Fire in the Ocean Read online

  On the second try, Sierra boosted Fred over the side of the outrigger while she held it on one side and Chaco on the other, waves knocking against them and threatening their precarious toeholds in the sand and rocks. When the random slap of a wave made Sierra tumble into the water, the outrigger spun away, Fred shrieking at the top of his lungs as the boat headed for the open sea. Chaco had just hurled himself bravely into the waves, paddling madly, when the waves batted the boat back to them. Fred leaped into Sierra’s arms, sobbing with relief.

  After several more tries, Chaco nearly acquired a new concussion before they admitted they were exhausted and gave up. They dragged the heavy outrigger onto the sand and flopped next to it, panting and discouraged. After twenty minutes of damp and miserable silence, Fred sat up as though touched by a cattle prod. “Boat! There’s a boat out there!” he squeaked. Sierra and Chaco leaped up to look.

  It was the boat they had seen before and tried to attract. It was a small, rather tubby craft, and someone was on the port side, the person with binoculars scanning the shore, just as before.

  Sierra began to leap up and down, waving her arms above her head. Perhaps now that Kama had departed, the searcher might be able to see them stranded on the shore. Surely they would see the smoke from the remains of the smoldering hale. Chaco jumped and waved as well. Fred did what he usually did in uncertain circumstances: disappear.

  To their surprise and delight, the boat slowed. Three people were pointing at the shore and talking to one another excitedly. They had been seen.

  “Now what?” asked Chaco. “How do we get out there?”

  “We swim,” said Sierra. “That’s how we got here.”

  “Yeah. And nearly got killed on the rocks,” he pointed out. “We have to try the outrigger again.”

  “The outrigger? Didn’t we just prove that we don’t have a prayer in hell of getting that thing going?”

  “What do you suggest, O Wise One?” snapped Chaco.

  “Maybe we could put Fred in the outrigger, and you and I could swim next to it. We can hold onto the outrigger and guide it.”

  “That won’t work, and I’ll tell you why…”

  As they argued, the boat ventured closer to shore, but stopped while it was still a fair distance out. The three people on board appeared to be arguing with one another just like Sierra and Chaco.

  “Ahem. I think I have a solution,” said Fred. They turned to look at him. He had taken advantage of their distraction to run to the mo‘o’s pool. Kapualei had followed him back to the beach and now lay like an enormous black crocodile on the white sand.

  “Fred says you need help,” she said in her grating voice. “Everyone climb in Kama’s outrigger. I will push you out to the boat.”

  “How can we ever thank you enough?” Sierra exclaimed, wondering if mo‘o liked to be kissed and deciding not to find out.

  “The peace and quiet will be worth it,” returned the mo‘o. They climbed in the outrigger, and she began to bulldoze it into the water. Once in, she lashed her strong tail, and the outrigger shot through the waves, Sierra and Chaco using the paddles to steer. They approached the idling Polupolu so quickly that a white wake trailed behind them.

  Soon, they were climbing aboard, greeting Clancy with hugs and tears. Fred had remained discretely invisible. Chaco lifted him to Clancy with a quiet word, and Clancy tucked Fred surreptitiously into a canvas bag—his greetings would have to wait until later. Trying to explain Fred to the uninitiated such as Sam and Mike was unthinkable. With this in mind, Sierra glanced over the side of Polupolu to see if Kapualei were visible to the boat crew. She thought she saw a long, dark shadow undulating toward shore, but it was hard to tell against the shifting shades of the water and the glitter of sunlight on the waves. She turned and fell into Clancy’s arms. He enfolded her and they kissed. Clancy murmured incoherently into her ear. She could hear, “…lost you forever,” and “…God I can’t believe it,” and the word “love” over and over. She melted wordlessly into him, breaking the embrace only when Sam and Mike came to congratulate the castaways. The couple parted, but kept their arms around one another as if afraid that the other would disappear unless anchored by touch.

  “I never really thought we’d find you,” Sam admitted. “We went by this area several times and never saw a thing.”

  “Well, I’m really glad you saw us this time,” said Sierra. “Do you, by any chance, have some coffee?”

