by Edie Claire
He turned his full attention to me, along with a winning smile. I smiled back and put my own phone away. Kylee and Tara would understand. Eventually.
"So," he began with enthusiasm. "What else would you like to see around Honolulu?"
The meal passed pleasantly, with Matt at no loss for words when it came to talking about things within his—admittedly limited—sphere of knowledge of the island. He couldn’t tell me a whole lot about tourist destinations or local history, but he was a fount of information when it came to the high school scene. I learned that Hickham had a pretty good social group going, which was nice, because the base kids were spread over a lot of different schools, both public and private. Matt had a lot of opinions on which schools were better than others and why, and I studied him as he talked, musing over what my friends in Cheyenne would make of him. He was no intellectual giant, perhaps, but few of the girls would even notice that, preferring brawn over brains anyway. Tara wouldn’t, but she would also be fair enough to admit that, for a jock, he was sweet and uncharacteristically humble. Kylee would swoon, period.
Oahu was treating me well.
We finished dinner by sharing a rather excellent slice of chocolate cake, then headed back to the car for our drive over the mountains to Honolulu. Zane was waiting for us in the parking lot, unaware that he was standing immediately next to a particularly vivid set of shadows—a young airman in uniform running to, and embracing, an elderly man. It was a poignant scene, but with long-practiced will I forced my attention back to the living and got in the car.
Zane slid smoothly into position in the rear seat, but avoided meeting my eye. He had added a pair of earbuds to his accessories, and I wondered vaguely if they were functional or if he was only giving me the illusion he wasn’t eavesdropping.
"I thought we’d take the Pali Highway and stop at the lookout," Matt said enthusiastically. "It’s an awesome view from the mountains—you’ll love it. Sound good?" He reached his hand casually across the car, grasped my own hand, and gave it a friendly squeeze.
"Sounds great," I answered, avoiding the temptation to throw a glance over my shoulder at Zane. The surfer had been right, after all. Matt had crossed over the "I just want to be friends, so don’t get any ideas" line pretty fearlessly about halfway through dinner, and was now well into the "I’m up for whatever, if you are" zone. For the undisputed gal pal of Cheyenne, this was brave new territory, and I had to admit I wasn’t hating it.
The drive up into the mountains was beyond beautiful. Since I knew that Hawaii kept pretty much the same temperature all year round, I wasn’t expecting March to feel like spring. But everywhere around us the foliage was green, fresh, and bright, with the hint of a rain shower—either just passed or still on its way—around every corner. As we climbed upwards in altitude it appeared as though we were driving into a cloud; the air grew heavy with mist, and increasing winds buffeted against the sedan’s now-closed windows. By the time we reached the turnoff to Pali Lookout, the sky had turned uniformly gray. But as we drew near to the site itself, the atmosphere became suddenly, drastically darker... as if some unseen, malevolent hand had surreptitiously drawn down a shade.
My heart beat faster; my shoulders shivered. I told myself it was nothing. Just a trick of the light.
I didn’t believe me.
Matt parked his car in the designated lot and pulled out his wallet. "You have to pay to park here," he explained, "which is a kind of a rip-off, since there’s no where else you can possibly park, but that’s okay. I’ll go pay. You can head on up to the point if you want; I’ll catch up with you."
It was noisy here. So noisy. Like thunder, but not.
We got out of the car, and as soon as my door was locked Matt headed for the kiosk, where a line had formed behind a befuddled middle-aged woman who was obviously having trouble with the ticket machine.
I moved forward on my own, slowly.
I had to force myself to move at all.
Shadows were everywhere. Half-naked bodies. All men. Shoulder to shoulder, a writhing mass teeming with sweat-soaked skin, blunt cudgels, and puncturing spears. They surrounded me; I could not take a step without moving straight through them. There were hundreds of them. Thousands.
"Zane?" I heard the voice as though it were someone else’s. Weak, far away.
