21 - undaunted

“This is Mya Amores, reporting from General Santos City near Sarangani Bay. On the second day after the Tsunami ravaged Mindanao’s southwestern shore, floodwaters have started to recede, leaving the skeletal remains of the city behind. Still, many of the area’s emergency facilities are filled to capacity and have started turning individuals away. Hundreds of people wander aimlessly through the streets, searching for safe drinking water and a place to rest their weary heads.”

Indeed, it was that way throughout Mindanao. With a hundred survivors for each emergency worker, it was first come, first served. Those who could get help were being helped while those who couldn’t were left homeless and helpless.

International relief workers quickly responded by constructing new emergency centers wherever they could, moving supplies to any available open space. An Army of volunteers quickly synchronized their movements, filling each auditorium with rows of empty cots; each one carefully dressed in pillows and linens. While cellular communication remained intermittent, the Philippine Coast Guard had been burdened with an unexpected problem: how to move those bodies they’d rescued to these undocumented safe havens.  

The BRP Batangas was Mariposa’s last stop before she would set foot on solid ground, but this wait would be nothing like her time aboard the Leyte Gulf.

While the Leyte Gulf was a 35-meter PCG patrol boat, the BRP Batangas was a full-sized Coast Guard Cutter, measuring 56-meters from stem-to-stern. It’s carrying capacity of 400 non-crew seemed enough to weather the greatest of storms. Today, however, there were 450 survivors aboard and people were literally leaning on each other to survive. Little Mariposa Rana was there, too – tucked snugly between two strangers. Their hips dug into hers as she took turns leaning on one hip and then the other.

Mariposa had expected another one-day wait followed by an offloading to her next way station. It seemed especially true since the crew of the BRP Batangas had streamlined things by the time Mariposa arrived. The day before, the crew off-loaded nearly 500 people as helicopters quickly moved survivors from ship-to-shore – all in sets of six or less. The ballet of accepting survivors, taking inventory of their names, ages, and hometowns was quite something without even considering delivering these survivors to the proper destinations. It was the same for the other three cutters as the guardsmen worked efficiently to get everyone as close to home as humanly possible. In fact, it was only the darkness and the sheer magnitude of the destruction that stopped them from doing more.

When Mariposa arrived on the BRP Batangas, the passenger bay was nearly full. The walls of the holding area were painted in gunboat gray and the bay was bathed in dim fluorescent light. The survivors were wrapped in all colors of wool blankets, depending on how they’d been rescued. Some wore Navy blue and others were wrapped in Army green. Most, like Mariposa, wore the bright reddish-orange blankets from the Philippine Coast Guard. Even now, as the conditions seemed to improve, there wasn’t a lot of optimism to go around. However, the old man next to Mariposa seemed to have enough for everyone.

“Are you okay, little girl?” he said to Mariposa.

She nodded. Her whole body shivered coldly.

“That’s not too convincing,” he said, “take my blanket. You look as miserable as a barrio dog caught in a rainstorm.”

He threw his bright orange blanket about her tiny body and she lifted her legs just long enough to let the tail become draped around her feet. Then, she dropped her legs again. Quickly, she felt much warmer. She drew the top of the blanket over her head and pulled it tightly over her face. The hotness of her breath warmed her forearms.

“Where are you from?” asked the old man.

“Baluntay,” she replied through the blanket.

“Where is that?”

“It’s in Sarangani.”

“I’m from Sarangani, too, but I’ve never heard of Baluntay.”

“It’s near Alabel.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of Alabel. I’m from Maasim, on Sarangani’s western half. You’re a long way from home, but I guess we all are.”

“Yeah…” said Mariposa wistfully.

“I have a daughter just about your age. You’re…seven, maybe eight?”

“Eight years and ten months.”

“We’ll just call it nine, then. Nine years old, just like my little Gabriella Marie.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” said the old man as he heaved a long, exasperated sigh.

Mariposa unburied her head and looked up towards the old man. His mouth was gaped slightly as he rubbed the scruff on his chin. His toothless face reminded Mariposa of her father, which (of course) reminded her of Dalisay. She quickly threw both blankets onto her lap and sat up beside the old man. She thought about Dalisay.

She leaned her head back against the steel wall of the passenger bay. Her teeth chattered gently as the cutter’s engines purred quietly at the stern. Mariposa enjoyed the way the soft rumbling numbed her entire head. It had been two long days since she’d seen Dalisay. Was she safe now?