  Chapter 13

  Roberts drove to the company condo on the west side of Moloka‘i after the helicopter dropped him near Kaunakakai. The condo was located in a quiet, shady complex on the beach. It was well-equipped but hardly luxurious—more like a standard tourist condo, with bamboo furniture and bright, floral prints. Unlike a tourist condo, there was a complete dinner waiting for him in the kitchen, and the bar was provisioned with a wide variety of alcoholic beverages and mixers. He preferred California wines, and there was a selection of his favorites. He chose a cabernet franc to drink with his locally raised steak dinner.

  After dinner, he sat on the screened lanai and watched the breakers crest and foam onto the rocky beach as the sun began to set. He was startled when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t as though he had any friends on the island that might want to visit. He knew people here, but they were all employees of Ahi Moana. He put his drink aside and answered the door.

  Standing outside in the twilight was a small group of Moloka‘ians, men and women. They didn’t speak, but bore hand-painted signs that read, “No Wind Farm,” “Save Penguin Bank!” “Leave the Whales Alone!” and similar sentiments. They stood silently, every expectant eye upon him.

  Roberts gently closed the door and locked it. He went back to the lanai. There were no more visitors.

  • • •

  Rose ended the phone call from Clancy, tears running down her brown cheeks. She turned to her friends with a smile.

  “Clancy found them! All of them—Sierra, Chaco, and Fred. They’re alive and well!”

  Even Mama Labadie seemed a little choked up, but she firmed her generous lips and her eyes remained dry as Rose and Kaylee hugged each other and wiped away tears of joy. “They really okay after all that? What happened to them?” Mama asked.

  “I don’t have the whole story—Clancy didn’t have much time or privacy to talk—but they were swept off the whale watching boat by, um, something I didn’t really understand. Something like an Avatar. The something delivered them to Moloka‘i, where they were rescued by someone named Kama. He was living off the grid away from civilization. And apparently he is an Avatar or something, too—I never knew Hawai‘i was full of Avatars. Anyway, they’re just fine. Except for Chaco.”

  “What’s wrong with Chaco?” asked Kaylee, furrowing her brows. “Was he hurt?”

  “No, but he lost his mana. He’s mortal now. Clancy said it had something to do with being separated from his native land.”

  “He must be on the way home right quick,” Mama Labadie commented. “Can’t think that old coyote would waste a moment gettin’ back here.”

  “I don’t know. Clancy didn’t say. Anyway, that’s pretty much all I know,” Rose said.

  “This is the first time in a week that I’ve felt hungry. Let’s go celebrate!” suggested Kaylee.

  • • •

  Sierra and Chaco were still wearing the kapa cloth garments that Kama had given them, now sodden from their exertions with the outrigger and much the worse for wear. Sam and Mike had no extra clothes on board, but they did have wetsuits for tourists who wanted to dive or snorkel, so Sierra and Chaco donned two shorty wetsuits on loan. “Bring those suits back when you can,” said Sam. “I got plenty.”

  Chaco discretely dropped the now-shredding kapa cloth over the side of the boat. The garments raised questions that he and Sierra might find awkward to answer.

  Sam wanted to take Chaco and Sierra to the Moloka‘i General Hospital in Kaunakakai, but Sierra declined for both of them.

  “I
don’t know how or why you’re in such good shape, but it looks like you just got a few scrapes and bruises,” Sam said. “I’ve seen one or two people who’ve gone overboard and been recovered later. You guys are really lucky to be alive.” Sierra agreed with Sam, but couldn’t very well tell him what really happened. The journey back to Kaunakakai was oddly quiet. Clancy, eyes streaming with unaccustomed tears, sat with his arm around Sierra’s shoulders as they traveled. She leaned into him, feeling safe for the first time since she went over the railing of the whale watching boat. They spoke little, and what they did say was inaudible to the others as they whispered into each other’s ears.

  Sam had radioed ahead with the news of finding the castaways, so they could not avoid having a chat with the Coast Guard or the police. Kevin Kapule, the Coast Guard liaison, was waiting at the wharf for their arrival with a police officer. The interviews took place aboard Polupolu while Clancy looked on and waited. Sierra and Chaco just claimed accident, confusion, and luck for their misadventures. Again, they were urged to go to the hospital, but continued to refuse.

