by E. Coulombe
All day long the villagers came by the house, bringing gifts of shell leis, hand woven mats and baskets filled with food. They piled them up on the lanai, in sympathy for the loss of her son, and concern for the unborn one. They stayed outside, spreading blankets on the lawn, afraid to leave and needing to be together. By the end of the day the entire village had gathered, a testament to the effect Emma had had on the Nakoans in her short time on the island.
In the early evening she finally awoke, took some water and broth, and smiled at Andrew and George. News spread, as one by one every Nakoan, young and old, came into her room, for a brief moment, smiled, spoke a greeting of sympathy and left their gift for Emma. George watched as Emma, who could never take without giving, thanked each one, a Hawaiian mahalo, and gave them a heartfelt smile, allowing them to feel as though their kind gestures truly helped. Why did he think it couldn’t possibly make a difference now?
Chapter Sixty One
“You, more than anyone else, know what we’re up against here,” George pleaded with Lono the next day, when he found him at the dock loading in gear for a return to Ko`olau.
“I have to George. This is for Michael.” His young, brave face twisted with pain.
“Revenge is not the wisest driver. You’re just too young to have learned that yet.”
“Maybe. But this is the way Hawaiians deal with it, local style.” He tried to smile while preparing his weapon - duct tape wrapped around a concussive grenade stuffed into the joint of his three-pronged Hawaiian sling. “I know you think we’re weak, or if not weak, then primitive. But we’re not. We’re a fierce people and we’ve been attacked by an enemy never seen before. Now is not the time to show fear. Now we must be strong. That is the warrior’s way. We’re not staying out of the water, as you would have us, hiding, and defenseless, allowing the monsters to take over! We’re gonna fight these damn monsters and this time, they will be the ones to die!” He raised his ‘bang stick’ warrior style and tried to laugh, but his face fell, his arms collapsed, his entire countenance screamed the pain he felt for Michael.
George remembered them going into the water together the last time; the skinny haole from Boston and the local waterman. Michael had looked back at him, flashed his smile and given him a shaka. George wanted to cry. He put his hand on Lono’s shoulder and felt the tension.
“I miss him too Lono. I never, never should have let you go out there. I’m the one who encouraged you, I’m the reason he’s dead now….it’s not your fault.” George’s voice cracked, he fought the tears back. Overwhelmed by their sorrow, neither of them moved. Heads bowed they privately remembered the boy, and tried to deal with their loss.
George saw Kumu Apana on the other side of the boathouse, helping Kekoa load in gear. If even the village elder, their spiritual leader, has no more sense than this, there’s nothing more I can do here. He started to walk away, but Kumu’s sonorous voice gliding across the water stopped him dead in his tracks.
“You call it myth when the Hawaiian stories tell of winged gods, fire gods, little people, and giant heroes. Perhaps this you will one day call myth also?” George stared in disbelief. “We have fought worse,” Kumu spoke confidently.
George stepped around Lono’s canoe, heading over to speak with him, but out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a new presence, coming into focus on the horizon. He beamed. Gloria, the UH research vessel, had finally arrived. Grant, who had suddenly appeared beside him, also spotted the triple-decker boat a few miles off shore.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” George answered smiling, “maybe help has finally arrived.”
“I told you, we don’t need any help.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Think what you will.” Grant sneered and shouted something in Hawaiian across the canoe to Kalani. Kalani nodded in reply, and headed towards the horse corral.
“What did you tell him?” George asked suspiciously.
“I told him to go take care of your so called ‘help’.”
“You bastard!!!” George finally exploded. Two days of pent up anxieties flew out at his Grant. “You are such an idiot Grant! You’re actually getting rid of the only hope this island has??!!!” George stomped in circles over the lawn, wanting to will Kalani back, desperately seeking a way to pound reason into this Neanderthal rancher’s head. All of the men stopped what they were doing and stood with their arms crossed, feet in fighting stance, ready to beat the crap out of this stranger. They all blamed George for Michael’s death, he knew it, and he didn’t give a damn anymore.
