Grandpa’s necklace pulls at me. I glance down at it. It’s off my chest, reaching for the shaft, taut. I grip the locket in my fist and finally understand.
The pearl has begun its magnetic phase.
All the Hanamen, including the sheriff, are wearing bulletproof vests.
I stare at the empty slope before me, mouth agape. Something catches my eye. Grandpa. He’s moving!
I race forward, my heart leaping, but I call out in shock when I realize what I’m seeing. Grandpa’s handcuffs are pulling his body toward the pearl. He drags in the cinders, creeping forward, his cuffed arms bent unnaturally.
“No.” I grab his leg, begin a tug-of-war. But he’s too heavy. “No.”
Voices in the shaft. If they survived the fall, they can remove the vests, chase after me.
In an agonized flash, I abandon my poor tūtū and Buzz. I sprint for Dad.
* * *
I reach the rim of the crater and stop to catch my breath. The air is so thin. But it’s all downhill. The trucks are Matchbox cars below me, beyond the donut of cinder and debris. I should be able to bound down the hard lava flows, weaving through within a couple minutes. I turn and catch my first unhindered glimpse of the erupting volcano. The enormous geyser of lava, river thick, gushes from a new fissure that’s level with me. The important thing is that it’s miles downslope and south of the trucks, and it’s flowing away from Hilo.
Dad’s safe. Home is safe. I glance behind me. No one stirs from within the shaft. Were they crushed by the force of their vests slamming into the pearl?
I turn and race down the old flows.
If the sheriff is alive, he should be able to tear through his shirt and unfasten his vest and free himself before the pearl toggles off. He won’t have a gun, unless he waits. And he won’t know how long to wait.
Thank you, Buzz. I’ll be back for you, promise.
I empty my mind, run toward the trucks.
Ash falls around me like dirty snow. I’m close enough to call. “Dad! Dad!”
“Leilani!?”
I sprint to reach him with no more voice to spare.
“Dad!” I slam into the black truck. “They’re coming. We have to go.”
“Lei! What happened? I saw the meteor…The eruption…” He shouts over the barking dogs crammed into the truck with him.
“The pearl switched on. Pulled everyone away. They were all wearing bulletproof vests,” I pant. “Buzz knew. He planned it all along.”
“I know the plan. We discussed it on the drive. All three of us. Where’s Tūtū? Buzz?”
I freeze. Shake my head. “Buzz, I don’t know. Tūtū…”
Dad sinks back in the cage, runs a shaking hand through his hair. “I heard a shot. Lei.”
We’re silent. Mauna Loa howls our pain into the sky.
“Can you find a key? You don’t need to get me out, just drive.”
I snap into action. The truck’s keys are not in the ignition. They’re not on the dash, on the next seat, or tucked in the visor. I grow increasingly frantic as I search. “They’re not here!”
“Keep trying! Hurry!” I find a knife in the glove box, pocket it. But no keys.
“Lei,” Dad calls after a moment. “Lei, stop. Come back here.”
I scream, slam the door shut. I grip the bed of the truck and look at him through the bars of the dog cage. “Nothing. Just a knife. A dumb knife— Why are you in a CAGE?! A DOG CAGE?!”
“Lei, stop it. Listen to me. You have to go. Try the other trucks. If all the keys are gone, you have to run. Head for the kīpuka, the trees. Get away from here.”
“No,” I whimper. Ash and grit are in my teeth, I bite down, grinding it to dust. “No. I’m not leaving you here, too.”
“Lei. Go look for other keys. They may have a master for the cages, too. Just hurry, okay? Keep your head.”
I nod, wipe away tears. “Okay.” I turn and run to the Humvee.
The keys are in the ignition! I remember: Kana`ina forgot them there, distracted. God. I snatch them up and race back to Dad.
“Have them! Here!”
“Thank God.”
I fumble through the set, try the first few in the padlock. It’s obvious that none of these keys will fit in this lock. “No, no, no,” I mutter. I hold back a groan. “Oh, God, no.”
“They’re coming,” Dad says.
The words shoot through my heart like a bullet. I whip around, look toward the crater.
