18 - aftershocks

What had exhausted the people along the coast left the people inland relatively unscathed. It wasn’t until the day after the tidal wave that the people of South Cotabato experienced any turmoil at all.
Early the next morning, the earth chattered for five whole minutes. No matter the age, the reaction to the aftershocks was instantaneous. Everyone scurried from their homes and gathered in the streets. It was a commonplace ritual; Filipinos had weathered these sorts of storms their entire lives. As soon as the dust settled, everyone quickly returned to the safety of his or her home.
“Dearie,” said Mrs. Santiago, “can you turn on the radio for me?”
“Yeah, ma.”
Another ritual in the Santiago home, of course, was gathering around the radio and listening to the news (even if it was a full day old).
“As a result of yesterday’s tidal surge, extensive flooding has devastated much of Mindanao’s southwest coast. The current confirmed death toll is nearing 4,000 and is expected to top 10,000 by the weekend. In other news, the hostilities on Basilan Island have come to a sudden standstill as the UN joint task force prepares for an extensive rescue campaign..”
“Turn it off,” snarled Mrs. Santiago.
“Turn it off” had been Mrs. Santiago’s mantra over the last month, and for good reason. The news had been notoriously bad, even by Filipino standards. The Philippines had seen its share of religious wars, political strife, and natural disasters, but they rarely occurred at the same time.
The eastern half of South Cotabato had gone largely untouched by flooding. Even the aftershocks that shook central Mindanao were insignificant compared to the devastation along the coast. Still, Mrs. Santiago wasn’t about to wait for God to unleash his wrath upon South Cotabato. The time to act was now.
“Eiselle, why don’t you call your husband? Tell him to take care of his family.”
“Ma, you know I can’t.”
“Are we not good enough to go to the Highlands and step foot inside Mr. Arvind’s house?”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what?”
“It’s me and Arvind. We’re no longer together.”
“What? How did you let this happen? Go apologize to him right now. He is too important to this family.”
“I just can’t go back like that. We had a fight.”
“You can and you will.”
“Come on, ma…it’s just not that simple.”
Mrs. Santiago scoffed and turned her back on everyone in the living room. James turned to Eiselle and looked her up and down. She was sullen, nearly defeated. It was a marked change from her usual self-absorbed socialite persona. In fact, he thought her split with Arvind just might have been the perfect thing to square her shoulders. While he remained silent, Mat spoke up.
“Was it your fault?” asked Mat.
“No…it was nobody’s fault. It just happened.”
“How did it just happen? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, come on, Eiselle,” said James, “Everything happens for a reason.”
Eiselle glowered at James. Of anyone in her family, he was the one she suspected least of kicking her while she was down. In fact, he’d always been the one to stand up for her when nobody else would. She said nothing. Instead, she quietly rose to her feet and shuffled to her bedroom.
“What’s her problem?” asked Mrs. Santiago.
“I think it’s your insistence that she’s got to stay with Arvind.”
“Even you know it’s her fault.”
“Maybe it is,” said James, “but maybe it isn’t. Anyway, it’s plain to see that something isn’t working between them. I’ve never seen her like this before.”
James headed to Eiselle’s room, only to have his mother stop him with an outstretched hand.
“Just leave her alone. She’ll get over it. She always does.”
James side-stepped his mother as he continued to the back of the house.
“Eiselle?” When there was no answer, he opened the door and poked his head inside.
“Hey…”
“What do you want?”
“I’m just checking up on you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my little sister, that’s why.”
James approached the bed and sat next to Eiselle. A hand settled at the top of her far shoulder and sat there. She sighed wistfully.
“You remember when I used to take you with me on the Jeepney route and you’d sit there and be my co-pilot, collecting fares and making snack runs whenever we stopped for gas?”
“Yeah…”
“You want to go for a long Jeep ride?”
“I don’t know,” shrugged Eiselle.
“Come on, it’ll be good to get out of this angry house.”
“Let me get myself fixed up.”
“Get fixed for what?”
“I’m not wearing a perfectly good outfit in a dirty old jeep. It’ll get ruined.”
“There you are,” chuckled Jay, “I wondered where the real Eiselle was hiding.”
Eiselle quickly changed into a set of casual clothes and hurried through the living room before either Mat or her mother could stop her.
