Excerpt
I, Volcano
Eule Grey © 2021
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
The news on TV isn’t good. Refugees march across Mainland with no place to go.
Dad sighs. “Why? What can anyone achieve by systematic annihilation? Why do some people want to own the world?”
“Supremacy?” I guess. The ways of angry people have always been a mystery to me. “I don’t understand either. Why is there so much hate?” I did world history in school and know the basics, but it doesn’t really help. There’s never been peace, despite Mainland being filled with people from all creeds. “There must be wrongs on both sides.”
Dad stirs his tea vigorously. Brown liquid sloshes over the rim. One of these days he’s going to break that mug. “I’m not so sure. It’s territorial, like always,” he says ruefully. “We should be safe.”
Mainland is more than thirty miles from where we live on the island of Farland. Our small-island laws and rules are thankfully removed from Mainland dictation and, by and large, they leave us alone. My people have a long history of looking the other way. Not very admirable, but it has its plus points.
“Yes, but what about them?” The news is full of footage of little kids and old people being carried in supermarket carts. “Will anyone help?” I lean into Dad’s solid frame, glad to be safe in our cottage. We don’t have much, but we sleep at night and have enough to eat.
I remember what it’s like to leave at midnight, knowing you’ll never see home again.
He pats my knee. “I don’t know. Macke says they’ve already started arriving in boats. Families mostly.”
“From where?” I try to think back to geography lessons and books. Although I’ve done well in medical studies, I was no good at other lessons. “From Esk? Isn’t that the nearest coast?” I love Esk. We used to row there often to spend weekends and holidays. “I hope it doesn’t get ruined by war.”
Dad tuts. “Jalob! People are much more important than buildings.”
“I know that. I just don’t get why countries can’t solve things by talking.” The truth is, seeing the refugees is more than disturbing. It’s easier to pretend all the trouble can be solved with a chat than to acknowledge it probably can’t.
“A country behaves the same as an individual,” he says. Any minute now, he’s going to bring up me being bullied at school. “When one person is stronger than the other, or maybe, angrier, more damaged, more hurt, sometimes being friends isn’t an option. You can’t have a conversation if the other person isn’t listening.”
“Mm.”
“Friendship is a privilege, not a given right. Remember when you were at school, and—?”
“I get it, I get it. I’m being selfish. It’s just hard to imagine when you’re seeing it on TV. What even started this war? I don’t mean all the petty arguments. I mean, what was the actual cause?”
“Do you know nothing of the world? It’s your history too.”
I shrug. “I know potatoes make excellent chips and fried eggs are good to dip. What goes on in Mainland isn’t my business.” I’m uncomfortable he’s trying to make this war relevant to me. I don’t mind hearing about Skarle, but I don’t want to start thinking about boats and refugees. It’ll only lead to images of volcanoes and what happens when people can’t get away.
He shakes his head and laughs. “Always thinking with your stomach! What do you mean it’s not your business? Mainland Ansars originate from the islands.” He looks at me meaningfully. “You know—our islands. They’re different from our island Ansars, sure, and they left hundreds of years ago, but still. They’re our people, Jalob.”
Ours? From what I remember, island Ansars certainly didn’t belong to anyone.
“Mm. I know that much.”
Ansars fascinate me. Since I can remember, I’ve had a crush on an Ansar—Berl. Fish and frogs, is she gorgeous! Tall, slim, messy long hair, and full of cutting sarcasm. Everyone fancies her. I’ve always kept out of her way. People like that don’t want to associate with the likes of me.
On the last night of our final school term, students had been allowed to gather. She’d got out a guitar and sung all night. It was spellbinding. I waited until everyone had left, just to watch her pack away. Just to make the evening last a little longer. Maybe I hoped she might talk to me? Skarles and Ansars have a long history. And, like Dad says, we come from the same place.
Berl noticed me, standing by the big oak tree. She sauntered over and looked me up and down. “You’re massive. Are you Skarle?” she asked.
“Um. Yes. I mean. I was. Until the volcano. Yes. Um.”
“Um? What are you, a bee?”
“Sorry.”
I thought she was going to be rude, like she normally is. When she kissed and started touching me, I actually thought I was drunk and hallucinating. It was the best night of my life.