The sheriff and two other Hanamen pour into view, running at full speed down the slope, half obscured by the gathering haze.
“Lei, Lei. No use. Hon, you have to go.”
I drop the keys. “No.” I fumble. Drop them again.
I kneel to the ground, grab a rock. It’s `a`a, and it cuts into my palms. I rise and bang the rock against the padlock. But the `a`a just disintegrates with each contact.
I moan. I’m hysterical. I shake the bars of the cage. “OPEN!”
“LEI! Stop.” His voice lowers. He catches my eyes with his own, holds them. “Listen to me. You take those keys and you run. You hear me? I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me. You have what he wants. He won’t hurt me. I’ll tell him we agreed to this. He kills me, and you release the Orchids. Yeah?”
I shake my head. “He already called my bluff. He killed Tūtū. I won’t let him—”
“Lei.” Dad’s not asking. It’s an order. “Go. Find Mom and Kai before his men do. That’s your job now.”
I’m crying. But I nod. Mom. Kai. I find the dropped keys through my tears. Glance up the slope. They’re only two or three minutes away. I don’t see Buzz.
“Go, hon.”
“Dad.”
“I love you. Find them. We’ll figure this out. Just find them.”
“I love you.” We squeeze each other’s hands through the bars.
“Go.”
I nod and bolt away.
“Lei!”
I screech to a halt.
“Pop the tires on the other trucks. Hurry.”
My eyes widen. Yes. They won’t be able to follow. I race to the front of the fleet. Slash all four tires. I slash the tires of Dad’s truck and all four tires of the rear truck.
The sheriff and his men silently barrel nearer.
I jump into the Humvee, fumble with the keys. My heart is exploding in my chest. I find the right key, jam it in the ignition. The Humvee roars to life. I begin to turn around. Forward, reverse. Forward, reverse. Every time I look up, there’s Dad, staring at me, his grip white-knuckled on the bars. I scream my frustration and fear.
The sheriff bangs his fists against the passenger-side window. My scream changes pitch, and then I fall silent. He’s shirtless, banging with his knuckles. Blood smears the window. I continue my turn, launch over a boulder of pāhoehoe, and begin to jounce and jostle over the raw lava field. The sheriff jogs beside me, trying all the doors, cursing in Hawaiian and English. He bends to find a rock. Finally I double back onto the primitive road beyond the last truck, throw the stick into second, and punch the gas, leaving the sheriff in my dust.
A Hanaman has climbed on top of the vehicle. I hear him up there. But he doesn’t stand a chance. I drop into third, lurch, and accelerate. I go airborne. The Hanaman is bucked off of the roof.
A rock hits the back window, shattering it into a spider’s web. I scream myself hoarse as I rumble away, abandoning my father, my dead tūtū, Buzz, the raging volcano at my back, the swirl of green fire above.
CHAPTER 20
Mom. Kai.
Find them before they ride `Imiloa home and right into a trap.
It’s the only thing holding me together.
Mom. Kai. There’s still time.
Keali`i. Tami. Paul. Uncle Hank. They’re no match alone against a truckful of Hanamen. Please, be okay.
Dust and ash and cinders and smoke fall like a gentle drizzle of sleet. I pass the gate that only Buzz has a key to, and I brake, jump out. The gate latches. I press the lock closed, tr
apping everyone else on the inside. Might buy me valuable time, if Buzz isn’t with them. They can’t get a vehicle around either side of these posts. They’ll be coming in a truck. I should have taken more time to slash every spare. I glance at the blood smears on the passenger window: I barely escaped as it was.
I groan, knowing that Dad will be punished for this, even if he isn’t killed.
Mom. Kai.
I push all other thoughts away and drive. The paved Saddle Road is minutes away. I turn onto it and race toward Hilo at ninety miles an hour. The road descends sharply. I put the Humvee in neutral and coast, losing no speed. I have half a tank, but how much is that? Enough for me to get home. But after I rescue Mom and Kai, we flee until we run out of gas. Save gas now as much as possible.
Where do I go?
What if I’m stopped by Hanamen on my road before I reach them?
Aukina.
He’s a soldier. He has military training. Probably weapons. Kana`ina doesn’t know about him. His place is deep off the grid, surrounded by jungle.
