Death by Facebook

by Everett Peacock

  “How about this? I have my cell phone, your dad has his. I will stay in touch with the guys on the boats, and if I get in trouble, they can come pick me up.” She looked at him with her best 'pretty please with mango sugar on top' look.

  Henry looked over for his tall co-worker again and noticed he was walking up the long line of cars, telling everyone the news.

  “OK Auntie, you sure stay stubborn lydat. Here,” he said moving the barrier to the side. “Hurry up!”

  Star jumped in her car and quickly pulled through, blowing Henry a kiss as she found second, third and finally fourth gear. In a couple of miles she took the left turn, down toward the ocean and Kapoho.

  Janet was still sleeping in the back, but Star remembered well the first time they'd both driven down this road. Funny, she thought, Jimmie is all messed up again, but at least it's not raining this time.

  Quickly moving through Pahoa town, she saw dozens of people quickly packing their cars and heading uphill, evacuating to Hilo and places north of there. As she drove deeper down into the jungle, closer and closer to her home, she looked over to the still standing cinder cone from 1960, on her left.

  She had to stop her car to confirm. There was no other cars on the road now. She got out and stood perfectly still, afraid to wake the monster.

  Janet moaned a little as she woke and propped herself up. Looking at Star through the rear window she wondered what she could be staring at, until she saw it too.

  White plumes of steam were rising out of the cinder cone, twisting lazily up into the blue sky.

  ~~~

  Larry finally got Shirley on the walkie talkie and confirmed she was still at home. She still had the little dogs and supplies in the SUV, with the windows down, in case she had to make a run for it. The aftershocks, however, had stopped during the last hour.

  “Shirley, I'm two minutes out, over.” Larry announced, lining up his landing zone.

  “I've got a bottle of red open dear, clear to land!” She could already hear his engine above the trees to the north. Walking out across the street where he would soon be landing, she carried the wine and two glasses.

  Larry swooped over the house and then the landing zone to Shirley's cheers. Seeing the wine and glasses he reached down and punched the button on his electric Peterbilt semi-truck horn. Twice.

  Swinging around to the southwest so that he could land with the northeast trade winds at his face, giving him a bit of air braking, Larry dropped below the Ohia trees and quickly planted his tires onto the hard packed soil with the kiss of experience.

  He cut his engine quickly and pulled the lift dumper spilling the remaining air out of his parafoil. It collapsed nicely onto the ground, happy to have a rest finally.

  “Congrats Larry...” Shirley smiled walking over and pouring a glass as she did. “...as soon as you get airborne all hell breaks loose.”

  She handed him the full glass and added, “Just what did you do to piss off the mountain?” Laughing, she poured her own glass.

  “I dunno. All I did was throw tennis balls at her. I'm a little surprised she found that reason to complain so much.” Larry had his helmet off and had unstrapped, standing now next to Shirley.

  “Kiss me now, or I'm going back to throw basketballs!”

  Shirley leaned in and tasted the sweet red on her husband's lips.

  “Sweet as wine, baby!” Larry confirmed. “Thanks for the arrival drink.”

  They both spent fifteen minutes securing the paraglider, folding the wing and pushing it back into the garage.

  “The dogs are still in the car?” Larry asked, a bit surprised.

  “Yeah, they seem to like it, for now. The aftershocks were less dramatic inside. You should have seen them freaking out, They were jumping like kangaroos.”

  “Well, look, let me call Jack and get the latest. If he thinks things are calming down we can probably bring them back in the house.” He looked around the garage. “I guess we didn't get any damage in the house?”

  Shirley looked at him a moment, wondering if he had forgotten. “No damage in here, no.” She waited.

  Then it hit him. “Oh no! My wine cellar!” Quickly he ran around the side of the house and out into the middle of the half acre yard. There, in the opening to his lava tube, extending down into the ground some twenty feet was a lingering odor of spilled wine. He wasn't about to crawl down the ladder, for fear of another aftershock, but he could see the broken bottles all over the floor.

  Sadly, he stepped back, turned on the walkie talkie and checked in.

  “Jack, Larry on the ground. Over.”

  Jack took a few moments to answer. Alice still had her hands running through his hair, hidden as they both were in the locked ladies restroom.

  “Go ahead Larry, you're safe and sound?” He kissed Alice again before remembering, “Over, big guy!”

  Larry looked at the walkie talkie like he had heard something strange going on. If only it was a video talkie. “Look, Jack, I don't know what you put in those tennis balls, but whatever it was, it caused my wine cellar to implode. Over.”

  “Heard about that. So sorry. Look, Larry, I've got something going on over here. Can I call you back?” He laughed out loud. “Over. Over.”

  Larry suspected a serious distraction in Jack's world. He could call back, but remembered he wanted to ask about the latest news.

  “What's the latest on the magma Jack?”

  Jack took a full minute to answer, having shed his shirt and shoes now. Alice was sitting up on the bathroom counter beckoning him with her finger.

  “Uh, Larry. Let me see,” Jack tried to make this quick. “Belt Highway is closed between Hilo and Pahoa and again south of Kona. We think the magma is flowing downhill, soon if not already.” He smiled broadly at Alice. “Things are heating up buddy. Be careful out there. Over. And out.”

  Larry looked at the radio and turned it off. He figured it might be a good idea to fuel the paraglider up right now in case the roads remained closed and the volcano really started acting up. He attended to his flying machine, checking the oil.

  Jack moved in close to Alice, feeling her warm skin against his. They kissed deeply even as they got even closer. A small rumble moved through the ground.

  Alice laughed right into Jack's kiss. “You make the earth move baby!”