“See you guys later,” said James, “we’re going out.”
“Wait,” said Mrs. Santiago, “where are you going?”
“We’re going out, mother,” said Eiselle, “that’s really all that matters.’
“That’s not all…”
“Ta-ta!” said Eiselle in a dismissive tone.
She and James continued on without acknowledging their mother. Instead, Eiselle shot Jay a wicked little smile as he gave her a wink.
“Where, exactly, are we headed, my dear, dear brother?”
“You name it,” said Jay, “your wish is my command.”
While the Santiago siblings headed off on a Mindanao escapade, things were downright awful in Sarangani.
Overnight, the wet thatch and oil drum were no longer a concern as the tidal surge washed them away. As a result of the surge, the village of Baluntay had washed away, too. They hadn’t realized it yet, but Mr. and Mrs. Jaramillo were set adrift on a giant raft of bamboo, somewhere in the Celebes Sea. Instead, Mr. Jaramillo was at war with his own body, fighting the urge to shut down completely. Every breath seemed like his last.
“Oh dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Jaramillo, “are you alright?”
Mr. Jaramillo exhaled wetly. It was some small miracle that kept his lungs from total collapse. He spat out mucus in thick, gooey clumps. Mrs. Jaramillo snaked an arm up between the bamboo and her husband’s ribs and wiped it away.
“Stop putting your fingers in my mouth,!” he growled, “you’re making me choke.”
“Be quiet, old man, and let me take care of you for once in my life.”
Her tone was plaintive and calm. Her husband needed help and by God, she was going to be the one to administer it, even if it killed her.
Meanwhile, little Joy Jaramillo’s teeth chattered uncontrollably as fear rose like a fever in her head. The water hadn’t receded overnight. The seven people stranded on the rooftop of Our Lady Lupita were all weary from watching and waiting, and wondering when it would all be over.
“I’m so cold,” said Joy.
“Stay here between us,” said Rosie as she held Joy in her arms, “we’ll keep you safe and warm.”
Brian wrapped his long, wiry arms around both girls and held on tightly. Meanwhile, Mr. G. and the other three survivors were gathered together in a second huddled mass. Everyone’s clothes, heavy with water, offered little to no warmth. Small groups of survivors dotted the remaining seascape in much the same way. If all these people could just hold out a little bit longer, help was on the way.
Aboard the USS Carl Vinson, helicopter crews waited for their morning orders while Black Hawks were refitted with winches and baskets for search and rescue. As Master Sergeant Gonzalez entered the briefing room, soldiers stood at attention.
“At ease, everybody. I’m sure you’ve already heard the news about the flooding in and around General Santos City. We’ve been given orders to perform evacuation maneuvers along the coast. Each team will be assigned its own quadrant. From there, we’ll handle the evacuation in multiple stages. First, we’ll perform a series of flyovers to assess hot spots. We’ll only extract anyone who is in severe danger. Remember, there are hundreds of people out there in harm’s way…”
The men disbanded, only to regroup on the flight deck. Licayan performed one final check on his Black Hawk before climbing aboard.
“Licayan,” said Gonzalez, “I’ll be heading out with your group and we’ll split the Sarangani detail with another flight group. I want you there because it’s familiar territory.”
“Aye, Aye, Sir.”
Gonzalez and Licayan had always dealt with each other using an arms-length approach. No matter the social grudges one held against the other, they handled each other with mutual respect. “I know.”
“Is that okay with you?”
“Sure, why not?”
“We’ve had our difficulties in the past.”
“That’s all in the past. We’re good.”
“Are we?”
Ralj nodded.
The men suited up and buckled in. Within minutes all four Black Hawks were up and away. The USS Carl Vinson was anchored almost fifty kilometers from the coast. As the Black Hawks buzzed over the sea, an entire fleet of fishing vessels lit up in their night vision goggles.
“Wow,” said Kesuma (who now sat in Serencio’s vacated position), “it’s like every single boat is out there.”
“I bet they are,” agreed Gonzalez, “there’s nowhere else to go.”
“When are we going to start plucking people out of the ocean?” asked Ralj.
“Not yet,” said Gonzo, “we’ll only stop if we someone in grave danger.”
“They’re all in grave danger.”
