Gunfire erupts above.
CHAPTER 5
The Hanaman’s light searches the water’s surface. I fight off panic. I can’t see anything down here. If we turn on the light they’ll know right where we are. But it’s too late to change course. Bullets crack. I hear them enter the water and decelerate, a muffled whoov, whoov.
My legs are propellers. I see the slabs of lava just before barreling into them. I use my free hand—still dragging a bag of slippahs—to claw my way forward along the floor.
Someone dives into the water. He rushes overhead, a shadow against the distant glow of the Orchid, races in the opposite direction. He thinks he’s going to overtake us as we bolt toward open sea.
But I’m leading us straight toward the man with the gun.
The flashlight scans the water in broad strokes. I steer to the right, motoring along the bottom. The bullets will fly as soon as we surface. We should have given up our stuff.
I scissor my legs through the water, pulling Keali`i after me. I can sense that the boulders and jacks are near now. I hold out my free arm to feel my way forward. A horrid thought fuels my panic: if I die, the world dies with me. I want to surface and beg for forgiveness. But even if they spare my life, they’ll put a bullet in Keali`i’s head. I’ve ruined everything. What if they were only going to take our stuff and let us go?
My lungs burn fiercely.
I see the boulders. The hole! I shimmy into it. I want to let go of Keali`i and use both hands to pull myself along, but we’ll lose each other. I do my best with one hand, my bag of slippahs still looped around my elbow. The chute forces my friends into a tight line behind me. Gentle dolphin kicks now. I’m a blind mermaid squeezing into my own tomb, and I’m dragging two people into death with me.
A wave pummels the breakwater, carrying me forward in a sudden rush. I can’t see anything now; the shadows are overpowering my fragile night vision. My dive mask is fogged. My lungs clench. I let out a burst of air. A mistake. My lungs grow more ravenous. Any second I’ll breathe in water.
I thrust blindly forward, panic building, hit my head against concrete. My slippahs claw against my ribs, pressed against me. I let go of Keali`i, flailing. I bang my shin, my elbow. I just want to go up. I don’t care about the Hanamen. I need to breathe. But I can’t see. There’s no path upward.
I’m dying! I’m going to drown!
I’m fading. Dizzy.
But there’s light. I can see. Is the Hanaman shining his flashlight into the breakwater? Has Tami clicked on the dive light? I can see a narrow path. I shimmy forward, reach upward. My hand breaks the surface. My head follows. I gasp. A wave hits my face and I’m submerged again, only for a second. I cough and gasp.
Shouting. But not directly above.
I’m hunted. I can feel the slippahs crawling along my chest, spiny legs poking through the mesh bag, but I don’t dare move.
Tami surfaces beside me, Keali`i on the far side of the slab. Thank God! They each gasp. It’s so loud that I reach out and cover Tami’s mouth.
“SHHH!”
Why can I see them so well? “Is the light on?” I whisper.
“No, I’ve got it right here.” Tami holds it up. It’s off.
The gunman scans the water with his light. We sit tight.
“Good thinkin’, Lei,” Keali`i whispers.
Another wave fills the cavities. I take off my mask and rinse it out when the water level lowers. I defog with my spit and put it back on. I’m still wearing my fins, which makes for an awkward perch for my feet, but I might need to rush away through the water at any instant. If they find us down here, they could riddle us with bullets.
“They’re gone, Two Dog. They had fins. Let it go, eh?” I hear one of the men say.
“Two Dog?” snickers Keali`i. “What kind of name is that?”
We wait. They wait. The three dry Hanamen pace. The swimmer scrambles up the boulders. The group huddles nearby; I can see them and hear their breathing.
We grow very still. “If I only had a gun,” Keali`i whispers.
Thank God you don’t, I think. They’d retaliate with all they have.
“Goddammit,” Two Dog grumbles. “How hard was that? Dumbass.”
“I don’t get it,” the swimmer says. “Got away just as it got bright out.”
“Yeah.” Two Dog pauses. “Goddamn Orchid.”
Tami studies me, a frown deepening along her brow. Is she thinking the same thing as me?
Did you make it brighter? I ask.