“I can’t take this shit anymore!!! Michael’s dead, and now you’re sending Lono to the same fate - where the Hawaiians are going to ‘take care of this problem’ – this problem. This god damn PROBLEM that your brother has created and that no one in the world has ever faced before! We, none of us, have no idea what we’re dealing with here, not a clue, and you’re telling these young men to put on their war paint and go off and face it like the ancient Hawaiian warriors, with ancient weapons….a spear, a knife? This is insane Grant, totally and completely fucking insane. And you’re responsible for it!”
“No,” Grant said quietly through clenched teeth. “What’s insane was ever letting you come here, and Kerri, and maybe my brother’s laboratory. Things were fine before you all arrived, and things will be fine again once you’re all gone, and we’ve cleaned our waters.”
“Your waters???!!! Your…your….” George searched for the word, stricken with fear by the audacity of this man. “What about other people? And their ‘waters!’? Don’t you even give a damn? Do you think maybe,” he spoke facetiously, “just maybe, somebody ought to warn THE REST OF THE WORLD about what in the hell might be going on in THEIR WATERS!!!!!???” George was so frustrated he couldn’t get his breath. He stopped, and slumped down into the nearest chair, the old Adirondack he had enjoyed on his first evening here. That seemed like eons ago.
Grant responded slowly, fighting for control. “I went out in your world George. Once. And I didn’t find one decent person anywhere, nothing, only heartless cruelty. Do you think I really give a damn about the rest of the world?”
“But here….all my life….” Grant stuttered, “Everything we’ve tried to do - the outsiders – the Federal Government, the State, even the so-called Hawaiian Nation – all of them – have done nothing but make it hard for us. We’ve asked for nothing! Nothing but to be left alone,” he said, sounding completely frustrated, like a man who could stand on his own, if only he were allowed to. “But they couldn’t do that.” He shook his head. “You know why people like you care about the rest of the world? Because you don’t have your own world to care about. For me, this is the world. This is what I care about. That out there,” he pointed across the sea, “means nothing to me. It can blow up, it can starve. They can all be food for Andrew’s damn monsters for all I care. I’ll defend this island, these people, with my life. You, George, you go take care of the rest of the world.”
George answered quietly; his voice and demeanor both spelled defeat. “I will Grant, just give me the chance to do it.”
“There’s your chance now, go, take it George,” he said, pointing to the ship offshore.
Packing his clothes, George looked around the small room he had called home for the past two weeks. Had it been two weeks? It seemed like a year. He shook his head at the irony. He had only intended to stay for a couple of nights – planned to collect some snail shells. Snail shells! How ironic, instead he’d collected trilobites and Ediacarans. He shook his head in disbelief.
He placed his hand under the heliconias, which Emma had placed in his room to welcome him. They had once been fresh, vibrant and excited, now they were dull, wilted. His heart sank.
Storing his bag in the living room, he walked across the inner courtyard. It was silent, but for the wind stirring the leaves of the avocado tree in the far corner. Emma had worked so hard to make this old cottage into a home
for her family, wanting more than anything, she’d told George, to provide Michael and Andrew, and herself, a sense of place in Hawaii.
He found her sleeping in her bed. She lay on her side, facing the wall, her long black hair tangled over her shoulder. His heart went out to her. She hadn’t been up for two days now, waking only briefly to drink water, and broth, at Andrew’s insistence. The only thing that comforted George was Andrew’s constant vigil. Fearing Andrew might disappear again, or hide out in his lab, George had stayed with her day and night, but Andrew hadn’t disappeared. He was steadfast in his vigil by her bedside.
As he stood there watching her breath, Andrew re-entered the room carrying a glass of water. Kerri followed close behind, and George saw the suitcase in her hand. She too had packed to leave.
