Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' (7 page)

“
Mamma, I gotta go!”

“
You jus’ wait a minute, okay? You
gotta take Sonny his pads!”

“
Mamma! I'm gonna be
late!”

Noelani placed her hands on her generous hips and
glowered at her daughter in annoyance. “The store ain't gonna open
any sooner without you! You just wait!” And with that, Noelani
turned and slowly trundled back to the house, opening the screen
door with a screech and letting it bang closed behind her.

With an exasperated outpouring of breath, Alani
punched the dash in frustration and then sighed and lowered her
lovely chin onto the still-clenched fist that rested on the
steering wheel and resigned herself to waiting.

And truly lovely she was. Half
Hawaiian/half Japanese, Alani Nakamura
was
the quintessential Island
Goddess. A delicate blend of Asian porcelain and Polynesian
earthiness, her skin was nearly flawless and the color of rich
caramel. Her hair was long and glossy, reflecting subtle hues of
mahogany and jet. Smallish breasts poked cheekily from beneath her
simple cotton blouse, and her full brown lips were twisted in an
irritated frown.

She was dressed simply- the thin, white shirt
knotted just below her bosom revealed a toned and tanned waist, the
well-defined abs of a dancer supported by wide, flat hips. Denim
jeans that were nearly frayed to oblivion concealed long, strong
legs that terminated in delicately French-manicured toes, her one
concession to vanity for a body that clearly needed little
augmentation. Worn leather sandals adorned her lovely feet, one of
which was now tapping an impatient rhythm on the edge of the door
opening.

She sighed almost exaggeratedly in acceptance at her
enforced hesitation, and her gaze now wandered, her jade green and
hazel-flecked eyes sparkling in the early morning light. Her most
striking feature by far, her glance was truly breathtaking,
simultaneously sensual and disarmingly innocent, hinting at just a
bit of mischief countered with a thinly veiled note of caution to
anyone who underestimated their power.

As Alani’s casual scrutiny wandered around the
sprawling family farm, she noted with wry amusement the fresh
patina of faint red dirt that mottled the normally pristine plastic
roof of the Quonset hut that served as a greenhouse, and smirked at
the decrepit contrast of her grandfathers’ rusting shed that
nestled in the jungle just adjacent, its’ own curved roof
completely devoid of any lingering trace of gray metal, its surface
having turned a rich shade of russet over many years of
service.

As her view travelled outward past the twin Quonset
huts that stood just apart from the house, her eyes briefly
encountered the towering green cliffs of the Ko’olau range in the
distance, and then slid along row upon row of colorfully flowered
trees that carpeted their feet and ended at the edge of the hill
near a gleaming vintage aircraft that stood alone at its’ crest,
tie-downs still on its’ wings, tattered camouflage netting draped
haphazardly over the cockpit.

Alani was roused from her reverie a moment later by
the slow, laborious return of her mother, who approached huffing
and puffing with a filthy red gym bag, a scuffed and battered
football helmet attached to it and a pair of sweat-stained shoulder
pads dangling from her other hand. Flinging the gear tiredly into
the rear of the Jeep, Noelani leaned in and kissed Alani wetly on
the cheek as she admonished her with the shake of a finger. “You be
good, now, and-”

Alani stomped on the gas and gravel spit from the
tires as she peeled out, another rain of gravel pelting the house
in a renewed assault and pinging off of windows. Noelani jumped
back in alarm and shook her fist at her daughter as she raced down
the driveway, yelling over the roar of the Jeep. “YOU NO DRIVE TOO
FAST, YOU HEAR!!!”

As the rusting yellow rattle-trap disappeared into
the distance, her seemingly-oblivious daughter waved a lazy shaka
sign out the left side of the Jeep in reply, abruptly whipped the
car to the right, and was gone.

Alani raced down the winding country road in the
battered vintage Jeep, dodging and darting around gaping pot-holes
and muddy depressions. The Jeep, its ‘caution yellow’ paint faded
and battling for space with rust, was more than just a color- it
was a warning, a glaring reminder of the nature of its occupant,
for Alani was clearly not the most attentive of drivers. Weaving
wildly back and forth on the twisting country road, narrowly
avoiding yet another muddy ditch as she fumbled for a CD in the
case in her driver’s side visor, she finally found what she was
searching for and swerved violently at the last minute to avert
what would have certainly been a plummeting death over the cliffs
that hugged the edge of the narrow track. She slid the disk into
the player, and a moment later a rollicking take of John Denver’s
‘Take me home, country road’ by IZ- the late island singer Israel
Kamakawiwo’ole- tumbled forth. Alani smiled in satisfaction and
pulled the battered hat down tightly onto her head, taking a moment
to practice a hula motion with her hands- both of them.

The questionable skills of its driver now quite
obvious, the various decorations that littered the outside of the
vehicle told a colorful story of their own, each one giving
additional insight as to the quaint and quirky nature of its
occupant. On the rusty rear bumper, a large ‘I (heart) NY bumper
sticker vied for space with another, three Japanese-style ‘Precious
Moments’ Hula girls with matching flowers and skirts. A huge logo
of the New York Yankees, tilted and slightly askew, graced the
cracked and worn tire cover that dominated the rear of the vehicle.
A final faded sticker, this one on the rusty and dented red gas-can
that was affixed to the rear of the Jeep read teasingly- ‘On nice
days I go topless’.

In contrast to the overlapping tale on the outside
of the Jeep, two simple, distinct ornaments dominated its’
interior. The first was almost cliché- a swaying and shimmying hula
girl mounted to the dash, a Betty Page-style version of the
traditional dash-top ornament. The other was a simple plumeria lei,
fluffy orange ‘ilima petals alternating with the delicate cream and
yellow blossoms, one of which Alani reached to now, gently plucking
it from the swinging strand and tucking it casually behind her
right ear.

