The Islands at the End of the World Page 8

  “That’s fine,” Dad answers. “I’m sure we could make that work.”

  “Wha’ do I get for it? For the trouble?” He studies me. He turns briefly toward his friend at the tiller, and then his eye is right back on me.

  There’s a long pause.

  Dad says, “I can write you a check. I can promise to send you—”

  “No,” Rocky says, eye on me. I take a step closer to Dad. “No checks. I’m not interested in Monopoly money.”

  I think of Mom and Kai, and my gut turns. We can’t afford to let this opportunity fall apart. I squeeze Dad’s upper arm and say, “I … I have a really nice laptop computer.” My voice betrays my nerves. “We also have … top-notch climbing gear. You can keep our bags, too. They’re good backpacking bags.”

  “You have climbing gear,” Rocky says to me. “You want to give me your computer. That’s somethin’, innit, Nelson?”

  The other guy nods. He’s whittling a stick with a large knife. He watches me, too, but looks away each time I meet his gaze.

  “Does the gear come with lessons? Gonna strap me in?” He puts one foot forward and performs an awkward little grind, and his eye drifts from my chest … lower.

  Gross. My skin is crawling. My grip around Dad’s arm tightens, and I shrink back.

  Dad steps in front of me. He stares at the ground, and then he raises his chin, looking directly at Rocky. “Forget it. We’ll keep looking.”

  “Hey, no. We’re just teasing,” laughs Rocky. “We’re gonna be swinging by there anyway, right? Soon as Don shows up with stuffs, we can go. Leave in the morning.”

  “Dad,” I say.

  He squeezes my shoulder and I know he wants me to stay quiet.

  “No, thanks, Rocky.” We turn and walk away.

  “Then stay here an’ rot!” he calls over to us. “No one else is gonna help you without a price. We ain’t askin’ much!”

  He didn’t just say that. Kill me now.

  Dad and I pick up our pace. We arrive at the promenade at the entrance to the marina, and Dad sits down on a bench. He wipes sweat off his brow and his untamed new beard with the base of his T-shirt.

  “What a nightmare,” he mutters. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do.” His voice rises.

  I can’t stand to see him so helpless. “This almost worked,” I say. “It was a good idea. Come on; we can find other places to check.”

  He offers me a forced smile.

  “Hey! HEY! NO!” A stocky man with a potbelly and a tight polo shirt thunders down the promenade from the street. He waves a pistol as he shouts. Dad instinctively shields me as the man runs past us. “Stop. STOP THAT! RIGHT NOW!”

  A man and a woman jump out of the way as the runner barrels past them, turning onto a narrow dock. At the end of the dock, a young man in a tank top pushes an eighteen-foot sailboat out into the water and leaps on board. Another man yanks frantically at the rip cord of the boat’s outboard motor. The boat turns slowly away from the dock.

  The man with the gun reaches the end of the dock. “GET OFF MY BOAT! NOW!”

  The thieves duck low, the motor roars to life, and the boat lurches forward. The man fires his gun four times. The skull of one thief pops on one side, spraying a shower of blood against the boat’s mainsail. The body crumples forward. The boat veers at full throttle and plows into another sailboat.

  The gunman lowers his arm and stands still as a statue. The second thief dives into the water and splashes away. Meanwhile, the outboard motor is still on, groaning with effort as it wedges the boat between the neighboring sailboat and dock.

  Large clumps of blood-soaked brain matter slide down the white canvas of the sail. I let out a whimper.

  “Lei, come on.” Dad tugs on my sleeve.

  My whimper slowly rises. My heart is pounding in my chest. I feel short of breath. Dad says something, but the words don’t make any sense. I feel like I’m underwater. It rushes at me this time.

  It is a good thing. At last, I am ready. I may begin.

  The bright sunlight flickers. “Oh, no. Dad …,” I moan. And then I’m

  May the light of the gods dawn on me like the rising sun.… Come to me like the creeping of lava, and may this sacred ceremony of the ali`i bring me meditation and release.