We are different than darkness.
“Hey, what’s that?” one of them asks. Have they sniffed us out? Should we bolt?
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Two Dog whistles. “Sailboat.”
Sailboat? I slowly turn. I can’t see anything.
“Never have noticed if it weren’t so bright,” one says.
“Come on, screw the kids.”
“Hauling in a whole sailboat! Just the four of us!”
They hoot and spring away. Two Dog barks, though. “No, Dale. Stay here. One hour. Make sure those pricks don’t slither back the moment we’re gone. Lay low.”
Two Dog and the two men flanking him stride away. Dale plops down on the top of the jack a few feet above us. He stares out to sea.
“Let’s go,” Keali`i whispers.
“Now? It’s better to wait it out.” I’m still trying to figure out if the Orchid has really grown brighter. I didn’t know she could do that.
Tami nods. “I can’t keep fighting the waves like this.”
I sigh. “Okay. Let me see if I can find a way forward.”
“No!” Keali`i says. “Back the other way. The water’s too calm; we’ll be spotted on that side.”
“But this Dale guy is staring straight out the other way, looking for us.”
Keali`i shakes his head. I clench my jaw. I know I’m right. I also know just how to change his mind. “If we go in, we could warn the sailboat not to dock. Screw these guys even more.”
Keali`i grows still. “Now you’re talking.”
I duck beneath the water and use the intensified light in the night sky to see if there’s a workable way out of this jumble on the bay side. The shadows of interlaced boulders give way to greenish windows of open water. I resurface. “Follow me.”
Another wave hits the breakwater. Our watery foxhole gurgles and fills with sloshing sea foam. We suck in lungfuls of air as the water rises around us, and then we push downward into the briar patch of concrete and rock.
The extra light makes all the difference. I’ve cleared the boulders and have entered Hilo’s inner bay. My lungs burn. I angle upward and continue kicking. I surface slowly, my snorkel first, then my mask, then my chin. I silently spit out the mouthpiece, draw in a blissful breath, turn, and study the wall.
I’m not as far as I thought. I see Dale clearly, the bottoms of his feet facing me, his stomach on the ground like a sniper. Twenty feet away.
He has no idea all three of us passed right beneath him. I smile.
It’s clear now that Dale would have seen our heads bobbing in the waves on the other side of the breakwater.
He still could, if he turns around. Everything’s so bright!
Turn off, I think.
Nothing happens.
I glance at the Orchid and gasp. She’s never been so vivid. She’s as bright as a full moon, with twice as many wisps and folds and folding ribbons as I’ve ever seen. The purple highlights among some of her folds are clearer than ever.
Turn off, I command, but her brilliance remains. Maybe she’s like stadium lights: she can only dim slowly.
Keali`i surfaces. Then Tami. She’s closer to the breakwater and makes a conspicuous splash. She grunts. “Lei, I—”
“Shh,” I whisper. “One more dive. We’re still too close.”
I take another deep breath and drop. A chunk of debris floats on the water just ahead. I swim beneath it and surface on its far side. Perfect cover. Part of the marquee to the
bay front’s old movie theater. There’s a faded “L” square still fastened into the plastic tracks, but that’s it. What title would have had an “L” in it? I have no idea. But I swear I suddenly smell popcorn.
My friends pop up to the dark surface.
“Lei, Tami got cut,” Keali`i says. “It’s pretty bad.”
“Where?”
“My thigh,” she says. “Right below my shorty. Coming through one of those turns. Scraped an exposed piece of rebar.”
“Are you okay?”
She adjusts her mask and tries to hold on to the marquee. “It hurts. Feels gross, deep. Pretty sure I need stitches.”
A stab of fear. Blood in the water.
I look at Keali`i; he’ll know if we’re in trouble. Sharks?
He shrugs. “Look, they’re here. Hammerheads and tigers are common. They do come in. Black tips, white tips…barracudas, too.”
“Oh, God,” Tami moans. “Get me out of the water. Now.” Her voice rises. If she panics, the Hanaman might hear us even at this distance.
I look at the breakwater. “I don’t like it, but we have to go back.”
