Eruption (not sure of this title yet)
an excerpt

Prologue

The sunset would have been spectacular had there been anyone alive to see it. Unfortunately, the only breathing witness cowered in the island cave’s corner, head cradled in grimy hands. His body shook, though whether from fear or the constant tremblings of the earth it was difficult to tell. Eko, a Javanese native who had started the day as servant on a spontaneous picnic at the whimsy of his Dutch superiors, now ended it as his own master once more. His ash-coated face gave illusion of hollowed cheeks, combining with his horror-stricken expression to add 20 years to his age. He knew the wrath of Allah had finally dealt justice--the end time was near, just as his master had said. But oh, how terrible this judgement! He quaked before the power of his god.
We said the sunset was spectacular, but not that it was lovely. The sinking sun cast a nauseous green light through the thick ash clouds. It was difficult to comprehend that so unearthly, so surreal a hue could possibly be a natural product of this world. Eko crawled slowly to the entrance of the small cave he had found in his mad scramble for shelter. No one else had shared the same fortune. With choking breaths that came out as half-sobs, he gingerly used his scraped bloody hands to raise himself to standing. Leaning heavily against the cave entrance, he surveyed with bloodshot eyes the destruction that was dealt. What he saw gave him the sudden strength to stand unaided.
His Dutch masters lay on the beach, having never been given the chance to move when disaster struck. One man’s glasses had melted into his face; the other simply lay facing the sunset, eyes staring but not seeing. Rain began to fall, hissing as it struck pieces of hot pumice freshly created. It was brown, rusty rain. Blood rain. Through his suffering, Eko gave a wide grin.

The prophecy was being fulfilled.