  “Lie down, honey. You’re fine. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Dad’s left hand is wrapped in a white hotel hand towel that has grown red with bloo

  This is right. I am here. It is time. And this one spits fire. It oozes the heat. This one has not warmed before. I will linger, then, as I have done on other shores, and we both shall have our fill.

  feeling? Better? Keep resting, Lei.” Dad wipes the sweat off my brow. His left hand is still wrapped in a towel. White. I turn and grope for the sheets. The sun is shining in through a crack in the long drapes. The room feels as stuffy as a sauna, but I’m so cold. So col

  I can feel it slipping. This is my privilege. This is my purpose.

  I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s dark. Our hotel room. The curtains are pushed aside and the door to the balcony is wide open. A gentle breeze whispers across the hairs of my arms. I can hear sirens, ubiquitous like coqui frogs, strangely reminding me of home. Distant shouts. Pops that I now recognize as gunfire. Dad sits on the lanai and faces the ocean. The moon is nearly full and the sky glows a dark blue with tendrils of green behind almost-white clouds. I see a shooting star race beyond the horizon. There are only half a dozen boats in the bay.

  I approach silently. I’m almost outside when Dad notices me. He springs to his feet. “Hi,” he says gently. “You sleep like a teenager.”

  “Hi.” I look down.

  “How are you doing?” he asks.

  “I feel okay. But I’m starving. What time is it?”

  “Late. Sunday.”

  Another long one. I’m used to being out for twelve hours or so. But a day and a half?

  “You’ve had two seizures since the marina. Do you remember the marina?”

  The image of that man’s head spraying open, and the blood-smeared sail, will never leave my mind. “Yes. But nothing since then.” Tears well up in my eyes. I brush them aside but they keep coming. I let them.

  Dad embraces me. “You’re okay, Lei. It’s all over. You’re fine.”

  “How’d we get back here?”

  “I carried you. Someone at the marina helped us to the car. I got you up here myself. It was a quarter to noon, so the key card still worked. Haven’t left since.”

  “What happened to your hand?” He’s only hugging me with his right arm. I remember seeing blood.

  He hesitates to answer. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. It’s nothing.”

  “Did I bite you?” Panic wells up. Did I bite his fingers when he was trying to keep me from choking?

  “It’s nothing. Please.”

  “HOW BAD IS IT? What’d I do?”

  He quickly unwraps the towel around his hand to show me. “Relax, honey! It’s not a big deal, see? See?”

  I examine his hand. The first two fingers are cut near the second knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop it, Lei. I’m okay. Please, relax. Go back to bed. We’re getting out of here in the morning. Keep resting up.”

  I step out onto the lanai and take a deep breath. No sound of generators. But there are sirens everywhere. Shouting. Car alarms. I look right, toward downtown, and see at least three separate fires billowing black smoke into the night. “What happened?”

  “It’s started. The looting. Everything. Lei, please. Get some more sleep. We leave here tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” As I turn to enter the room, I notice silent lightning bolts infrequently flashing across the petals of the Emerald Orchid.

  “Dad, are you seeing this?”

  He pats my shoulder. “The atmosphere is putting on a hell of a show.”

  “Why?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.” I’m stoking his anxiety, I re
alize, and I silently step back inside.

  “Eat something real quick,” he suggests. “Take your meds.”

  I can’t look at him. I can’t bear to see his kindness and patience.

  The bathroom light won’t turn on, so I use my cell phone to see what I’m doing. At least it’s good for that much. I shake a pill into my hand and attempt to turn on the faucet. Nothing.

  “Water doesn’t run anymore. Try the minibar,” Dad suggests from the door. “Grab a candy bar while you’re at it. It’s on the house.”

  Our backpacks and other bags are arranged neatly in one corner of the room. Heaped beside them in a pile are my computer, our snorkeling gear, my schoolwork, and Dad’s thick folders of graded exams among the now-useless junk. Dad’s been busy while I was out. I wonder how many times he idly rifled through the bags, endlessly organizing and reorganizing our food and gear while he waited for me to wake up.