At first glance the flower garland
would have seemed to be just an ordinary adornment to the antique
vehicle, but which upon closer inspection, one would notice that
this was far from just
any
old lei…

It was virtually
identical
to the ones
the Matthews had received upon their arrival.

The glider climbed slowly, lazily drifting skyward
on a warm thermal from the earth below. The music in Chris’ ears
built in thumping intensity and Chris’ heart began to race as if in
anticipation of something spectacular. A tiny pause in the melody
signaled the next movement, and with an almost casual flick of the
wrist, Chris provided the pay-off, pitching the sailplane over and
down as a crashing blast of percussion exploded in his ears in a
deafening crescendo. Falling in a straight-down spiral as the plane
plunged rapidly earthward, Chris yelled exuberantly as the glider
now became the world’s tallest roller coaster ride. “YEEEEE-HA!” he
cried, the ground below spinning and flashing toward him with
frightening speed. Then, just as the tree-tops began to become
distinct, Chris pulled firmly back on the stick and sent the
glistening craft rocketing skyward again, rolling and climbing as
it blasted through cotton-ball puffs of clouds.

The glider climbed, and climbed, and climbed- the
ground below fading to a mass of overlapping green and red, the
small towns and outlying villages growing tiny and indistinct. As
the soaring white craft approached its’ zenith, its’ inertia
finally spent, it began to slow, and slow, and with a slight
shudder of ailerons and elevators- stalled. As the craft stopped
dead in the air, its’ nose pointed heavenward, Chris took a deep
breath and waited for the moment when gravity reclaimed its prize.
The slight backward lurch of the stall was the sign, and as the
gleaming sailplane slid in reverse, Chris pulled the stick over and
back, flipping the craft into an inverted, lazy roll that caused
him to fall against the straps of his harness, eliciting another
yelp of delight as he fell earthward.

“
Whoooooo-HOO!” he yelled, aiming
the nose down in a low-angled dive that arrowed toward the end of
the island and the rugged cliffs beyond. Rapidly gaining speed as
he descended, Chris flashed over a lonely road, the red-dirt track
winding sinuously through the green. And as he did, a flash of
yellow, a cloud of dust boiling up from behind it, snaked along its
course.

As Alani sang blissfully along with the tune, a
fleeting shadow flashed unexpectedly overhead. Alani glanced up
quickly but saw nothing. An sudden gust of breeze threatened to
blow her hat from her head, and she reached up a hand to keep it in
place as her attention was jerked back to the road, her other hand
abruptly pulling the wheel to the right in order to dodge another
gaping pot-hole that had suddenly materialized before her.

Leveling out mere inches above the tree-tops, now
flying almost blindingly fast, Chris reached the cliffs at the end
of the island and plunged over the edge, instantly plummeting a
thousand feet toward the line of waves and sand below. Pulling up
just above the heads of surfers and sun-worshippers as he skimmed
the wave-tops, Chris leveled out along the steep cliffs and pulled
out his phone, snapping several shots from his camera in rapid
succession- instant postcards all. Flying swiftly along the edge of
the coastline, Chris continued to point and shoot, capturing all
manners of wonders and delights as he sped along the cliffs, not
noticing the oddly-menacing dark gray cloud that had inexplicably
materialized before him.

As a wisp of the anomalous cloud splashed over the
canopy of the glider, the tranquility of the flight was suddenly
shattered by a simultaneous ‘FLASH!’ and ‘BANG!’ that rocked the
plane violently in response and provoked a strangled yelp of alarm
from Chris.

“
Ho-LY SHIT!” he
cried, hunching down involuntarily in surprise. But worse than the
shock of the abrupt light and deafening noise was the sudden and
sickening lurch of the craft to port. With a quick, panicky glance
out the left side of the canopy, Chris was rewarded with a sight
that made his stomach clench in fear- the port-side wing-tip was
completely
gone,
the aileron flapping uselessly, smoking trails of debris
fluttering casually off into the ocean below.

Chris moaned, “Oh, just
fucking
terrific
!” and yanked the stick firmly to the right as he reached for
the radio affixed to the dash. As he clicked the switch of the
handset with his thumb, the entire face of the radio popped free
from the dash, smoking wires dangling from the back of the now
useless device. “Seriously?!” wailed Chris, and dropped the
smoldering ruin onto the floor as he went back to fighting to right
the plane.

Just as the glider wobbled and
finally leveled out,
another
blinding flash exploded in his vision, again
simultaneously accompanied by a thunderous crash of sound as the
plane tilted alarmingly to starboard. Chris swore and gritted his
teeth, quickly looking over his shoulder to his right, where to his
gut-wrenching dismay he now saw that the
other
wing-tip was destroyed. “Oh,
even better…” was all Chris could manage to utter as the damaged
sailplane suddenly pitched alarmingly downward, heading straight
for the jagged black rocks a hundred feet below.

Pulling back with all his might on the stick, Chris
struggled to level out, only to have a sudden gust of ocean breeze
shove the nose of the derelict craft back toward the island, where
the dark-green cliff-side now loomed before him like a wall.

Chris cried forlornly, “Ohhhh- SHIIIII-!” as
imminent death stared him in the face, and he jerked back
forcefully on the stick as he closed his eyes and silently prayed
for a miracle.

Fate
answered
.

Another puff of wind gently lifted the ruined glider
over the top of the ridge, the underbelly of the now-fatally
damaged aircraft scraping tree-tops as he spilled into a lush,
sun-drenched valley below. Chris opened his eyes to see thick
branches whipping the canopy and a thin ribbon of road flashing in
and out through the trees before him, and he could only mutter a
faint and pointless expletive as his demise became apparent.