"Yes?" He was beside me in an instant, oblivious to all the shorter, darker skinned men who occupied the exact same space.
My steps halted. My pulse pounded in my ears. "I don’t think I can do this."
"Do what?"
His puzzled voice was muffled by the shouting. The groaning. The distant screaming. The incessant roaring, above it all, of a wicked mountain wind.
A sharp chill whipped through me like lightning. A cold sweat broke out on my skin.
"Something happened here," I whispered, in a voice I could barely hear myself. "Something horrible."
I could not explain to him—to anyone—how much more surrounded me than what I was seeing and hearing. I could be blindfolded with earplugs; it wouldn’t matter. I could feel what was happening, in every fiber of my being, weighing me down like a giant boulder sinking ever deeper into the darkest and coldest of oceans. It was fear. Gut-wrenching fear. So real, so palpable, it was sickening. There was anger, there was rage, there was determination. But above them all, the putrid, sickly fear rose high and biting and merciless… and infinite.
"Stay here a minute," Zane answered firmly. "Don’t move."
I could not if I tried. I raised my eyes toward the place where the live humans clustered; a concrete platform, a metal railing… what must undoubtedly be a gorgeous view beyond. The mountains were split by a natural gap here, offering what from this height must be a sweeping eyeful of the windward coast. But I could move no closer. Up ahead… the edge of the cliff… it was worse, there. The bodies were facing away from it but moving toward it, moving backward—against their will. They were fighting the relentless flow, the sea of other bodies, with everything they had. Desperate. Terrified. As one, hundreds of them—before me, behind me, through me—pushed outward, toward the parking lot.
As one, they were pushed back toward the edge.
"Kali?" Zane stood before me now, blocking my view of the platform. "You’re right. Something did happen here. There was a battle."
Yes, a battle. Senseless, needless. Brutal, bloody.
"The sign says that in 1795 Oahu was invaded by an army from the big island, and that the defenders were driven here."
They knew what was happening. They could see it. They could hear it. Behind them, their own brothers were vanishing into thin air. In screams and shouts and groans of anguish, they were here one minute, gone the next. Not by bullet, or arrow, or blade… those would be an honorable way to die.
Instead, they were falling.
Tumbling hundreds of feet, propelled through space.
Their bodies smashed to death upon the rocks.
I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. My skin was bathed with clammy sweat. My hands trembled violently inside my pockets, and my crossed arms wrapped my jacket so tightly around me I could barely breathe.
"Kali, look at me," Zane urged. "A lot of people died here. They were forced off that cliff to their deaths. That must be what you’re seeing. I’m sorry… it must be horrifying."
They knew what was happening. That was the worst of it. They knew they had to press forward, but they couldn’t. They were forced back. Farther and farther, closer to the cliff edge. Every step brought more screams from behind, more muffled thumps of shattered body on rock, body on top of body. They couldn’t stop it. They couldn’t fight it. They couldn’t do anything.
They were going to die.
"Do you want to go?"
My nod was mechanical, my movement controlled. I forced myself to look in the direction of the kiosk, where on other side of hundreds of milling shadows Matt had chivalrously stepped forward to help the woman at the front of line with the machine. It seemed impos
sible that neither group could be aware of the other; impossible that such normalcy and such hideous suffering could coexist at all.
"I can’t just leave," I squeaked, bucking myself up with every ounce of strength still in me, which felt like virtually none. "He’ll think I’m a nutcase."
And I am not a nutcase, I repeated to myself. It was the point that had always helped me keep the shadows at bay. I had conquered them before. I could do it again.
"I have to stay," I proclaimed, swallowing hard and moving determinedly toward the platform. "I can do it."