“You know it’s wrong to focus on one piece of the puzzle then there’s a much larger problem to solve.”
As the Black Hawk skimmed across the Celebes Sea, Gonzalez, Licayan, Gomez and Kesuma carefully plotted the location of each survivor group on the map, accounting for type of vessel, and number of survivors. Meanwhile, the survivors waited.
The usual late night din of roosters, motorbikes, and neighbors had been strangely absent. Even those who found the safety of boats had spent the night sleeping it off instead of motoring about in their usual noisy way.
In the blackness of morning, spirits rose as helicopters approached. In fact, any sound was a welcome one in the eerie silence of night.
“What’s that?” asked Joy.
“It sounds like the rotors of a Black Hawk,” said Brian.
“Oh goody! They’re coming to rescue us!”
Joy rose to her feet and cheered as the Black Hawks passed overhead. As the sound faded into the distance, Joy’s body drooped.
“Where are they going? Why don’t they stop? Don’t they know we’re here?”
Joy pulled away from Brian and Rosie and ran towards the roof ledge, following the sound of the rotors. Brian immediately reached out to Joy, only to have her push him away.
“Joy!” he shouted.
“Hey! Come back and get us!”
“Joy! Come back here!”
Brian skittered across the slippery roof and snatched Joy by the waist. She wriggled in his arms for a moment, only to quit a few seconds later.
“Don’t worry, he said, “they’ll be back.”
“When?”
“There’s no way I can tell you when. We’ll just have to be sit and wait.”
“We’ve been doing that all night.”
Joy fell limp in his arms and her weight increased three-fold. Still, Brian lugged the little girl to the far corner and sat her next to Rosie. Rosie immediately grabbed Joy in her arms and held onto Joy with all her might.
“Oh, Rosie,” she sighed.
“I know…I know.”
Back aboard the USS Carl Vinson, the data points were collected and coordinated as sun rose over the Philippine Islands. In addition to the Army’s Black Hawks, Navy and Coast Guard helicopters were airborne. Communications officers from all three groups prepared for a mass evacuation.
“This is Convoy Lead Gonzalez aboard Black Hawk 12a. We’ve spotted a handful of survivors scattered all along the coast. How would you like to proceed?”
“Go ahead and send those coordinates, Gonzo. We’ve got four Philippine Coast Guard Helos en route.”
“We’ve got room for about ten survivors,” said Gonzalez.
“Negative, Convoy Lead. Your team is only performing triage. Assess each situation and provide us with any necessary updates.”
“First, we need more than four PCG helos out here. We should send anything and everything we have.”
“That’s a negative, Gunny Gonzalez. It’s too risky to send cutters in at thie time. Our task force is looking into other options.”
“You’re not down here. There is plenty to do without endangering anyone. There are hundreds of people out here just hanging on.”
A Naval Officer (who had been monitoring the conversation)), took the headset and cut into the conversation.
“Master Sergeant Gonzalez, this is Junior Lieutenant Blackburn of the USS Carl Vinson. We are doing everything we can, but sending PCG cutters into the operation now is not a call either one of us can make. The PCG and Navy have deemed extraction by boat too risky at this time…”
There was a moment of radio silence before the Lieutenant continued.
“Do you read me, Convoy Lead?”
“Aye, aye, USS Vinson.”
“Be safe out there, Master Sergeant. We’ll take care of everything in its own time.”
Gonzo removed his headset and rubbed his hands over his scalp. At that very moment, Ralj Licayan grumbled into the radio.
“Obviously, the Lieutenant’s family must be safe and sound.”
If Gonzo had heard his snide comment, he would’ve been hard-pressed to disagree with his pilot. In addition to Master Sergeant Licayan’s family in Alabel, all four members of the Black Hawk crew had someone from Sarangani or Gensan. Gonzo’s wife and kids lived in Gensan, only a few kilometers from the area the crew had surveyed. It wouldn’t be much trouble turn the helicopter around and check-in on all their hometowns. However, they all knew the Lieutenant was right. Everything had its own time.
It was a long, slow day as survivors were plucked to safety one-by-one by the search and rescue teams. As each hour passed, the numbers of personal heroes grew as survivors took up the cause to help wherever they could.
