Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' (8 page)

The glider plunged headlong
through the trees, the stout branches shearing the wings like
paper. The ruined sailplane dropped like a stone and slammed onto
the narrow dirt road and the corpse of what had once been
Schleicher’s best bounced and rolled like a NASCAR wreck, spinning
and sliding crazily on the muddy surface- until suddenly, almost
violently, it
stopped.

The roots of a giant banyan tree had snagged the
nose of the shattered craft like an arboreal net, spinning what was
left of the glider into the middle of the road and completely
blocking the narrow track. And as it did a speeding yellow Jeep and
its oblivious occupant emerged from around a distant corner, racing
unabated toward the wreckage as its driver swayed and sang to
another loud country tune, idyllically unaware of the impending
danger.

Alani looked up as another unseen
pot-hole nearly jarred her hat from her head, and then a look of
shock galvanized her face as she saw the unexpected obstacle before
her. Alani slammed on the brakes of the Jeep, locking up the tires
and sending the vehicle sliding in a slow, spinning circle toward
the obstruction before her, her arms stiffened in a death grip on
the steering wheel as the Jeep careened down the muddy road. She
watched helplessly as the world slowly spun out of control, and
hissed, “OHHHH- SH-!” as she braced herself for the inevitable
collision. But just as her unavoidable impact seemed clear the Jeep
came across a swampy, sodden spot in the road and decelerated with
alarming swiftness, spraying her windshield with a blinding coating
of dark red goo as the tires gouged a curving track through the
soft mud- and just as abruptly
stopped
, the front bumper of the
Jeep ever-so-delicately nudging the crash-damaged and
mud-splattered side of the wrecked sailplane.

After a silent, breathless moment, Alani opened her
eyes, one at a time. Her hands were still locked in a
white-knuckled vise on the steering wheel and she stared ahead with
a look of shocked disbelief at having so miraculously skirted
disaster. She painfully pried her hands from the wheel and crossed
her chest in a quick gesture of genuflection and relief as she
glanced incredulously to the heavens, only to have her skyward gaze
quickly dissolve into a look of rage as she leaped from the Jeep
and stormed around to the mud-drenched cockpit of the glider.

She slapped the slimy glass in
anger and yelled at the silent form, “Are you
CRAZY
!? You almost
killed
me, you idiot!!!”
Only the whisper of the wind and the soft sound of the birds from
the surrounding trees was her reply. Alani knocked sharply on the
glass and shouted again, “Hey! Hey, anyone in there?”

No response. Alani attempted to wipe the globs of
sticky mud away, but merely created a smeary mess of earthy
finger-painting on the glass, and leaned in closer to peer
inside.

“
Hey! Hello?”

The canopy suddenly burst open as Chris sprang up
with his arms upraised and shouted triumphantly, “WHOOOO-HOO!!
Ha-ha! Yeah! WHOOOO!!!” Alani screamed in surprise and fell
backward into the muddy water of the trench beside the road,
splashing wetly into the thick red muck as Chris, suddenly aware of
the startled woman who stared up at him from beside the craft,
simply gazed down at her and smiled.

“
Oh- Hi!” he said, almost
nonchalant, his face twisting into his patented grin. And then he
suddenly wobbled, his eyes becoming unfocused and rolling up into
his head as he unexpectedly pitched forward and toppled out of the
plane, falling like a tree felled by the lumberjacks
axe.

Alani called out with a tilt of her head in concern,
“Hey! Are you all-?” as Chris tumbled out of the cockpit and
plunged into her sodden lap, his impetus driving them both backward
into the muddy ditch.

As she recoiled from the sudden
and unexpected burden of Chris in her lap, Alani reached to his
head and touched his face. And as she did, the world suddenly
flashed brightly around her, white light and a rush of sound like
the echoing reverberation of a
distant
explosion
…

The light and sound faded and the world slowly
sharpened back into a sort of smeary black-and-white focus. Alani
looked into her lap, where Chris’ head lolled like a broken doll.
She stiffened with fright as her vision cleared, for where
previously had been a baseball cap-clad, golden-haired vision of
silliness was now something else entirely. The Chris she saw now
was the same, but very- different.

