by Drew Hayes
Kaia chugged the bottle of water, three empties already next to her hotel bed. Her throat still screamed for more, to the point where she contemplated rising from her bed and seeking out another bottle. Her first attempt at sitting up left her heaving the newly acquired water into the trashcan by her bed, so it was somewhat less than productive. She wiped her mouth with an unused pillow and flopped back down.
This was not a hangover. This was a punishment from the gods. She imagined she’d broken every commandment in every religion simultaneously to be cursed with this feeling. Honestly, she was just thankful she knew the hotel where she’d woken up. It was a quaint bed and breakfast on Alendola she’d often frequented in her more formative years.
Despite its reputation as a place to “get down and party”, Alendola also housed an impressive library that specialized in local literature. Respected researchers from America frequently visited to comb its tomes, reveling in the sort of bibliophilic catacombs that academia had been invented for. Such places were rarer and rarer with the invention of the Internet, so it was of little surprise that a bright young Kaia Hale had met many travelers here while furthering her own thirst for knowledge, travelers with stories of the sweeping buildings and cold air that existed in other countries.
Of course, that was one very small draw on Alendola; most people knew it for its large parties and the hedonistic culture it marketed to tourists. It was a humorous incongruity that the same island could appeal to two vastly different groups, but out of form and ignorance (depending on the group), no one ever mentioned it.
Kaia stared at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, wishing she could remember exactly why she’d boarded the boat last night. It felt like she’d had a plan, a way to make it all feel better and resolve her nagging issues. That plan, if it had actually existed, belonged to Drunk Kaia, and Sober Kaia hadn’t been included in the brainstorming session that conceived it. She supposed while she was here, the rational thing to do would be to probe the library to see what more she could learn about the Kodiwandae legend. It was one of the stories she’d put the least research into, seeing as even the faithful of Kenowai didn’t really believe it. Who could trap a god, after all? That was before; now Kaia couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t put in countless hours reading over all the versions of the tale. Of course, that revelation had less to do with a new perspective on the anthropological implications of the story than it did with the golden pear she currently had stuffed in her backpack.
Kaia still didn’t know why she’d taken it. Proof, probably; proof that she hadn’t gone round the mental bend into Coo-Coo Town. She had looked at it a few times during the night: those moments stood out like flares along the dark highway of her drunken recollections. Sometimes she’d imagined (or possibly imagined that she was imagining) a feeling of energy coming from the fruit, like the sound one can hear when standing under power lines. Only in this case there were no such lines and it wasn’t a sound. It was a feeling that echoed deep within her, in places Kaia had long forgotten existed.
All of that was subjective, however, dismissible by virtue of the whiskey or mere delusion. The pear’s coloration was fact. Kenowai Pears grew light green on the vine then darkened to a hunter green when they were ready to be plucked. A hunter green pear had been what April set on the altar yesterday during the ceremony. After everything had happened, Kaia had noticed the pear was still whole and had snatched it before racing back to the bus. It had been her anchor in the sea of doubt. But while electricity could do many strange things, Kaia had never heard of a lighting strike changing a pear’s color to gold. Not natural gold, either; this looked like someone had stoppered sunlight into a pear-shaped container.
Kaia didn’t know what it meant; maybe nothing at all. Still, Kaia was a good scholar because she was obsessive, and she couldn’t let go without an answer. She could walk away, certainly, but that wasn’t the same as letting go. Walking away meant a lifetime of lying awake at strange hours of the night, of fleeting thoughts and theories assaulting her otherwise rational ideas. It meant the gnawing feeling in her gut, the one that kept telling her she was standing on the edge of some giant puzzle piece that could give shape to how the world works, would be with her forever. She couldn’t bear that; one day of it had driven her to try and drink all the whiskey in Kenowai. A life of it would destroy her.
She tried to sit up, more slowly this time, and found while the room still spun, it eventually was willing to become stationary. Okay, she could move. Now where should she go? Water first; she felt like she could drain the ocean if it weren’t so salty. Then a shower; no one should have to smell a girl detoxing this hard in the tropical heat with yesterday’s funk piled on top. Once all that was attended to, Kaia could start her real endeavor: research.
Her wastebasket received a second helping from Kaia’s stomach, but this time she didn’t fall back into the comfort of the sheets. Dr. Kaia Hale had set her course with conviction and she would be damned if she let anything deter her from it. Aside from water and a shower, of course.
* * *
Alendola hosted a gorgeous city, glowing with a metropolitan charm entirely different from the rustic appeal of Kenowai. Kenowai had dirt roads, large wooden buildings, and ample space between everything for the animals to graze. The streets here were cobblestone paved, winding and weaving across the landscape as though the city’s designer had been some layabout drunk. In truth, the designer had indeed been quite the booze hound, but he was certainly not a layabout. Lazy drunks didn’t get elected to mayor and chief road planner.
The buildings were small stone creations that clustered together like children listening to ghost stories. Everywhere one looked there were signs of thriving life and commerce. To the foreigners, it was like a downtown section of some small town. To the people who lived on the islands, this was their New York or Chicago. Had it been on Kenowai, they might have jokingly called it The Big Pear. Instead most of the people here called it a sin-filled cesspit.