“I can handle him,” Keali`i says. “It’s three on one. We sneak up behind him, I clock him with my weight belt. End of story.”
“What if he starts shooting?”
“He’ll never know what hit him.”
I frown—it’s never that simple.
“Guys, come on. I’m bleeding a lot.” Tami’s voice wavers.
I turn to Keali`i. “Don’t kill him. Promise me.”
“They were trying to kill us.”
“I know. We’re better than them. Just…promise.”
“Fine. I won’t do anything on purpose. Just pound ’im and knock ’im out.”
The dark below me feels like one giant mouth, closing in on our legs. “Okay. Back to the breakwater.”
Keali`i draws in a deep breath. I brush his leg with my fin.
He yelps and launches half out of the water. Tami and I bark.
“Guys, that was just my fin,” I whisper. “It was me.”
Too late. The Hanaman rises. “Hey!” he shouts. “Got you!”
“It’s over.” Keali`i curses.
“Kea, I’m so sorry. I—”
“Whatevah. It almost worked. But this is nuts. Tami needs help.”
“No.” Tami shakes her head. “I’m not going to be the reason this falls apart.”
I can’t help thinking, But she could be the reason we suddenly get eaten.
“Hey!” the Hanaman shouts. “Come here! Now!”
Tami’s eyes narrow. “No. We’re not going to him.”
“Tami,” I say. “We can’t stay in the water.”
“Follow me,” she says. “Stay back a bit. Just in case.”
Tami jettisons her weight belt and swims away. Keali`i and I share a look of confusion. Visible on the water against the Orchid’s brilliance, a sailboat turns into view around the far end of the breakwater. It’s moving slowly—there’s only a light breeze.
Tami’s going to intercept the sailboat.
“Tami! Wait!” I shout. She doesn’t hear, or she’s too determined.
“Why’s she doing that?” Keali`i asks, mouth agape.
“She doesn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Let’s go get her. She’s completely lōlō.”
Distantly the Hanaman continues with his empty threats. “This is my last warning! Get over here, now!” He fires a round from a pistol. Keali`i and I flinch.
I unstrap my weight belt in a flash and hold it out to Keali`i.
“Drop it,” he says.
I let it go and turn to swim away. Keali`i grabs my leg and pulls me back. I yelp again. Sharks—barracudas—could be swarming us. Or they could be miles away.
“Lei,” Keali`i says. “Don’t follow her directly.”
My eyes widen. Tami, out there all alone, churning up the water in noisy fits, her blood pluming out behind her.
“Fine. But if a feeding frenzy starts, we’re all goners anyway.”
“Give me your lobsters,” Keali`i says. He has the other full bag of slippahs around an elbow, the dive light in his hand. “Catch her. I’ll follow. Reach the boat before it overshoots us.”
The Hanaman lets off another round.
The mainsail of the sailboat flutters. The boat is turning away from the breakwater. Whoever’s piloting it must think the shots are being fired at them.
“Go!” Keali`i shouts.
I fly over the water, my fins like rockets. I push the fear away, focus on my breathing. If something comes from below, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I hear Tami shouting, “Wait! Stop! Help!”
I swim hard. We’re in trouble if we can’t catch it, if we can’t get on board. Coconut Island is far to my left, connected to shore by a footbridge. We could reach it after a long swim, if the sharks don’t find us, but the Tribe will be in that very area.
We’re putting a lot of faith in whoever’s on this yacht. Could be anybody. I haven’t seen a new sailboat in weeks. Those that come get commandeered by the Tribes and fitted with tribal flags. The crews are tossed overboard or killed.
“Stop! Please!” Tami yells.
I slow. My side cramps with pain; my lungs and my throat burn. When I raise my head to catch a glimpse of the boat, it seems impossibly far away. Whoever’s on board may not even know we’re in the water.
I stop and catch my breath. Tami’s still swimming, just ahead. Keali`i chugs along behind me. I watch the sailboat. It’s a sixteen-footer. Nothing too big. What are they doing here? Folks from Kaua`i, migrating to the Big Island like everyone else? The bottom half of the flag is one solid color. Along the top, stripes radiate from a five-pointed star. I know that flag from visiting the Southwest.
