The Girl at the Center of the World

by Austin Aslan

  “She’s known to appear to people as a white dog. Back in the fifties and sixties, a white dog would wander around Mauna Loa just before eruptions.”

  “Yeah, but this is a white cat.”

  “Oh, right. Cats are for after eruptions. I forgot.” I look at him. The pause lingers between us, comfortable. He knows! He knows everything and he’s still talking to me! I’m so grateful, so relieved. I feel myself leaning toward him.

  A motor rumbles closer through the trees. Aukina and I turn toward it. I frown. “You expecting someone?” Aukina asks.

  “No.” A brown truck breaks through the trees of our long driveway, suddenly slows. Uncle Hank drops his task near the bed of our red truck, gets behind the truck, and studies the newcomer.

  “Dad?” I wonder. He’s on gate duty, but I just saw him run back inside the house. He probably forgot something. I chuckle. He really will have to do push-ups when Uncle Hank is done with him!

  Then I remember: The shots. The dogs.

  Our dogs.

  “Aukina!”

  My heart is thrumming.

  Uncle Hank opens the red truck’s passenger door and retrieves his shotgun. He stands behind the door and points his weapon at the brown truck, ten yards away. The driver cuts the engine and opens his door.

  Hank stiffens. “Stay where you are. State your business.”

  The stranger is slow to answer. “No need to be jumpy,” he calls. “I’m just searching for someone. Maybe you can point me in the right direction?”

  Uncle Hank doesn’t twitch. He heard the gunshots earlier. “I don’t think we can help you,” he calls. “Turn around and leave.”

  “Well, see,” I hear the driver say, “that’s not the spirit of cooperation I was hoping for.” The driver’s-side door swings wide. A red bandana is tied to the driver’s sleeve.

  “It’s Two Dog,” I whisper.

  “I won’t say it again,” Uncle Hank shouts. “Leave. Now.”

  Two Dog steps out of the truck, a gun in his hand.

  Uncle Hank opens fire.

  CHAPTER 13

  The brown paint of Two Dog’s door becomes a cluster of silver dents. I jolt in surprise at the boom of Hank’s shotgun, catch myself before I slide. Shouting erupts. Two Dog returns fire. A barrage of gunfire fills the air.

  Uncle Hank! He’s crouched behind his door, tucked into a ball, reloading his shotgun.

  Grandpa races into view from the garage, clutching a rifle.

  “No!” My voice catches in my throat.

  Two Dog releases several rounds, only half aiming from behind his door.

  “Get back!” I yell at Grandpa. He glances up, retreats behind the red truck.

  “Lei, quiet!” Aukina says.

  Two Dog spots us on the roof. He fires.

  A bullet zings off the roofing inches away. I yelp. Dad, Grandpa, and Hank race as a pack at Two Dog. A second shot ricochets off the aluminum. I jerk back, lose my footing, and slide down the roof.

  “Lei!”

  I slip toward the edge. I spread out my limbs, steady myself. But I can’t brake. The edge draws nearer. I’m on my back, feet-first; hands and heels scrape against the smooth metal. With a yell, I dig in my heels as hard as I can, begin to slow. Vertigo swells as the long drop to the ground is unveiled by the advancing edge of the roof. I dig in harder. My bare heels slip over the edge—and catch on the gutter. My slippahs fall away. Several more shots fill the air. The gutter budges, snaps. But I’m stopped.

  Aukina shimmies down to within arm’s length, and I grab his waiting hand, slip, catch. I crawl backward just enough to plant my bare feet and then begin to scoot higher with Aukina’s help. His combat boots grip the surface of the roof.

  Shouting. I look toward the trucks as I climb.

  Who got hit?

  There are no more antibiotics. Even a glancing gunshot wound…I begin to panic.

  A body is sprawled on the ground, my view half blocked by the brown truck. Three men stand over it. I think they’re my men, but I can’t be certain.

  “Lei, come on.” Aukina is urging me toward the ladder.

  Dad, Grandpa, and Uncle Hank all turn toward me. They look okay. I’m shaking, still trying to reach the ladder to Dad’s window. Aukina and I help each other onto the kitchen roof and back through my parents’ bedroom window. Dad meets me with a tight embrace.

  “Are you hit anywhere?” I ask.

  “No. You?”

  “No.”