“I don’t blame either of you for leaving,” Andrew stopped George from trying to speak. “This has been too much for all of us.” He stood behind Emma’s bed, shielding himself from the two of them. “And I know you’re worried about Emma, George, but don’t be. If she doesn’t get better soon, I’ll call for the helicopter to evacuate her to Queen’s Medical Center. I promise. She could be in Honolulu before you.”
Chapter Sixty Two
The boats glided into Ko`olau aina. Quietly, the Nakoans unpacked the canoes, set up camp and reloaded the lighter boats with only their weaponry. A gorgeous sunny day – calm blue waters surrounded by warm sunshine and a gentle breeze – belied the turmoil that Lono knew was seething underneath the waters. He took the lead canoe – one of five large outriggers, each filled with the strongest warriors from the village. Before setting out they had an oli, a chanted on shore, by Kumu, asking the gods to help them defeat the evil powers of these creatures, to give them strength, and ensure their victory.
Swept out on human adrenaline, the lead canoe left the cove. Lono signaled the men to line up their canoes, starting just south of the cliff, out to sea a mile, to the underwater reef wall, and head back in towards Ko`olau kai, they built a chain of boats and began dropping their charges. Deep reverberating sounds echoed off of the surrounding cliffs. Again - the explosive sound ripped through the cove. Lono held up his hand and signaled for them all to stop, hold their boats still, and wait for the churning waters to subside. Small fish floated to the surface: the common mullet, ama’ama, the moi, and a whole school of manini, the convict tang, bobbed belly up on the water’s surface. Several of the men in Lono’s boat shook their heads. It was hard for a fisherman to see such waste. Then the point of one of the cone shelled nautiloid poked straight up.
“Lono, what the hell is this thing?” Keikoa asked, holding the shell up over the water, too long to see the head end.
“George called it a nautiloid, or something, scared the hell out of me when I first saw it.”
“This shell is huge, six feet at least.”
“You no see nothing yet bradda.”
But nothing else surfaced. “I’m going in,” Lono said. He slipped on his mask, his knife already strapped to his leg, and clutching his improvised bang stick, he slid over the side of the canoe. As they had planned, one man from each of the other boats joined him, and they swam together towards the center of the bay.
Lono saw nothing, not even Hawaiian reef fish, and he signaled for the men to surface. They moved further south along the cliffs. “These things seem to be coming from there,” he said pointing to the water below the sea caves. Lono looked around. As he suspected, the change in sea life on the ocean floor was even more dramatic here. This plague was concentrated at the southern end of the fringing reef, where Andrew had first released it. Numerous anemones waved along the ocean floor, and the oddly plated Biothrepsis approached from the sandy bottom, a spear-headed Strunius swam past. He climbed back into the boat, and directed the canoes to line up from Kukui, along the inside of the underwater reef wall, surrounding the sea caves.
“Drop the charges!” He shouted. “This time, all of them!”
One after another they dropped the charges into the water, four rounds in all. More fish floated to the top, along with oddly shaped creatures these men had never seen before. And Ku’ulei’s trilobites, hundreds of them. In the center of the boats, the water suddenly darkened.
“Something big coming up over there,” said one of the men. Suddenly the ten foot scorpion appeared, belly side up, its beaked mouth sealed shut. “What the hell,” exclaimed Kalani. Lono just shook his head.
The first thing to surface in number were the ammonites, their circular shells made them natural floaters. Then the water around the canoes was filled with dead Climatius, the large fish with spikes covering its body for protection. All at once a dozen Drepanpsis floated to the top - large flat heads and no fins other than a tail. Lono guessed they had come from the sea bed.
Someone pointed out to sea, not far from the boats, where a fish was thrashing in the water. Moving in closer, Lono could see that it was the Strunius, the foot long fish with the ten inch spear sticking out of its helmet-like head. Slipping into the water, Lono saw several of them moving erratically near the surface, thrashing their heads as though to shake off the pain. The charge must have hit their helmets, stunning, not killing them, and causing pain as it reverberated under that helmet like thing.
