches was a young boy, crying and struggling to break free.

  “We have to help him,” Brigitta said.

  “Of course we do,” I responded.

  “We’re going to help you,” she told the boy, who looked native and probably couldn’t understand a word she said.

  I positioned myself near a branch. “I’m going to try to lift it. You pull him out.”

  She nodded and squatted on the ground, ready to grab the boy.

  Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “One, two, three,” and pulled with every ounce of strength I had left. “Uuunnh.” The branch was heavier than I imagined. “Hurry, Brigitta.”

  “I need a bit more room.”

  I heaved it higher, standing on my toes. “That’s it. Quick!” I cried.

  Her hand snaked under the branch, grasped the boy by his arm and yanked him out. She had just gotten him clear when my strength left me. The branch crashed back down and impaled the ground where the boy had been.

  His cries grew louder, and he hiccuped.

  “Shhh.” Brigitta rubbed his back and held him close. “Shhh. You’re fine. Everything is fine.” She rocked back and forth.

  I had no idea what to do. Thank goodness for Brigitta.

  “Is he hurt?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Just scared.” She soothed him until he settled. “We have to take him with us.”

  I nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

  “How far is it?”

  “About a kilometer from here.” I spoke with more confidence than I felt. I had no points of reference anymore. It was worse than Anjer. “Maybe two,” I conceded.

  We walked. My eyes grew ever more weary from the strain of trying to see without my spectacles.

  We walked. After a time, Brigitta asked me to carry the boy.

  We walked. Our surroundings blurred into one giant ashen mass.

  We walked. Brigitta pointed out odd sights. “There’s a small boat over there.” “I think we just passed someone’s roof.” “This is half a grandfather clock.”

  After what felt like a lifetime, the jungle returned. It looked like my beloved tangle of trees again.

  “Thank God,” I muttered.

  The boy wriggled in my arms, and I set him down. He scrambled ahead of us. “Don’t go far,” I called.

  “Frits, come back,” Brigitta called.

  “Frits?”

  “It’s what I’m calling him.”

  He turned around and toddled back to us.

  I scrunched my nose. “How old is he?”

  “Probably two or three.” She bent down and opened her arms. He walked right to her. “Hello, Frits.”

  He giggled and babbled something in Javanese. Or maybe it was his own made-up language.

  “I’m thirsty,” Brigitta said, kissing Frits’s hands.

  “We’re almost there, and we can get some water from the stream. It’s very cool and tasty.”

  “Maybe we could wash a bit, too.”

  I nodded. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  Sweat and grime, tiny bits of tree bark, saltwater residue, and blood covered us both. I not only felt sticky but also prickly, filthy, weak and sore.

  She picked Frits up. “I’m just glad we haven’t seen any snakes or anything.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed, though the thought troubled me.

  Krakatau was silent now. I hadn’t heard a single rumble since that last devastating boom.

  So now, I reasoned, buzzing insects and calling monkeys and a thousand other sounds should be echoing around the forest. But the only sound was our footsteps and Frits’s babble. Earlier, my eyes were telling me that the trees were devoid of animals. My ears seemed to be doing the same for the entire forest now.

  “It’s so odd,” I whispered. “So much silence.” Had the ash muffled the noises? It still fell, but not as heavily.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh.” I spoke up for Brigitta. “It’s just unusual not to hear anything here. Or see anything.”

  “I’m grateful we haven’t.”

  “Where do you think they are?”

  “Where do I think what are?” she asked, setting Frits back down and holding his hand.

  “The animals. The insects. Where do you think they are?” My voice rang out in the quiet, making me flinch as if I had spoken aloud in church.

  She shrugged. “Dead. Why wouldn’t they be? Snakes couldn’t out-slither that wave.”

  “Perhaps. But . . .” I trailed off.

  “But what?”

  “But we haven’t seen any bodies. We should have seen some evidence by now. Even if it was just insects.”

  “What do you mean? Because we haven’t seen a dead snake, there can’t be any dead snakes?” Her nonsensical leap of logic made my head hurt.

  “Not entirely, no. I’ve walked through the jungle many times,” I explained. “Sometimes I see a python or a constrictor or some other snake and other times I don’t. So the fact that we haven’t seen a dead snake is irrelevant.”

  She rolled her eyes and let Frits drag her. “I think you’re talking in circles.”

