Blood Ocean (8 page)

They’d crossed several ships and were heading back round the Freedom Ship to the area of the Real People. The lagoon created around the Freedom Ship had an aeration fountain. As they watched, a slender black boat with several men wearing full-body SCUBA gear exited a hole in the side of the ship. The hole slid shut and the boat rumbled towards the fountain. One of the men held out a long catch rod with a bucket. He let it fill a moment, then pulled it back to where one of the other men took it and placed it in a sealed metal jar.

“Corpers,” whispered Spike.

“Has to be. Speaking of Minimata.”

“Think that’s what it is?”

Kavika grabbed her wrist. “Shh. Look.”

The man who’d just retrieved the water now had something new on the end of his long catch pole, a slender black cylinder. They watched as he extended it over the fountaining water, then upended it. For a moment the water turned black, then returned to normal.

“Mother Pele, what is
that
?”

“Maybe a cure,” Spike suggested. “Maybe they are close.”

Thoughts of his sister running and laughing as she’d once done soared through Kavika’s dark thoughts. “Could it be?”

“What else could it—”

Suddenly Spike shoved him out of the way, taking a club to the side of her head.

Kavika grabbed her as she slumped. He backed away, dragging her with him. When he saw who had attacked, his heart sunk.

Boxer!

As tall as Kavika, the Chinese man was double his age. Fine veins crawled around his slender muscles. His tonsured head held the long, telltale braid of his gang. A graying Fu Manchu mustache bounced above a mouth filled with filed and broken teeth, and he spat Chinese curses. He was shoeless and shirtless, with an old dragon tattoo on his chest; the only scrap of clothing he wore was a pair of faded black pants that frayed to nothing just above the ankles.

The Boxer lunged with the club, intent on catching Kavika in the head as well, but the Pali Boy was able to stay just outside the other’s reach. The Boxer swung again and missed, but so close that Kavika could feel the rush of air. In one arm he held Spike; the other he used to reach behind him, searching for the nearest ship’s rail.

The Boxer kicked out and followed the strike with a blow. Unable to block both, Kavika took the wood on his shoulder and immediately knew he shouldn’t have. The arm went limp and useless. Spike fell to the ground, still groggy from the blow she’d taken.

Fear lanced through him as he saw the blood seep from her wound, eagerly soaked up by the sun-bleached decking. If it was only him he might have fled, but he had to save Spike. So instead of retreating, Kavika did something that surprised both of them—he stepped into the Boxer’s guard and kicked out at the Chinese man’s knees. His opponent backpedalled, but Kavika kept up the attack, and the Boxer was barely able to keep from losing the use of a knee or splintering a shin. When he came to the edge of the lagoon, he planted his feet, blocked a kick and managed to swing his club wildly, and Kavika threw himself to the deck and swept with his foot, catching the Boxer at the left ankle. The Boxer twisted but managed to sink to one knee to keep from splashing into the lagoon; his wild eyes sought something to save him. He shouted something just before Spike’s foot caught him in the face, then shot off the boat and crashed into the water.

When Kavika climbed to his feet, he noticed that the man’s club had fallen, and was rolling towards the edge of the deck.

Kavika slid over and snatched it up, and then sprang to his feet and grabbed Spike with both arms just in time to keep her from falling again. Her eyes were still unfocused. He heard the Boxer thrashing, but didn’t take the time to look. He propelled Spike before him and found the nearest ship. Kavika slung himself over the rail, then dragged Spike across after him. They’d gotten almost to the other side of the ship when he spied two more Boxers coming after them. One he recognized from Akamu’s media stick.

The recognition must have shown on his face, because the other narrowed his eyes and shouted something to a third man.

Damn! Had they been following them intentionally or were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time? What were the odds?

“Spike—Spike!” He pinched her cheeks and shook her none too gently. “Come on!”

“Ungh.”

She could barely keep her head upright. Kavika gauged his position on the deck by where the other three stood. He had a single chance. If he’d been alone, he would have climbed into the rigging and been gone. But he had the responsibility of Spike and he couldn’t leave her, not after what they’d done to Akamu.