I’ll be putting him in danger.
I bite my lip. The other truck of Hanamen will still be at the house if they haven’t found Mom and Kai yet. I can’t confront more men without him.
It’s not quite noon. Mom and Kai were going to spend the whole day with Sara and Chloe.
Stop at Aukina’s, I tell myself. He’ll know what to do. There’s no way Kana`ina will get a truck rolling by then, get that gate open, beat me home on three wheels. Even if he went straight for my place when he got back—I’ll beat him.
I nod in silence. Not sure it’s a plan, but it’s a start. I relax, but the images rush in. Grandpa. Buzz, sliding backward at high speed into the darkness, gripped in the sheriff ’s arms. Dad’s eyes, wild with fear, but not for himself.
I yell. My voice is torn.
* * *
I descend below the tree line and reach the highest outskirts of Hilo. The road grows windy, and I must slow down. Rusting, abandoned cars choke the shoulders, and I constantly pump the brakes.
It dawns on me: I’m rolling into town driving the sheriff of Hana’s flagship vehicle.
My grip on the wheel tightens. My windows are dark. If I blow by other Hanamen, I can probably get away with it. The sheriff does whatever he wants.
The air is clear at this elevation. Visibility is infinite as long as I’m looking out and not up. The world is still tinged in goblin green.
You have been busy.
I nearly slam on the brakes. Him. I steady my driving and concentrate: a mental wall. Shield my thoughts.
What are you doing? Such a low orbit. So bright. How did you release that meteor?
Ignore him. Don’t panic. It makes sense. The line between both Orchids and me is wide open. I’ve had no fits, no space-outs today, and yet we are close. Everything that has happened has happened while I was awake. It’s all different now. The gateway between our minds has opened wide.
I turn toward the zoo, zigzagging through the upper neighborhoods. God, Aukina, please be home.
I know you’re here. Talk to me.
Good. He can’t hear my every thought.
I’m currently unavailable. Call back later.
I release a hoarse laugh. That’ll annoy him.
Don’t ignore me!
Whatevah, dude.
A large crowd has gathered along the road ahead. I slow and follow their gazes as I pass. A perfect view of Mauna Loa’s slopes. The mounded summit sits above the inversion layer, where the debris from the pearl impact is mixing with the ash and sulfurous steam of the eruption. The geyser of lava is plainly visible below that layer, some twenty, thirty miles away. So serene and strikingly beautiful, small and silent in the distance. This fountain of Earth’s molten core is enormous, even from so far away. A lake of orange and black tar seeps down Mauna Loa’s sides. Nothing in the world can stop it. The flow doesn’t appear to be headed for Hilo, but how can I know? There hasn’t been an eruption on Mauna Loa since the eighties. That one missed Hilo. Still, it took days of worry before people knew they were safe.
I put my hands to my temples and squeeze. Oh, my God.
A voice answers. You think you’re Pele, don’t you? The Hawaiian goddess of lava, right? He finds this amusing.
If this guy were in front of me, I’d strangle him until his eyes bulged out of his purple face.
You can uncork the genie. But can you so easily put it back? Ha, ha.
I didn’t do this.
Yes, you did. You can’t handle any of this. Let me take over.
No, I think, not to him. What if this other person wrests control of the Star Flowers from me? He’ll unleash them. They’ll leave. The sheriff will kill Dad.
My throat stings, and I cough. The orange-and-black flood of lava advances. Tens of miles distant. How long would it take to get down here?
Buzz could calculate it.
I moan. He has to be okay. He has to. The sheriff wouldn’t murder a resource like him. He’s mad but not stupid.
I punch the gas and growl hoarsely. Just like Chewy. Dad’s Star Wars joke. I choke back a cry. Focus. Aukina. Mom and Kai. Keali`i. Tami. And then we go after Dad and Buzz.
I make a left, downhill, and see Hilo Bay.
The battleship is turning into view from the north, still miles out to sea.
I gawk at it as I fly down the hill. Is this how native islanders felt when they first spied the giant sailing ships of the first Europeans to reach the Islands?
They’re coming back. Everything’s going to change. Will they bring order? Stability?