The last time Mariposa saw Dalisay, the two of them were clinging to a santol tree. The small, springy branches of the bushy fruit tree flopped about in the current like a healthy strand of sea kelp. The weight of the girls gave the tiny tree as much as it could handle. It bent like a piece of wet leather, sturdy and resilient.

“Mari! Hold on with all your might!”

“I will, Dally!”

There were so many forces working against the girls. Mariposa’s arms her wrapped around Dalisay’s neck and Dalisay’s arms were strung awkwardly around a clump of branches. Dalisay’s hands could barely grip the slimy tree bark. Each successive wave beat the girls one way and the undertow pulled them back towards the sea. Dalisay’s knuckles swelled as one hand clenched the other. Meanwhile, Mariposa’s fingers clenched the bright orange hood of Dalisay’s rain jacket.

“Mari! Move your hands! You’re choking me!”

 “I don’t think I can hold on any longer!” shouted Mariposa.

“Just one more moment while I grab your arm.”

Mariposa’s fingers slipped apart and she was quickly washed downstream.

“Dally! Help me!”

“Hold on! I’m coming!”

Dalisay let loose of the branches and the current pulled her downstream. Mariposa’s body twirled as she slipped through the tangle of roots and branches. Whenever she grabbed at some weeds, they came loose in a muddy clump. By the time the current let her go, Mariposa was a short way into the bay. She quickly grabbed a telephone pole floating nearby. When she looked around. she was all alone.

“Dally! Where are you? Dally! Dally!”

Mariposa’s voice was swallowed whole by the sounds of the tsunami: crashing waves collapsing buildings, and a hundred voices calling for help.

Mariposa bounced the back of her head against the hull of the ship as she thought about her sister.

“I’m afraid I don’t know where my sister is, either,” confided Mariposa, “Have you seen anyone in a bright orange and yellow raincoat?”

“Can’t say that I have, but don’t you worry. My daughter and your sister will probably show up in no time at all. Just be patient and let them find us.”

Mariposa heaved a sigh and laid down again. As she threw the blanket over her head, the old man gently patted her on the shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, no matter what.”

‘No matter what,’ she thought to herself.  Those three terrible words kept rolling through her brain as she stared at the dull orange aura that emanated about her. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see the dull orange color through her eyelids. For a moment, she hoped Dalisay was still out there somewhere, hanging on. Then, she remembered Dalisay’s fear of the water. Mariposa wished for total darkness so she could just sleep it all away.

Out at sea, there were still hundreds of hangers-on waiting to be found. With over 1,000 square kilometers to scan and less than thirty ships at the Coast Guard’s disposal, the rescue mission was going to be painfully slow. Among those waiting were Joy Jaramillo and her group of six.

“It’s taking so long for them to rescue us,” sighed Joy.

“You’ve got to be patient,” said Mr. G., “look at all this mess and think of all the people who need help more than us. Just be thankful for what you have, not angry about what you haven’t.”

Joy fidgeted in her seat. As she did, Mr. G. winced in pain.

“Are you okay, Mr. G.?”

Jonny gritted his teeth as he sat backwards and pulled his left leg out from beneath his bottom. It was the same leg he’d torn open the day it flooded at his house. As he pulled the old bandages away from his skin, they revealed a long, white gash. The scar bulged with pus. He gingerly ran fingers over the scar.

“Argh,” growled Rosie, “that’s got to hurt.”

Mr. G. nodded anxiously.

“We should get that infection out of there,” said Brian.

“But we don’t have any way of cleaning the wound.”

“If we let that stay infected, you could lose your leg.”

Brian moved into position in the center of the rubber raft and kneeled in front of Mr. G. He looked around for a second and then glanced up at Rosie.

“I need your earring.”

“What?”

“It’s the only thing sharp enough and clean enough to use as a lance.”

Rosie quickly removed her earring and handed it to Brian.

“Do you want to do it?” Brian asked Jonny.

“No thanks. I trust you.”

“Alright, hold on. It’s gonna hurt like hell for a moment.”

The children were stunned by Brian’s language, but everyone remained silent as they watched Brian. He gently folded a piece of Jonny’s skin together at the edge of the scar. Jonny inhaled deeply.

“You okay?”

