Fire in the Ocean Page 8

  “I know,” puffed Chaco, whose headache had not been improved by the exercise. “I don’t think they could’ve missed us. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless we’re invisible.”

  Sierra stared at her friend. “Invisible? What do you mean?”

  “As in, not visible. There’s something funny about this place, about Kama, about everything. Maybe there’s a spell that prevents people from seeing this place, and that’s why they don’t come here. It could happen,” he finished.

  Sierra sat silently for a few moments, considering. “That actually makes sense in a crazy kind of way,” she said. “Do you remember swimming toward the pali? I couldn’t see the beach or the valley—just cliffs. I thought we were going to be smashed against the rocks. I didn’t see the beach until I was actually in the breaking waves. A spell, some kind of magic—that would explain why other people never come here. Do you think Kama is the one responsible for the, ah, invisibility spell?”

  “If he isn’t, I don’t know who would be. I think we have to assume that Kama isn’t what he appears to be. Actually, I’m certain he isn’t what he appears to be, but I can’t put my paw, um, finger on it.” A discontented expression darkened Chaco’s face, and Sierra thought he must miss being a coyote. After all, he might never be a coyote again, and it had been half his nature for thousands of years.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said. “There’s a lovely pool of fresh water in the trees behind the hale. Let’s go get some before we start poking around.”

  Sierra showed Chaco the basin of cold, sweet water and the little waterfall that fed it. Halved coconut shells and some gourds were stacked on the bank by the pool, and there were tall trees all around providing dappled shade. With the sound of falling waters and the cool breath from the waterfall, it was a wonderful relief from the afternoon heat. Sierra handed Chaco a coconut shell and took one for herself. They filled two gourds with water, then dipped more up for a satisfying drink from the shells. As Sierra had, Chaco commented on the cold sweetness of the water.

  Without warning, a black, scaly head erupted from the basin, mouth gaping wide to display fangs that would put a crocodile to shame. Its maw stretched wide, and they could see teeth studding the inside of its red mouth, even protruding from the lining of the gaping throat. The thing hissed at them angrily and lunged. Coconut shells flying, Sierra and Chaco scrambled backward, away from the pool. Sierra heard the distinct sound of whimpering, and was surprised at Chaco until she realized she was the one making the noise.

  As they hastily retreated from the pool, the huge creature did not follow. It poked its head above the water and glared at them with obsidian eyes.

  “Okay, this isn’t right,” panted Sierra as they stumbled back down the path. “There aren’t any big reptiles in Hawai‘i. The biggest lizards they’ve got are those little geckos we’ve been seeing. That thing can’t possibly be real.”

  “Oh, it’s real enough. It’s just not mortal,” responded Chaco.

  “Okay. You know what I mean. Anyway, there was no sign of it when Kama took me there. You’d think he’d have warned me!”

  “That would’ve been nice,” Chaco agreed. “Speaking of Kama, we’d better get busy if we want to make any progress before he gets back.”

  Exploring the walls of the little valley was much more difficult than they had anticipated. The trees grew thickly all around the perimeter and marched up the side of the cliffs, tightly interwoven with bushes and vines. In many places, this tangle was completely impenetrable unless they wanted to hack away at the thick undergrowth. This would only attract Kama’s attention, which neither felt was a good idea, and they didn’t have so much as a pocketknife to do the hacking. After an hour and a half of trying to pick their way through this jungle, they were hot, sweaty, and thirsty again. They had abandoned the water gourds back at the pool, so they gave up and went back to the hale, where there were more gourds full of water. Thirst quenched, they returned to the beach. The outrigger was still gone, so Kama had not yet returned.

  They decided to do some more medicinal soaking in the salt water, and took turns as before. While Chaco was drying in the sun, Kama’s outrigger appeared in the distance, heading home. Kama maneuvered the little craft masterfully through the waves and rocks, leaping out in the shallow water as he approached the beach. Sierra and Chaco helped him drag the boat well up beyond the reach of the waves, where it would be safe from the incoming tide.

  “Mahalo. It was a good catch today,” Kama said, pointing at a large parrotfish lying on the bottom of the boat. Its brilliant blues, greens, reds, and yellows were dimming with death.

