Fire in the Ocean Page 9

  As they watched, the black, scaly head appeared above the water. Kapualei observed the dancing and singing calmly, her scarlet forked tongue flicking in and out of her mouth. Kama ended his chant and dance and told Sierra and Chaco to extend the food to the mo‘o on the palms of their hands.

  Sierra and Chaco looked at each other, each with the same image in mind of Kapualei’s endless tunnel of teeth. But they picked up the food and approached her, hands outstretched. With the greatest delicacy, the giant lizard flicked the food into her mouth. Sierra never so much as felt the touch of her tongue. The mo‘o swallowed the food in one gulp, then turned her black eyes on them. And burped.

  “Apologies accepted,” Kapualei said in a voice like a gravel grinder in action. “You may bathe in the pool in one hour’s time.” The black head sank beneath the water again.

  “Let’s go see what we can pull together for you two,” said Kama as they headed back down the path. “I want you to look your best. Then we bathe, then we prepare food, then we get dressed up for the occasion.” Kama seemed in high good humor, obviously anticipating the company.

  At the hale, Kama pulled out a basket and removed a few lengths of red and white kapa cloth. He stripped off his everyday loincloth without hesitation, and Sierra looked away hastily. Kama noticed.

  “You haoles and your body issues,” he said cheerfully. “There—I’m all covered up again.” When Sierra turned around, she saw he was wearing one of the lengths of red and white kapa as a malo. It was considerably brighter and less worn than Kama’s everyday attire, but as for covering him up—no way. Kama added a necklace that consisted of many fine, braided cords from which hung a carved whale’s tooth. Then he donned a helmet covered in red and yellow feathers with a curved crest that reminded Sierra of the horsehair crests on the helmets of Roman soldiers.

  “Now, let’s see what we can do for you,” he said, eyeing Sierra. He picked out another length of kapa and handed it to her. “Traditionally, you wouldn’t be wearing anything on top except for leis, which is how I prefer it,” he said. “But you can hitch this up under your arms. You still get the leis.”

  While Kama rummaged in his basket looking for something for Chaco, Sierra took the red and white kapa outside the hale and made a hasty change. When she returned, Chaco was arrayed in another red and white malo. He looked wonderful in a loincloth, Sierra thought. His long legs and torso, as brown as Kama’s, were muscular without the bulk of Kama’s body. He looked like a statue by Praxiteles, sculpted out of some smooth, brown stone instead of white marble. She had no intention of telling him so.

  Kama explained that Chaco would have to make do with leis for additional decoration, as he had no more whales’ tooth necklaces.

  “Strictly speaking, you shouldn’t wear one in any case,” said Kama. “They’re reserved for Ali‘i.”

  “No problem,” Chaco replied. “Where are the leis?”

  “I’ll show you,” said Kama, and led them outside for a lesson in lei making. At the end of a two-hour session of flower picking and stringing, all three were adorned in flowers and foliage. Sierra began to feel quite exotic as the fragrance of her flower leis wafted to her nostrils. She tried a hula move or two just to see what it felt like.

  “Not bad!” Kama said. “But we don’t have time for lessons, I’m afraid. We need to bathe and get food ready for our guests.”

  They left their finery behind as they trooped to the freshwater pool. As always, Kama tested the water with tī leaves, which this time floated and did not sink, so they knew it was Kapualei-free. The two men stripped down easily and entered the pool. Sierra watched them splashing happily for a few moments. Then she pulled off her kapa and slid into the cool water. To her relief, there were no wolf whistles or comments from the men, who responded by splashing her in the face instead. The water felt heavenly, rinsing off accumulated grime, sweat, and salt. Sierra splashed them back, and a water fight ensued—something Sierra hadn’t indulged in since childhood.

  Twenty minutes later, Kama called a halt. Time was getting on, he said, and they needed to move on to food preparation. There was, of course, no pork, but Kama did have several large fish roasting in an imu. Sierra and Chaco shelled ‘opihi, roasted sweet potatoes, and pounded poi. Kama hovered over both of them, fussing over every detail. Sierra wondered again just who these important visitors could possibly be.