  ~~~

  Star could still see the steaming cinder cone in her rear view mirror as she approached the ocean. All of the vacation rentals appeared empty, strangely vacant of Mustang convertible rental cars, and Jeeps.

  As she turned right onto Aloha Lane the first thing she noticed was the layer of sand, everywhere. The road was covered with it, hiding the asphalt so well that she had to use memory to stay on the road. Making her way slowly toward her cabin she noticed their little three thousand gallon community water tank over on its side, completely off the concrete foundation they had installed it on.

  Pulling further into their little compound was a shock, a fist in the face blow to her fragile emotions. The fishing shacks were flattened, piled up in haphazard collections of tree branches, plywood and PVC pipes. Her own little cabin was sitting on the ground, completely swept off its post and pier foundation. The roof looked like it didn't quite fit on the walls correctly. She pulled up, turned off her car and took a moment before she got out.

  “Tsunami,” she whispered, trying to explain the chaotic scene to herself. She looked quickly out to sea, and there the Champagne pool was full of debris, several large pieces of some kind of building material wedged into the coral, others simply floating.

  “What happened?” Janet finally spoke, now awake.

  Star turned to look at her. “Stay here a moment, until I can see if it's safe to go inside.” When Janet didn't respond, she spoke a little louder. “OK?”

  “Sure, Star. Sure.”

  Star had seen large swells from distant hurricanes pour over the lava pools before and pile up a little sand here and there, but nothing like this. As sh
e stepped inside her cabin the first thing she noticed was the light. It was different.

  Twenty some odd years in the same small space and she could tell in an instant that the shadows were in the wrong place. Most of her furniture was still in the right place, give or take a foot or so. A few pictures were missing off the wall.

  “Oh, Nemo,” she moaned softly. Picking up the broken pieces of her fish bowl, once the home of a small yellow Tang from the pools, she became afraid she would soon find a dead fish. Piece after piece of rounded glass was gathered into her hands, but thankfully no fish.

  As she stood again she placed the pieces in her small sink below a driftwood framed window. Looking out she saw Janet peering out the rear windows of the Tercel, patiently waiting on her. That was strange though, she thought, she had always looked out this window at the mountains, not her parking area.