  “Your hotel in Honolulu is sending your bags,” said Kevin. “They’re pretty happy that you turned up.”

  “That’s a relief,” Sierra said. Everything they needed was in those bags, including their photo IDs and Sierra’s cell phone.

  A photographer and reporter from the Moloka‘i Dispatch turned up to get the story on the castaways who survived the brutal ocean channel between O‘ahu and Moloka‘i, and they were told there were more reporters on the way from Honolulu.

  “No,” said Sierra, standing up. “No reporters. No photographs.” Sierra’s long experience in public relations led her to avoid the press in this instance. It would turn into a weeklong media circus if she let it. Although it might be quickly forgotten, there were too many holes in their story, and Sierra wanted to avoid the questions that would inevitably follow.

  Clancy, carrying a canvas duffle bag that apparently had a bowling ball inside it, thanked Sam profusely, paid him, and climbed into his car with Chaco and Sierra. The reporter and photographer walked with them to the car asking questions, but did not try to follow them. Sierra reflected that they were lucky they were on Moloka‘i. If this had been the Mainland—or even Honolulu—the reporters would likely have been more aggressive.

  Clancy parked in front of Auntie Keikilani’s house and led the way to the front door, where he stopped and faced Sierra and Chaco.

  “I don’t think Auntie has enough room for everyone, but we can figure something out. I don’t know what we’re going to do about Fred, though,” he said.

  “You found them!” Auntie’s voice came from behind him. The screen door opened and Auntie emerged onto her front porch, arms wide.

  “Aloha! I am so glad to see you safe and sound. You have no idea how miserable this man has been, looking for you every day and not finding you. Come in, come in!”

  Clancy glanced down at his weighty duffel bag, shrugged, and went in as Auntie greeted Sierra and Chaco with handshakes and kisses. He went straight to his room and deposited the bag on his bed.

  “Stay there!” he hissed at the bag sternly. “Stay there and don’t make a sound!”

  “But I’m thirsty,” the bag complained.

  “I’ll get you a drink. Just don’t move and don’t make a sound.”

  Clancy got a glass of water, opened the bag and handed it to Fred. Slurping sounds ensued, causing Clancy to shush the little mannegishi again. Then he went back to the living room, where Sierra and Chaco were standing awkwardly in their wetsuits, unwilling to sit down in them and growing increasingly uncomfortable in the heat of the day.

  “Don’t worry about the furniture,” Auntie Keikilani was saying. “The wetsuits are dry. I haven’t got anything that would fit you, Sierra, but my friend May is about your size. I’m calling her now. And I have some old clothes of my husband’s for Chaco. They aren’t exactly stylish, young man—poor James passed twenty years ago—but they’ll cover you up. That ought to take care of you until your suitcases come.”

  May arrived a few minutes later with a selection of clothes. Sierra picked out shorts, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops. Keikilani retrieved shorts, a Hawai‘ian shirt and sandals for Chaco. Sierra and Chaco took turns using Auntie’s shower and changed into their fresh clothes.

  “I’m starting to feel human again,” Sierra said, sipping coffee and munching a sandwich Auntie had prepared for them while they were bathing. She sighed with pure joy.

  “I’m feeling more human all the time,” said Chaco, without any noticeable pleasure.

  “That’s odd,” said Keikilani, giving Chaco a shrewd glance.

  Three pairs of eyes turned to the Hawai‘ian woman. “What d’you mean?” asked Chaco, who had stopped chewing in the middle of a bite.

  “I mean that it’s odd that you feel human. Not being human in the first place, I mean,” Auntie said placidly.

  “How the heck did you know that?” asked Sierra. “And if you know it, why aren’t you freaking out?”

  “I’m a kahuna,” returned the older woman. “That’s a Hawai‘ian healer. Shaman. Priestess in the old days. I know an Avatar when I see one—though I haven’t seen many. I have seen plenty of spirits, maybe a ghost or two. And Menehune, of course.”

