Island's End (20 page)

F
inally, Danna falls asleep, the ends of his mouth curving up in a gentle smile. I sit beside him for a few more moments, looking at his skin glisten in the moonlight as he sleeps. Then I get up and walk quietly back to my family’s hut, thinking of the day Danna and I will have a hut of our own in the village. But in my dreams later that night, neither love nor beauty awaits me.

Instead, I see all the En-ge pouring onto the sea in great canoes, their bodies black and proud. They leave our island behind—the sky above it no longer pierced by our hunters’ arrows, its jungles empty of our women’s laughter. And far away on the strangers’ island I hear Tawai’s gleeful shrieks fade into frightened whimpers, while Natalang’s plump body shrinks into that of a hunchbacked beggar.

The dream disturbs my sleep. Half awake, staring at the dark roof above me, I pray to the spirits, harder than I have ever prayed before.

“Biliku-waye,” I beg, “please do something to help my people see that our ways can be stronger than the strangers’ ways. Show me how to protect our faith and confidence, so that our spirits remain as bright as they are now.”

My spirit drifts far into the Otherworld.

On the shore of our island, I see Biliku-waye. She is a woman again, a giant woman with eight arms.

“I heard your call for help,” she says. “I will do what I can.”

She swims into the ocean and dives beneath the waves. Deeper and deeper she goes until she is on the lightless sea floor. I sense her eight arms are grabbing hold of the sea floor, somewhere far away in the great depths.

“Monster waves will come at your island,” she says. “Guide your people to safety and their confidence in you will never wane again. But doubt yourself and the last of the En-ge will be gone.”

I wake up trembling like the ground I saw in my vision. But around me, my family sleeps on undisturbed. Kara snores at Mimi’s side and her breathing rolls like a gentle breeze in our dark hut.

Wanting to make sure everything is peaceful as usual, I crawl out noiselessly. The village is a picture of calm. Moonlight flows over the empty clearing and the fire is a pile of gray ash. Everyone is asleep.

I circle around the huts but find nothing unusual. Resting my back against the trunk of the laurel tree behind Lah-ame’s hut, I pull at the chauga-ta around my neck that once was his. “Lah-ame,” I whisper, “what does my vision mean?” The bones of our ancestors seem to twitch under my fingers, but neither they nor Lah-ame can speak to me.

I rush to the beach, reaching it as the sun begins to rise.

“Sister, I need you!” I call out to my spirit animal.

In an instant, eight tentacles snake through the foam, reaching for me. I drift into the waves. Water presses in around me, red as blood in the dawn light.

Together, we swim down until we are at the bottom of the sea. There we stretch our arms out in eight directions until we sense an unusual swelling in the water, far to the south of my island. Over the uneven ocean floor we swim, tracking the swell to its source.

We reach a place where the sea floor is trembling. As we watch, the earth shudders and tears apart. One piece of it collapses, forming a pit, while another is thrust upward by the churning water, taking us with it.

Then I am standing on the beach again, in the bright sunshine of morning.

“What is happening?” I ask.

I shudder. “How can I save my people from it?”

“What if this is wrong?”

“Can you not give me another sign? Something I can show to prove my words are true?”

“But the tribe may not believe me.”

“Wait,” I call after my spirit animal as her body disappears beneath the shifting water. “Tawai already doubts our ways and maybe others do too. I cannot make a mistake now—not about such a terrible prediction.”

But there is no answer.

I
turn back and gaze in the direction of my village, nervously pulling at my chauga-ta. If I am wrong, surely my tribe will not give me another chance to be their oko-jumu.

I take a few hesitant steps up the beach. Running my hand over my medicine pouch, I think of my many journeys in the Otherworld and of my visions. I have never been wrong before.

