Fire in the Ocean

by K. D. Keenan

  Sierra did not know how to respond to this. Up to this point, she had been completely unaware of ‘aumakuas and their role in human life. And then she remembered. Chaco wasn’t human.

  “Um, Kama? I don’t think you should worry about his ‘aumakua.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just that I don’t think he ever had one.” She didn’t mention that, if anything, Chaco was an ‘aumakua of sorts.

  Kama looked puzzled. “There’s something strange about him, that’s certain. He’s almost…well, he’s different.”

  Sierra nodded. More different than Kama could imagine, she thought, but she wasn’t about to explain exactly how.

  “Let’s see how he’s doing in the morning. If he isn’t any better, can you please, please, take us someplace I can get him medical help?”

  Kama stood over her, his massive body blocking the light. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can’t do that.”

  Chapter 9

  Kama loomed over Sierra in a way she hoped was not intended to be threatening. “If he needs it, why wouldn’t you take Chaco to get medical help?” she asked, staring up at him.

  “I don’t want anyone else coming here. I didn’t want you and your friend here, either, but here you are, so let’s make the best of it. Come outside, and let’s talk.” His tone wasn’t hostile, merely matter-of-fact.

  Sierra left Chaco’s side reluctantly. He looked so vulnerable lying there—and she knew that he really was vulnerable, shorn of his powers. She followed Kama back to the fire, which he stirred, making orange sparks fly up.

  “Why don’t you want anyone else here? Aren’t you lonely?”

  “As I told you, I’m hiding out. If there are people around, someone I don’t want to notice me might just notice me, if you see what I mean.”

  Sierra had a sudden suspicion. “Are you really just hiding out from a bad relationship, or are you hiding from the law?”

  Kama stared at her in surprise, hunkered on his heels by the fire. “The law?”

  “Yes. Did you, um, rob someone or something? Are the police looking for you?”

  Kama sat down abruptly on his admirable posterior and, to Sierra’s astonishment, began to laugh. He clutched his firm midriff with both arms and let loose with a series of deep, resonant guffaws. If that doesn’t wake Chaco up, maybe nothing will, she thought, watching tears begin to roll down his brown cheeks. His laughter trailed off into giggles, and then he gulped a few times, quelled another fit, and regained his composure. Finally, he shook his head at her.

  “No, Sierra, I am not hiding from the law. I promise you. Feel better?”

  She nodded. She believed him.

  “I’m going to drink some ‘awa,” he said. “Would you like some too? It’ll make you forget about your cuts and scrapes.”

  Well, why not? Sierra nodded at him. Kama produced two coconut half-shells and poured a thin, pale liquid into them from a gourd. He handed a shell to Sierra, who sniffed at it. Not at all strong-smelling. She lifted it to her lips and took a swallow. And choked.

  Kama glanced up from his own shell. “What’s the matter?”

  “It tastes like ground-up chalk in dirty water, Kama. How can you drink this stuff?”

  “Oh, just gulp it down. You won’t be sorry.”

  Three bowls later, Sierra’s lips and tongue were completely numb—and her wounds didn’t hurt at all. She felt pretty good, in fact. She raised her half-full bowl in a salute.

  “Here’s to you, Kama. Chaco and I—we owe you our lives. Thanks again.”

  Kama smiled at her and nodded. It was getting dark. The first stars of the tropical night began to shimmer overhead, where the sky was darkest. He rose easily from his cross-legged seat on the sand and went back to the hale. When he returned, he had several long, slender stakes threaded with what looked like chestnuts. He drove several of these into the sand and lit a small branch from the fire. He then applied the burning branch to the top “chestnut,” which blossomed into flame.

  “What are those things?” asked Sierra.

  “Kukui nuts,” Kama responded. Sierra watched one of the stakes as the top kukui nut burned away and ignited the nut just below, maintaining a steady light.

  “So, Chaco—is he your husband?”

  “No. Just a friend.” Okay, where is this going?

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Uh-uh. Friend.”