  A long silence followed Auntie’s revelation. It would be a relief to avoid making up a story about how they survived. And it solved another problem, too.

  “Fred,” called Clancy. “I think you can come out now.”

  Fred appeared in the door of the living room, glass in paw.

  “Oh my goodness, aren’t you the cutest thing!” exclaimed Auntie. “What are you?”

  “I,” said Fred with as much dignity as a creature the general size and shape of a watermelon could muster, “am a mannegishi.”

  “Of course you are,” Auntie crooned. “You remind me of something—now, what is it?”

  “Menehune?” suggested Sierra. “Fred says mannegishi and Menehune are sort of cousins. Fred speaks Hawai‘ian. He says it’s his native tongue.”

  Fred blushed a pretty shade of spring green and said, “Loa‘a kekahi kokoleka?”[5]

  “I do indeed,” said Auntie and went to the kitchen. When she returned a moment later, she had a chocolate bar in her hand, which she presented to Fred.

  “Mahalo, ‘anakē,”[6] said Fred, beaming. He plopped down on the floor and began stripping the wrapping away from his treat.

  “Now,” said Keikilani, seating herself. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  It was a long, long story, and they took turns telling it. Auntie sucked in her breath sharply when they came to the part about Kama Pua‘a, and again at the point where Pele appeared. She muttered a few phrases in Hawai‘ian as they told about Kapualei. Finally, they came to the topic of the construction in the sea that worried the Menehune. Auntie nodded her head.

  “That’s the WestWind Project,” she said. “We Moloka‘ians are very much opposed to it.” She proceeded to list the objections.

  “Why is there even a debate?” asked Sierra. “It sounds like a really bad idea.”

  “Energy is at a premium out here,” responded Auntie, “and wind power is something we have plenty of. The problem is that Penguin Bank is perfect for a wind farm—but it’s also perfect for the humpback whales. And I don’t know how much damage the construction will do to the ocean floor out there.”

  Sierra asked, “Isn’t there something that can be done to stop it?”

  “Not so far. They just started construction recently. We tried talking to the State Legislature, all the environmental agencies—everything we could think of. But it’s going forward whether we like it or not.”

  Chaco felt that it was time to turn the conversation to something more immediate. “Are we staying with you?” he looked hopefully at Auntie Keikilani.

  “I don’t have the room,” she said regretfully. “I need to get on the phone and find you someplace.
I’d suggest the hotel, but it’s not exactly within walking distance.”

  “I have a car,” said Clancy quietly. He had not said much, but he had kept his gaze on Sierra the entire time. “I’ll call the hotel to see if Sierra and I can get a room.” His glance at Sierra left her a bit breathless. He called the hotel, but there were no vacancies.

  Auntie Keikilani spoke up. “You’re all welcome here at my house, but all I have is the one single bed, and that might be a bit crowded.” She twinkled at them. “I’ll call Jack Kane. He has two spare bedrooms since his girls moved to O‘ahu. Chaco can stay here with me.”

  This was quickly arranged. Jack agreed to host both Sierra and Clancy. Before Clancy packed his bag for the move to Jack’s house, he asked Sierra to come outside with him for a few minutes. The others took the hint and did not follow them into Keikilani’s little garden. Sierra, a mug of coffee clutched firmly in her hand, sat on a garden bench next to a hibiscus bush studded with bright gold flowers. Clancy sat next to her, slid his arm around her shoulders, and tucked her into his side as closely as possible. Neither said anything for several minutes. Sierra—blissfully happy to be clean, safe, cuddled up to Clancy, and full of coffee—spoke first.

  “Clancy, I’m so grateful that you came to find me. I almost can’t believe it. Under normal circumstances, Chaco and I would’ve died out there. No doubt about it.” Kissing and cuddling ensued. Eventually, she emerged, breathless, from Clancy’s embrace. “What happened to the presidential visit to your plant, by the way?”

  “I told my boss I was coming here and why, and there was no problem. But if there had been a problem, I would’ve come anyway, you know.” He bent to kiss her, and she leaned into him, enjoying the closeness.