Night of the Howling Dogs (14 page)

Mr. Bellows lay in the dirt.

We ran up and knelt around him, Ramos and McCreedy with first-aid gear. They asked Casey to move aside and went to work. Ramos lifted Mr. Bellows’s closed eyelids and checked his pupils, then listened to his chest and glanced up at McCreedy. “Weak.”

“We thought we were losing him,” Masa said.

“We did all we could,” Reverend Paia said. Mike stood at his side, eyes empty.

Ramos looked up at Reverend Paia. “How long has this man been out?”

“An hour, maybe less.”

“Come,” Ramos said to Louie.

Louie got up and together they hurried down to the helicopter. McCreedy stayed with Mr. Bellows. “You his son?” he asked Casey, and Casey nodded. “He’ll be all right,” McCreedy said. “I’m sure of it.”

Casey closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Ramos and Louie came back with a stretcher and, along with McCreedy, eased Mr. Bellows onto it. McCreedy needled a tube into Mr. Bellows’s arm. The tube ran up to a bag of liquid. McCreedy handed the bag to me. “Hold this above his body.”

Casey, Louie, and I followed them down to the helicopter and got Mr. Bellows settled in the cabin. Ramos radioed for medical instructions.

“Case,” I said. In that moment I felt a million miles away from him. I didn’t know what to say. I put my hand on his shoulder. He was trembling. “You okay?”

He nodded.

But he wasn’t. I could feel his terror.

McCreedy’s eyes were blue and comforting. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get him to a hospital as quick as we can.”

“Stay with him,” Ramos said to McCreedy, then tapped me and motioned toward another stretcher. I gave Casey’s shoulder a squeeze and jumped out after Ramos. McCreedy and Louie handed down the stretcher. I limped uphill.

Back up at the gathering site, Mike and Reverend Paia with his one good arm were picking things up, getting everyone ready to head to the helicopter.

Dad squatted with Masa and Cappy, trying to help Lenny. The other two paniolos were still with the horses. They’d recovered all five saddles.

Ramos dropped down next to Masa. Dad moved aside as Ramos went to work to stabilize Lenny’s broken bones. Lenny was pale, his humor gone.

I turned and saw Louie and Casey slowly making their way over the rocks with another stretcher. Casey’d tossed his cane, taking the pain in his knee. It was good to see him up and moving. Worrying wasn’t doing him any good.

Slowly, we managed to get everyone into the helicopter. We all drank water.

Louie and I jumped out with Masa and took canteens to the two paniolos with the horses. Masa’s plan was that Cappy would go with Lenny in the helicopter, and the three of them would take the horses back up the trail, hoping there was enough trail left to make it to the top. From there they’d ride up to the Volcano House and call the ranch for a horse truck.

Masa handed the two paniolos canteens. They drank, then poured some into their hands for the horses.

“You think there’s much of a trail left?” Masa said.

“If no got, we make um,” one of them said.

Masa turned to me and Louie. “You boys come up and see us sometime, okay? We friends now, us. So you come. We put you on a couple horses and take you to places people rarely see.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll do it.”

Louie nodded.

Masa pointed at him. “For sure, ah?”

Louie put a hand on his heart. We’d never forget what we shared here at Halape.

Masa grinned and touched his forehead with two fingers in salute. The paniolos mounted and headed out, picking their way up the trail, Masa sitting straight in his saddle.

Minutes later, the copter lifted off and left Halape behind.

A nightmare, fading.

Flying out, we huddled like the wounded being evacuated from a war zone. We were lucky. It could have been a whole lot worse.

The landscape passed by below. The desolate coast, the scorched scrub brush, the fingers of black lava that snaked down from the mountains and spread to the sea. What had been a disaster for us was, for the island, nothing more than a yawn, a stretch, a shrug.

Louie seemed to notice it, too. Or maybe what we’d just been through was starting to sink in, the what-could-have-beens, the what-ifs. He sat across from me, strapped in and facing away from the cut-up and broken bodies spread out on the deck around us.

What was he thinking?

I was trying to imagine the answer when I realized how much I’d been thinking about Louie Domingo.

I took off my glasses and wiped the lenses on my T-shirt. I put them back on and closed one eye. A cracked and fuzzy Louie sat across from me. I closed that eye and opened the other. Crystal clear.

He lifted his chin, What?

I tapped my glasses and mouthed Thanks over the din of the engine.

He held up four fingers and pointed to his eyes—four eyes.

I tapped my butt and my head, then pointed at him.

He grinned and turned away.

Dad tapped my leg, not looking at me, just tapping, as if to say I’m so thankful.

Yeah, I thought. Me too.

I pulled a foot up and studied it. Blood and dirt were caked in and around a field of raw cuts, which were stinging more now that I had time to think about it. Ramos tossed me a pack of disinfectant wipes and a roll of gauze. I made another pair of cloth shoes. Not bad. I tossed the wipes and gauze to Louie.

