“No room for flights of fancy? Well isn’t that a shame.”
“I’m serious. It was a no-nonsense environment, very practical. Rachel has her moments of belief, but for the most part she’s the same. She’s a Systems Analyst for goodness sake!”
“Well I’m sorry about that. You must have something magical that you believe in. What about Santa Claus?”
“Let’s just say I knew Santa was a marketing fabrication right off the bat. My parents didn’t think it was fair to lie to their children.”
“Lie to their children? What about creating myth and enjoying the fantasy?”
“Nope.” The silent lull that suddenly fell between them was charged. “Maui’s quite a special place. I could certainly learn about it’s magic from just being here, like osmosis,” Blythe blurted, attempting to clear the air. “It has to be special to make you stay.”
If her sudden subject change surprised him, he hardly let on. “You must know by now what makes Maui special.”
“Yeah. It’s paradise. Well, most of the time. Not always.”
“Not today,” Mak bumped her shoulder with his.
“Definitely not today,” she said with melancholy.
“It’s funny, most tourists think Maui is one endless summer. We islanders know the rhythm. Like if you live here long enough, you know not to go into the ocean during the winter months. Too cold. Only things swimming are the humpback whales on the north shore, over from Alaska. The whales and the crazy tourists who think they have something to prove. You’ve been here, what, a year?”
“Just over a year.”
“The longer you live here, the more pronounced the seasons will be. You’ll notice them change, especially going from winter to summer. As the air warms up, the middle of the island turns this incredible purple haze.”
“Hmm, like the Jimi Hendrix song, huh?”
Mak nodded and smiled. “Totally.”
Blythe could tell he was brimming with pride about his native land. As he spoke of the ocean and told her stories about his friends at the fire station, she knew in her heart he was were he belonged. Leaving the island may bring him love, but it would leave a hole in his heart from what he’d be missing.
“Are you Maui’s best tourist guide? I am, after all, a city girl. Are you trying to sell me on it?”
“Something like that,” Mak grinned boyishly and bumped her shoulder with his own again. There was that dimple, front and center and making her beg for mercy.
“The spring’s great too. The jacaranda trees are in full bloom and the smell is intoxicating. Totally exotic.”
“Hmm.” Blythe watched his full lips move dreamily in the moonlight streaming in through the window.
“And in summer, the mango and lychee trees are so heavy with fruit their branches look like they’re going to snap right off.”
“So that’s why my neighbors keep leaving me cardboard boxes of mangos on my doorstep. People are so generous and kind here, since the very first year my family came to Maui.”
“I thought you said you’d been here a year.”
“I’ve been coming to Maui every year since I was twelve. My parents bought the house I’m living in as an investment vacation property. Does that make me a little less mainland than you thought?”
“A little,” Mak winked. She could tell he was impressed.
“I’ve spent the occasional Christmas holiday in Maui too. I’ve been spoiled.”
“Can’t fault you for that. Maui is heaven on earth. Were you here that one winter we actually got snow on Mount Haleakala? That was something to see ten thousand feet up.”
“No, but I heard about it. That was the winter before we bought the place.”
“What about the time when half the island had a blackout on Christmas Eve? The power-plant was in overdrive.”
“Yes, I was here for that one. It turned out to be one of the most memorable holidays of my life. We lit candles and sang carols together as a family. The blackout made that Christmas even more special.” Blythe was struck by how casual she felt with Mak, talking about the island history – a history she realized they shared.
“I wonder if we’ve crossed paths without realizing it?” Mak asked.
“I doubt it. I would have remembered you.”
Mak leaned his shoulder against hers and held it there. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”
Blythe’s face lit up at the compliment, but she didn’t want to indulge her fantasies and get into even more hot water. “So, about a plan. What should we do next?”
“Guess I’d better look for some water. Might be difficult in the dark.”
“Maybe it’s safer. No one can see you. Just don’t fall in.”