Jonny quickly nodded.

“Here goes…”

Brian pricked the skin flap and Mr. G. exhaled cooly as the hotness of infection erupted in a pinkish-yellow mess. Quickly, Brian rolled his fingers across the wound, forcing infection out the bottom. Within a few moments, he’d removed most of the pus from the wound. The remaining skin was loose and meaty.

“We’ll have to keep draining the wound until we can get you to a doctor. For now, we’ll just elevate it and keep an eye on it.”

Everyone cleared a space for Jonny’s leg as Brian grabbed a wad of clothes and tucked it beneath Jonny’s calf until it sat well above the wet floor of the raft.

“It’s beginning to feel better already.”

“Good, let’s just hope it stays that way.”

Brian moved back to his space between Rosie and Mr. Gutierrez. He grabbed Rosie where her feet were crossed and scooted his legs beneath hers.

“Just to give Jonny a little extra space.”

“Mmmm,” said Rosie, “and to keep my legs warm, too!”

Normally, it’d be awkward for the two to be that intimate with each other, but the strangeness of the situation had indeed brought people together in the strangest way.

“Brian?” said Herve Serencio, “can I scoot between you and Mr. G.?”

“Well…”

“I think we’ve got room for one more,” said Jonny.

“Me, too?” asked Maria.

“The more the merrier…”

Brian quickly stuck out a hand.

“Hold on for a second, we can’t all sit on one side.”

“Why not?” pouted Joy.

“If we don’t distribute the weight evenly, we’ll all end up in the water.”

He carefully replaced Rosie’s feet on the rubber floor. Then, he moved to the other side, near Dalisay and Maria. That left little Herve and Joy with Rosie and gave Mr. G. and his leg plenty of breathing room.

As they waited, the raft drifted out towards the mouth of Sarangani Bay. From there, they saw the RHIBs and search and rescue boats zipping back and forth through the flotsam. Thin wakes spread out across the water and slapped against the rugged rubber hull of the raft. One of the scouts on the aluminum boats spotted the large orange raft bobbing along. He waved a hand high in the air. Everyone except Jonny gave a sturdy wave to the rescuers.

“We’re going to be rescued!” exclaimed Joy.

“I’m so tired of being wet!” added Herve.

Rosie hugged the children tightly as the aluminum craft cut through the debris.

“Hey-lo!” shouted the scout, “do you need help?”

“Sure do!” replied Rosie.

“Okay, take this tow rope and hold on tight.”

He handed a short yellow tie-line to Rosie and she held on as the scout pulled the boats together.

“I’m Jimbo and this is Alex. We’re from the Philippine Coast Guard and we’re here to help. Is everyone okay?”

Everyone immediately pointed to Jonny’s leg.

“That’s a nasty scrape,” said Jimbo, “but we’ll take good care of you. Let’s start by loading the kids first. Who’s the youngest?”

“I am! I am!” declared Joy.

“Raise up your hands and we’ll pull you up.”

The two men lifted Joy into the aluminum boat and placed her at the far side. Then, they lifted Herve and Maria before helping Juvie and Rosie into the boat as well.

“Stay there,” Jimbo directed Brian, “I’ll need your help.”

Jimbo boarded the rescue raft and quickly tended Jonny’s wound. When he was finished, Jonny’s left leg bulged awkwardly in a thick elastic wrap.

“This is mainly so you don’t bump it again, but try to keep it dry.”

Jonny nodded.

“Now, we’ll lift you onto the boat.”

“I got it,” insisted Jonny, “just give me your shoulders to lean on.”

The men obliged and Jonny quickly made his way onto the boat. Brian was next, followed by Jimbo. Jimbo reached over and deflated the rescue raft and rolled it up before placing it in the front section next to the bow.

A brilliant white glimmer flashed across the black canvas of sea as the rescue boat skipped across the waves, headed towards the nearest BRP Samar Island.

As the aluminum watercraft sped towards the patrol boat, Jimbo radioed ahead.

“BRP Samar Island, this is watercraft 314. We have seven survivors ready for off-loading, requesting permission to proceed.”

“Permission is denied, watercraft 314.”

“BRP Samar Island, can you repeat?”

“Permission denied, watercraft 314. We are no longer able to take on additional passengers. We’re at full capacity.”

“BRP Samar Island, we have an injured person awaiting transfer.”