  By evening, a feast sat waiting for the mysterious guests. Kama, Sierra, and Chaco were resplendent in red and white kapa and festooned with flower leis. Kama had arranged many woven mats for sitting, and indicated that he would sit in a particular place, Sierra to his right and Chaco to his left. He had gourds full of ‘awa ready to go, with halved coconut shells stacked up at the ready. Then they sat and waited as darkness fell.

  It was full dark before they heard their guests approaching. First there was the sound of drums and chanting. Then they saw torches wending their way from the back of the little valley through the jungle. Finally, the guests of honor stepped into the firelight, and Sierra gasped.

  There were ten of them. Normally, this would have caused Sierra anxiety about how to feed so many with the amount of food they had prepared, but in this case, she never gave it a thought. They were small people, perhaps two feet high, with squat, strongly built bodies. It was difficult to tell in the light of the torches and kukui nuts, but Sierra thought their skin color was rather greenish.

  Then all thought ceased as a small cannonball hit her amidships and knocked her sprawling in the sand. As she lay gasping from the impact, a familiar, squeaky voice said, “I knew I’d find you, Sierra! I just knew it!”

  “Fred?”

  Chapter 12

  Fred perched on top of Sierra’s stomach and dripped happy tears onto her chest. “I knew you’d be okay, Sierra! You too, Chaco,” Fred added hastily. “How did you get here? What happened?” The small, stocky people, both men and women, crowded around and stared down at her. Chaco lifted Fred off Sierra’s stomach and set him down.

  “I’m glad to see you too,” said Chaco gruffly. It was hard to tell in the wavering light of the torches, but Sierra thought his eyes were filled with unshed tears. Perhaps Chaco had developed allergies along with mortality.

  Sierra sat up, shaking sand out of her hair. She reached her arms out to Fred, who flung himself into her lap. “Who are your friends, Fred?”

  “Menehune. I’m forgetting my manners! This is Ailani, this is Aloha, this is Kaapo…” Fred introduced each of the little people in turn. Each approached Sierra and rubbed noses with her (sitting on the sand, Sierra was about the right height for this). They greeted Kama and Chaco likewise.

  Kama took control of the gathering as smoothly as any corporate CEO. “If we could all sit down, I welcome you to our luau. We should eat and enjoy ourselves. Then we will discuss the business that brings our honored guests here today.”

  During the feasting that followed, Sierra and Chaco told Fred about their encounter with Kanaloa and how they came to be in this little valley. Then Sierra realized something.

  “Fred! You’re speaking Hawai‘ian! How is that possible? Did you meet Kanaloa too?”

  Fred shook his head. “Nope. I’ve always known this language—all mannegishis speak it.”

  “Really? How is that possible?” Chaco asked.

  “The Menehune—they came from the Americas[3] long ago. They’re kind of distant cousins to mannegishi. They brought the language with them. I was so happy to find them! They’re like our mythical lost tribe, and I found them!”

  “But how did you get here? You were in the duffle bag I was carrying when I got snatched off the boat. We were afraid you sank in the duffle bag and drowned,” Chaco said.

  “I would have sunk if I’d stayed in the bag, but I got out as soon as I hit the water. Then I just went invisible. No one can eat you if you’re invisible, you know. Mannegishis are pretty buoyant, so I just floated along until I arrived here. It was the middle of the night. By that ti
me, I was starving, so I went looking for something to eat. There was some stuff to eat in the garden there,” he pointed at Kama’s garden enclosure, “and I just helped myself…”

  “As per usual,” muttered Chaco.

  “…and then I went looking for water. When I found the waterfall, there was a nice mo‘o there, and she told me I should be looking for my people, that they were hidden in the pali, living in caves. So I went looking, and they found me. What a celebration we had that night, whoooo-eee!” He looked up at Sierra with his cockeyed gaze. “You shoulda been there.” Fred folded twelve spatulate digits comfortably over his tummy and smiled.

  “Well, we can do some celebrating tonight,” Sierra said, indicating Kama and the Menehune, who had already lowered the ‘awa level in the gourds considerably.

  The partying went on for another few hours. When everything edible had been consumed, Kama brought out more ‘awa.

  “Now, my brothers, why did you come to see me this night?” he asked.

