The muddy water of the Citarum River that night suddenly reflected the blue and red lights of the police. The air around me felt stifling, mixed with the fishy smell and the metallic tang of blood that stabbed at my nose. A fisherman's scream broke the silent night; his voice sounded terrified, not like a sane man.
"Oh my God! What is that? Not a fish, no! Help!" the fisherman cried in a pained voice, the echo clear on the water's surface. His net had snagged on a heavy object, not a fish, and his wooden boat lurched and nearly capsized.
When that heavy thing was hauled to the surface, the people along the riverbank all held their breath at once; some even vomited. It wasn't a log or the carcass of an animal, but a human body floating, its chest ripped wide open and gaping. The empty cavity in that torso held only congealed blood clinging to the ribs; the internal organs were gone.
Gossip spread fast among the crowd that had packed the Citarum's edge, like oil thrown on a fire. The police tried to disperse them, but the horrific whispers about "organ trafficking syndicate victims" grew louder.
I, Gamali—my face undoubtedly pale—forced my way through the throng blocking my path.
My legs felt paralyzed and stiff, unbearably heavy as I walked toward the body lying on a plastic tarp. My breath caught, as if my lungs had suddenly stopped working, leaving an oppressive emptiness. My vision blurred; my chest felt as though something hard had struck it.
The victim's wet, cold face was clearly visible under the police floodlights. Goddamn, it was Andaru. My older brother. He lay there, no longer the strong, joking Kak Andaru I'd last seen.
Both my hands began to tremble violently—not from the cold, but from the explosive mix of rage and grief inside my chest. I knelt beside him, touched his cold skin, and felt the neat incision across his chest. The wound was too clean for an ordinary killing; it had to have been done by someone very skilled, like a surgeon without conscience.
A police officer I recognized—Kompol Harun—approached, his expression cold and indifferent. "All his organs have been removed. This is definitely the work of an international mafia," Kompol Harun said dismissively, not even looking at me. "My brother is not a commodity, you bastard! You don't have the right to speak however you want!" I shouted, my voice breaking from holding in unbearable anger and sorrow.
I wanted to strike that cop, to beat him silent, but several officers immediately gripped my arms.
This feeling of loss quickly turned into burning rage; the desire for revenge consumed my every thought. I looked at Kompol Harun; my eyes must have been full of tears and fury.
"Stand still, Mr. Gamali! If you cause a disturbance, I'll consider you tampering with the crime scene," Kompol Harun replied, his voice cold and intimidating. "You have to understand, murders like this are a risk of living in the city outskirts. They happen here often."
"Happen often, you say? What a disgrace! My brother isn't a number on your report, you bastard!" I shot back, trying hard to free myself from the officers' grip. This alienation was tormenting, as if I were alone among many people who only watched. I forced myself to swallow the curse, but my gaze was already full of threatened violence.
Suddenly camera flashes from reporters lit my tear- and sweat-streaked face. Microphones from various news outlets were thrust toward my mouth. "Mr. Gamali, please give a statement! Who would want to kill your brother?" asked a female reporter, her voice ravenous for a story.
I stared straight at the camera with burning eyes; my voice was hoarse, but I tried to speak clearly and firmly. My body trembled—not from fear, but because this vengeance filled every vein. "I don't know who you are, but I promise I will hunt you all down," I said with emphasis.
"You, and anyone who touched my brother, I swear by God I will repay this in the most painful way possible. I will have my revenge," I said again, feeling the sharpness of my own stare. Looking at Kak Andaru's mangled body, that vow had been planted in my heart and could not be uprooted.
I felt a hot sensation, like an electric shock running from the back of my neck to my fingertips. It was odd and made me instantly alert. Kompol Harun gave a sneering smile as he looked at me; that expression made me certain something was wrong with him.
"Young man, it's easy to talk about revenge, but reality is far harsher. Don't think you can solve this alone," Kompol Harun said softly but warningly. "Those organs were taken by professionals; they have a large network and you'll never find them—you're just emotional."
"I don't care how big your network is, you bastard! You think I'm scared of empty talk like that?" I retorted, stepping forward and staring straight into his sharp eyes. "If you're involved, I swear I will make you regret being born and doing this."
The officers holding me tightened their grips on my arms, a physical warning to be quiet. I knew I'd gone too far, but I couldn't hold back; I wanted to strike everyone in front of me. I looked again at the incision on Kak Andaru's chest and the memory of his last laugh flashed through my mind.
As I struggled to break free, my right wrist brushed Kak Andaru's cold body. Suddenly I felt a strange vibration, very brief. Between my fingers on his pale skin I caught a glimpse of a small mark the color of dried blood, barely visible. The mark was shaped like an inverted spiral, then it vanished almost immediately.
I was startled—the sensation felt as if I'd seen it before, but I couldn't remember when or where. Was it only my imagination from the shock? I tried not to think about it, but the mark had already etched itself into my memory.
Kompol Harun glanced quickly at my wrist, then returned to his mocking smile. "Look, he's starting to go mad. Take him away now!" he ordered, his voice firm, as if I were trash to be removed immediately.
"I'm not finished! I will come back, and you will all be held accountable for this," I threatened as I was forcibly lifted and moved away from the crime scene, away from my brother's corpse. The mental destruction felt by this was excruciating.
As I was dragged away, my gaze accidentally met that of a young woman in the crowd; she stood alone under the shadow of a big tree. Her face was pretty, but her eyes were cold, and there was a faint smile at her lips—either mocking or pleased. When she realized I had seen her, she nodded slightly, a movement full of hidden meaning.
In her left hand, clenched, I saw something glinting in the light—a silver pendant engraved with an inverted spiral, exactly like the mark I'd seen on Kak Andaru's body.
My eyes widened; I was shocked and understood instantly. She knew something—she must be connected to this.
The woman slowly lifted her hand and touched her lips, a clear gesture to be silent aimed at me, Gamali. Before I could shout at her or ask who she was, she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
I screamed, wanting to break free. "Who are you, damn it! Come back here! Tell me who killed him!" I shouted, my voice swallowed by the noisy river. I knew then my fight for revenge had only just begun,
and I had to find the answers myself. I had to find them.