Fire in the Ocean

by K. D. Keenan

  “…mortal,” Sierra finished for him. “Like the rest of us. You can tough it out for an hour or two, O Defeater of the Great Lord of the Sea.”

  “That’s the other thing,” Chaco replied. “We need to get out of here. Kanaloa is after you. And me. And Fred. We aren’t safe here.”

  “But we haven’t yet figured out what happened to Clancy,” protested Sierra. “Rose says that Clancy may not be dead.”

  Chaco’s fork hit the floor, and he stared at her, his wild amber eyes wide. “What? Clancy dead? What on earth happened while I was gone?”

  As Rose and Sierra tried to explain simultaneously what had happened aboard Polupolu the day before, Auntie returned with a clean Fred, smiling and smelling of soap. When Fred picked up the gist of the conversation, he emitted a siren-like screech as hot tears splashed from his eyes, each of which was spinning in a different direction.

  “Nononononono!” Fred squalled. “Not Clancy! Oh, nononono, Clancy can’t be dead, he can’t…”

  It took several minutes for the others to break through this cacophony to communicate to Fred that Clancy might not be actually dead.

  “Whaddya mean, might not be?” gulped Fred, sniffling loudly.

  “I’m not sure, Fred,” Sierra responded. “I thought we should ask the loa. It’s not that I don’t trust Rose’s spirit guide, but I saw…!”

  “No offense taken,” Rose said calmly. “I’d like to hear what the loa say, as well.”

  Chapter 32

  Auntie agreed that time was of the essence if Kanaloa had mobilized against her guests.

  “You aren’t safe from him on land or sea,” she pointed out. “You’d be better off going home to California. I’m afraid there’s nowhere in Hawai‘i that is safe for you now.”

  “I don’t doubt you,” Sierra replied. “But I don’t want to leave until I’ve heard from the loa. Clancy disappeared here in Moloka‘i. If I leave, I may never be able to come back. I need to be certain I’m not leaving him here. Unprotected.”

  “If he has my medicine bag he’s not wholly unprotected, Sierra,” Rose said.

  “Yeah, but we don’t really know anything, Rose. We don’t know whether he’s here or somewhere else. We don’t know if he still has the bag. Or what kind of danger he might be in. Or even if he’s even still alive.” Sierra felt her throat begin to close again and stopped speaking.

  Rose tried again to call Mama Labadie and Kaylee, but both women’s phones went to voicemail. She left another round of messages.

  Sierra began pacing up and down Auntie’s little living room. She was less concerned with Kanaloa’s wrath than with finding Clancy. Nervous energy suffused her, and she couldn’t relax or settle. She wandered outside to where Chaco was waiting impatiently for Rose to finish mending his vest.

  Rose sat on a lawn chair in the shade of a breadfruit tree. She held Chaco’s ruined vest in her lap and was carefully sewing it back together by hand, taking tiny, precise stiches. Her jeans were covered in dirt leaking from the torn vest. The garment itself would never look like anything again but a crazy assemblage of filthy rags with once-bright embroidery still clinging to the tatters. Rose hunched over this mess with a frown, silver needle and thimble flashing as she worked.

  “I don’t think Chaco can wear that thing in public,” Sierra commented. “It’s pretty awful.”

  Rose paused, looking up. “I know. And it’s not going to look much better, even after I finish. But he’s going to wear it as soon as I tie the last thread. He doesn’t want to spend a second longer than he has to as a mortal. I suppose he can wear something over it.”

  “So where is our brave vanquisher of gods?”

  “Muttering to himself and pacing around. Kind of like you. Over there.” Rose indicated the rear of the yard with a tilt of her dark head. As Sierra looked, Chaco came around the corner of the house, hands working nervously, eyes immediately seeking out his vest. Sierra recognized what she now thought of as Chaco’s “mortal look”: hazel eyes, a bit pale, fidgety, and uncomfortable.

  “Is it fixed yet?” he asked.

  “No,” came the patient answer. “I’ll let you know the second it’s done. I promise.”

  Sierra asked, “Chaco, did Fred ever get to visit the Menehune, or did you two just come straight back after you ditched Kanaloa?”