  “Come over here, Sierra. Sit next to me.” He smiled invitingly and patted the sand next to him. Now we know where this is going. She thought he looked like a beautiful statue, every firm muscle limned in the light from the kukui nut candles and the waning fire. Tempting.

  Before he took up with Kaylee, Chaco had tried something similar, but she had the good sense to decline. She knew that if she offered, Chaco would accept her in an instant, but she felt odd about having a relationship with a non-human entity—even if he was a handsome and charming human male at least part of the time. But Kama was a man, and an enticing one at that. He was maybe a tad more on the beefcake side than she usually went for, but then, he wasn’t wearing any pesky clothing to disguise his assets. Except for the loincloth, which hardly counted. Well, temptation was one thing, but acting on it was another. She had Clancy, and that was that.

  And on the other hand, she had been drinking ‘awa. She didn’t feel even slightly intoxicated, despite the numbness of her lips. But might her judgment be…somewhat flawed?

  “Actually, I think I’d better turn in now,” she said, stretching and yawning for effect and hoping he wouldn’t be offended by her evasion. She began to rise to her feet—and found she was just a trifle wobbly. Not wobbly with vertigo in the way one feels after too many margaritas, but loose-limbed and -jointed. Mustering what dignity remained, Sierra tottered back to the hale, checked on Chaco, who lay as quietly as ever, and dropped to her sleeping mat. If Kama re-entered the hale, she never noticed, slipping into a profound slumber, unbroken until the sun shone through the hale door the next morning.

  When Sierra awoke, she turned on her mat to see how Chaco was doing. His sleeping mat was empty. Sierra rocketed up, barely remembering to clutch the kapa cloth in her flight. She ran outside, heart pounding wildly—to be met by the peaceful scene of Chaco and Kama sitting by the fire, eating roasted chicken. Sierra halted, panting slightly and hitching up the kapa. Kama smiled up at her and offered her a tī leaf with a piece of chicken on it. It smelled wonderful, and Sierra’s mouth began to water. She accepted the food and sat down next to Chaco. Like her, his clothes had been shredded on the rocks, and he was wearing a loincloth similar to Kama’s. Between the two of them, you’d have to go a long way to find a more beautiful view, she thought.

  She sat down and took a bite of the chicken. The skin was crisp, all the fat rendered in the chicken’s leisurely spin above the fire. Delicious, even if she was unaccustomed to chicken for breakfast. Which made her think of coffee, prompting a pang of profound longing that she sternly suppressed.

  “So, how are you feeling?” she asked Chaco. He was still pale, in her opinion, but he grinned at her.

  “Mortal. Feeling very mortal,” he replied. “I still have a bit of a headache. But I have some ‘awa here that Kama says will help that.” He took a deep sip from a coconut shell, clearly repressing a shudder.

  “Where’s Fred?” he asked.

  The gladness that Sierra had felt at seeing Chaco awake and healthy deserted her. “I haven’t seen Fred since we were snatched off the boat. I don’t know what happened to him.”

  Chaco took another cautious sip of ‘awa. “What about the duffle? Any sign of that?”

  Sierra silently shook her head.

  “There’s another one of you?” inquired Kama.

  “If Fred hasn’t shown up yet, there’s probably not much hope for him,” Sierra said tightly. Her throat felt as though she had a rock the size of a baby’s fist stuck in it.

  Chaco shook his head. “Don’t give up, Sierra,” he said, p
lacing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You know Fred—he’s pretty tough for a little fellow. And he has a way of popping up unexpectedly.”

  Sierra smiled in spite of herself. Fred did indeed have a way of appearing—and disappearing—without warning. But this was different. Even if Fred could swim (an unknown factor), the open ocean where they had been swept off the boat was unbelievably dangerous. She felt tears prick at her eyes and wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  “Truly, I’m sorry about your friend,” Kama said. “But both of you need to keep up the seawater baths today.” He pointed in the direction of the natural rock basin where Sierra had soaked the day before. “You don’t want to get an infection.”

  Chaco looked over his many scrapes and bruises ruefully. “Right. Infection would be bad—I think.”