  “We’re all fine, honey. The attacker’s dead. We don’t know if more are coming. Stay up here with your brother until we give the all clear.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She was washing clothes in the ravine. I’m sure she’s on her way.”

  “I’ll go find her,” Aukina tells Dad.

  “Thank you.”

  Aukina races away with a quick backward glance at me. I turn to Dad. “I knew him. That’s Two Dog. He saw Grandpa at the market. How did he know where we lived?”

  Dad shakes his head. “He didn’t know. We caught him off guard. He was…searching? Doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

  “Dad! What about our dogs?”

  He’s silent. “Stay here. Keep your brother safe.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “No. Stay. I’ll send Mom and Aukina up here, too.”

  He races downstairs. I fall against his bed, sit with my arms planted, clutching the sheets at my sides. I catch my breath. I’m dizzy.

  Kai! I bet he’s terrified. I rise and hurry down the hall to his room. I knock on the door. “Kai?”

  He replies right away with a muffled shout. “Lei!”

  I burst into the room. I can’t find him.

  “Lei.” I follow the voice. He’s under his bed, peeking out from between boxes.

  “You okay?” I get down on my knees.

  “Yeah.”

  “Smart thinking,” I say, “hiding down here.”

  “What happened?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know.” I’m not lying. Why was Two Dog here? How did he find us?

  What are we going to do now?

  “Were you out there?” Kai asks me.

  “Come on out,” I say. “It’s safe now.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “We’re all fine. The bad guy is…gone. I was on the roof. Almost fell off.”

  He hugs me. I squeeze him tight.

  I hear Aukina and Keali`i downstairs talking to Tami. Mom races through Kai’s door. Questions fly back and forth. No real answers. She embraces us. We sit in a tight circle on the floor. Time passes. It seems like forever. Mom doesn’t want to talk. She just hums and absently begins to sing in Hawaiian.

  I can see the worry in her eyes. She must be thinking what I’m thinking: Will there be another truck? And another?

  Sooner or later, someone will come looking for Two Dog. We’re not safe here anymore.

  When Dad and Uncle Hank return, we know it’s them; there’s no mistaking the sound of our red truck murmuring up the driveway. Dogs bark excitedly alongside the vehicle. We jump to Kai’s window. Grandpa’s in the yard, his rifle poised, watching over the property. Aukina and Keali`i each hold a shotgun. The red truck parks right below our window. I whimper.

  Three of our guard dogs are limp in the bed. Centaur. Mork. And poor white Pele is covered in red.

  I run out of the room, race past Tami on the couch, burst onto the porch, tear down the steps.

  “Lei!” Dad commands, but I’m already hovering over Pele. I want to stroke her, but I cover my mouth instead, my blood suddenly cold.

  What if Dad had been down there?

  I open my mouth to shout something, but a low, formless cry is all that comes.

  “Anyone else down there?” Grandpa asks, kneeling, petting Mindy behind the ears. “Are more coming?”

  Dad and Uncle Hank shake their heads, uncertain. “No sign of others. Paul met us at the gate. He’s down there now.”

  �
�Why?” I ask. “Why would he do this?”

  “This Two Dog,” Grandpa guesses, “he came hunting for me. Because I humiliated him the other day. Either that or the sheriff sent him on an errand.

  “We need to act fast,” he continues. “If he was alone, then there’s no one to report back to their Tribe what happened. Our lucky break. But others will come looking for him. We have to offer them a different story.”

  Dad nods. “This wasn’t our firefight. This happened somewhere else.”

  “The fields behind the school in Papaikou,” says Hank. “There’s Manō Tribe around there. Rivals.”

  Everyone agrees.

  “Wait!” I say. “You’re going to frame the Manō? There’ll be a bloodbath!”

  Silence. They know what this means. I beg Keali`i with my eyes, Say something! But he’s in on it.

  “If we don’t give the next wave of Hanamen a viable story—a distraction—they’ll come here.” Dad is convincing himself as he speaks.

  I look at Grandpa. I can’t read his expression.

  “You’re going to start a war.” I weigh the words. They sound terrible, but…What else can we do?

  “Lei, inside,” Dad says. “Help Mom with—”

  “No.” Grandpa turns to me. “What would you do?”

  I open my mouth, shake my head. I don’t have an answer. I look at the ground. They’re right. It doesn’t mean it feels right.