  The Menehune called Ailani rose and drew himself up to his full and dignified two feet. He had long, curly gray hair and was dressed much as Kama was, with a loincloth, red-feathered helmet, chief’s necklace, and leis. Though he was small, he had strong arms and legs and a solid torso. He looked as though he could pick up a small boulder without breaking a sweat.

  “We have come to tell you about a terrible thing that is happening here. Humans are building things in the ocean, where there should be no building. We learned of it from the songs of the whales. They call to one another about the noise, the vibrations, the filth arising from this building. We have come to implore Kama Pua‘a for help to stop this building in the sea.”

  Kama looked puzzled. “I haven’t seen this. Where is this happening?”

  “West of Moloka‘i. Out to sea. We haven’t seen it either, because it is too far out, but we hear the whales talking about it.”

  “This does sound serious, my friend. I am not sure what I can do, but I promise I will find out more about it. And if I can help, I will.” Kama placed his large, brown hand over his heart. “You have my sacred word.”

  Satisfied, Ailani resumed his seat. “That is all we can ask, Kama Pua‘a. Thank you.”

  The ‘awa drinking resumed, and soon all the Menehune and Kama were playing some sort of game that involved javelin throwing and betting. The penalty for missing was to drink a shell of ‘awa. What with the ‘awa and the flickering shadows cast by fire and kukui candles, this was more a test of luck than of skill. Sierra watched for a while, but found her eyelids drooping more than once. She jerked herself awake at one point to find Fred snoring in her lap and Chaco leaning on her shoulder, nearly asleep himself. She shook them both awake.

  “Do you think they’d be insulted if we snuck out of the party and got some sleep?” she whispered. Chaco rubbed his eyes.

  “I don’t think they’d notice if we painted ourselves purple and started howling at the moon,” he said. The three of them got up and quietly made their way back to the hale.

  The next morning when Sierra emerged from the hale, the sun was already well overhead. Kama was sprawled in the sand near the smoldering fire, snoring. His feathered helmet lay some distance away, and his flower leis were wilted, giving him an air of rakish dissipation. The Menehune were gone with not a trace left behind. Sierra looked, but could find nothing, not even a small footprint.

  Sierra rekindled the fire, wishing for the hundredth time that she could make a steaming cup of coffee. She could almost smell it. Instead, she peeled and ate a banana to still her internal rumbling. Kama was the usual provider of food, though Sierra was learning some of it on her own. She cracked open a coconut with a sharp stake and a rock, drank the milk, and shattered the rest into convex pieces so that the sweet meat could be picked out with fingers. Despite the noise this created, Kama slumbered on, merely twitching when a fly landed on his face.

  Fred emerged next from the hale. “What’s for breakfast?” was his predictable first greeting.

  “Bananas and coconut, unless you want to go catch some fish,” she replied. Fred dove into the food without another word.

  It was at least noon by the time Kama and Chaco awoke. By that time, Sierra had had a saltwater soak and a nice bath in Kapualei’s pool. The mo‘o was sunbathing by the side of the pool and had no objection to Sierra’s use of it. They had a pleasant conversation, in fact, with the mo‘o asking how Sierra had happened on this isolated valley. Sierra told her story, and Kapualei was impressed.

  “Not too many meet Kanaloa and live to talk about it,” she hissed softly. “You must be powerful in your own right. A kahuna, perhaps?”

  “I’m not a kahuna,” Sierra returned. “But a wise woman named Rose trained me to use certain, um, powers I seem to have. Kanaloa sensed that, I think. He touched my throat, and I felt…something. Sort of a power surge. But I don’t really seem to be able to use this power unless there’s an emergency. I can’t just sit here and blast a tree or something because I feel like it.”

  Kapualei’s chuckle sounded like gravel under a car tire. “Just as well. The exercise of power for the sake of doing it usually ends badly.”

  Sierra was still mulling over this comment when she emerged from the path to the pool and saw that Chaco and Kama were awake. They were sitting by the fire, both looking the worse for wear. Fred was sitting with them, asking a barrage of questions such as, “So, when do we go home? I had a lot of fun with the relatives, but I’m kinda homesick, y’know? Say, Kama, what’re you going to do about the stuff in the ocean that the whales don’t like? I’m ready for lunch, how about you guys?” Both Avatars were ignoring him outright, but this did not deter Fred in the slightest.