Mr. Bellows lay nearby, still unconscious. Or maybe, I hoped, he was just asleep. Yes, he was just sleeping. Nothing is going to happen to Mr. Bellows. It can’t.

Casey sat silently beside him. Anyone could read his thoughts. Because they were the same for all of us—Nothing is going to happen, he’ll be fine, we’ll all be fine. Including busted-up Lenny, who lay on a stretcher, joking again. Joking! And he was worse off than anyone. Those paniolos must eat spurs for breakfast. Or else McCreedy gave him something to take away the pain.

I thought back to the moment we’d swept up and headed away from Halape. Looking down, I’d seen the horses climbing up the steep slope, another image I’d carry with me awhile. Already I missed Masa, and even the two paniolos I hadn’t gotten to know. Halape hadn’t killed anyone, but it could have. When people share something terrifying like that, it joins them together and makes them a family. Like Masa said,
We friends now.

Friends.

“Take it slow, Masa,” I whispered, remembering how even before the earth shook it had been a dangerous trail. “Nice and slow.”

We came down in a quiet corner of Hilo Airport, away from the terminal. It was around four in the afternoon. Two ambulances and a small crowd were waiting for us in a roped-off area on the tarmac. I could see Mom and Dana’s blond heads. Mrs. Bellows was there. And Mike’s mom. Sam’s parents. Billy’s, Zach’s, Tad’s, and all their brothers and sisters, and people I didn’t know, including guys with cameras.

But I saw no one who looked like they might be there for Louie. He knew it would be that way. He didn’t even try to look for anyone. His face was as blank as the first day he came to Scouts.

The pilot shut the engine down. The crowd was held back by a rope attached to two temporary posts as the ambulance crew hurried toward us with rolling stretchers.

I unbuckled and stood. Mom saw me and waved, Dana beside her, stretching over the crowd to see. I gave them an okay sign. Mom’s face flushed with relief. Dana put her arm around her.

Someone dropped the rope and the crowd broke and rushed the helicopter.

Ramos and Louie lowered Tad, Billy, and Zach to the tarmac. One of the medics began checking them over. The bruises and the cuts and gashes that slashed their arms and faces made people gasp and huddle close to them. Sam’s mom squeezed toward us, looking scared to death over not seeing Sam get off.

Mike jumped out and helped his father down.

Sam, Mr. Bellows, Casey, Cappy, and Lenny waited in the hold. Louie, Dad, and I stayed behind to help. Three medics scrambled aboard and broke out their equipment.

Down on the tarmac I could hear Sam’s mother screaming. “Sam! Sam!” Reverend Paia caught her, saying, “He’s all right! Don’t worry. Let the medical crew do their work. He’ll be out soon.”

Dad and I helped Casey to the tarmac. The bandage on his knee was the size of a small watermelon. He limped badly.

The medics secured Sam and Mr. Bellows to stretchers and lowered them out of the hold.

Mrs. Bellows found Casey and hugged him. Casey looked over her shoulder at me and Louie, still in the helicopter. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Mrs. Bellows let him go and huddled over Mr. Bellows.

Casey hobbled back to us. “Listen,” he said, but didn’t continue.

“Your dad going be fine, brah,” Louie said, squatting in the cabin, looking down at Casey. “You better go. They taking him away.”

Casey limped to catch up as the medics rolled Mr. Bellows toward one of the ambulances. Casey’s sprouting red hair was as tangled as I’d ever seen it.

A medic climbed into the cabin and quickly checked me and Louie over. “You boys have these cuts and bruises cleaned up, all right? Go to your doctor or come up to the hospital. Today, soon as you can. You have to be concerned about infection.”

“Sure,” I said, but I’d almost forgotten that I had them. They didn’t sting anymore. Maybe tomorrow they would, but not now. Louie elbowed me and dipped his chin toward Zach, who was keeping close to Billy and Tad while they made their way to their parents. Being a buddy.

Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “You ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” I paused and glanced toward Louie, now with his back to us, staring out at the crowd. “Hey, Louie…you had enough of this?”

He turned and nodded.

“Let’s go, then.”

We jumped off and made our way into the crowd. Cameras flashed as the medics began rolling the stretchers to the ambulances.

Dad shook hands with Ramos, McCreedy, and the pilot. “Thank you” was all he could say.

“You saved us,” I added.

“That’s what we do, kid,” the pilot said.

We headed toward the crowd, Dad craning his neck. “You see Dana and your mom?”

“They were with Mrs. Bellows…over there, Dad.”

Mom looked up and I waved.

She squeezed toward us, Dana following. “Dylan!” Mom said. “Oh, honey!” She hugged me so tight I thought my bones would snap.

“I’m okay, Mom, I’m okay.”

Dana scowled at the cuts on my arms. She looked as clean as a marshmallow.

Mom pushed me back. “Your face, your glasses!” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “These cuts! Don’t you
ever
do this to me again!”

“Next time,” Dad said, “I’m going to tag along.”

I looked at him, then smiled. “Anytime, Dad.”

Louie stood nearby, looking up at the faces gazing out the terminal windows. He turned, nodded to me, then limped off.