“Watercraft 314, you’ll have to administer first aid on your ship. We do not have the extra room.”

“BRP Samar Island, we are a rescue boat.”

“Understood, 314. We advise searching for another offload point.”

“BRP Samar Island, we’re looking for further instruction. What do you suggest?”

“The BRP Leyte Gulf is approximately 20 kilometers to the northwest. That’s the nearest available patrol boat.”

“Are there any PCG Cutters or other support craft closer?”

“The BRP Batangas is the closest cutter and it’s just as full as the Samar Island. Our best recommendation is the PCG patrol boat BRP Leyte Gulf.”

“Aye, aye, BRP Samar Island.”

Jimbo affixed the handset to the console and looked to Alex.

“What do we do now?” asked Jimbo.

Alex looked across the horizon. Their path was clogged with debris. There would be no telling how long it would take to find the Leyte Gulf and if there would be any space left when they arrived.

“Let’s search for the Leyte Gulf.”

Jimbo turned the boat away from the Samar Gulf and headed north. As the boat cut through the debris, Joy propped her head on her hands, which lay folded across the rim of the boat hull. The boat patted gently on the waves as it pushed debris out of its way. Joy looked at the sheen of oil and gasoline that created a rainbow-hued slick on the water. As her eyes searched the heaps of debris, she spotted a body clinging onto a piece of metal sheeting.

“Look!” shouted Joy, “there’s someone over there near that pile of wood! He’s on top of the green stuff!”

The boat slowed to an idle as Jimbo pulled his spotter goggle’s to his eyes. He focused on the body sprawled across the sheet of corrugated plastic roofing.

“Yep, but it looks like we got two people, not just one.”

Jimbo swiveled the handle on the outboard motor and the boat made a quick turn towards the hangers-on.

As he did, Rosie had a selfish thought.

She took inventory of the passengers aboard the small watercraft and the amount of available space. While Jonny sat on the small seat at the front of the boat, the other eight people shared the three remaining benches. If two more people climbed aboard, there would not be any extra room for anyone. Also, Jonny couldn’t prop his leg on the second row of seats. Rosie knew it was selfish to think this way, but there had to be another way.

“Do you really think we have enough room?”

“Oh sure,” replied Alex, “we have plenty of room. We could get five or six more people aboard safely, if we needed to.”

Alex leaned forward over Jonny as Jimbo idled the boat towards the survivors.

“About ten more meters to go,” said Alex, “a little more to the right. Steady now, steady as she goes, now cut it.”

Jimbo pushed forward on the yoke and the engine went dead. Everything went silent as the boat coasted towards the two survivors. Jimbo feathered an oar through the water with light J-strokes as he brought the boat alongside the sheet of plastic. Alex reached out for the nearest hanger-on. There was no response as Alex snatched the survivor by the wrist and checked for a pulse.

“Nope,” said Alex, “no good.”

He replaced the arm at the body’s side. Alex tugged on the leading edge of the plastic roof as he pulled the boat around to the other side. A young girl was there, laying next to the old man. Alex reached out and grabbed the girl by the head. He turned her head to face him. It was bloated, purple, and lifeless.

“No,” he said, “she’s gone, too.”

As Alex pushed off from the plastic roof sheet, it slapped against the water and the old man rolled over the edge. Alex reached out and caught the old man by the waist. Slowly, the man slipped into the water. Alex held onto the limp body by a single belt loop. The thin fabric strap tore loose and Alex lost the body as it sank into the murkiness.

Alex glanced to Jimbo and then towards each of his passengers. Mr. G. reached out a hand and patted Alex reassuringly on the arm.

“It’s alright,” said Jonny, “let him go.”

Jimbo pressed the ignition and the boat started again. He put the boat into reverse and slowly backed away from the remnants.

Rosie sat quietly in the back of the boat and listened to the drone of the motor as they continued toward the Leyte Gulf. She felt like she’d wished them dead. Acid churned in Rosie’s stomach as the guilt ate at her conscience. The taste of acid and vomit slipped up through her esophagus. It was all Rosie could do to keep it down. She tried to clear her throat with a rough cough. She spit a nastly little bit of acid into her open hand. She dropped her hand into the water and rinsed it off.

“You okay?” asked Joy.

“Yeah, just a little seasick, that’s all.”