With every step, the weight on my soul crushed heavier. Their fear pierced through me, consumed me. I could not block it out. The closer I got to the edge of the cliff, the more force their emotions exerted on me. I could feel them, all of them, at once. The straining effort, the sting of failure, the disbelief, the stunning knowledge of nothingness behind… and then, in a heartbeat, nothing underfoot. The anguish of pulling at, reaching for friends, fellows, the guilt of knowing that by trying to save themselves, they only moved each other closer to death…
"Kali?" Zane repeated gently. His face was inches from mine; his expression a mask of concern. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Go back to the car."
"I can’t," I protested, even as the ground beneath me seemed to sway—a seething floor of noise and blood.
Get a hold of yourself!
"Superjock will understand," Zane protested. "Just tell him you’re sick. It’s not a lie, you’re completely green—you look like you’re about to throw up or pass out… or both."
The horizon swam.
Shouts. Screams. Spattering.
Fight it!
"I can’t act sick," I argued, thanking God for my inborn streak of stubbornness—one trait that had never yet failed me. "He’ll think his friend at the restaurant poisoned me. He’ll feel awful… he’ll take me straight home."
"Then tell him you’re afraid of heights," Zane said quickly. "You have all the symptoms. Cold sweat, shaking, vertigo. He’ll buy it."
Crush of bone. Wails of agony. Louder now, and louder still…
"You have to go back to the car!" Zane said firmly, shooting out a useless, vaporous arm in a vain attempt to steady me as my top half swayed dangerously to the right. His arm passed through me, and once again I felt the slightest buzz of vibration—just enough to focus my attention and regain my balance. "Kali, trust me," he cajoled. "Matt is the type that likes to take care of delicate females. Just lean on one of those beefy arms of his and tell him you need him—he’ll be thrilled. Get your story ready—he’s coming now."
No way to stop it. No way out. Nothing to do except fight, push. Frantic, hysterical, flying, falling, striking…
"You didn’t get too far!" Matt teased, throwing a careless arm around my shoulders and propelling me closer to death.
Not death! Stop that!
I planted my feet. "Matt?"
He stopped in his tracks and swung round. "What is it?" he asked, one look at my face turning his expression into concern. "What’s wrong?"
"I… um…"
"Tell him!" Zane ordered.
"I’m sorry," I spat out. "This is really embarrassing and I should have said something sooner, but you see—"
My sweat had soaked through my dress. The screaming was hideous, gut-wrenching, endless…
"I’m afraid of heights," I blurted, my voice cracking. "I can’t do it. I can’t go any closer. I’m sorry, but I just can’t."
Matt’s blue eyes pierced into mine. His concern faded—amazingly—into a smile. With one motion he threw an arm around my middle, hugged me tight, and whirled me around. "Is that all?" he said cheerfully. "Wow, I thought you were really sick or something. Come on—let’s get out of here."
With his strong arm guiding me, we made it back to the car in record time, and within seconds we were pulling out of the lot and back onto the road.
The noise faded. The shadows thinned, then gradually disappeared. The biting fear ceased its death grip on my roiling insides… but it refused to leave me altogether. My hands still trembled; my body was still cold.
"Thanks," I said feebly. "I know you must think I’m a real wimp—"
Matt shot his free hand across the car to grip mine. "Kali, you don’t have to say anything. I know what it’s like. And by that I mean, I know what it’s like."
My eyes widened. "You’re… afraid of heights, too?"
He chuckled. "Not heights, no. I’d be a pretty sucky candidate for a pilot with that problem. But mine’s almost as bad. I get claustrophobic."
A grin played at the corners of my mouth. The weight of grayness around me began to lift a little. "Really?"
"Like, seriously," he insisted. "My dad’s worried about me freaking out in a cockpit or something, but that doesn’t bother me. I can get close and personal with walls, as long as there’s a window around and some breathing room. But you put me on a stalled elevator with so many people I can’t even stretch out my arms—"
He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I swear to God, Kali, I completely lost it in front of half the football team one time. We were going to a banquet in Honolulu on the top floor of this high rise, and there were way too many of us packed in the elevator—the guys were making a joke out of it, you know. And either they broke the stupid thing or our weight tripped some kind of safety sensor—in any event, we were stuck in that god-awful box for twenty minutes before they got the door open, and I was one hundred percent convinced I was going to die."