Arizona.
A sailboat from Arizona?
This boat’s from the mainland.
Adrenaline charges through me. I need to talk to the people on that boat.
I bring my fingers to my lips and force a piercing whistle. I whistle again and scream, “STOP! HELP US!”
I turn to Keali`i. “Shine the light at them!”
I charge forward in the water, reach Tami. She pauses and watches me swim past. My friends shout pleas; Keali`i’s dive light illuminates the boat in jostled circles. In the distance the Hanaman is silent. Either he’s given up or he’s racing back along the breakwater to his gang. He knows that if we reach the boat, we all get away.
A figure along the port side of the sailboat. The mainsail swings to the side; the boat turns to port. They’re stopping! I barrel toward them.
“Please, help!” I shout as I reach the hull.
“Who are you?” A woman.
“I’m”—I cough—“just a girl. My two friends…chased. For fishing without permission. They’re gonna get you, too. You can’t dock here.”
Silence.
The woman says, “Wait there.”
“My friend is bleeding badly. Please, we need to get out of the water.”
“Wait there.” She disappears. Another figure is at the tiller, frozen.
Tami swims beside me. “What are we waiting for?” she’s panicky. “Let’s go!”
“Shark!” Keali`i screams. “SHARK!”
“Oh, God.” Tami claws at the prow of the boat, pulling herself up.
Electricity surges along my spine. I scan the waves. Every shadowy crest looks like a dorsal fin. I slap the side of the boat. “Get us out of here NOW!”
The woman returns, pointing a gun. I want to scream, but it comes out as more of a whimper. It never ends.
“Hurry! What are you doing?” Tami cries. “I’m cut, bad. PLEASE GET ME OUT OF THE WATER!”
“Pull her out,” the woman with the gun says to her companion. “Slowly. Make sure she’s not hiding anything.”
Tami chokes back sobs. The other figure, a man, lowers a metal ladder off the stern. Tami and I paddle to it.
“N
o quick movements. You hear? From either of you.” The woman with the gun is nervous.
Tami removes her fins and hands them to the man. She pulls herself up and tenderly swings her legs into the boat with a grunt and a moan. She outran the sharks. Bravest thing she’s ever done, swimming away from dry land with a gushing leg.
Keali`i is yelling. I only hear one word: “Fin.”
I jump out of my skin. The gunwoman’s “slow and steady” command is the last thing on my mind. I leap for the ladder and pull myself up, use my knees on the rungs and awkwardly flip into the boat with my fins.
Keali`i!
I look at the bald guy hovering over me. “We need to get him up here!”
Fin. He saw a shark.
The bald man nods, throws the boom of the mainsail wide. He pushes the tiller in the opposite direction. The sail and the jib fill with air, and we cut left. The woman lowers the gun, her eyes everywhere at once—on us, on her shipmate, on the water.
I rip off my fins and spring to my feet. Keali`i’s easy to spot, his dive light bobbing on the surface. He’s still, drawing the boat toward him with a tractor beam gaze.
He’s white as a haole. He saw something.
We glide beside him to port. The woman puts her pistol on the deck and leans over the rails, arm outstretched. We slow with a jerk. Keali`i reaches up and clasps the waiting hand of his rescuer. I scramble, hopping over Tami, and help the woman pull Keali`i, his dive light, and two big bags of slipper lobsters into the boat.
“Hoo!” Keali`i sighs. “Shark fo’ sure.”
My heart pounds. “Keep going,” I tell the bald man. “Don’t slow down.”
“Hold on a sec,” he says. “You’re—”
“Listen,” I interrupt, “you’ve been spotted by some very bad people. They plan to take your boat. If they have a motorboat waiting back in one of those inlets, they could still catch you. They’re armed.”
“And they’re good at what they do,” Tami adds.
“Ha,” says Keali`i. “Not as good as us. You did it, Tami!”
“Go,” the woman says, waving to the man. She retrieves her gun. Her grip is white-knuckled.
“Rachel—” the bald guy starts.
“Just go,” she says. “We’ll figure it out.”