  The lesser of evils. Survival of the fittest. I hate this world.

  Keali`i watches me. “Your concern is…good, Lei. But the Hanamen and Manō have been at war for the past six weeks,” he says. His next words are angry. “This Hanaman never should have ventured into this area to start with.”

  “It scares me that he tried this,” Uncle Hank agrees.

  “They know we’re around here,” Dad explains. “The sheriff dropped me and Lei off at Onomea Bay. Keali`i’s right: they’ve stayed away because the road below is Manō-run. This was a risk Two Dog was willing to take. We’ll never know why.”

  “I told you,” says Grandpa. “I humiliated him.”

  Uncle Hank is stern. “The reason makes no difference.”

  “Now,” Keali`i urges. I jerk at the suddenness of his order. “We have to do it now. Other Hanamen need to get the idea this was a bad calculation, before a flood of them show up.”

  “Put him in his truck,” Grandpa says. “I’ll drive it down behind the school, lay him out. I can make it look convincing. I’ll walk back along the trails.”

  “What if someone sees you?” Dad asks.

  “I’ll wear one of your hoodies, make sure I’m alone before setting the scene. Papaikou’s far enough that no one heard the firefight; no Manō will know where it really happened.”

  Keali`i laughs once, checks himself. He snaps to the task of getting Two Dog’s body into the truck.

  Grandpa looks at me. His eyes hold no regret. “This is the only way out of this,” he tells me.

  “Okay,” I whisper. Every Tribe deserves what’s coming. They do it to themselves.

  We break. Dad collects Centaur and Mork from the truck and lays them gently on the lawn. I try to help with Pele, but Grandpa stops me. “I’ll do it, Lei. No use getting blood all over your shirt.”

  “We’ll bury them?” I ask.

  “Tonight.”

  I watch him tenderly embrace Pele and place him softly beside Centaur and Mork. Mindy paces among them, sniffing, agitated. Grandpa rises, his shirt smeared red. I go inside, let the screen door slam behind me. I sit beside Tami. We talk in whispers, clutching each other’s arms. From the shadows I steal glimpses of the men at work. They roll up Two Dog in a tarp and put him in the back of the brown pickup. Dad siphons gas from the truck before he allows Grandpa to leave.

  Keali`i goes with him. As I watch them go, my eyes sting. I’m suddenly certain that this plan will fail, that they won’t be coming back. Aukina comes over and holds me.

  I sit on the couch, paralyzed. My limbs are numb. I feel like I’m floating, stretched, tall. The room turns. I’m now sitting upside down, the vaulted ceiling far below me. The world has gone topsy-turvy.

  I’m exhausted, but I won’t close my eyes. I fear the nightmares. Beautiful white dogs covered with blood. I will see dead Manō. More dead Hanamen. A small war engulfing our forgotten countryside. Mindy is allowed into the house. She sits between me and Tami on the couch, and we hold her tight.

  Grandpa and Keali`i return and huddle with my parents. Everything went off without a hitch; no one saw them. I rise and hug Grandpa, don’t let go for a long time. Keali`i embraces Tami on the couch.

  Aukina is regretful, but he needs to get back home before dark. Everyone agrees he should hurry home. I give him a very long hug. Everyone is watching, but I don’t care.

  I go to the map above the breakfast bar, study it for ages. Then I drift up to my room and crawl under my covers. I fall into an oblivion much deeper than sleep, forgetting the world, except to adore it from above. When the quiet fills me and I realize that I can concentrate, I find my purpose.

  We are purposeful, and it is good.

  Aukina’s training and my practice kick into gear. I glide beyond the line of night into darkness, toward the matte black mainland, silver moonlight at my back, and I begin.

  CHAPTER 14

  Hanamen and Manō are at each other’s throats in and around Papaikou. No one suspects our family. The fighting began the day after Two Dog’s death with an attack by the sheriff ’s men. Aukina has heard rumors that the sheriff of Hana is still on the island, holed up in the heart of Puna. There’s no sign that he’s taken a personal interest in the heat around Papaikou, but our house doesn’t feel safe anymore, and I can’t shake an irrational fear that he’ll stride up our drive at any moment. What if it’s Grandpa or Dad on duty at the gate when the next enemy truck approaches?