  “Kama,” Sierra said, “we went to the freshwater spring today to get some water. There was something big and black in there, and we thought it was going to kill us.”

  “Oh, that,” said Kama, carefully folding his net. “That’s just Kapualei. You shouldn’t have used the pool while she was in it.”

  “What is a Kapu-whatever?”

  “She’s the mo‘o that guards the pool. I make sure she has what she needs, and she ensures strong ‘awa, plentiful taro, and good fishing. She means well.”

  “You might have warned us!”

  Kama continued arranging his net. “I showed you how to tell if Kapualei was using the pool. When she’s in the pool, don’t disturb her.”

  “No, you did not show me!”

  “I did. I bundled up some tī leaves and put them in the pool. The tī leaves floated, so I knew the mo‘o was not in the pool. If the tī leaves sink, Kapualei is using the pool, so I come back later.”

  “It would have helped a lot if you had explained that,” grumbled Sierra. “As it was, we’ve pissed her off, and Chaco and I almost needed a change of clothing. And while we’re talking, Chaco and I have some questions.”

  “Really? All right. But first I need to clean this parrotfish and get it roasting. Yum!” he concluded, smacking his lips. He reached into the outrigger and heaved the fish out.

  Kama served the roasted fish with poi and coconut. Sierra hadn’t cared for poi at first. It was a purplish substance with the consistency of library paste and a bland flavor, but she found that it complemented many of the foods that Kama prepared. Kama had avoided her questions while he was cooking, but he had no excuses left, she thought. However, Chaco jumped in before Sierra got started.

  “Are you an Avatar?” Okay. Straightforward, if a tad blunt.

  Kama smiled, square, white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “I guess you could say so. It takes one to know one, as they say.” He cocked an eyebrow at Chaco.

  “I’m not an Avatar. Not anymore,” said Chaco unhappily. “I lost my powers when I came to Hawai‘i.”

  Kama nodded. “Mana. It’s tied to the land. Auwē, man! What a disaster!”

  Chaco looked at Kama with both hope and trepidation in his eyes. “If I go home, will I get my powers back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never left these islands. Why would I?”

  Chaco drooped slightly. “Oh.” He lapsed into silence, obviously revisiting the pain of his—what would you call it? Sierra wondered. Mortalization? In any case, the cards were on the table and they could start talking openly. She hoped.

  “Kama,” she said, “we saw something else while we were in the ocean. Chaco and I both thought it was an Avatar. It was a gigantic”—she stretched her arms as wide as she could for emphasis—“enormous white octopus. That’s actually how we came to be in the water. It snatched us off the deck of a whale watching boat. It held us underwater for a long time, but we didn’t need to breathe. And it gave us a gift, it said. I think the gift was being able to talk and understand Hawai‘ian. It called itself Kanaloa. What the hell was it?”

  “So the waterspout story wasn’t true? Somehow, I didn’t think it was.”

  “Um, sorry. I thought you were a human. I mean, a mortal person who might be freaked out by my story,” she said, blushing slightly.


  “Kanaloa,” he said reverently. “You saw the sea-god Kanaloa. And you are alive to tell me about it.”

  Chaco and Sierra exchanged glances. “Is seeing Kanaloa usually bad news?” asked Sierra.

  “Well, he’s the lord of the ocean. He’s a lot like the ocean. One day, it’s blue and calm and warm and welcomes you like your mother’s arms. The next day, it’s tempestuous and wild and can kill you in an instant.”

  “So he’s an evil Avatar?” Sierra thought she already had a lifetime’s quota of evil Avatars.

  “No, not evil. Just…changeable. Unreliable. You obviously caught him in a generous mood.”

  “Generous? We almost died. Why did he snatch us off the boat?”

  Kama shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he was just curious. He was in his octopus body,[2] so he was curious like an octopus. Maybe, like me, he picked up on Chaco being an Avatar. Mortal or not, once an Avatar, always an Avatar. Either way, you are two very lucky mortals.”

  Kama did not notice Chaco’s wince at this comment. But Sierra did.

  Chapter 11

  Just before dawn on the last day of the search, Clancy drove his rental car through the sleeping streets of Kaunakakai toward the brightly lit wharf. Polupolu was there, rocking gently against the dock. Sam and Mike greeted him with coffee and muffins, and Polupolu set off, again heading for the north side of Moloka‘i.