  Spinning around quickly she looked out her front door. There, instead of the lava pools, she saw the ocean, and on the horizon, several fishing boats at anchor. The cabin had been spun around quite a bit.

  Star felt like crying. But as she walked back to her front door, and sat down with her legs now touching the fresh layer of sand below, she took a slow, deep breath. Remembering a dream of her mother she recently had, she smiled. The incoming ocean had come into her home and knocked her fishbowl onto the floor, shattering it.

  Nemo, her little fish, was free.

  ~~~

  The Hawaii Air National Guard 204th Airlift Squadron C-17 taxied out toward the Reef Runway, also known as 8R on trade wind days, or 26L on a Kona wind.

  “Tower, we're ready when you are,” the first officer announced as they approached 8R. Surfers paddled after head high rollers in the restricted area just off to the right. They would certainly get a whiff of Jet-A fumes when they turned the massive aircraft toward Diamond Head and hit the throttles.

  “Roger Pele two niner. Cleared for takeoff runway eight right.” The Honolulu tower air traffic controller triple checked his radar data with that of the Center, confirming the airspace for the large jet was clear of traffic. It was clear for miles.

  Adam and Agatha were both grateful to be included with the two dozen news reporters and government officials being flown over the volcano for an aerial inspection before a relief mission landing in Hilo.

  Agatha looked around, a little claustrophobic with the lack of windows and the three large bulldozers crowding the center of the cargo bay.

  She leaned over to whisper to Adam. “How are we going to see anything, I can't see any windows?”

  Adam smiled. They weren't going to get any viewing done. “We're just bumming a ride to a closed airport dear.” He nodded toward the Governor and some of his party as well as the official photographers accompanying his entourage. “Those guys will get a peek from the cockpit.”

  Agatha sat back in her seat, a little disappointed. She was glad Adam had somehow secured them a ride, and wouldn't dare complain about anything, but she had assumed all aircraft had windows in the back.

  She could only feel what was going on, and that was unnerving. The plane, still taxiing, made a slow sweeping turn of about ninety degrees and paused for a moment, waiting on instructions, she figured. They had been taxiing for almost ten minutes at this point. They had to be on the runway by now she hoped.

  “Ready?” Adam leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  “Sure, but when...”

  The consistent noise of the engines at idle began to increase slowly as the co-pilot pushed the four throttles slowly forward, watching his gauges for any indication of failure. The captain was glancing out the window as well, scanning the runway, the nearby ocean and the sky for anything unusual.

  Adam reached over and grasped Agatha's hand firmly as the engines rapidly spun up to maximum power. He could visualize exactly what was going on in the flight deck, having flown many a mission in this same aircraft.

  Agatha was shocked how noisy it was. Having been used to commercial planes that took some effort to insulate for noise, this C-17 wasted little precious weight on such issues. The engines were roaring with some kind of anger, in a battle with the great dragon Gravity. The aircraft shook and rattled as it accelerated down the two mile long battleground.

  She soon could feel the rear tail dipping as she quickly looked toward the flight deck. Seeing it rise slightly and then her own seat lifting up off the ground was a sensation she knew, she prayed, she never would get used to. It was unnatural, this and all massive flying machines.

  As the great engines continued breathing fire, lifting the beast higher up into the safety of the sky, she marveled at its persistence, its ability to fight with so much energy for so long.

  trade winds being what they are, inconsistent at times, a sudden drop in the aircraft as it lost a little support from headwinds stiffened her grasp on Adam. Was the dragon going to pull them down again?

  “No worries, just a bump on the road.” He put his arm around her and squeezed. “Be there in about an hour.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered unsure if he had even heard her. Agatha suddenly realized this was a type of military aircraft that her son James might have ridden on. She looked around in wonder at the complexity of the textures, at the wonder of engineering capable of moving this kind of mass through the air.

  All around her were little traces of soldiers that had traveled in this great beast. A misplaced hat, a stray candy wrapper, a boarding pass. Closing her eyes she tried again to find her James Madison, focusing on the same signals she had always found before.