  Uncle Hank and Keali`i and Paul are making our perimeter more secure. Air horns and a rusty wheel well are now at the bottom of the drive. Like a bell, the dangling wheel well can be rung with a wrench if an unknown vehicle or group comes up the road. They’re planning long trip wires attached to bells at our house, strips of “crow’s feet”—star-shaped nails designed to pop tires—that can be tossed onto the road. They’re on the lookout for new guard dogs, too, but dogs are hard to come by.

  I see only shadows on the road. The sheriff ’s men will be back. Our tricks will not turn them away.

  We inventory Uncle Hank’s ammo stores: enough firepower to hold off numerous other attacks like Two Dog’s while still having enough left over for brief, weekly target practice. Uncle Hank says that he saw this fallen world coming. Even so, we can’t just go buy more ammo—and we may be fighting off attacks for the rest of our lives. It may take years for things to get back to normal after the Star Flowers leave. Rationing firepower better than our enemies seems like the best formula to me.

  Grandpa and Keali`i came up the driveway after practice yesterday in the pouring rain, each with a rifle. They met me on the lanai, where they shook themselves dry like dogs. “Join us next time, Lei,” Keali`i said.

  I stare at the glistening black barrels on their shoulders. “Don’t guns stop working if they’re wet?”

  Grandpa wiped the water off his forehead. “You ever seen a rain delay in a war? As long as the powder’s dry in the bullet, you can fire. And this is Hilo! Hank’s not dumb enough to buy up ammo that wasn’t airtight.”

  “Over time, sure,” Keali`i adds. “Gotta clean and oil guns eventually, or they’ll rust. But in the short term it’s no problem.”

  I sigh. “You guys—get in here before you rust. Mom’s got saimin soup and tea all warmed up.”

  “Really? Saimin?”

  “Light on noodles, too much kalo, but sure.”

  Guns. War. Rust.

  The Orchid feels more and more like the pull of a noose. My neck hurts. I can’t breathe. I want to cast her away now. And yet I hold on. The meltdowns continue. I se
e the evidence every time I space out. We’d all be dead if I wasn’t doing this. The meltdowns are actually increasing. We ran out of pushpins to put on the map; now I use a pen. My message is getting through.

  I want to have it both ways: to stop radiation from destroying our world—and to get the power back now. We need to rebuild. We need to stop fighting. We need to hope again. We need to know that it doesn’t have to be us versus them—that we can all manage for another few months, hang in there just a little longer, and then we can build our lives back up together.

  At the same time I worry about releasing the Orchid for a selfish reason. What if my epilepsy returns to full intensity when my connection is gone? I have no more meds. It hasn’t really mattered while this door is open between our minds…but will that change? I don’t want to start having seizures again, falling over, sometimes wetting myself, injuring myself, waking up starving and tired and disoriented….Will I have the courage to let her go when it’s finally time?

  I don’t know.

  But I keep signaling. Every night, every stolen nap. And it’s working: the meltdowns speed up. The world rubs its lamps, releasing stillborn genies, and every success fills me with dread; I feel that moment of truth closing in like the spiky walls of a baited trap. I’m sure to be impaled no matter which way I run.

  * * *

  As the skirmishes become less frequent, Mom and Grandpa hatch a plan for a pau hana retreat to “refresh our souls”: surfing at Honoli`i Beach. On Sunday morning we pile three boards and a bodyboard into the truck. Keali`i, Grandpa, and I are vigilant in the bed while Tami and Kai ride in the cab with Mom. Dad stays at the house; we never leave it empty. Aukina is going to meet us on the bluff above the popular surf spot.

  Absurdly, for me, the ten-minute drive is as exciting as a family vacation to Fiji. I’m giddy. My neck isn’t tight, for once. We’re on edge as we pass through Papaikou, but all is quiet, and I can hear the waves calling.

  When we arrive at Honoli`i, I don’t find Aukina right away; the surf is crowded today. Not even the apocalypse can keep a crowd of avid surfers away. From the edge of the sharp cliff, I glance down at the thin strip of Honoli`i Beach Park. The rain clouds end directly above me, right at the shoreline. It’s one of those late afternoons where the ocean and the sky join. The horizon is an indistinct blue. Closer to shore, the waves reach toward the volcanic black rocks of the beach and the emerald bursts of jungle just beyond.