When she unbuttoned my top, I was so excited I didn’t know what to do, so I just watched her do it.
Being tall, big, and clumsy, I’m all the opposites to her. I could probably have lifted her up with one hand if I had wanted to. That night, though, I hadn’t felt very strong at all. She took my top off, unzipped me, and then squeezed and prodded at me. I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. Even now, I’m not sure I liked it that much.
Then she walked off, like nothing had happened.
Didn’t answer any of my messages afterwards. I suppose one day, I’ll stop thinking about her and wishing for what can’t be.
Dad gets into his stride. “Over the years, they’ve become undesirable in Mainland. I suppose that’s the word. I don’t know how it started, but Mainlanders started squeezing them out. There were protests, but nobody can stand up to an army. Looks like they’ve ordered the Ansars out of eastern Mainland. But why? Those poor people have to live somewhere.”
“It’s really worrying. Are Ansars safe here in Farland?”
“Are you thinking about that girl?” Dad pats my knee. “She’ll be fine. Mainlanders have no jurisdiction here.”
“Girl? Who?”
“You know who. Berl.”
“Oh! Hah-hah. I wasn’t thinking about her. I’ve moved on,” I lie. “Haven’t seen her since college.”
“She isn’t worth the time you spent pining,” Dad says. “Didn’t have the decency to answer your calls.”
“It’s fine. I couldn’t care less.” I’m absolutely not going to talk about dates with my father. “We can’t just watch.” I nod at the TV, wanting Dad to stop scrutinising me. Sometimes I think he reads my mind. “We have to help.”
Watching Ansar people in trouble is different to seeing Farland folk in trouble. I’d still be upset, but this is more. It’s not like watching people fight and knowing you can step in and help. It’s more like, I’m in the fight and on the losing side.
“Actually—” He starts to speak and then turns away, biting his lip.
“What?”
“It’s just. Well. The International Agency is asking for medics to volunteer.” He speaks slowly, like he might be already regretting it. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“For what?”
“Doctors, nurses, anyone medical. All those people walking miles need medical treatment.” He shakes his head and sighs. “The camps must be crying out for help.”
It’ll be another two months before I’m a qualified medic. I haven’t considered doing anything except work at the local hospital and stay with Dad.
“Oh.” I speak fluent Ansar and am used to working with all kinds of people. Theoretically, I could offer. “Do you think they’d accept me? I don’t have any experience except college. I expect they’ll get a lot of applications from some great medics. They don’t want someone like me. I’m sure there’ll be others who can do it better.” Like always.
“Jalob,” Dad tuts. “Why do you have such little confidence in yourself?”
I wait for him to say, Believe in yourself; you’re a great girl, so I can nod without having to answer. He doesn’t though. He waits for me to speak. I blush up like a big red stupid letter box. “I dunno” is the best I can manage. “Stop looking at me.” I stand and head for my bedroom.
“Jalob,” Dad calls.
I lock the door and flop onto my bed. I can’t stand another round of Dad therapy. I hear the words, but they just bounce off my skin. I wish he was right—that I’m a great person who only needs a chance to prove myself.
Truth is, I’m just me. When has that ever been good enough?
*
The news is all over the hospital where I work for course credits.
“Gods alive. What’s going to happen? My whole family live in Nether,” Morla, an Ansar nurse, says in the staffroom. “I’m out of my mind with worry.”
“There must be some way of contacting them? The International Agency?” Jahra says. “It’ll all blow over. Try not to worry.” He pats Morla’s shoulder and shrugs at me. “Anyway. You’re with me this afternoon, Jalob. Ready for some emergency action?”
Morla starts quietly crying. The staffroom empties around her. Some of the nurses shake their heads, like she’s making a fuss about nothing. Nobody wants to get involved. Although hostility between creeds has happened for years—forever—it’s like I’m seeing it properly for the first time. I don’t know what to do to help. She probably doesn’t want me to ask.
“Come,” Jahra says. “We don’t have all day.”
It’s none of my business, so I go to the accident and emergency and help extract a peanut from a kid’s nose.
Two of my college peers are also helping out. “Jay! Are you coming to the pub after work?” Jon asks me. His eyes go up and down my body like he’s a snake looking for a meal. “There’s going to be a band. Should be good.”