  Sierra knew a bit more about infected wounds than Chaco, who had never had an infection in his multi-thousands-of-years life. “What if we do get infections? Is there anything else you can do?”

  “Oh, sure. I have many other plants I can use. It’s just that it’s better not to get infected in the first place.” Kama stood up, tossing his tī leaf “plate” into the fire. “Got some gardening to do.” He placed his green, woven hat on his head and strode off to the garden. Today, his long hair was tied back in a man-bun—but Sierra doubted that it was slavish adherence to current fashion.

  Sierra watched his broad back recede. She put a hand on Chaco’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said in a low voice to Chaco. “We really need to talk. Let’s go down to the water and soak. Kama won’t hear us there—it’s too far away, and even if he came closer, the sound of the waves will cover us.” Chaco gave her a questioning look, but rose without a word and followed her to the rocky basin at the shore.

  Standing at the brink of the pool, Sierra realized that to bathe their wounds, they would have to remove what passed for clothing. She glanced at Chaco, who seemed to understand the issue.

  “You go first. I’ll sit over here with my back turned,” he said, but then ruined his pose of masculine sensitivity by grinning evilly and saying, “Of course, I’ve seen it all before!” But true to his word, he sat on the dry rocks on the landward side of the pool, his back turned to the water.

  Yes, he had seen it all before, Sierra thought with annoyance. That didn’t mean he was going to get to see it again. In any case, it had been in a situation similar to this one where Sierra had been wounded and unconscious, and Chaco had been desperately trying to help her. She nervously removed the kapa and sank into the pool. The water was bathtub temperature, warmed by the sun on the rocks. She stretched out and inspected her wounds—those she could see. They all seemed to be healing normally, with no tenderness or swelling. They stung for a few seconds as the water enveloped them, then it actually felt wonderful.

  “Chaco, when we went off the boat, did you see what I saw?”

  “You mean the Avatar? The white octopus? It was kind of hard to miss.” Chaco shivered a bit, though the sun was hot. “I thought we were dead at first. Of course, I’ve never been dead before, so I wasn’t sure.”

  “I knew it was an Avatar when I realized I didn’t need to breathe underwater. Could you hear us ‘talking’?”

  “Yes. What do you suppose he meant by ‘my gift’?”

  “I have a theory about that. What language are we speaking right now?” asked Sierra.

  “Huh? What language? Why, we’re speaking…” Chaco broke off. Sierra couldn’t see his face, but she was willing to bet that he was looking puzzled. “Um, I don’t know.”

  “We’re speaking Hawai‘ian. Kama speaks Hawai‘ian, and we understand every word. I think that was Kanaloa’s ‘gift.’ Also, I feel as though he—okay, this is hard to explain—you remember that Rose tutored me on how to use my powers? The powers I didn’t know I had?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “I felt those powers ramping up after Kanaloa touched me. Like blowing on a flame. I don’t know what that means yet, though.”

  “Well, if the Avatar hadn’t dumped us off here, we’d be dead by now.”

  “Chaco, if Kanaloa hadn’t snatched us off that boat, we’d be flying to Midway by now. He didn’t do us any favors. Apparently, he was just curious.” Not unusual for an octopus, she supposed. Then she switched topics.

  “Chaco, what do you think about Kama?”

  “I really just met him, Sierra, but he saved our lives, didn’t he? There’s something odd about him, though. I’m not sure what…” his voice trailed off on a puzzled note.

  “He’s odd all right. He says he’s hiding out here, living the traditional lifestyle. He told me he was getting away from a bad relationship, but that doesn’t explain why he has to be in the middle of nowhere, living all alone. But worse than that, he says he can’t take us back to Honolulu. Or won’t.”

  Chaco started and almost turned around. “He won’t take us back? Why not?”

  “He says he can’t give us his outrigger, and we couldn’t manage the trip anyway because we don’t have the experience and the ocean is too rough. He also said something really strange; he has other methods of leaving the island, but we don’t have access to them. He also says that other people never come here to this little valley, but he didn’t explain that, either. There’s just something not right about all this.”