Three such heroes were not content to be safe aboard their small motorboat. One man sat in the back, keeping his hand on the throttle as he slowly idled through a sea of construction materials. As he steered the outboard motor back and forth, a man and woman sat near the front and used long, wooden oars to push rubbish aside.
“Keep it slow, Benny,” called the woman.
“I know,” he said to his wife, “we’ve got all day.”
The second man, Alvin Sanchez, hadn’t even known the couple one complete day. Still, he was there, helping in the search.
Benny and Magda Soliman had the mixed bit of fortune of being inside their store when the first tidal wave hit. They had closed Jardin Sarangani for the day to get rid of the burnt wood smell that inhabited the whole store ever since the fire-bombing incident.
Just after noon, a motorbike pulled into the parking lot in front of Jardin Sarangani and the rider hopped off his bike and pounded repeatedly on the door.
“Who is making all that racket?” said Mrs. Soliman.
“Please help me!” cried the stranger at the door.
“We’re closed,” said Mr. Soliman through the door.
“My house is flooded and my family might need my help. Do you have any inflatable rafts?”
Mr. Soliman looked back to the display rack of air mattresses along the far wall. He looked to his wife and then towards the stranger. He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened the door.
“I’ll probably need two. how much?”
“600 pesos for both.”
The stranger reluctantly dug into his pocket as Mrs. Soliman brought two packages to the cash register.
“Where’s your house?”
“Down near the bay.”
“Sarangani Bay?” said Mrs. Soliman, “How can it be? There’s never any flooding there.”
“There’s been a large wave.”
Mrs. Soliman rang up the total, but Mr. Soliman waved the stranger off.
“Go ahead and take it,” he said, “you’ll surely need it.”
Before Mr. Soliman could close and lock the door, Mrs. Soliman came up behind him and pushed on the door.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m going to check and see if he’s telling the truth.”
She toddled along the sidewalk and carefully made her way down the steps to Academy Road.
“You can’t go down there,” said Mr. Soliman, “you might get hurt.”
“Then you check for me.”
“Alright, I will.”
Mr. Soliman hustled down the steps and peered down the slow, steady slope of Academy Road. He didn’t see anything unusual. But he did hear the waves crashing in the distance.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s get the truck.”
He ran up the steps with all his might and quickly locked the market’s front door.
“What about all our stuff?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get to the safety of our house.”
Mr. Soliman rode the short distance to the Highlands, where a traffic jam had already formed. As they waited, people began to steer their vehicles into the ditch, forming three continuous lanes of traffic up the narrow mountain road. After a short while, some decided to turn around while others simply abandoned their cars and started hiking up the hill. Mr. Soliman pulled his truck into a parking lot.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to hike, just like everyone else.”
Mrs. Soliman exhaled deeply.
“It’s all we can do.”
Mrs. Soliman nodded as she girded herself for the long climb to their house. Like everyone else, she mustered the strength and forced her legs up that hill. When she and her husband finally arrived at their home, there was a strange car parked in their driveway. A man was curled up and sleeping in the front seat.
“Benny, look at this. Do we know this man?"
“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter now. He probably just needs a place to stay.”
“He shouldn’t stay here…”
The man shot up into an upright position as soon as Mr. Soliman knocked on the window. As Mr. Soliman motioned to the man to roll down his window, the man quickly obliged.
“Hi, I’m Benny and this is my wife, Magda. This is our house.”
“Sorry about that, but I had nowhere else to go.”
“I understand, Where are you from?”
“Baluntay.”
“That’s odd, I thought I knew everyone from Baluntay.”
“I spend most of my time working in Gensan. In fact, I was just coming home when everything happened. That’s why I came up here – looking for dry land, you know.”
 “Well, come on in. I’m sure we’ve got space in our house for one more.”
The stranger followed Mr. and Mrs. Soliman into the house and joined them in the living room.
“Would you like some tea?” asked Mrs. Soliman.
“I’m not much of a tea drinker. Do you have some cold water?”
Mrs. Soliman quickly fetched the drinks and returned to the living room.
“You say you’re from Baluntay?”
The man nodded.
“We own the Jardin Sarangani and we’ve never seen you.”
“I thought it was a Muslim store.”
“It is,” said Mr. Soliman, “but we also sell food to Catholics. Our food travels and your money is worth the same as anyone else.”
The man chuckled lightly.