  Sierra was about to suggest an expedition into the trees for some breadfruit and other edibles, when a sound captured everyone’s attention. Everyone—even Fred—fell silent to listen. And then they smelled it.

  “Fire!” yelled Chaco, pointing toward the pali that formed the back end of their little valley. There was a huge coil of black smoke rising in the air. The sound was the crackling of flames, which they could now see through the trees.

  Sierra, Chaco, and Fred all jumped up, eyes shaded against the midday glare. Sierra and Chaco began trading suggestions on what they should do—get to the ocean, bring water in gourds to protect the hale, then dig a firebreak between the hale and garden and the encroaching forest.

  Kama stood, but he remained silent and tense, his eyes fixed on the head of the valley. The sound of the flames and the smoke rushed quickly toward them, as though impelled by the wind. And then they saw her.

  She was a tower of flame burning though the trees. A woman clad in fire, eyes of flame, molten hair twisting like glowing snakes around her shoulders and writhing down her back. When she spoke, her voice was the roar of fire driven by unimaginable heat and pressure from deep within the earth.

  “Kama Pua‘a, I am here. You can’t hide from Pele.” As she spoke, lava flowed beneath her bare feet, black with red cracks splitting its surface to show the molten hell below. Sierra felt the heat sear her cheeks, and she closed her eyes in reflex.

  Averting her face from the inferno, Sierra turned to look at Kama only to find a large, spotted hog running away toward the beach. He even makes a handsome pig, she thought, watching his nimble hooves swiftly negotiate the rocks at the water’s edge. The instant Kama’s hooves touched the salt water he leaped in the air, twisted, and…changed. By the time he hit the water again, he had taken the form of a little fish wearing a neat pattern of yellow, white, black, and blue, with touches of red.[4] The fish disappeared for an instant beneath the waves, then poked its snout above the water.

  “Goodbye, my love! Come see me when that hot temper of yours has cooled!” said the fish in Kama’s voice—and then it disappeared beneath the waves.

  The vortex of flame that was Pele crackled and burned down to the water’s edge then stopped as though looking out to sea. The fiery column stood f
lickering at the edge of the water, and they heard a scream, like a woman shrieking in anger. There was a hissing sigh like a campfire being extinguished—and then there was nothing. Sierra rubbed her eyes, smarting from the smoke that was no longer in the air. There was no Pele, no lava. Chaco pointed up the valley.

  “Look. Nothing’s burning!”

  “Um, that’s not quite right,” said Fred. Their eyes followed the direction of Fred’s stubby digit. The hale was burning. Made of wooden poles and dry palm thatch, it had ignited as though someone had poured gasoline on it. Nothing else was touched, even though they had seen the jungle burning in Pele’s wake just seconds before. Sierra thought of the things in the hale that they needed: knives, gourds, kapa cloth, baskets, cooking vessels, rope, fish hooks, twine…the list was endless. Had Pele torched this one thing out of revenge? Or because it would make it difficult for Kama to stay here?

  “What are we going to do?” she asked aloud. Chaco and Fred turned to look at her, tearing their eyes away from the inferno of the hale. She saw in their expressions the dawning realization that without Kama and without his well-provisioned home, their existence here had just become precarious. At best, comfort was a thing of the past. They still had the garden, though, and the mo‘o’s pool of fresh water, and—the outrigger.

  “We’ve got the outrigger!” Sierra exclaimed, running to the beach, Chaco and Fred following. “Help me get this thing into the water. If we can get around the island to someplace where people are living, we can go home!” And get a nice, hot cup of coffee, she added to herself. Chocolate ice cream also sounded good. Any kind of ice cream, actually.

  They shoved the heavy craft down the beach into the water, where it bobbed crazily, evading their attempts to board it. Finally, Chaco clambered in, flopping clumsily to the bottom. Grasping a paddle, he was able to stabilize it long enough for Sierra to heave herself over the side as the outrigger washed back and forth among the waves and rocks. Sierra and Chaco tried to control it with their paddles, but it eventually wedged itself firmly between two rocks.