“Yeah, Big L, will do, keep it chill.” Thunder’s voice was slightly raised to be heard over the hearty wind that had developed a few minutes after they made landfall. Thunder turned off his mobile phone and slung it into his pocket. “Lawrence says for us to rockify up this town then slide home to Kenowai when we’re done.”
“I have a very hard time picturing him saying that,” Clint disagreed.
“It’s all in the tone, bro.”
“At least he seemed to take it well,” April said. After landing, it had finally dawned on them that perhaps the organizer of their little vacation might wonder what had happened to his charges when he found their rooms empty in the morning. So as they’d strolled the streets of Alendola, Thunder had made a quick call to bring him up to speed.
“Way más chipper than the ushe,” Thunder concurred.
I think I’m missing something. I’ve scoured your language center over and over but I still can’t completely understand what the one in the pink is saying.
“Um, yeah, that’s due to… colloquial dialect,” Clint said, tapping his forehead briefly. It was strange how quickly that had become second nature; he had to admit it kept things much clearer.
Really? Here I was beginning to suspect the man to be a moron.
Clint opened his mouth, but his stomach cut him off with a loud gurgle.
“I agree,” Mano said to the noise. “We’ve been up all night and dinner was a long time ago; I think it is time to procure food.”
“Agreed on the food; we also need to find a place to rest and recuperate. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m reaching my limit for time spent in this kind of heat without a shower,” April added.
“Shouldn’t we stay on the trail, though? I mean, Kodiwandae did say it was tenuous at best,” Falcon pointed out. She noticed a few heads turn and stare as she passed. As a woman who knew her looks and age down to the last wrinkle, she was under no illusions such stares were at her beauty. That left her words, which upon re-examination
she realized could be taken as the ranting of a madwoman if someone were ill-informed of their situation.
“He did say that. I’m not sure if he has the same definition as tenuous that we do, though. I mean, if the cat could track it across open water, it’s clearly not that flimsy.” Clint tilted his head slightly, listening to the voice within. It had been disconcerting at first; however, the others were beginning to appreciate the habit. It at least told them he hadn’t merely lapsed into his hitherto typical silence. “Also, it has been suggested we call our unseen friend Kodi for the time being. We’re not exactly by ourselves anymore.”
That they were not, as the full menagerie of Alendola’s daytime occupants had burst forth from the surrounding stone buildings and were busy setting up stalls and loitering around, looking for tourists to con. Had the group not been walking with Mano, they would have been accosted by at least three “blind” beggars, two street performers who were actually distractions for thieves, and a member of the local clergy before they’d gotten half so far down this street. Luckily, it was an unwritten rule that friends of locals were not to be treated as rubes, so for the group it was actually a rather pleasant early morning walk.
“Good call; nothing wrong with a little discretion.” April had also noticed the stares of the locals, but she’d picked up on a few the others had missed.
“In the meantime, what are we going to do? We need to eat, we have got to line up a hotel room or two, and we can’t let the trail get cold,” Clint summarized.
“Why not just do all three?” April proposed. “You and Mano keep up with the cat, Falcon and I will find a hotel and get some rooms, and Thunder can go grab food.”
“How will you know where to find us if we split up?” Clint asked.
“You’ve got a cell phone, genius. The three of us can regroup at the fountain up ahead and then call and see where you’re at. Do they have cabs on Alendola?”
“Many. The drivers are first-class cheats, but they are also excellent at getting you where you need to be,” Mano informed her.
“Sounds like a good plan,” Falcon said. “You two boys just make sure to go on foot; then when we’ve got everything taken care of we can grab a car over to wherever you’ve wound up.”
“Word,” Thunder, presumably, agreed.
“I guess it is the best use of our time,” Clint said, reluctance heavy on his voice. He didn’t know why, but something about this just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was because it was too rational, a sound strategy in the midst of a mad adventure. He tried to brush the feeling aside; April was right, after all. Sooner or later they’d have to stop.
“All right, then, it’s decided. Falcon and I will go talk to the hotels; Thunder, get something tasty and portable since we’ll have to bring it to Clint and Mano. When we’re done, we meet at the fountain with the statue of the naked girl in the center.”
“That’s actually a statue of the goddess Alahai, frolicking amidst the waves,” Mano informed her.
Clint, perhaps we should take a detour and go see this fountain up ahead.
“The cat is pointing the other way.”
Well, yes, but it won’t take but a minute. I really feel this is a chance to broaden your cultural horizons.
“When you’re out of my body you can do what you want. For now, you’ll just have to deal with a little disappointment.”
“Sometimes I envy your position as divine transport,” Falcon said. “Other times, I am quite thankful I wasn’t the one the lighting struck.”
“Believe me, if I knew how to trade I’d be all over it,” Clint grumbled. “So, I guess we’ll see you guys in a bit.”
“Laters!” Thunder threw up a peace symbol and began jogging off down one of the winding side streets from which smoke and delicious smells were emanating, aided in range by the still powerful winds sweeping the island.