  Chaco wrenched his eyes away from Rose’s stitchery. “Yeah. Once we were well away from the heiau, Fred insisted we keep going. He said he had to talk to Ailani. You know, the chief.”

  “You went all the way to the Menehunes’ home in one night? And back?”

  “It wasn’t that hard for me and Fred. Negotiating rough terrain on four feet will always be easier than on two. But it was a long trip. The Menehune live in the back of beyond, you know.”

  • • •

  The trail past the heiau had been rugged and poorly maintained. There were loose rocks and scree, the trees and bushes had intruded upon the trail in places, and there were many drop-offs where the earth disappeared into inky and unknown depths. Fred and Chaco both had excellent night vision and were able to avoid the pitfalls, scrambling over the many obstacles in the path. Their only burden was Chaco’s vest. Chaco could maintain his coyote form only so long as he was in contact with the earth from the vest, and the vest was so damaged by Kanaloa’s spear that Fred was constantly obliged to readjust it for him.

  “Why do you have to see the Menehune again so badly?” Chaco asked as they negotiated a relatively easy stretch. Fred spoke for a long time, and Chaco listened with interest, only interrupting to ask questions until, at last, they came to the valley Auntie had described as being the entrance to the Menehunes’ home.

  By this time, Chaco and Fred were near the top of the great pali in the north. The Menehunes’ valley was a steep and narrow defile in the pali. Auntie told Chaco that the defile slanted down and debouched two thousand feet above the ocean. Chaco was immortal, but he couldn’t fly, so he made his way cautiously on four agile and slender legs down the grade as Fred scrambled and sometimes rolled beside him. As they descended, the rocky walls of this defile reduced the available light to the faint radiance of the visible stars. They were searching for something that might be too difficult to see in this Stygian darkness: a cleft in the left hand side of the gorge. It was the entrance to the Menehunes’ home, but everything looked the same—black—and Chaco had difficulty focusing on his search as rocks slid underneath his paws. He could imagine all too well the bobsled slide to the cliff edge, ending by pitching out into the air far above the ocean. Hardly fatal to an Avatar, but it would be an unwelcome and uncomfortable detour, and a plunge into the sea would surely destroy what was left of his precious vest.

  But Fred had no such difficulty. “There it is,” he grunted, pointing with one stubby digit to a patch of ultra-darkness against the black of the rock.

  The patch of dark-on-darkness was located some twelve or fifteen feet up the side of the gorge. It was a tough scramble without many footholds, but the two of them managed it on four paws each. They found a cave entrance and left even the star shine behind as they entered. Chaco promptly summoned an orb of gentle light that hovered above them. Fred began a solemn chant of greeting to let the Menehune know they had visitors.

  After the echoes of the chant died away down the dark tunnel into the rock, there was a lengthy silence. Then a light began to glow, at first just a faint stain of flickering color as though the source were a long way away. As Chaco and Fred waited, the light grew stronger and brighter, and they began to hear chanting. Soon, a procession of small, squat, powerfully built people marched up the cave toward them, bearing torches and singing. Ailani headed the parade.

  After the nose-rubbing and polite greetings were done, Fred cleared his throat portentously.

  “Ailani, we thank you for your hospitality and we are most pleased to see you and your people again. But this is not a casual visit. We have a request for you.”

  “Before we talk, please
come and feast with us,” Ailani said. “By the looks of you, you’ve come a long way and need refreshment.”

  Chaco, now in human form, wore the rags of his vest tied around his waist. He was filthy, not just from the California dirt sifting down his lower body, but also from the rough hike. Fred looked a little dusty, but was otherwise presentable. Fred and Chaco exchanged glances. If they refused the invitation, it would be an insult to Ailani and his people. If they joined in a luau, it could last all night and into the next day. Chaco, for one, was uncomfortably aware that Kanaloa was unlikely to stop looking for him and Fred. And for Sierra, who had no clue that Kanaloa might be looking for her with vengeance in his heart.

  “Why, yes, Ailani,” Fred was saying eagerly, but Chaco stepped on the little mannegishi’s rear paw and interrupted as Fred screeched indignantly.

  “Ailani, you are the most generous of chieftains,” Chaco said. “But I think we must discuss it now. Kanaloa is hot on our trail, and he isn’t pleased with us.”