“I saw them before but they never swam like that,” Lono told the men when he surfaced in the center of the boats. “The charge scrambled them, but it’s not killing them.”
“Yiiieee,” one of the men screamed. “That mother fucker just stabbed my leg.”
He pulled his foot up and they saw the blood trickling out of his ankle.
“Out of the water. Everyone now!” Lono shouted needlessly, for the men were already swimming towards their boats which were hovering nearby. In unison they threw in their spears and with quick movements jumped up and seated themselves. When they looked down the spearheads had surrounded them.
“They’re swarming,” Lono said just as one slammed the side of his canoe.
“Jeees,” said Kalani “look at the gouge that thing made. What are these ugly, crazy things? I never saw a fish with a spear coming out of its head like that. Not even marlin look like that, spear out front, no come out of top like.”
“I don’t know what the fuck they are, some ancient fish, George knew. Almost everything else is dead here, but the charges aren’t working on those thick skulls. We’re going to need the nets.”
“Paddle in;” he shouted to the crews, “we’re going to have to use the nets on these.”
But as soon as they put their paddles in deep to pull they realized they were surrounded by hundreds of the spear heads which were smacking the sides of the boats and ramming into the paddles, hit after hit. The paddles were getting chewed up by the fishes’ spears and the barracuda like teeth which were grabbing hold of the ends of the paddles. They were frenzied now.
“What the hell we gonna do?” someone asked.
“Keep paddling,” Lono barked, “we’ll make it!”
With chewed up paddles, and gouged sides, all four of the canoes made it into the cove and up on shore. The men jumped out of the boats, grabbed the net, and put it into Lono and Kalani’s canoe.
“Those spears are going to make a mess out of this.”
“I know, I’m counting on it, hoping they stay so fired up they tangle themselves up and sink in mass,” Lono’s eyes widened and his lips pursed.
Chapter Sixty Three
Grant heard screams coming from inside the house when he met Meialoha running across the lawn.
“I don’t know,” she answered him in a worried voice. “Andrew told me to find you. Come see, quick.”
Meialoha wiped the sweat from Emma’s brow. “Something is wrong, Meialoha, I’m too early for labor. I’m only six, or seven months, the baby isn’t supposed to come yet….but it is.” The fear in Emma’s voice reached out to everyone in the room.
“It’s okay,” Meialoha reassured her, “we can take care, we can help you Emma. I’ve delivered
many early babies. Not a problem.” Word spread like fire along the coconut wireless, soon the Kumu arrived bringing two more midwives with him. Others went to clean the birthing stone, in case Emma wanted to use it; several of the women built a massive fire in the pit outside the kitchen and put a large cauldron to boil.
Kumu made a compress for Emma’s brow, using the leaves of the ko’olau plant, soothing and cool, and had her drink the waters of the noni fruit to help ease the pain. But still Emma screamed loudly with each contraction.
“What is happening?” Meialoha asked while she tried to comfort her.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t like this with Michael,” Emma whispered as the pain receded. “I never had pain like this before,” she managed to get out before another contraction ripped through her body.
This time her water broke and Meialoha and the midwives cleaned her with the hot towels. Not knowing what else to do, the kumu and the other women took turns sitting with Emma; Andrew never left her side. Emma began to fall asleep between contractions, until the next wracking pain would awaken her – a look of fear gripping her face as the pain built, then with a sigh of relief, she would collapse onto the pillows when it passed. Sleep, then pain. The afternoon wore on, the contractions grew further apart and the pains diminished. The baby didn’t come.
“We are losing this baby,” Meialoha told Andrew and Grant, outside in the hallway, away from Emma’s hearing. “Kumu says she needs to have the baby cut out. We can’t do it here.”
Before she finished speaking Grant was out front on the satellite phone, calling for the Nakoan helicopter to come over immediately for an emergency evacuation.