  This day’s journey went precisely as the others had. Today, Clancy ignored the breaching of whales, the dancing of spinner dolphins, and the other delights of Hawai‘ian sea travel as he focused Jack’s binoculars on the shore. The green and black pali slid by, an occasional beach or cove claiming his most focused attention, but there was no sign of Sierra or Chaco and certainly no sign of Fred.

  Clancy kept Jack’s binoculars clamped to his eyes until his eyes watered so badly he couldn’t see. Then he passed them to Mike, who took up the vigil. Sam idled along slowly, and he took Polupolu as close to shore as he dared.

  After an hour’s scanning, Mike handed the binoculars back to Clancy. Clancy held his position on the port side, lenses stubbornly fixed on the land. No one said anything as the miles of coastline slowly rolled by.

  • • •

  Roberts picked up his rental car at the tiny Moloka‘i airport and called Peter Chapman, the engineer overseeing the construction of WestWind. Then he drove east to the heliport where Chapman would pick him up to take him out to the site.

  The helicopter headed out to sea, soon clearing the west end beaches. Looking down, Roberts could see the development where the company condo was located, and then they were out over open water. Before long, he was able to see the jack ship towers poking up, then the jack ship itself. The helicopter landed on the mammoth ship’s helipad, and Chapman and Roberts exited the cabin.

  The jack ship was a marvel of engineering. It consisted of a 500-foot self-propelled barge with six towers constructed of steel girders, each around 150 feet high. When the barge maneuvered into the right position, these towers were lowered to the sea floor, becoming legs. The barge was jacked up along the legs with a rack-and-pinion system until it was well above the ocean surface, providing a stable platform for construction. The ship, dubbed Jack of Diamonds, was a small city with crew quarters, laundry, gymnasium, coffee shop, and other amenities for the workers and crew. The WestWind Project had two of these ships on the site, each busy installing the wind turbines through the use of massive cranes.

  Roberts took his time inspecting the site. His sharp eyes missed nothing, but he came away satisfied. The jack ship was clean and organized with safety equipment and first aid stations clearly marked and well stocked. The crew was working hard, it seemed to Roberts, with a good deal of cheerfulness. He saw no evidence of slipshod work or bad attitudes.

  He found the second ship, Jack of Hearts, to be likewise in excellent order. As he boarded the helicopter to return to Moloka‘i, he praised Chapman for his management skills and good work. He also asked Chapman to convey his approbation to the crew. Then he boarded the helicopter and headed back to the island. Now he could disappear into life on the island, relax, and enjoy a little free time.

  • • •

  “You know, Kama, we’ve been eating really well since we got here,” Sierra said, picking a fishbone out of the delectable portion in front of her. “Fish, all kinds of seafood, coconut, bananas, papayas, poi, sweet potato, chicken, eggs. But you haven’t served pork even once, and I thought pork was one of the ancient Hawai‘ians’ favorite foods. I read somewhere that the first Polynesian settlers brought pigs with them.”

  Kama looked faintly nauseated. “No pork,” he said emphatically.

  “Why not?”

  “That would be kapu for me.”

  Chaco cocked his head, eyebrows raised. “Why?”

  Kama settled himself more comfortably away from the fire. The sun was gaining altitude, and the morning was beginning to heat up, despite a pleasant sea breeze. “I was born on O‘ahu as a pig…”

  “Huh?” The exclamation came simultaneously from Chaco and Sierra.

  “You heard me. I was born a pig. My full name is Kama Pua‘a. In your language, that sort of translates to ‘Pig Child.’ I guess I must have been a mischievous little keiki—stealing chickens and so forth—because a lot of folks got mad at me. I was always getting into trouble.” Kama smiled reminiscently. Evidently, getting into trouble held a lot of nostalgic appeal for him.

  “Anyway, I grew up and I assumed my man-form—as you see me now. I have many other forms as well, but I most enjoy being a man. I have been told,”—and here, Kama looked down modestly—“that I am the most beautiful of men.”

  A strangled snort was heard from Chaco.