  “You’ve angered Kanaloa?” the Menehune asked in alarm. “Is Lord Kanaloa coming here? Now?”

  “Not here. Not now, anyway. I think we lost him. But he wants to kill Fred and me, and our friend Sierra, so we have to move quickly. Fred, please tell Ailani what you’ve been telling me.”

  • • •

  Sierra listened to Chaco’s tale first with alarm, then concern, then astonishment, and finally, delight. She threw her arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically. “You’re a genius!” she exclaimed. “And Fred’s another one!”

  “Actually, it was all Fred’s idea,” admitted Chaco. “I didn’t know he had it in him. I may have underestimated our little green friend. But,” he added with feeling, “Fred can still be incredibly annoying at times.”

  Chapter 33

  Roberts opened the door at her knock.

  “Thanks for meeting me, Huff,” Sierra said as she entered the Ahi Moana company condo. “How are things going?” The latter was a throwaway comment. She knew how things were going.

  Huff no longer looked like the CEO from Central Casting. Already thin, he had lost weight over the past two weeks, and his lean cheeks now seemed sunken. His hair was rumpled and seemed grayer than before and his eyes were tired. Little wonder, given the events of the last few days.

  “I hear Clancy was killed out at the site. I’m so very sorry,” Huff said, looking genuinely sorrowful. Sierra acknowledged his sympathy with a nod. Her eyes stung and she held off the tears that tended to well up whenever Clancy’s name was mentioned.

  He continued, “Why did you go out there? I don’t understand. My men said you wanted to see me, but that couldn’t be right. I mean, you’re not crazy. You could’ve called me.”

  “It’s hard to explain. First, I have something I need you to see. Then you might understand better,” she said as he handed her a handkerchief. A man who actually carries a clean linen handkerchief, she thought in wonder.

  “I wasn’t there,” he said. “I think you knew that at the time. What actually happened from your point of view?”

  Sierra described everything to him as clearly as she could, leaving nothing out except for Pele’s fiery face glowing through the waves—and Clancy’s presumed survival. “It looked like a volcano erupting under the water,” she finished. “But Penguin Bank is supposed to be extinct. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. At least, they thought it was. We have some volcanologists out there now. They’re still investigating, but their favorite theory right now is that some deep tremors opened up an isolated lava chamber, and it erupted right at the Jack of Diamonds site. The preceding tremors are what caused the toppling of the towers, according to that theory. But you told the boat crew from Jack of Diamonds that you were actually going in the water. Why, in the name of—in the name of sanity did you want to do that? It’s the deep ocean—the currents are fierce, and so are the sharks.”

  “I have an explanation, and it does make sense in a weird sort of way, but I don’t think it would make sense to you right this minute. Can you spare little time to go somewhere with me? Trust me—you won’t be sorry. And we won’t be going far.”

  He looked at her curiously, with growing uneasiness. “Are you working for someone else? A competitor maybe, or a regulatory agency? No—if you were working for an agency, you would’ve just arrived with the right paperwork and investigated openly. What were you doing out there?”

  “I was not—and am not—working for someone else.”

  “So who do you work for? You told me when we first met—some conservation organization, right? Are they investigating Ahi Moana? ’Cause they won’t find anything out of line, if that’s the case.” His tone was sharp.

  “I work for Clear Days Foundation but as far as I know they don’t do investigative stuff. They raise money and do outreach to raise awareness about sustainable energy and waste reduction. I promise you, I was out there on my own—well, me and Clancy and Rose. I don’t have a hidden agenda, it’s just that you wouldn’t believe me. Yet. Please come with me. It won’t take long.”

  Huff looked at her for a long, uncomfortable minute. “I really don’t have the time,” he said. “I’ve got regulatory agencies and shareholders snapping at my heels, and it’s likely we’ll have to shut the whole thing down and take our losses.”

  “Believe me,” she said, “you’ll want to see this.”

  • • •

  Rose set down her cell phone with a smile. “Finally!” she said to Auntie Keikilani. “I got through to Mama and Kaylee.”

  Auntie looked up from her book. “Are they going to do a ceremony to ask about Clancy, then?”