"I can imagine," I commiserated.
"The funny thing was—I really was about to die," he insisted. "Because if I’d had to stay in that place another five minutes, either I would have had a heart attack or my teammates would have beat the crap out of me for blubbering like an idiot."
He chuckled to himself, and—feeling like I’d been given permission—I laughed with him. "That must have been really awful."
"Yeah, well… the aftermath was no fun either. I still get abused about it, and it’s been two years!"
"Kids can be cruel," I quipped with a grin. We were moving down out of the mountains now, with views of the city of Honolulu peeking out at us periodically, boasting of much, much more to explore. The horrors of Pali Lookout… the sights, the sounds, the bone-numbing fear… were not yet completely vanquished.
But they were getting there.
Unconsciously, I squeezed Matt’s hand.
He smiled at me and squeezed back.
Chapter 8
"And this," Matt announced with a proud flourish, "is Frederick High School."
The sprawling, white plaster building looked more like a motel than a high school, having two stories with outside walkways, both protected by the typical wide-eaved, gently sloping Hawaiian roof. Two taller, boxier buildings which I assumed were a gym and an auditorium rounded out its sides, with an athletic field on one end and a moderately sized parking lot on the other.
"It probably looks small to you," he continued, "compared to public schools on the mainland. But it’s the second biggest private school here. Some of them have, like, five kids in a class. And we’ve got the best facilities by far. Saint Anthony’s gym is crap and their field’s always flooding."
It was evening already, but clusters of students could still be seen coming and going from the building. There were almost as many dead ones as live ones.
What was it about Hawaii and shadows? Cheyenne had its fair share, as did every place else I’d ever lived. But the past few days in Oahu their presence had seemed inescapable—and that was without even considering Zane.
"So," Matt said happily, squeezing my hand again. "What do you think? Do you want to see inside? It looks like something’s going on in there—door’s probably open."
I tried to concentrate on what Matt was saying as the shadow of a Hawaiian boy, roughly thirteen or fourteen, shirtless and shoeless, shimmied up a nonexistent flagpole twenty yards away.
The kid was upset about something.
"We’d probably better not right now," I said impetuously, anxious to get away from the shadow, who I feared was about to hurt himself. I averted my eyes, irritated greatly by my sudden weakness. I did want to see the blasted school. But I couldn’t, not now. Something bad was also bound to happen to the two shadow girls in skirts who were smoking by the side entrance... one of them was so afraid I could taste it. And she kept looking over her shoulder…
Ignore them!
With a huge effort, I turned to Matt with a smile. "I wish I could stay longer, but I do want to drive by a couple other schools, too, and we’re already running late. Would you mind?"
"No, that’s fine," he responded, his disappointment poorly concealed. "When do you have to leave? Maybe we could come back some time."
"I don’t know," I answered vaguely, relieved as the car turned and pulled away. I hated seeing the shadows of other kids. Even though I reasoned that just because I saw them in their youth didn’t necessarily mean they had died young, there was something about it that was unsettling. More unsettling than usual, even.
Come to think of it, a lot of the shadows I’d been seeing lately were more upsetting than usual.
Why was that?
My heart began to pound again.
"He thinks you’re blowing him off, Kali," a familiar voice said softly from the back seat. "Which—for the record—would be fine by me, but I have a feeling you don’t intend to. You’re seeing more shadows, aren’t you?"
I jerked, pulling my sagging frame up straight again. "I’m sorry, Matt," I said quickly, forcing cheerfulness. "I was thinking about something else. What did you say?"
His face flooded with relief. "I asked how much longer you were staying."
"We planned for a week, originally," I explained. "But we left it flexible. My mother is determined to find a house, and I can get an excuse from school if I need it."