  Ignoring the roar just outside the metal walls her hope, her very heart sought out that thing she would never be able to describe to anyone else. A mother's intuition was what her friends might call it, and that was a fine description for dinner parties and afternoon teas.

  Agatha knew it was more than that. It was a bond that was now broken, a bond that she was trying to reconnect. It was a bond that had often faded in and out of her life, but one that she always sought to preserve. James had often joked that she could find him faster than any Ranger battalion, but might have trouble extracting him from a firefight.

  She was still hearing nothing, feeling nothing, sensing no feedback from wherever it was she sent her mind in search. That had never happened before.

  Adam figured it was just too noisy to attempt a conversation with Agatha now about her son James. As she was boarding the C-17 at the Hickam Air Force ramp an intel officer had approached him with a thin manila envelope.

  “Sir,” the young warrant officer announced, not quite at attention for a civilian. “I have the documents you requested from General Wong's office.” He extended his hand and studied this guy who had somehow got himself and his girlfriend a ride on a high level flight. He studied the eyes of this civilian who had solicited some personal information, for his girlfriend no less, which had sent a flurry of activity through the General's office unlike anything he had seen in over a month.

  “Thank you,” Adam graciously replied. Looking at the young officer he nodded, subtly acknowledging the effort it had taken to get this delivered so quickly. “Please tell the General, and his staff, I am very grateful.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Adam looked over at Agatha now, her eyes closed.

  “Maybe she is sleeping,” he thought. “Maybe dreaming of happier times.”

  He leaned his head back against the netting, attempting a moment to relax as well. The documents though were racing through his mind.

  He could see the logo at the top of the pages announcing its source as Naval Intelligence Service, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He could also see it was personally signed by a Captain John G. Gimber, N.I.S. The first sheet of paper had tracking information on it, and he knew most likely was embedded with a RFID chip. The last sheet simply said “Destroy After Reading”

  But, it was the second, the middle sheet that had stuck in his mind. Stuck worse than his old jeep at the beach, no way to get it out and n
o good way to explain it.

  Private First Class James Madison Turner U.S. Army is AWOL as of 23December.

  An initial investigation, performed at his last known whereabouts, the Kilauea Military Recreation Area in Volcano, Hawaii has been completed as of 0900hrs 30December.

  An official finding has yet to be determined, but per instructions from General Wong, the lead investigator, myself, has been instructed to offer an early assessment.

  As to that point, it is my opinion on this date, that Private First Class James Madison Turner, U.S. Army is dead.

  His fiancé is being sought for questioning in what we now have upgraded to a murder investigation.

  Sincerely,

 

  Captain John G. Gimber, N.I.S.

  Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

  Agatha had long ago acknowledged her optimistic tendencies. She had learned to work with them and take the extra effort to question her first inclinations. That had tempered her early reputation as a idealistic dreamer. It had also saved her considerable embarrassment when playing bingo. She had to finally admit that the universe couldn't possibly give her winning numbers every evening.

  It was with that healthy attitude toward failure that she came to realize that she was no longer going to be able to sense James, regardless of how much she tried, or how much she wanted to. It was heartbreaking nonetheless. Leaning her head gently against her new love's shoulder and taking a deep breath she sadly acknowledged what had to be. It was inevitable, eventually she would have lost him, given his occupation.

  She felt a little embarrassed that the Governor himself and reporters from every radio and newspaper in Hawaii might see her tears. Glancing up shyly, eyes full of water, she saw the Governor himself, looking at her. He nodded gently and with a gentleman’s respect turned back to his work.

  Somehow this gave her the permission she needed to cry. Putting her head down into her hands she let it go, let it all go. The hope that her young James would somehow come to her and say it was all a mistake, a bad idea, was gone. He was not ever going to hug her again, or bring her a box of chocolates from Germany.