They’ll spell doom for the sheriff of Hana. He’ll see it coming. He’ll use my dad any way he can. If he sees that his game is up, he’ll kill Dad out of spite.
Rescue Dad. Save Mom and Kai.
I race for Aukina’s homestead. He once drew me a detailed map that I burned into my mind. I spot each memorized landmark and turn into deep jungle. I rumble up to a clearing and cut the engine.
A goat corral, an open shed—a black water tank. The house has an unfinished roof draped by blue tarps. I forget caution as I jump out of the Humvee, stumble forward, catch my balance.
“Freeze! Right there!” A shot is fired. Above me.
I fall to the ground, doubled over. I can’t take it anymore. No other feeling comes close to describing the terror of a gun pointed at you. I hide my head in my arms, breathing mud.
“Holo! Wait!” Aukina yells. My entire body sighs with relief.
Feet shuffle in the mud. Aukina speaks urgently with someone. Then footsteps approach. He stands over me, cups my shoulders in his arms. “Lei, get up. It’s okay.”
I rise. I look up. We hold each other’s eyes for a moment, and then I throw my arms around him, squeeze, begin to sob.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“A Humvee?” Holo asks. “This window’s all bloody.”
“Lei, what’s going on?”
I take a deep breath. Stammer, start over. I grip his wrists as I face him and spill it out. “The sheriff of Hana, he kidnapped my dad and my tūtū. And Buzz. He killed my tūtū. Right in front of me. Shot him in the head. He’s going to our house after my mom and my brother. I need to save them. I— Aukina.”
He stares at me in shock.
“Aukina, please. I don’t know what I’ll do if you—”
“Shh,” he says gently. “Of course I’ll help you.”
I squeeze him tightly again, trembling. He’s so tall. His chin rests atop my head. I tuck my arms against his chest, and he folds his arms around me like a straitjacket. I finally feel contained. “Thank you,” I manage. “We have to go. Now.”
He lets go of me, looks at Holo. “Okay. Just…let me think.”
I back away, nod, lean against the grille of the Humvee. My hands go to my face. I feel naked without them there. I rest my fingers on my forehead, watch the two brothers talk though my cupped palms. They get into a hushed argument, then Aukina sends hi
s older brother away.
He turns back, comes close. “Holo can’t leave our parents alone here, not after you dragged this beast right to our door.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No. Don’t. That’s not what I meant. Just…what’s the plan?”
Mom. Kai.
“We have to get to a house several miles above mine. The one road that gets us there might be guarded by Hanamen, though.” I cough. My throat is sandpaper. I shouldn’t have screamed so much.
“How would we get by them?”
I ball my hands into fists, look at the ground. “I don’t know. This Humvee belongs to the sheriff, though. We could probably blow by anyone who would stop us.”
“The sheriff ’s Hummer? How’d you…?” His question dies.
Holo trots back to us wearing a backpack, a rifle slung over each shoulder, a leather holster dangling from his hand with a gun inside.
Everybody and their guns.
He transfers the pack and all of his weaponry over to Aukina. “Be. Smart. This better be short and sweet.” He eyes his brother harshly, then me.
I stare up at him. So tall. Just as handsome as Aukina.
“God, Aukina,” Holo says.
“I’ll be fine,” Aukina says. “In and out. Here, have some water.”
I guzzle the bottle he hands me. We jump into the Humvee. I turn around and speed toward home, glancing at the gas needle. Just below a third.
“This is the sheriff of Hana’s Hummer.” Aukina tests the words. “We’ll just blow right through town.” He leans back and swears at the ceiling under his breath. “Unless every other Tribe sees we’re without our entourage and thinks it’s the perfect moment to take us out.”
“Don’t forget the Manō in Papaikou,” I say. He groans.
“I’m hoping everyone will be distracted right now.”
“Yeah? How’s that? This Orchid thing? What’s it doing so low and bright?”
“That’s the baby,” I explain. “I got her.”
“Really? That’s good, right?”
I realize: he might not know about the new impact, the eruption; he’s been deep in the jungle today. “There was another meteor strike. Mauna Loa’s erupting.”
“Oh. Is that all?”