  Kama carried on serenely. “Pele, the goddess of fire, became aware of my manly charms and sent her smoke to tempt me.” He shook his head. “I have never been one to resist temptation, you understand. Food, sport, women—I enjoy them all. I scented Pele’s seductive smoke and followed it to the island of Hawai‘i, where she and her family live. Her favorite house is Kilauwea, the southernmost volcano. And then it got complicated.”

  Sierra and Chaco waited for Kama to continue, but he seemed lost in thought, his generous mouth skewed as though in regret. Finally, Sierra said, “Yes? Then what happened?” Kama shook himself.

  “It was true love, you know. I wanted Pele more than I have ever wanted anything in my existence—and I have been here for longer than I can remember. You should see her—what a woman! Tall, with a spine like the pali—straight and strong. Her hair is a waterfall of obsidian, shining like a river. Breasts like full moons, and her eyes…!” Kama stopped talking again and sighed heavily.

  “But when I approached her, she scorned me, again and again. She sent her sisters to seduce me. She was trying to show what a pig I was. I was happy to be seduced, of course—Pele’s sisters are almost as beautiful as she is. Finally, she succumbed to me and we made love. And that was the problem.” Kama shook his head and sighed again.

  “Why was that the problem?” Chaco asked, clearly intrigued.

  “Once a woman has me, she cannot stop,” said Kama, raising tragic eyes to Chaco. “We made love for four days and nights without a break. Now, that is not a difficult thing for a man such as I…”

  Eye rolling from Chaco.

  “…but although Pele wouldn’t stop, she was on the verge of death.”

  “Then why didn’t you stop?” asked Sierra tartly.

  Kama looked at her blankly. “Stop? She wanted me to go on!”

  Eye rolling from Sierra.

  “So one of her sisters came by to tempt me to leave Pele. And I did.”

  “How did she do that? Seems to me you had the one you wanted in hand, so to speak,” Chaco commented.

  “Actually, she didn’t come by in person. She sent her detachable, flying ma‘i to tempt me. I couldn’t resist.”

  Both Sierra and Chaco were so startled by this image they remained silent.

&nbs
p; “Her ma‘i flew over the ocean to O‘ahu, and I followed. Eventually I returned to the island of Hawai‘i, but Pele and I always wound up fighting. Mainly, I stay on the rainy side of the island while Pele and her family live on the dry side, in Kilauwea.”

  “So how did you end up here?” Sierra inquired.

  “Auwē! That last fight was a bad one. We had agreed to meet one more time, to see if we could work things out. We got to talking about her family, and I made the mistake of mentioning that her sister’s ma‘i was one of the sweetest, most delectable—”

  “Oh, good lord,” muttered Sierra.

  “Well, anyway, Pele didn’t like it much, even though that very same ma‘i saved her life. She just erupted right then and there, and I barely escaped. I’ve been living here ever since.” Kama stirred the fire. “Believe me, you don’t want to be in the way when Pele’s mad at you.”

  “I can see that,” said Sierra. “Thanks for telling us all that, Kama. It answers a lot of questions.” And temptation flies out the window like Pele’s sister’s ma‘i.

  Kama stood up. “We have important visitors tonight,” he said. “We need to look our best. First, we should go to Kapualei’s pool and apologize for your rudeness. Then maybe she will let us bathe there.” He bundled up some food in a basket and strode off toward the path to the pool. Sierra and Chaco trotted behind.

  “What important visitors?” Sierra asked. “I thought you were here all alone, that you didn’t want anyone to know where you were because of Pele.”

  “They live here. They’ve always lived here, so I’m really their guest. They say they have some important news for me.”

  “That’s odd,” said Chaco, “We’ve never seen another person here. It’s such a small valley I would think we’d have run into them. Unless they’re invisible.”

  But that was all Kama would say about it. They soon reached the rocky basin. Kama tied a large bunch of tī leaves together and set them in the pool. They sank promptly. “Good. Kapualei is here.” He arranged the food on the bank and began to sing. He had a beautiful baritone voice, and as he sang, he began to dance. His movements were emphatic and sharp, not the swaying, sylphlike grace of the dancers she had seen at the hotel in O‘ahu. It was far more masculine, with thrusting arms and stamping feet.