“Mom,” I said, trying to break away.

Dad understood. He peeled Mom away from me and pulled her to him. “Dylan’s got something to do.”

“You come right back!” she said.

“Louie!” I shouted, dodging my way through the crowd. My feet stung, making me wince. “Louie, wait up!”

He ignored me, weaving away unsteadily.

“Louie!”

I caught up and grabbed his arm. “Slow
down.
We can give you a ride.”

He stopped and stared at my hand. I let go.

“I don’t need no ride,” he said.

“What do you mean? Look at your feet! Jeese, look at mine. We’re crippled. It’s just a ride.”

“I said I don’t need it.” He limped on.

I kept up with him. So stubborn. What happened to the new Louie, the good one? Now we had to go back to the old one? “Come on. Haven’t you beaten yourself up enough already? You can’t walk home on those feet and you know it.”

He kept going.

“Okay,” I said, a step behind him. “We’ll do it your way. Where to?”

That stopped him. “Whatchoo want, haole? Ah? Explain me that.”

“Nothing…I just…well, we just…”

He snorted and started limping faster.

Now I was getting angry. “You don’t stop, sucka, I going broke your stupid ugly face and mess you up good!” I held up my fists.

Louie turned back. He tried not to grin. Then it vanished. “Whatchoo care?”

I dropped my hands. “It’s a ride, big deal. To the doctor. And anyway…I know something about you now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…I know you’re not the scary punk you want me to think you are.”

“Well, you still a four-eyed dork.”

I grinned. “So?”

Louie puffed his cheeks, looked down. Then up.

“You’re coming with us,” I said.

“Okay, fine…but one condition.”

“What?”

“We stop at the hospital, see Mr. Bellows.”

“For sure, for sure. And get our feet cleaned up while we’re there. Then buy some Band-Aids and rubber slippers.”

Louie leaned and spat, then bumped past me, heading back. “This don’t mean nothing, ah?”

“Not a thing.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, good.”

I walked behind him.

Ahead, Sam’s gurney rolled toward us, heading to the ambulance. Sam’s dad walked next to it. Louie hobbled over to them. “Sammy boy,” he said. “How you doing?”

Sam peeked up at him, barely conscious.

Louie grabbed his hand, thumb to thumb, man style. “I come see you tomorrow, little man. You more strong than all of us, ah? A survivor. You did good, brah.”

A small smile crept onto Sam’s face.

“While you sleeping I going check if the Boy Scouts got one Purple Heart badge.” He rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Take care, ah?”

“Thank you,” Sam’s dad said. Louie nodded. The medics headed Sam over to the ambulance.

Louie glanced at me. “Whatchoo looking at? I thought we was going get slippers.”

“I got a question.”

“You wasting my time.”

“Remember that day you wanted to kill me?”

Louie hesitated, trying to figure out what I was talking about. Then it clicked. His eyes narrowed.

“Who was that big guy and what did you have that he wanted?”

Louie stepped closer. “You no like go there, haole.”

“Yeah…I do. That guy told me I should be scared of him.”

“He did?”

“He was spooky. He laughed after he said it.”

Louie studied the ground, his hand on the back of his neck. He shook his head and smirked. “That was Luke…my brother.”

“Your
brother
beat you up? Why?”

“I had his switchblade knife. I stole it from him. I wanted to be bad, like him. But he wouldn’t let me. That’s why he was beating me up…taking back that knife, making sure I didn’t turn out like him. He was watching out for me.” He looked off and added, “Still he does.”

Wow, I thought. Did I have
that
wrong.

“But he’s in jail right now.”

I let that sit a moment. “That’s…I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

I hesitated, then said, “You…you recognized me the minute you saw me in the Bellows’s garage, didn’t you?”

He grinned.

“So how come you never said anything?”

He shrugged. “Why? That day was about me and my brother, not you.”

This was Louie Domingo talking?

“Listen,” he said, coming closer. “You know why I give you hard time?”

“Why?”

“Because you so
stupid.
”

I scowled.

“But I going stop giving you hard time now. You know why?”

I looked at him.

He stuck out his hand to shake, thumb to thumb. I took it. He squeezed, hard. “You got guts, that’s why.”

I gaped at him.

He dropped my hand. “We go, haole.”

“Wait…uh…are you…are you going to stay in Scouts? I know Mr. Bellows made you come.”

He smirked. “Nobody can make me do what I don’t want to do, punk.”

It took me a second to get it. “Good,” I said, nodding. “Good.”

“You was going buy me slippers, remember?” He grinned and walked away, motioning for me to follow.

What? I’m his dog now?

He moved through the crowd, shaking a hand, patting a back. Smiling.

An ambulance headed out with its lights flashing, and I caught a glimpse of Casey in the back window with his dad. Was Sam in there, too? I cringed, thinking of how we’d almost lost them. The luckiest thing Mr. Bellows ever did in his life was walk into that vacant warehouse.

I squinted at Louie Domingo through my mangled glasses.

And limped after him.