Read Online Island's End by Padma Venkatraman - Free Book Online Page B

even the chirp of crickets. I hear only the splash of our poles in the creek, the plip-tup-plip-tup of rain and water slapping at the sides of our canoe. Tall trees no longer stand guard on the stream’s banks, which turn muddy. Plants with twisted trunks grow out of the mud, their branches hanging out across the water as though they were reaching for me.
    “What plants are those?” My finger shakes as I point at them.
    “These are mangrove trees,” Lah-ame says. “Their roots jut out of the ground to help them breathe.”
    I watch the sun setting behind the mangroves ahead of us. The stream becomes narrower and clouds of mosquitoes swarm around my ears. Zzzzt, Zzzzt, they drone, biting into my cheeks, my arms, my back, my front. The stench of rotting leaves fills the air.
    Lah-ame gets out of the canoe and pulls it up a clay bank. I hear something thrashing in the water behind us and glance back. Through the fading light, I see the jaw of a huge lizard snapping shut and sinking beneath the water.
    I clamber up the slippery bank as fast as I can. “Is that a duku-ta?”
    “You are afraid, Uido,” Lah-ame says.
    I want to deny it, but my voice has given me away already. I have nothing with which to defend myself—not even a digging stick.
    “There are many crocodiles here,” Lah-ame says. “But all creatures can be calmed by a true healer.” He hands me his bone rattle. My fingers tremble as I take it. The rattle makes a pleasant sound, like flowing water. I knot it tightly to my bone necklace but I do not see how it will be of any use in fighting a crocodile.
    Next, Lah-ame slips a water bag over one of my shoulders and a bag filled with food over the other. “It is time for me to leave,” he says.
    Although I know the journey through the swamp must be mine alone, I have pushed this moment of parting out of my mind, refusing to think of it. Now it is here, I can get no words out.
    “Your spirit and body have grown powerful, Uido, powerful enough for you to sense your way through the Otherworld alone and return safely to our people.” Lah-ame holds my face in his hands for a long moment. “May Biliku-waye and Pulug-ame guide you as you walk north to find your special medicine and learn the plant’s message.”
    He blows across my cheeks, then walks down the bank to the canoe.
    I watch Lah-ame push away into the gloom. My spirit feels trapped, as if in a bad dream from which I cannot awake.
    The ripples made by Lah-ame’s boat slowly fade.
    And there is only silence.

17

    I peer into the swamp ahead as the darkness thickens around me. A tangle of mangrove roots sticks out of the ground like the legs of a gigantic spider. It makes me think of Biliku-waye.
    Praying she will guide me safely through this place, I take a step toward the spiderlike roots, away from the water and the crocodiles. Behind me, I hear the squelch of mud.
    I cannot help looking back. A crocodile four times my size is clambering onto the bank, dragging its tail across the wet earth.
    Panic rises like cold water in my chest. Not far ahead, I see a circular patch of mud between the mangrove trees. It looks unnaturally smooth—like the strangers’ metal boats. Thinking it will be easier to escape the crocodile if I am running over mud than if I am stumbling across mangrove branches, I run toward the mud as fast as the swampy ground will allow.
    A fallen tree trunk blocks my way. I stumble over it. But then the log comes alive. Another crocodile!
    I leap away.
    When I land, my feet sink ankle-deep into the smooth mud. I try to go forward, but I only slide in deeper. The mud sucks hungrily at my legs, pulling me down. In no time it rises up to my knees, my thighs.
    The crocodiles hang back from the gleaming mud, their unblinking eyes shining in the light of the rising moon. I slap and kick at the mud but the earth’s grip tightens. The more I struggle, the lower I sink. I fall in up to my waist. The stench of mud fills my nose and my