  “Here’s my point. I always see insects. Hundreds of insects. They’re everywhere—on trees, flying through the air, scurrying along on the ground. They’re all around.”

  Brigitta pulled Frits toward her, eyes darting back and forth.

  I finished my argument. “With so many insects, some of them should be dead. We should see their bodies. The wave could have easily washed away those insects closer to the beach.” I swallowed suddenly and blinked to keep the sharp tears that sprung up at bay. My Hexarthrius rhinoceros rhinoceros collection! Three hundred four specimens. Years of hard work. Gone in minutes. Rubbing my eyes, I continued, “Here, where the waves never came, we should be seeing evidence of life.”

  “Maybe this is like natural selection. No evidence exists.”

  I growled. “Evidence does exist, just not the evidence you want.”

  “Then maybe the ash killed them,” she speculated.

  “Maybe,” I conceded, “but it couldn’t have killed everything. And if it did, we should still see some evidence. Bodies. Exoskeletons. Something. We haven’t seen any. Where is the life?”

  Frits fussed and whimpered, and Brigitta picked him up again. “He’s probably hungry.”

  I didn’t answer, because up ahead, I saw a familiar sight. At long last we had reached the clearing. The banyan trees still circled the small space, and the grass was a verdant green. The Sampaguita vines climbed up the banyan trees.

  Everything around the stream remained unchanged.

  Only the stream itself was different.

  Chapter 36

  The stream was drained. Its muddy bed was completely exposed.

  I hoped my weak eyes were playing tricks on me.

  “Lovely, Katrien. Just lovely.” Brigitta’s sarcasm told me they weren’t.

  Frits’s crying grew louder.

  “I wasn’t expecting this,” I said.

  “That’s good. I’m glad you weren’t expecting this. I would hate to know you marched me all the way up here. In the dark. With the bugs—”

  “We haven’t seen any—”

  “—and with the snakes. And the wild animals, all the while expecting to find a stream drained of all its water. But you weren’t expecting this, were you? That’s a relief. I feel so much better. And now I’m stuck up here in the middle of the jungle. With you,” she added, as if that was the worst part of all. “And there’s no water! I haven’t eaten since this morning. I haven’t had anything to drink either. Who knows when Frits last ate. I’m hungry. I’m wet. I’m thirsty. My ankle hurts—that’s your fault, too, for gripping it like a vise. My feet feel like they want to fall off my legs. My arms hurt.”

  Frits wailed, and I interrupted her tirade
. “And you’re scared. I know, Brigitta. I am, too. But we should stay here. We should try to get some sleep tonight and decide what to do in the morning.”

  She bent down and picked up Frits, patting his back. “We’re going back to Anjer tomorrow.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I said, “Do you want to sleep on the ground or in the tree?”

  She glared at me. “On the ground, of course. We can’t get Frits into the tree. He might fall and hurt himself.”

  I hadn’t thought about Frits’s safety. “Why don’t we pick a spot close to the tree?”

  Her willingness to sleep on the forest floor surprised me, but it probably had more to do with her concern for Frits. She stretched out under a banyan tree and got the little boy to lie down. While he tossed and turned, she sang.

  “Under trees so big and giant

  in the forest of the gnomes

  is a nice and little cottage

  between tree roots on the moss.”

  It was just like the evening in the Hotel Anjer when she sang to Jeroen at the dinner table. “I haven’t heard that since my mother died,” I said aloud. I realized then that there had not been much singing in my life since my mother passed away. Hymns at mass weren’t the same thing.

  “Shhh,” Brigitta soothed. She hummed some more, keeping a gentle rhythm until Frits was asleep. Then she eased her shoes off and winced as she rubbed her feet.

  “I am sorry about your ankle,” I whispered. “Is it still bleeding?”

  She shook her head and brushed dried mud off her legs and arms.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only wanted to keep you on the branch.” I removed my own shoes. Oh, that felt good!

  My feet breathed their thanks as I wriggled my toes and made circles with my ankles, letting the air—warm and stuffy as it was—soothe my skin.

  Brigitta didn’t say anything for several long moments, but then responded gently, “I know.” She let out a watery breath and sniffed.

  I scooted closer to her. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. We’re alive.”

  “I know,” she said again with a whimper. “But my mother and father aren’t. Little Jeroen, too. Even Utari. And Ratu and Kuwat.”

  “Who are they?”