  “Did you pack my Hawaiiana book?”

  “It’s in your bag. Don’t worry.”

  I wonder what it must have been like for him to haul me off the pier and get me safely back to the hotel in the first place.

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  He smiles. “Eat up, hon. You’re wasting away. Then back to bed. Okay?”

  I take a few moments to eat a Snickers and a bag of corn chips. I wash down my evening pill with a can of warm cola, and then I drift back to sleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  A piercing buzz rockets through my ears. White, flashing lights batter my eyelids. Oh, no, again? Already? “Leilani, wake up! Come on.” I can barely hear words over the buzz.

  I’m being gently shaken. Dad is standing over me. It’s still dark, but white lights flicker on and off at regular intervals. The lanai door is wide open, and a gentle breeze soothes my sweaty face. I hear nothing but the ungodly alarm. A fire alarm? “Time to go,” he says. “Now!”

  I sit up, scrambling up the muddy walls of the dark, murky pit where my mind has crouched. “What time is it? What day?”

  “Nearly five o’clock Monday morning.” Dad hands me some clothes. “Come on. The bags are ready. We just have to get down to the car.”

  “Is there really a fire?” I pull on the shorts and T-shirt he’s thrust upon me.

  “Yes. They’ve been torching things up and down the beach all night.”

  What? “Who?”

  “The Anti-Tourist Brigade. Please, hurry!” Dad yanks our phones out of the wall and stuffs them and their chargers into his pockets.

  I swing my backpack onto my shoulder and buckle the waistband. The smell of smoke drifts into the room from the lanai.

  “Now.”

  We dart out of the room, each of us with a backpack and a duffel and tote bags filled with our food. The neighboring door bursts open, and a mother with two boys flees down the hallway. A man shouts after them from the room, “We’re right behind you!” and the door closes.

  The lights in the hallway are making me dizzy.

  Dad’s reading my mind. “Are you okay with the lights?”

  I gasp and freeze in the hallway. Dad bumps into me. “What? What is it?” he asks.

  “My pills. Did you pack them? They were in the bathroom.”

  Dad grows pale. “Shoot. No!” He turns back to the door and tries to open it. Locked.

  “Oh, no,” I mumble.

  Dad freezes. He laughs nervously. “I think I left the car keys in there, too.”

  He fumbles through his pockets with his good hand while navigating around the hip strap of his pack. He pulls the key card into view and swipes it through the reader on the doorknob. No response. Again. Nothing.

  From the room next to ours, a man and another boy emerge into the hallway, rolling two suitcases. They race away into the flashing darkness.

  “It’s expired,” Dad says. “We can’t get in.”

  Almost without thought, I press my hand against the closing door of the neighboring room. “Do you remember if there’s a connecting door we can break down?”

  “Good thinking.” We push into the room.

  “Nothing. Dammit.”

  The smell of smoke is stronger. A helicopter zooms past the lanai. I gasp. “Wait,” I say. My heart’s pounding as a new idea takes root within my mind. Calm down, I think. You have to stay calm.

  I drop my bags and take off the pack. I walk out onto the lanai, nervous and hopeful.

  Dad follows me outside and freezes. “Lei. That’s crazy. Stop.”

  I stare at our lanai, my mind strangely focused. The alarm isn’t so bad out here, and I can finally hear myself think. The petals of the Emerald Orchid are brighter than ever, and they bathe the side of the tower in eerie green light. The balconies have high lips, crowned with decorative handrailings. The distance between them is about eight feet. There’s a very thin molding running along the wall, but no one could sidle along it without falling off. My eyes turn back to the distance between the lips. If I stood up on top of this wall, I could probably jump far enough to grab on to the next railing.

  Probably isn’t good enough when you’re a famished epileptic surrounded by flashing lights and you’re twelve stories off the ground in a burning building.

  “Lei, come on. It was worth a thought, but it’s no good.”

  “I need those meds, Dad. I need them.” Several lanai lengths to the right, I can see black smoke billowing out of the fourth- or fifth-floor windows.