“You two be careful,” April called as she and Falcon began heading down another road.
“Have fun!” Falcon urged.
Clint watched all three until they were gone from his sight. He had to fight the urge to yell for them to all come back. What was going on? He was never a worrier before and he didn’t have any fresh reason to be now. Maybe the amount of shocks he’d had in such a short time was making him paranoid. Or, and this thought nearly made Clint chuckle out loud, what if this was more of Kodi’s emotions bleeding through onto him? No, that was ridiculous. He needed to stop with the irrational fears and focus on real problems. Problems like finding the pear where a god’s last scraps of power were tucked away.
“You okay?” Mano asked him. Clint realized he’d been standing there for several minutes now.
“Yeah, sorry. Just reflecting on how quickly the definition of ‘normal’ can change without it even being noticed, you know?”
“I sailed from my home in the middle of the night on the directions of a cat and a man with a god in his brain. I have an idea of what you mean.”
“Good point. I guess we’d better get going.”
The two set off in another direction, following the cat, who walked at the same steady pace as always. In all of history there are few instances of truly powerful beings managing to hurry kings; but no one, not even the gods, can hurry a cat.
As they walked away, it was too bad they didn’t look around a bit more, though it wouldn’t have helped. Not even April’s exceptional attention to detail would have picked out the concealed eyes charting their group’s movements. Those eyes were hidden by years of skill and practice, and they would not be seen until they were good and ready. Which, based on the tourists’ conversation, seemed like it wouldn’t be too long at all.
13.
Lawrence stood on the bow of the ship and watched the crystal waters flow by. His journey was quite pleasant; the fierce winds blistering Alendola were nowhere to be seen in this vicinity. Unlike the others, he had taken the time to plan his journey a bit more, so rather than bartering or borrowing a fishing boat, Lawrence had booked private passage on a charter vessel that ran between the islands. There was excellent food, flowing champagne, and an air-conditioned cabin that functioned as a lounge. It was a far more pleasant experience, but it wasn’t why he’d spent so much money to board it. The charter option offered something none of the others did: reliability. In the islands, a busted engine and rescheduling were easily written off as bad luck. Lawrence needed something that he could put more confidence in; he was running a tight timetable, after all.
A man with less experience might have patted his pocket or nudge the bag by his feet to make sure the essential equipment he’d spent the morning gathering was still there. Lawrence had no such need. He could feel the weight in his breast pocket and the pressure on his ankle where the respective loads rested. No nimble pickpocket had slipped away with his goods and soured his plans. Everything was going as expected.
As he watched a dolphin begin leaping alongside the boat, Lawrence noted that traditionally this was where most people’s plots began to unravel. The others on the boat, wealthy enough to be here but still simple enough to care about a jumping mammal, rushed to the side and pointed at it. Some commenced with snapping a flurry of pictures that would be blurry at best yet would still wind up as the centerpiece on a miserable mantelpiece.
Lawrence stepped away from the crowd and headed into the cabin. He might treat himself to a crab cake or two. No champagne, of course. Lawrence might be confident in the events he’d set in place; however, he was not one to tempt fate. A moment’s lapse in judgment could bring the world tumbling down. That was why Lawrence’s plans didn’t unravel: he never took success for granted. Lawrence was alert to the possibility that he would need to do damage control every minute. Though, in this circumstance, he felt the odds were relatively low.
The air conditioning struck Lawrence in the face as he stepped through the doors. A tall man in a white shirt held out a tray for him. On it appeared to be meatballs with a gooey sauce. There was certainly some fanc
y culinary term for them; just as certainly as they would still taste like meatballs with gooey sauce.
“Thank you.” Lawrence took a toothpick and speared a few. Might as well enjoy himself. He ambled over to a leather couch and settled down. He wondered if he would still enjoy little pleasures like this once everything was over. He expected he would, or he’d find new ones to take their place. Lawrence was a man of excellent determination; if he had to search high and low to find entertainment that is exactly what he would do. That was in the future, though; he had to concern himself with the now. Everything came down to those Goodwin brothers. Between the cocky quiet one and the loud idiot, Lawrence was confident they’d accomplish their task. And if not… well, Lawrence had a backup plan or ten.
One bite of the meatballs was more than enough, and Lawrence discreetly hid the rest in his napkin and tucked it away in a wastebasket. No reason to be rude to the chef.
* * *
April and Falcon had finished up the arrangements for the hotel in far less time than expected. They took their time walking back, enjoying the sights of the city as they ambled along the winding streets. It was relaxing, easy, and they could almost pretend they were still on a normal vacation. April paused and bought a small handbag from a local vendor. She wasn’t sure why, but its festive and frivolous nature had called to her for some reason. Falcon resisted such impulse purchases, although she did enjoy watching the vendors hawk their wares using spirited enthusiasm (lies).
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” April said as they passed by a small man aggressively claiming his goat stew would cure any ailment and win the love of any woman. “When Kodi read you, he said your name wasn’t really Falcon Rainwater. Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t. A name is something you choose to go by more than anything else. I left my old life and my old name behind, so to me, Falcon is my real name.”