He was dressed in a torn and smoke-stained Navy
flight suit, his hair military short, the cloth flight helmet and
shattered goggles blood-stained and dangling from his neck. He was
barely breathing, his gasps short and ragged, and the deathly pale
skin of his bloodstained face meant only one thing- he was
dying…

Alani gasped sharply and the world flashed again.
She stared with open mouth into her lap, where she saw the
now-Chris lying unconscious in the muddy mess of her jeans. In
panic and confusion at the bizarre occurrence, she blindly
scrambled to extricate herself from beneath Chris, who sloshed
wetly into the muddy road as she leaped to her feet, his face
falling sideways into a rust-colored puddle. She shook her head to
clear the remains of the disturbing vision and then dashed to her
Jeep and frantically dug through the pile of stuff on her passenger
seat, finally digging out her phone. She jabbed at the keys in a
barely restrained frenzy, hit a final note, and was rewarded with a
message on the screen that stated blandly- ‘No Service.’

“
Fuck!” she swore softly in
frustration, and angrily flung the phone back into the pile of
debris on the seat. She rushed back over to Chris, who was now
blowing unconscious mud-bubbles into the puddle that cradled his
face. “Ohhh, shit!” she cried, and knelt in the muck and pried
Chris’ head off the road, cradling it into her lap as she pondered
her next move. It was then that she saw the distinctive Boston logo
on the baseball cap and said with scorching disdain, “Red Sox! Red
Sox? Ooooh, I should just let you drown!” Alani sighed and then
grabbed Chris’ face and shook it lightly, an obviously half-hearted
attempt to revive him, and called to him gently, “Hey! You
okay?”

Chris stirred and muttered incoherently, “I’m fine,
Mommy, I just fall down…” and tried to raise himself up onto one
shaky arm.

Alani tucked a hand under his shoulder and clumsily
struggled to get him upright, saying somewhat less than
encouragingly as she sighed, “C’mon, let me help you…” Chris’ eyes
fluttered open and he grinned at her with a goofy smile, his
rubbery legs slipping on the slick surface of the road as he tried-
quite unsuccessfully- to stand. He slipped and sagged in her arms,
nearly dragging both of them back down into the muck and Alani
cried with annoyance, “Stop trying to help, it’s not working!” She
growled and groaned with the effort as she hauled the rag-doll form
of Chris over to her Jeep and unceremoniously dumped him into the
passenger seat, wincing slightly and then smirking with silent
amusement as she heard his rear end crunch noisily onto her pile of
assorted junk.

After an exhausted outpouring of breath, Alani tried
vainly to secure him with one arm thrust stiffly into his chest as
she yanked the saggy seat belt around him, again swearing under her
breath as the reluctant device failed miserably to do its’ job.
Chris’ head lolled forward with an insipid grin still plastered to
his muddy face, and Alani voiced an exasperated growl of
frustration at the ridiculousness of this situation. She
straightened and let him slump against the worthless restraints as
her gaze darted about to find a solution to her dilemma. She had
nearly given up on finding an acceptable answer when her eyes
drifted to the pile of Sonny’s football gear in the rear seat- and
she got an idea…

A few moments later Alani stood back with her hands
on her hips and tilted her head with a smile of ironic
satisfaction. Chris was now wearing the football helmet and the
shoulder-pads, a soiled jockstrap securing his helmeted head to the
head-rest of the seat. Quickly rounding the car and sliding wetly
into the driver’s seat, Alani feverishly employed her ritual and
again tried the ignition. The engine cranked as usual, and as usual
it didn’t catch. She tried again, and again the balky Jeep tried,
and tried, and tried, only to begin to fade with a pathetic
mechanical moan.

“
Not
now y
ou stupid piece of
sh-!” Alani’s words dissolved into a rapid-fire string of Hawaiian,
their translation unnecessary, their scathing tone clearly one of
withering disgust. With a quick, mumbled prayer skyward, she took a
deep, shuddering breath, closed her eyes and tried again. This time
the reluctant engine caught, and Alani exhaled gustily and replied
with a grateful, “Thank you!” She quickly slammed the Jeep into
gear and spun a muddy about-face on the narrow road, russet
rooster-tails spraying from all four tires as she raced back the
way she had come.