Against every iota of self-preservation he’d ever had in the fear factory of his soul, Kavika charged the nearest Boxer. A Hawaiian battle cry ringing, his newly acquired war club swinging madly above his head, he dragged Spike behind him by one arm.

The Boxer he’d targeted was leaning against the rail. For a moment he seemed ready to accept Kavika’s onslaught, then his grin fell as he glanced behind him at the water far below between the ships.

But it was far too late for him to move. Kavika let go of Spike, launched himself into the air and hit the Boxer in the chest, bowling him over the edge. Kavika managed to grab the rail and wrap his arm around it before he, too, was propelled over the side by his own momentum. The Boxer scrambled for a grip, but there was none to be had. He fell the dozen meters to the water, hitting with a hollow clap.

Kavika pulled himself back over and ran to Spike. The other two Boxers were advancing. Instead of hurrying, having seen what had happened to the others, they crept across the deck in a defensible crouch. Kavika looked at first one, then the other, trying to decide which one would get to him first. He’d always hated the idea of waiting. Without further thought, Kavika threw the club at the nearest one, then dragged Spike to the rail. He glanced down, saw what he’d hoped to see, and with a quick apology, slipped her over the rail until her feet dangled and let her go.

He would have liked to have had time to see how she hit, but he couldn’t spare the moment. Hesitation had proven to be the downfall of the others. No way was he going to make the same mistake. He leaped the rail and vaulted to the next ship, landing on an old icebreaker converted to a pleasure yacht. He sped to the cabin. Behind it was a smokestack one could see from many ships away.

The Boxers cursed behind him. Kavika risked a look; they were just pulling themselves over the railing. One fell and took a moment to gather himself, but the other came on strong.

It was time to do what Pali Boys were good at, regardless of what Kaja had told him. Three more strides and he leaped, catching hold of the vestiges of an old ladder on the side of the great smokestack. It was sizzling hot from the sun and never meant to be touched, much less transited. The cured sharkskin was as useless a protection for his palms as were the rubber soles on his feet. So like a lizard, he scrambled up the rough metal, careful to let his hands and feet make only the most fleeting contact. Still, the heat soon had him biting back tears and wincing.

Finally at the top, he pulled himself up the last few rungs and got his feet beneath him, staring down at the Boxers, who were unwilling or unable to follow him up the vertical shaft.

He gave them the double shaka, bit back the bile of his fear and laughed.

“You want me, you’re going to have to do better than that.” He felt the strain in his own laughter. He wasn’t used to bravado of this sort, and he knew that he’d end up paying for those words.

The top of the smokestack was supported by two sets of wires. One ran down and connected to the center of a deck where children played. One of the Boxers ran towards it, cancelling the possibilities for that route. The other cable ran into an enclosed cylinder built aboard the flat deck of an old trawler, which was the home of the Sky Winkers. Since he couldn’t ever remember them doing any harm to anyone, he chose that route and was soon sliding down the wire naked, using his shorts to protect his hands.

He gathered speed, dimly making out figures as he entered the darkness of the cylinder. Then he hit. He tried to tumble to dissipate the energy, but he only had a few feet before he slammed into the metal wall of the far side of the cylinder. He lay upside down, his vision blurry and jumbled, for a moment, until he was able to gather his bearings, then he let go of the shorts with his left hand and fell hard to the deck. He managed to stand on the second try, and wobbled as he pulled his pants on.

He began to hear whispering around the edges of the cylinder. Soon he understood the words.

Pali Boy.

He made a shaka and waggled his hand. “Aloha.” He gave his best and brightest smile.

A hunchbacked old man approached him. He wore a T-shirt that said
I Grok Science
. What little hair he had on his balding pate was long and white. His eyes were covered with strange goggles that had a single pinpoint hole from which he could see.

“Sorry, Uncle. I did not mean to interrupt you. I was being chased.”

“Chased is never a good state to be in. How is it you became the focus of such a thing?”

“Asking too many questions.”

“Ah. Just as in science, sometimes good questions require answers that make people uncomfortable. Was your question a good one?”