  “Yes,” said Rose. “They wanted to do it right away when I told them Clancy might still be alive, but I said, no, Sierra has to be in on this. So when Sierra gets back, I’ll call Mama, and we’ll do it as a conference call, like before.”

  Auntie shook her curly head. “Technology,” she said, smiling, and returned to her reading. Stealthy sounds came from the kitchen, and Auntie’s head came up sharply.

  “Fred!” she roared. “Leave those cookies alone!”

  • • •

  Sierra and Huff stood at the side of the road, overlooking a broad, grassy stretch of land. The wind blew hard from the western sea, sending Sierra’s braid flapping. The long, soft grasses rolled like breakers under the wind. Large stone constructions dotted the field at regular intervals. They were shaped like pyramids with the tops sheared off, rather like ancient Hawai‘ian boundary markers, with trapezoidal-shaped sides.

  Huff stared out over the grassy field and its odd stone piles for a while, clearly trying to make sense of Sierra’s insistence that he come here. “What is this? Are these ancient monuments or something? They look like it.”

  “Actually,” she replied, “They are new and incredibly well-constructed bases for wind turbine towers. Go ahead. Take a look.”

  Huff did take a look. He inspected three of the stone elevations with extreme care. Finally, he returned to where she waited for him, perched on one of the bases.

  “I don’t understand. These look custom-made as tower bases, but they’re made of rock. Just rock, no cement, no mortar to hold it together. They seem solid, but how can they support our towers? The towers are maybe two hundred feet high, and they have to resist very high winds and turbulence. Besides, where did these things come from? Who built them? Why did they build them? Who owns this property?”

  “Sit down, Huff,” Sierra said, patting the rocks next to her. Huff sat. “This is gonna be tough, but hear me out. First of all, the bases weren’t here yesterday.” She pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket, retrieved a photo and handed the phone to Huff. He peered at it. It was a photo of an empty field. The field they were now sitting in. Huff looked at the photo and looked around, searching for landmarks. He found three small acacia trees in a clump to one side of the field. The trees were in the photo as well. He scanned the dip and swell of the land as it dropped gr
adually toward the sea. Every detail was the same, except there were no rock constructions in the photo.

  “I took this photo yesterday.” Sierra said. “And no, I didn’t Photoshop it.”

  Huff handed her phone back. “That’s not possible,” he said. His tone was both wary and flat.

  “Yes, it is possible. The Menehune built them overnight. Like they built the fishponds. And the heiau.”

  Huff looked at her with dawning concern. He stood up and held out his hand. “C’mon, Sierra. You’ve had a tough time here, honey. I think maybe I should get you some kind of help. Let’s go.”

  Sierra ignored his outstretched hand. “Chaco. I need you now.”

  Chaco stepped around the corner of the base where Sierra sat. He wore a colorful Hawai‘ian shirt over the remnants of his vest, which no longer dribbled dirt, thanks to Rose’s ministrations.

  “Who is this?” asked Huff, turning to Sierra with a puzzled frown. “What are you two up to? What’s going on here?”

  “Take it easy,” Chaco said, grinning at Huff. “Sierra just wants me to persuade you that she isn’t crazy.” As he spoke, his features began to blur and shift. It was a bit like watching a candle melt, then reform like an icicle in fast motion. In an instant, a coyote wearing a strange collection of dirty rags stood in front of Huff, panting gently and waving its plumy tail.

  Pale beneath his tan, Huff sat down again.

  • • •

  The original idea had been Fred’s, but Auntie Keikilani was the one who suggested bringing Jack Kane in on the idea. “Jack is a believer, like me. He’s had his own experiences with the Old Ones. And he owns a huge stretch of land on the west island. Grazes cattle on it and hunts deer. Once he finds out how much his electricity bill is going to go down, I bet he’d jump at it.”

  Jack had indeed been unfazed to find that Auntie’s houseguest was an ancient Native American Avatar. “Thought he was a bit odd,” Jack said. “But live and let live. My motto.” He shook hands with Fred and had a long conversation with him in Hawai‘ian. At the end of this discussion, Jack asked Sierra, “How do we know that Ahi Moana will agree to dedicate three percent of the electrical output just to Moloka‘i?”