Rosie wiped her oily hand back and forth across the side of her cargo pants. It left a dirty black stain along her hip. Joy gave her a weak little smile. In return, a toothy grin spread across Rosie’s face.

“BRP Leyte Gulf,” Jimbo called on the radio, “this is PCG Watercraft 314. Come in…”

Static filled the radio waves.

“This is PCG Watercraft 314. We’re searching for patrol boat BRP Leyte Gulf. Does anyone know its location?”

“Watercraft 314, this is BRP Bataan. We saw the Leyte Gulf just a while back. What’s your location?”

“Bataan, we’re about three kilometers off the coast, near Maasim.”

“Watercraft 314, she should be in your area, but she’s full up. I think all the patrol boats are full-up.”

“BRP Bataan, we have 7 survivors. What do you suggest we do?”

“You’ll either have to keep them aboard overnight or you could find a safe spot on the coast to off-load them.”

“Are we breaking with protocol?”

“Watercraft 314, you could come out here and wait for space, but there are already about two dozen watercraft out here, and we’re expecting more rainstorms before the day is over. We’re suggesting that all RHIB and watercraft search for safe off-load points.”

Jimbo looked to Alex as he held the handset to his side.

“Where do you think we should off-load?”

Alex turned to Mr. G.

“Where does everyone live?”

“Young man, young man,” interrupted Mr. G.

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t worry about us, just find us a safe place.”

“No, sir, it’s our job to get you home. Where are you from?”

“Baluntay, near Alabel.”

“I know it,” said Jimbo, “it’s right next to the new resort.”

Jimbo quickly turned watercraft south and headed for Sarangani Bay. The going was slow as a logjam blocked the inlet. Joy laid her arms across the hull and propped her head on her hands, like an oar in its swivel. She looked across the bay to see a flash of orange and yellow.

“Over there! Over there!” she shouted.

“What is it?’ asked Rosie.

“Dalisay! It’s Dalisay!”

“It’s one of our students,” clarified Brian.

“Where is it, exactly?” asked Jimbo.

“It’s over there on the starboard side, at your 2 o’clock.”

Joy continued to point the way as Jimbo zigged through the debris towards the brightly colored jacket, floating like a fishing bobber. As they neared Dalisay, Jimbo cut the engines.

“Looks like she’s unconscious,” said Alex as he reached into the water.

“There’s nobody in it,” he said flatly.

He fished the jacket out of the water and placed it on the watercraft floor. Joy immediately grabbed it and placed it upon her lap. As everyone watched, Joy stroked the jacket with her hand. Rosie stretched out a comforting arm and placed it about Joy’s shoulders.

“No,” Rosie,” she said softly. Her little body curled about the jacket as warm, wet tears streamed down her face.

“Let’s head on in,” said Mr. G., as he pointed towards Baluntay.

The boat ride across the bay seemed to last forever as everyone remained silent. Joy was curled over completely now, her chest pressed against her thighs. As the watercraft cut through a row of treetops, the foliage scraped against the boat. It was an eerie sound. Still, nobody spoke.

The boat continued up Academy Road until Our Lady Lupita was in sight. Water had receded and the watercraft ground to a halt as it scraped against the old gravel road.

“This is as far as we go,” said Mr. G.

Alex shook his head at the old man.

“Absolutely not, Mr. Gutierrez. I’m getting you home.”

“We’re close now,” said Brian. He hopped out of the watercraft and helped tug the boat to the edge of Academy Road. He threw a clove hitch around a tree trunk and secured the boat in place. As they walked uphill, nlack soot marked the waterline from the tsunami.

“My minivan is over on the other side.”

As they turned the corner, it was plainly obvious the minivan was in no shape to drive. As Brian opened the driver side door, the stench of mold emanated from the minivan. Alex immediately headed to the playground.

“Hey Brian, come here a second. I need your help.”

Brian and Alex pulled an ox cart down to the watercraft. Then, everyone attempted to load Mr. G. onto the ox cart.

“This is too much fuss!” complained Mr. G. He hopped onto his own two feet and walked towards the Academy, with the other eight followers all in tow.

“It’s good to be home,” he said as he slipped his arm over Joy’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around the raincoat and gave Mr. G. a little smile. He winked at her as a finger drew across her chin.

“You always have to look up, my dear. If you don’t, something spectacular could pass you by.”

.