“That would be perfect, wouldn’t it?” Mak got to his feet and stretched, the innocent act unintentionally seductive. “While running to save his life, Fire Chief falls down cistern and dies. There’s a headline.”
“I don’t want to write a story like that. Be careful.”
Mak put out a hand and helped her up. “I plan on it. Now, we can either go together or you can stay here. I’d rather you stayed with me just in case.”
“Mak, I’ll be fine. The cistern can’t be too far. Seriously, my feet are killing me.”
“Okay. I shouldn’t be long.”
Chapter Thirteen
Blythe threw her shoes off and paced the cement floor as she waited. Each passing moment made her fidget more with worry as impatience coursed through her veins. Would Mak come back empty handed? She was so parched. Would he come back at all? The waiting was unbearable. She had to make herself useful.
After scouring every shelf of the metal cabinet again, she killed time by emptying the contents of her sparsely filled purse. She took inventory and then replaced the few items. Mak’s absence felt like an eternity, the unknown future an abyss. With nothing left to do, she stood dead center of the room, hands on hips and listened. Her mind worked overtime without a distraction and her paranoia hit an all-time high. The stillness of the building was unnerving and her ears rang in the eerie silence. Aside from the occasional howl of the wind through a crack in one window, there was nothing. She was alone.
Until she heard the footsteps.
The crunch of gravel just outside the door was unmistakable. The hair on the back of her neck tingled and rose forebodingly as her stomach twisted with unease. Someone was out there. Was it Mak? The footsteps stopped. They were close and Blythe willed her raging heartbeat to calm. Freezing on the spot, she silently panted as sweat trickled down her temple, her fight or flight response through the roof. It became deathly silent for a second and then the door creaked open. Without a second to spare, she crouched down behind the made cots. Now at floor level, she peered under the cots toward the open door and saw only large boots and black pants. She knew within an instant it wasn’t Mak.
She peeked up from the head of the cot and her throat constricted as if by an invisible strangler. Swallowing was impossible, her windpipe now pure cotton. A large, muscular figure stood in the doorframe silhouetted by the bright moonlight at his back. He paused and then stepped inside. The fear that overtook Blythe made her gasp out loud and grab the bed frame for leverage, perking the attention of the visitor. He cocked his head, half turning toward the sound. As he did, the moonlight illuminated the sinister grin that now found his rounded features.
“Well, look what I found.” His voice was deep and raspy, vibrating right down from her ears to her toes. He shut the door with his oversized hand, not once turning away from her direction. “You and me are gonna get real friendly-like, and no one has to know. Looks like your friend won’t be around to help you.”
At his words, Blythe’s mind reeled at the possibility that this man had already disposed of Mak. Had he silently slit his neck while she’d been pacing the bunkhouse killing time? Was Mak gone for good? A painful sorrow overshadowed all reason, forcing her to stand. She backed against the wall, unable to tear her eyes from his
face. Judging by his size, this was hardly an even match. If she screamed, Mak wouldn’t hear…not anymore. There was no one to help her – no one but herself. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“And you made up a bed for us and everything. That was mighty considerate of you.”
He mock lunged, making her jump out of her skin. Then he laughed sadistically before truly moving as quick as lightening in her direction, completely catching her off guard. He snatched at her, missing as she ran left. In frantic desperation, she ran around the cots one way as he made chase. She stopped and was about to change directions, but he stopped too and they stared each other down from either side of the beds.
“When I catch you, you’re gonna be real happy, honest,” he said hoarsely. “I saw you on that video and now you’re all mine.”
The taunt flooded her with nausea. She searched madly for something, anything to defend herself with. And then she spotted the large binoculars on the window ledge at a distance. She looked back at him, holding his gaze in anticipation of another footrace, but he surprised her by flipping a cot out of the way with one stroke like it was made of nothing. Unable to scream in her panic, Blythe darted for the binoculars just as he reached her. She grabbed them as he knocked her to the ground. He flipped her over easily, and as he did she surprised him right back with a knock to the crown of the head with the binoculars. From her awkward angle, it was hardly a forceful strike. Still, he moaned and released her, reaching for his head. The binoculars dropped from her hands as she scrambled backward across the floor, but before she could get to her feet, he was shaking off the assault and bearing down on her again. Blythe managed a scream this time just as he pulled her leg toward him violently.