As I leave the beach, I catch a difference in the sound of the waves—the faintest hint of a faraway hiss. When I enter the jungle, I drop down onto the soft mat of leaves and press an ear to the ground. Biliku-waye’s laughter rumbles through it like buried thunder. I get up and lay my hand on the trunk of a coconut tree. I feel its spirit shaking like a mouse poisoned by a cobra’s venom.

With my head bowed, I gather my courage and pray. “Biliku-waye, Pulug-ame, hold the ocean back until my tribe is safe.”

I run straight back to the village, hoping to gather everyone together there. The jungle is unnaturally silent, except for the shrill
treee-tri-tri-tri
of a bee-eater bird. But this morning its call sounds like a warning rather than a song to greet the new day. Wet leaves cling to my feet as they thunder across the jungle floor. The breeze whistles past my ears, urging me on.

I storm into our village. A group of children playing in the clearing stops and stares at me, surprised to see me racing across without greeting anyone. The bachelor hut is nearly empty now and most of the men have already left to hunt. Of the girls, only a few late risers, including Natalang, remain. She turns her sleepy face in my direction, but I rush past her.

“Uido? Why are you in such a hurry?” one of the women calls out. She is echoed by others.

I make straight for Lah-ame’s hut. My stomach cramps with pain from running so fast. Near the entrance I double over and stumble inside.

Mimi follows me into Lah-ame’s hut. “Is something wrong, Uido?”

“We must go,” I pant. “Now. To the cliff top.”

“What?” Her tone sounds bewildered. “Why?”

Holding on to Mimi, I look for the waist-high drum that Lah-ame used to sound the alarm and gather the tribe together. But just as I lay my hands on it, we hear a shout coming from the beach. It is the voice of the ra-gumul boy who stands guard there.

‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Come, everyone! The strangers are here again!”

T
he boy’s cries set a new panic swirling in my mind. If I beat out the alarm in the village now, some people might be confused about whether they should answer the boy’s call and go to the beach or else follow the drumbeat and assemble in the clearing.

Perhaps I should gather everyone together at the beach instead of the village, to avoid any confusion. My eyes fall on the small drum with vine-rope straps that Lah-ame played the first time I went to the Otherworld. It is not as loud as his waist-high drum, but it is easier to carry.

With Mimi’s help, I slip the vine ropes tied to the drum over my shoulders. Straightening my back and flattening my palms, I beat on the drum and stride into the clearing.
Come, En-ge, come
.

As I sound the call, the giant squid’s power floods my body. It feels as though I have grown eight arms. I slap harder and faster at the drum’s mouth.
Come, En-ge, come
.

The elders gape at me. But they are the first to stop their work and group together behind me. The women follow, strapping their babies to their backs or holding little children by the hand. I look over the crowd for Tawai, but he is not among them. I fear he has run away to meet the strangers already.

Still pounding on the drum, I motion for my people to come with me, out of the village and onto the beach. As we walk, my urgent call echoes through the jungle and across the wide sands.

Close to the water, at the south end of the beach, I see a small group of people. Ragavan and his two men have landed there as usual. They toss colorful buckets out of their boat and onto the sand. While I beat the drum, more En-ge emerge from the jungle. Ashu and his friends arrive, but they ignore my call and race past the growing crowd to join Ragavan.

Halfway down the beach, I stop. Danna bursts through the trees, elbows his way past the others and stands at my side. “I was searching for you. What is wrong?”

I squeeze his hand gently. “I had a frightening vision last night and had to call on my spirit animal. Something terrible is about to happen.” I explain it to him quickly and then count the tightly knotted family groups. Once I am certain the entire tribe is on the beach, I finally let my hands rest on the drum. Danna stands close at my side.

I hear Tawai shriek with delight. He has climbed into Ragavan’s boat to help the strangers unload. “Look!” He throws different-colored buckets into the air one after another. “I am making a rainbow!”

Distracted by his antics, a few children strain to break away from their families. Even some of the adults look with interest at the strangers’ gifts. But then Kara pushes through the crowd and steps toward the strangers’ boat.

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.