“What’s your name again?” asked Mrs. Soliman.
“I never told you. I’m Alvin Sanchez.”
“Hmmm…I guess I don’t know everyone in Baluntay.”
“It’s okay, you’re the only people I know in the Highlands, but I’m very glad I met you.”
“Likewise,” replied Mr. Soliman.
“Let’s see what’s happening in the world,” said Mrs. Soliman as she turned on the television. All news was grim as on-the-spot news reports showed images of the damage all along the southwestern coast.
“It’s just awful,” said Mr. Sanchez.
“It always is this time of year,” said Mrs. Soliman, “but they’ll take care of it in good time.”
“I don’t know if that’s fast enough for some,” said Mr. Sanchez.
“The government cannot be responsible for everyone. These people have to take care of themselves at some point.”
Mrs. Soliman’s last comment bothered Mr. Sanchez, but he decided it was better to bide his tongue than speak out against his hosts. As he watched the news, though, all he saw was people running out of time.
He watched the news reports for most of the night. When Mr. Soliman woke, Mr. Sanchez was watching the morning news.
“Would you like something for breakfast?”
“You cook?”
“Not really, but I know how to break an egg.”
“That’d be fine.”
Mr. Soliman fixed himself a scramble of pork and eggs.
“It’s just horrible, you know. We’re here, safe and warm while all these people are struggling to stay alive. I wish there was something we could do.”
“Maybe we can do something. Would you be able to give me a hand?””
“Anything you need, Benny.”
“I’ve got this tiny boat just behind my store. I think we can use it to help rescue people.”
That’s a great idea,” said Alvin, “let’s get the boat!”
“There’s one problem…”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
Mrs. Soliman joined the group.
‘”You’ll see what?” she asked.
“Alvin’s going to help me get my fishing boat out to rescue people.”
“No, Benny, let the Army handle it.”
“You heard the news, They need all the help they can get.”
“That old boat is no good for something like this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not safe enough for one person, let alone a bunch of strangers.”
“I think it’s our responsibility. Those are our neighbors out there.”
Mrs. Soliman sat like a lump on the couch.
“Are you going with us or not?”
“Oh, Benny, sometimes you infuriate me.”
“Come on,” said Mr. Sanchez, “we sure could use your help.”
Mrs. Soliman joined the two men as Mr. Sanchez drove down the hill to Mr. Soliman’s truck. Then, Mr. Soliman led the way to Jardin Sarangani. The leading edge of the water swell had already reached the bottom of the hill when they peered down the length of Academy Road.
“I bet Baluntay is completely underwater.”
“I wonder if it’s even there,” said Mr. Sanchez.
The men went to the back of the store to fetch the boat. A tangle of thicket covered his old fishing boat. The boat had been there for two years, waiting for a fishing expedition.
“Help me get this boat ready.”
“Does it have any fuel?” asked Mrs. Soliman.
“I’m not sure! Go get some from the store while we get the boat ready.”
Mrs. Soliman fetched a couple gallons of two-stroke fuel from the store. By the time she returned, the two men had cleared everything away. Mr. Soliman filled the tank and stored the gas can beside the engine. Then, he got in the truck and slowly backed it into place so Mr. Sanchez could hook the boat loader to the tow hook.
He put the truck into low gear and eased out onto Academy Road. Then, he slowly backed down Academy Road.
“Shouldn’t I get out?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Mr. Soliman eased the back end of the truck into the water. He was lucky for the slow slope of Academy Road, but not so sure how far he could go.
“Alvin, can you get out and help me back the boat into place?”
“Sure thing, Benny.”
Alvin motioned to Benny as the two men moved the boat into place. When the boat loader was completely submerged, Alvin called to Benny.
“That’s it. Put her in park.”
The two men unfastened the tie-downs and unwound the tow-rope winch. Mr. soliman freed the boat and handed the tow rope to Mr. Sanchez
“Okay, I’m going to take the truck back to the store.”
Mr. Soliman drove to the crest of Academy Road and parked his truck in front of his store. He didn’t think the water would get much higher than its current level, However, if the water rose, it might as well take everything he owned. Maybe the broken glass and fire damage was a sign of things to come. Regardless, he’d take his chances on fate. It truly hadn’t let him down yet.
.