The old man took Kavika by the elbow as he spoke and escorted him down a set of stairs.

“It was a very good question, Uncle.”

“Good. Make people answer. Even when they don’t like to. Here, we need to take care of your hands. You’ve burned them.”

It was as if noticing caused his hands to begin throbbing. Pain surfaced and took over, causing him to grit his teeth.

They went down two flights into the hold of the ship. Kavika immediately felt the coolness. The lights were as low as they could go and the surrounding metal seemed to conduct the temperature of the ocean.

“You’ll have to forgive us. We abhor the light. It keeps us from seeing what’s in the sky, from communicating with those above.”

Kavika didn’t need an explanation. The eccentricities of the Sky Winkers was a common subject. Mostly it was because no one really knew what went on inside their ship. But also it was because of their constant vigil of the sky, their beliefs in something called a space station and the idea that it circled the earth with people inside of it.

They entered a large room with several families resting on scattered couches, many of them asleep.

Seeing his observation, the Sky Winker said, “We sleep during the day so we can be awake during the darkness.” He tapped his eyeglasses, which he took off as he was speaking. “These help us protect our eyes from the light. I’m sure you understand.”

“I wish I had something to protect me from the Boxers.”

The Sky Winker sat back and exhaled. “Boxers... nothing good there.”

“Name’s Kavika Kamilani.”

“Doctor Timothy Lebbon. Call me Leb. Here, let me see those hands now.” Leb had grabbed a first aid box and now gently spread a cream onto Kavika’s hands. It immediately began sucking out the heat.

Kavika relished the coldness of the medicine. “Ah.” He couldn’t help himself.

“This is only temporary. Be careful for the next few days. So what was the question?”

Kavika stared a moment, then grinned. “You mean the question that got me into trouble?”

Leb nodded.

“I was asking why a friend of mine was accidentally killed.”

“And you’re sure it was an accident?”

Kavika thought for a moment. He couldn’t be sure, but then he’d never contemplated that possibility. “Leb, what is it that
you
know about the Boxers?”

The Sky Winker stared into Kavika’s eyes as he began putting the medicine back in the box. “Knowledge is like pain. There’s only so much that can be done to conceal it. Once you have it you have it.”

“But I need to know. A friend of mine was blood raped, and he died because of it.”

“Nothing good there.”

“My sister has Minimata. If there’s any hope, it is in the blood rapes, no matter how terrible they are.”

“Nope. Nothing good there at all.”

“What are you saying?”

“These are not connected issues.”

“What does that mean? Are you saying that the blood rapes aren’t to find a cure?” he asked, his eyes screwed around the question.

Leb shook his head. “Not connected. Sorry, Pali friend, but I can say no more.”

Kavika sat back as the idea spread across what he knew of his own world like a fast moving cancer, covering it, devouring it, eating it whole. He’d always connected the two, because everyone else had. It was common knowledge. Blood rapes, monkey-backing and a cure for Minimata had all been intrinsically linked things, no matter how terrible they seemed. If this Sky Winker was to be believed, none of it was connected at all. And if the blood rapes didn’t exist to find a cure, then what were they good for?
Who
were they good for?

Now that he’d begun thinking about it, Kavika couldn’t get the thoughts of his mind.
Knowledge is like pain. There’s only so much that can be done to conceal it. Once you have it you have it.

And Kavika had it in spades.

If only he could get rid of it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HERE’D BEEN A
moment when Kaja had thought the boy lost. Then the youth had surprised everyone by dropping his best friend into the drink. The Boxers didn’t know how to take that. Then again, they weren’t used to dealing with too much outside the Freedom Ship. Neither were they familiar with the idea of someone, anyone, getting the best of them.

But as Donnie Wu often liked to say, the Boxers were a shadow of the people they’d once been. They’d named themselves ‘the Society of Righteous and Harmonious Fists’ after the Chinese who rebelled against English colonial rule in 1900, fighting for individuality and national identity. The old Pali Boy couldn’t understand how representatives of the longest surviving culture on the planet could lay at the feet of the residue of a Japanese Empire that had peaked with Samurai movies and the Kawasaki motorcycle.