  Chaco was silent for a few minutes. Then he said, “Where are we, anyway?”

  “Moloka‘i. There’s fifty miles of open water between Moloka‘i and O‘ahu.”

  “I don’t know anything about Moloka‘i. Are there people living here?”

  “Yes. Somewhere. But I don’t see how we can get out of this valley. The pali goes straight up for two thousand feet.” She had another thought. “Do you think maybe there’s a secret path up the cliffs, and that’s what Kama was talking about when he said he had ‘other methods’?”

  “Could be. Let’s poke around and see if we can find one. Do you think Kama wants to prevent us from leaving?”

  Sierra shrugged even though Chaco couldn’t see her. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Then we should be cautious about looking for a path up the pali. We can look for it while he’s off doing something else. But you know,” Chaco continued, “that’s not what bothers me about Kama. All that stuff about hiding out and a bad relationship, I mean. It’s something else.” He smacked his fist into his palm in frustration. “If I hadn’t become mortal, I would know. I would just know what’s off about him. As it is…” Sierra couldn’t see his face, but Chaco’s shoulders shrugged expressively.

  “Stay where you are,” said Sierra. “I’m going to get out and dry off in the sun. Then it’s your turn. When Kama goes fishing, we will go exploring.”

  Chapter 10

  Roberts leaned across his polished rosewood desk and tapped the intercom. “Shelby?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m flying to Moloka‘i tomorrow. Please put me on a morning flight. I’ll need a rental car, and I’ll stay at the company condo. Also, please let Peter Chapman know that I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, and tell him I want to go out to the construction site. I’m taking a few vacation days on Moloka‘i, and I want to be back here on Monday, so please arrange a return flight early Monday morning.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Roberts ended the connection and went back to his computer. It was time to check things out in person. It wasn’t a question of not trusting his team. If he didn’t trust someone, they weren’t on his team very long—like Gary Chisholm, who was now looking for a new job. No, he trusted his team, but there was no substitute for his own eyes and ears and instincts. He wanted to be able to see for himself how the men were working and what the conditions were like. He would stretch out his mental antennae, looking for things another man might miss: small indicators of morale problems or issues that might lead to substandard work. No one could afford slipshod quality wh
en it came to an expensive installation like WestWind. Because it was critical that WestWind be the finest installation of its kind.

  Shepherding the project through the Hawai‘ian State Legislature had taken years and a great deal of money. Endless environmental concerns had to be addressed, and there were many watchers hoping to catch Ahi Moana cutting corners on environmental protections in a sensitive marine reserve. The project had to work, work well, and ensure the investors their expected return. And it needed to pay for itself as quickly as possible—another challenge, given the cost of erecting an offshore wind farm.

  Yes. It was definitely time to go to Moloka‘i. Besides, he secretly enjoyed his time on the smaller island. It was quiet and informal. He could take a few days to rest and relax, and no one would bother him. Or so he thought.

  • • •

  Kama piled his fishing net into the outrigger later that afternoon. He pushed the heavy, hand-hewn vessel into the waves, launched himself into it with athletic grace, and paddled out to sea. Sierra and Chaco watched him from the beach.

  Just after Kama disappeared into the distance, they saw a boat—not a huge boat, but one that would have dwarfed the outrigger many times over. It was travelling parallel to the shore, appearing from their right as it cleared the cliffs and moving slowly to their left. Sierra and Chaco leaped to their feet, shouting and waving their arms. They could see little detail from that distance, but a figure with binoculars was standing on the port side of the boat, nearest the pali, and he appeared to be scanning the shore.

  “They’re looking for us!” shouted Sierra, jumping as high as she could and waving desperately. She and Chaco leaped madly, flailing their arms and screaming. But the boat chugged on by, never slowing or speeding up. Soon, it passed the pali to the left of the little cove, and was lost to view.

  Chaco and Sierra dropped to the sand, panting with exertion and frustration. “They had to have seen us!” exclaimed Sierra. “Maybe they couldn’t hear us from out there, but they had to see us. That guy was using binoculars.”