I grit my teeth. My name is not Jay. It never has been and never will be. Jay is a Mainland name, and Jalob is Skarle.
“Well?” Jon demands. “Are you coming?”
I know he’s just being playful, but when he squeezes my arse, I really want to punch him.
He’s always trying it on. Dad says he wants a date, but that’s not the right word. Jon is a Mainlander, handsome and popular. Mainlanders don’t date Farlanders, though they do have sex. I don’t think Dad knows how it works.
“Um,” I say. “I’ve offered to stay late and help with the kid inoculations. Sorry.”
He pulls a face. “Aw. When are you going to have some fun with me?” He glances towards Ben, the other student. “It’ll be a laugh.” He touches me again, patting like I’m a dog.
I’m no psychologist, but even I can work out Jon doesn’t want Ben to hear him inviting me—nicely—to the pub. It doesn’t really matter. It’s just the way it is. I do have citizenship on Farland and Mainland, and yet…
Mainlanders don’t need citizenship. That goes without saying. You don’t see anyone checking their ID and asking if they’ve paid up the yearly residency fee.
If Jon ordered me to date, he probably wouldn’t mind Ben hearing. A lot of Mainland folk expect us to do what we’re told and be grateful.
I move out of his reach. “Sorry. I’m trying to get credits. You know how it is.” I smile and hope that’s good enough. I wouldn’t go out with Jon even if it were an order. What’s the worst that could happen? They’re not going to bang me in jail for not liking a boy. Though the world’s a mess, it hasn’t got to that state yet.
“Whatever.” He shrugs. “Your loss.”
“Certainly,” I agree, looking at the floor.
It’s fortunate Jon isn’t an arsehole. It’s not so simple. He’s so used to being a member of the strong majority he doesn’t question the hierarchy. Why would he?
At the end of my shift, I like to hurry home, away from social complications. The medic stuff is the easiest part of my day. Blood pressure and migraines are far less stressful than matters of the heart. I zip up my jacket and hope Dad has put the potatoes in the oven.
Morla’s also in the staffroom, getting ready to leave.
“I’m so sorry about your family,” I say. “Is there anyone who can help?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Things seem to get worse for Ansars every day.”
“Yeah.” I know what she means. So much has changed in the last year. If the world were balanced on scales, it would be like one half—the greedy side—has got heavier than the rest of us. All we do is run to keep upright while the Mainlanders sit back and laugh. “Do you know where your family will go?”
“The coast. Like everyone else.”
Her face is blank. I recognise the expression because it’s exactly how Dad looked after we came to Farland. Her sadness has turned into a big ball of numb. I remember what that’s like. After the numbness comes fear and isolation. After that comes me. It’s where I’ve been for years.
“All trying to reach Farland and then on to Farca,” Morla continues. “Farland won’t have more refugees. There’s no guarantee Farca will let them stay either. Where are they supposed to live? Nobody wants us. They can’t just float on the sea forever.”
I think about leaving home, walking miles that turn into months and then not being admitted entry. Dad and I were lucky to get into Farland. “I’m thinking of offering to sign up.” Until I speak, I didn’t realise I was considering what Dad had said. “To help.”
Morla takes my arm. “Really?”
“Yes. I don’t think I can watch and not do anything.” How brave it sounds! Me, who locks the windows at night and stays away from Mainland boys. I’m probably the biggest coward who’s ever lived. I even changed my route home from school to avoid a barking dog.
“You’ve already done something.” Morla leans forward and kisses my cheek. I have absolutely no idea why. It’s nice. Of course, I blush.
“Well, I have to finish my course first. I’m not qualified for another eight weeks.”
“I don’t mean volunteering. I mean you heard me earlier, and you thought enough about it to ask. That’s so much more than anyone else does these days. Everyone’s sick of seeing refugees on TV. I want to tell them—they’re not refugees—that’s my family! My granny and sister, my nieces and brothers. We’ve all got names!”
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never really thought about it before, how none of us are those other people. “I’m definitely going to help,” I say, pretty lamely.
Morla smiles. “You have to do what you think is right. Just don’t stop thinking. That would be the worst thing you could do.”
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