A short time later, the frenzied retreat a hazy blur
in her still-frazzled mind, Alani glanced with concern at the
unconscious form of Chris lolling in the seat beside her and then
swerved sharply to her left, splashing through a muddy dip in the
road and soaking a pot-bellied pig that was grazing near the trees.
The pig merely shook off the unexpected soaking and shivered in
added pleasure. Chickens scattered and feathers flew as Alani raced
through the compound and roared up the hill towards the hulking
antique plane in the distance- the huge, lumbering craft now
belching voluminous clouds of blue smoke from its’ twin radial
engines as it slowly began to move off. With a burst of speed Alani
swerved past the wing-tips, the prop wash blasting her hat from her
head, and gradually began to pull ahead of the dusty Electra 12-A,
peering intently at the small window in its’ side where a dark
shape stared pointedly forward, its’ form completely unaware of the
presence of the Jeep that was now pacing it.

Alani frantically honked the horn in an attempt to
get the attention of the unseen pilot, but the plane continued to
accelerate. In a move of dangerous desperation she swerved directly
in front the craft, narrowly dodging the spinning propeller as she
continued to lay on the horn, flailing an arm over her head as she
fought to keep abreast of the plane.

The note of the engines abruptly dropped, and the
propellers softly whirred to idle as the plane fish-tailed and
braked to a sudden, lurching stop. The engines shuddered to a stop
with a ‘Bang!’ and a final puff of smoke, and the port-side window
slammed open as an immense Polynesian face popped out.

“
Lani! You crazy! You tryin’ to
get yo’self killed? Wha’ da hell’s yo problem, girl?” The angry
glare of Buddy Nakamura slowly turned to one of curious puzzlement
as he saw the unexpected cargo in Alani’s Jeep.

“
Buddy, stop! You gotta help me!”
Alani cried with despair as she whipped around and stopped next to
the side of the now-still aircraft.

Buddy gazed to the heavens and slowly shook his
head. He sighed with resignation and muttered to himself, “It’s all
I evah seem to do…” Pulling his massive head back through the tiny
opening, the window slid closed and a moment later the plane began
to lurch and groan from some unseen force. The port-side cargo door
popped open and slid aside, and the force that had rocked the plane
was now revealed.

Buddy Nakamura, three-hundred and seventy-five
pounds of brown Hawaiian flesh, filled the tiny doorway and then
stepped wearily down from the plane, which creaked and moaned on
tortured springs as it was relieved of its’ burden. Staring into
the Jeep with a look of bemused irritation, Buddy stifled a guffaw
and then asked, “So- where’d you fin’ da Haole?” He gestured a
question to the unconscious occupant of her Jeep and continued with
a puzzled tone, “An’ how come he wearin’ Sonny’s Gear?”

Alani replied with a note of desperation, “Buddy,
he’s hurt! I think he needs to get to the hospital!”

Buddy straightened and then responded with
annoyance, his hands on his hips as he glared at his flustered
sister, “How come you no take him yo’self?”

Alani snarled in frustration, “If I coulda done
that, you t’ink I still be here arguing wit’ you? Buddy, dammit, da
whole road is blocked! You gotta take him for me.”

Buddy gazed at his Alani with a roll of the eyes, a
shake of the head and a lopsided smile slowly creasing his face.
Finally, he idly scratched his generous backside and said,
“Aw’right, awright already! Sheee, da t’ings I do for you!” He
stooped to the sagging, lifeless form of Chris, peeled off the
jockstrap with a look of barely concealed disgust and effortlessly
hauled Chris from the seat, tossing him casually over his shoulder
like a blond and muddy sack of potatoes.

Alani cried in alarm, “Aieeee! Hey! Be careful! He
might have internal bleeding!”

Buddy shrugged the weight of his package and blew a
loud raspberry. “Sis, you watch way too much TV.” He grasped Chris’
face in one massive paw and considered it for a moment, “Nah, he’s
aw’right. He jus’ got knocked goofy, dat’s all.”

“
How can you be sure? How do you
know he’s not hurt bad?”

Buddy turned the unconscious face
of Chris toward Alani and laughed softly. “Because
dis
face I
know-
I grew up makin’
all kinds o’ guys look jus’ like dis.” And without another word, he
dumped the limp and sagging form of Chris into the
plane.