This time he meant business.
Crawling up the length of her body like some wild animal, he pressed his weight down, immobilizing her instantly. He slowly brought his hand up to cover her mouth, inadvertently covering her nose in the process. Blythe’s eyes bulged in panic, his meaty hand stifling all air. She was going to suffocate – from his weight, from his hand, from indescribable terror. This was it. This was the end.
She struggled against him, writhing to free herself and get oxygen. With each move she made, he pinned her down more, her spine scraping on the hard cement floor. Leaning his weight on an elbow, he brought one hand down and attempted to unbutton her blouse with his oversized fingers, fumbling unsuccessfully. In his efforts, his hand slid from her nose and she inhaled the musty, stale air as deeply as possible. He looked down into her frightened eyes while grabbing hold of her breast through the fabric, abandoning the buttons entirely. She felt his hot breath at her ear, spittle spraying her as harsh words left his mouth.
“I’m going to make you scream, but no one’s gonna hear it.”
Bending, he licked her neck, repositioning himself over her much smaller body. Again, his weight forced all the air from her lungs and a crushing claustrophobia ensued. Her shrill cry was muffled to a whisper by his gripping hand. She tried to buck wildly, but all energy spent on escaping his grip was futile. He wanted her at all cost.
“Shh, let it happen.”
Just when she thought it would never end, she heard the door burst open and a second later her attacker’s weight lifted. She sat up just in time to see Mak haul the man off her the rest of the way. Elation flooded her instantly…Mak was alive. Her elation was quickly replaced by deep-seeded concern for Mak’s wellbeing. If the attacker hadn’t killed him outside the bunkhouse, he could certainly do it now, right in front of her.
The thug staggered back and Mak was right on him, getting in close to throw a punch at his gut. The man winced and pulled his gun, making Blythe scream, but Mak was right in there, making it impossible to aim or pull the trigger. Instead, the crazed intruder used the blunt butt of his gun against Mak’s face, splitting his eyebrow with a heavy blow. Blood gushed into Mak’s eye and he visibly staggered.
“Oh Mak!” Blythe shouted.
Mak shook his head to clear the stars and the man came at him full tilt. Squaring his shoulders, Mak braced himself for the brunt of the impact. The two men collided, but Mak stayed upright, taking advantage and hitting the thug low and hard in the side. Winded, the man haphazardly swung at the air in front of him, missing Mak by a long shot. Mak used the delay and struck again, this time in his rounded face, the audible crunch of cheekbone on knuckles filling the space. The man cried in pain, mimicking Mak’s cry as the two men temporarily paused in their agony.
They struggled again, their power matching each other’s. This fight did seem equal in physical comparison, making the outcome a gut-wrenching mystery for Blythe. Mak slammed the man’s hand against the wall, forcing the gun from it. The weapon tumbled to the floor and as it did, the trigger released one shot with a powerful bang. Blythe flinched and the two men stopped as if assessing the damage. No one had been shot, but a huge hole was missing from the wall.
“Grab the gun!” Mak screamed as he struggled, on the brink of being overtaken. The men were poised on their feet, swaying in a wrestle hold, pushing each other with all their strength.
Blythe jumped into action and picked up the weapon. Knowing she would never be able to shoot it without killing Mak in the process, she strode over and clubbed the man on the head with force. The action seemed to stun him temporarily, as he reached up and held his head, swaying slightly.