  “We can look for more, hon. I’m sure we can walk right into nine out of ten pharmacies tonight and—”

  “And how will you get to them? Just wander around on foot with all these bags? We need the keys, too!”

  “Lei, we’ll find another car. This is crazy. We have to get out of here, now!” He’s either angry or scared, but it all sounds the same.

  I’m angry, too. “You’re going to walk up to the first car parked along the curb and flip down the visor and catch a set of keys?”

  “Leilani! You can’t jump that gap. I can’t jump that gap. End of argument!”

  My idea grows wings. I smile, and when I answer, my tone is relaxed. “We still have the climbing gear?”

  Dad nods. “I thought maybe we could trade it.”

  I run back into the room and yank what I’ll need out of my pack.

  Dad doesn’t protest. He studies the balconies. I won this one, I think, and the thought is followed by a surge of adrenaline. I throw on my harness and run a double figure-eight knot through the loops.

  I rush back onto the lanai.

  “That fire’s crept up another flight. We—”

  “Put this on,” I interrupt. Dad slips into his harness like a pro.

  The now-familiar pop of a gunshot startles me. That was close. I follow the sound across the gardens to the neighboring hotel tower. A flickering light comes from a window several floors down, followed by rapid gunfire.

  Is someone gunning people down? I turn back to Dad, the question plastered all over my face. He’s staring across the divide with naked shock.

  “Dad.”

  He shakes himself back to attention. “Quick!” We check each other’s harness straps, and then I hand him the carabiner and the belay device.

  “No,” he says. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you do it.”

  “Dad, I can’t belay your weight the way you can belay mine. And your hand’s hurt. How are you going to grab on to the railing with one hand?”

  “Leilani.”

  “No time, Dad. Just give me plenny slack.”

  “Oh, God,” he moans.

  I step onto a chair, psyching myself up to stand on the wall.

  “Wait!” Dad says. “Loop the rope over the lanai above.”

  “Dad, I’ve got this. It’s just like the uneven bars.”

  “If you miss, you could fall out of your harness. I don’t—”

  “I won’t miss.”

  Dad groans. I wait until he’s
sitting on the ground with his feet planted at an angle up against the low wall and the rope doubled through his belay device and choked off with two loops around his good hand, and then I stand up on the edge of the lip, my feet balanced just below the railing. My chest is pounding. My senses are sharp, and I focus on my target like a sniper.

  Another round of gunfire. My eyes dart to the chilling flicker of light. A different window. What are they doing?

  Dr. Makani’s voice echoes in my head: “Seizures can be induced by stress. You need to avoid any adventures …”

  Way too late for that. I glance down and see tongues of flame pushing smoke out of more windows. A coast guard boat in the bay attempts to reach the hotel’s burning facade with its fire hoses, falls short. The ground—I might as well be a mile high.

  My pills. I can’t go on like this, and we’re not going anywhere without the keys.

  I look at Dad. He has pulled the rope tight against his right hip, locking the belay device. Ten feet of rope dangle in a loop below me. I’m ready. Dad wears a look of pure agony.

  I focus on the handrail eight feet away. If you were doing this six feet off the ground, you wouldn’t even hesitate. Piece of cake.

  I step up onto the handrail, leaning my weight forward into thin air, and I leap.

  My hands latch firmly onto our lanai’s railing as my feet dangle against the wall, desperately seeking purchase.

  “Leilani!” Dad shouts. He can’t see me because he’s locked in place on the floor.

  “Got it! Don’t move.”

  “Thank God.”

  More gunfire. I pull up with my arms and shoulders and swing my left leg around enough so that I can jam my foot between the wall and the handrail. The rest is muscle and sheer determination. I pull myself over the edge to solid ground without a hitch.

  “I’m in. I did it!”

  Dad stands up. From across the gap, he eyes me with terror and triumph and pride.

  “Didn’t even need the rope.”

  “Go! Now!”

  I dart into our dark room, aided by alternating red and white lights, snatch my meds, toiletry kit, and the keys. Gunfire. The alarm buzzing. Hunted. Every muscle begs to flee.