Mak blocked the next few blows easily, his adrenaline taking over any apprehension. As if performing a defensive move in Judo, he used her attacker’s forward momentum to his advantage, throwing him to the ground with force. While down, Mak brought his heavy hiking boot square into his ribs. He moaned and writhed around. Mak reached over as Blythe handed him the gun. He held it to the man’s head with steady assurance.
“You’re too late. Everyone heard that gunshot and they’ll come runnin’,” the thug said woozily.
Blythe stood motionless for a moment, letting it all sink. Mak turned the thug over slightly so they faced each other.
“Then I might as well kill you, right?” Mak hissed. “Who’s in charge?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Mak tightened his hold and shoved a knee swiftly into the man’s side, making him groan in pain.
“Okay, easy,” the guy stalled. “A guy named Blunt. But knowing his name doesn’t matter. He won’t stop until you’re both dead. Heard him say it myself.”
Blythe and Mak locked eyes. She was about to lose it.
“He’s got it in his mind to tie up any loose ends,” the thug turned his eyes on Blythe, smiling smugly. “That would be you, sweetheart, a loose end to be eliminated.”
<><><>
A possessive flood of heat washed over Mak as he grabbed the thugs jaw and twisted it until their eyes met. His vision blazed over in red anger as his hand squeezed with force.
“Don’t look at her. Look at me. Don’t you ever look at her! Now, tell us their plan.”
The thug slumped back as Mak let go of his firm grip and backed away, fixing the gun on him from a safe distance and releasing the safety.
“You’re the plan, for now,” he said and ran a casual hand over his bristled jaw, massaging the spot Mak had squeezed. “Since our shipment’s running late, hunting you down gives us something to do. Face it…you’ll never get off this island. Alive anyways.”
“Shut your mouth,” Mak warned.
The thug scowled. “What you gonna do if I don’t?”
Everyone froze at the sound of a distant shout.
“I’m not alone. You’d better start a runnin’. But I’ll find you, mark my words, I’ll…” The sentence dropped into thin air. The thug’s mouth suddenly went slack and he slumped to the side, his head lolling weakly.
“That should shut him up,” Blythe said, winded.
“Wow,” Mak looked down at the man sprawled on the floor. “You really clocked him.”
“Thanks.” Blythe clutched the heavy binoculars. “I guess third time’s a c
harm.”
Mak grabbed the first-aid kit and a small glass jar of water he’d managed to fill at the rainwater cistern. His body hummed with adrenaline. He took Blythe’s elbow and guided her out of the bunkhouse, the door slamming on its hinge and resonating into the night air. Mak let his instincts take over, like a wild man in a fight for his life – their lives. “We’ve gotta move. I’d say they definitely know we exist now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Running from the bunkhouse at full speed, they made it to the high brush that surrounded the military encampment. Mak swiveled to face Blythe. He signaled for her to stay low and silent. Crouching, Blythe reoriented herself in the darkness.
“Sanders?” Came a low bellow from a nearby building. “Hey Sanders, that you?” Like a ghostly spirit, a second thug appeared from around a corner. He walked toward the bunkhouse, completely oblivious to what had just gone down. The darkness was their ally, shrouding their presence. The man had no idea he was being watched.
Mak brought his finger to his lips and she nodded.
“Stay close behind me,” Mak instructed. “We’ve got to get away from the camp without being seen so I’m going to run fast.”
“I’ll keep up,” Blythe whispered.
Mak seemed to hum with impatience, as if every cylinder wanted to fire. Taking her elbow, he guided her out of the brush toward the moonlit path. Once there, they ran as fast as they could away from the military encampment. As soon as she was on the move again, Blythe’s confidence grew with the knowledge that they’d taken down one of the four thugs. She felt a glimmer of hope that they may just escape with their lives tonight.
They ran endlessly through the night toward yet another destination, yet another means of escaping the men. The murky darkness played tricks on her vision. At times she truly believed there was a person up ahead, only to realize it was a lone boulder protruding from the grass as they got closer. Every movement the wind caused made her heart stop, ever sound convinced her that someone was right on her heels.
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