The Islands at the End of the World (15 page)

Carefully, he says, “Have a seizure.”

“You’re asking me to go through that on purpose?” The question is calm, but I want to scream.

He presses forward. “I could play it up. We’d get shortlisted. Wake up in Hilo. This place is eating me up from the inside, Lei. I’m desperate. Aren’t you?”

“Dad.” My heart’s pounding. “I … I can’t just turn them on. We waited all that time at the clinic and …”

“You were on an experimental dose then. When you weren’t, they came fast and furious. Besides, I found this.” He pulls a pink artificial-sweetener packet from his pocket.

“Dad
.” He didn’t just find that. He’s been looking for it, planning this
.

“Or you could even fake one.”

“Stop it. Stop it.” I stand up and take a few steps away from him.

Dad closes his eyes, shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Forget it. I’m just … thinking out loud. It was dumb.” He tosses the sweetener packet in the dirt.

I sit back down on the cot. “Don’t … feel bad.”

“I’m sorry, Leilani,” Dad says with a crackly voice. “I haven’t handled this very well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not James Bond. I’m … Mike.”

“Oh, Dad.” There’s so much I want to say. I remove my mask and I sit with him. I reach out and gently touch the raised skin on his hand, a scar he’ll probably always have as thanks for keeping me from choking.

“You’re … exactly the dad I want you to be. We’re in this together, remember? You said that to me. We’re both responsible for each other, okay?”

He nods, but I wonder if he heard. He pushes his mask up against his forehead. “I can tell you all you need to know about biogeochemical cycles, why rare Hawaiian plants aren’t getting pollinated anymore. What good is any of that? The birds and the trees won’t need my help once humanity dies off. I couldn’t even get us off O`ahu. God, I miss Malia so damned much. Kai, too.”

“Dad.” I bury my head in his shoulder.
Humanity dying off?

“Day after next, it’ll be three weeks since we flew out here. Three weeks! We should have—”

“Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty. Right?” I say. “Unless you’re one-eyed Rocky the Randy Pirate,” I add, laughing.

“Then it’s just … twenty.”

He cracks up, and it makes my heart sing.

“It’s still so surreal,” I say. “I just want to take it all back, go back in time, not get on that plane. Stockpile food and put up a fortress in time. Live somewhere else, where this nightmare isn’t happening.”

Dad wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I should have let you bring the board.”

“Huh?”

“Your longboard. I should have let you bring it. If I could go back in time, that’s what I’d change.”

“What?”

“Well, I’d change everything else, too. But—weirdest thing—that’s been on my mind. I was wrong.”

I laugh. “I actually think you were right.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If I had brought it, I would have lost it. Now it’s waiting for me back home.”

“Good point.”

Dad absently draws in the dirt with his finger.

“We can’t stay here, Lei. These … meals … we’re getting weaker, not stronger. If we don’t get a plane tomorrow or the next day … things aren’t going to hold together here. So many people want out. I’m going to speak to some of them tomorrow, see if as a group we can … ask to leave.”

“What will we do instead?”

Dad releases an explosive sigh. “We waited too long in Honolulu, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

“They just made it real clear that we can’t leave.”

“We have to ask. If they still say no, then … I want to get out before things deteriorate.”

I look at the fence. The shouting has only gathered steam. “
Before
they deteriorate?”

Dad grins ruefully. “We’ll have a new moon in a couple days. It’ll be darkest then. We have to find a way out during that window.”

“Maybe we’ll get on a flight before then.”

Dad turns away. I reach down and snatch up the artificial sweetener while he isn’t looking.

When a new tank of water is put out, I take my epilepsy medication and a bottle of painkillers over. I’ve been having headaches, probably because I’m dehydrated.

As I wait for my turn at the water jug, my mind is on fire with escape plans and the echoes of gunfire. I imagine trying to row thirty-plus miles over open ocean against the current and feel sick to my stomach. Nothing comes to mind that isn’t high risk. It’s finally my turn at the water tank. I pop the ibuprofen. Only a few left. My epilepsy pills: forty total. Twenty days’ worth.

Leilani
, I think.
Do your part
.

I put the pills away, my hands trembling. I pour Dad’s packet of sweetener into my cup, close my eyes tightly, and drink. Then I race back to be close to Dad.

You are Leilani. I am Leilani
.

It is a good thing. It passes on and my purpose is done
. The kahuna warns King Alapa`i, “One day a boy will be born who will kill every chief, rule every isle. Look for the sign of your doom—a great fire in the sky—and kill the newborn while he suckles.”

Suckle. Gather your strength
.

When Halley’s Comet flares above the ocean, Alapa`i orders the baby Pai`ea murdered. But the infant’s parents secretly pass his care to a friend.

Leilani. It passes. Time to linger and grow strong on the heat
. Pai`ea grows into a skilled warrior. Alapa`i dies, and Pai`ea slays the rightful heirs. He becomes the first to reign alone over the entire island of Hawai`i. He schemes with false gods to rule
all
the islands.

We are together now, but we will drift away, as I once did. For now, we linger
.

He is forever known as Kamehameha, and of him the prophets sang:

E iho ana o luna
E pi`i ana o lalo
E hui ana na moku
E ku an aka paia
.

That which is above will come down
That which is below will rise up
The islands shall unite
The walls shall stand firm.

I slowly come to. I’m lying on the same cot in our same muddy spot.

“Hi,” Dad says, muffled by a face mask. “You back? You’ve been in and out for a while now, dazed.”

I sit up. Dad’s cross-legged in the mud beside me. I lift my own mask over my forehead. “Hey.” After another moment of dialing in to my surroundings: “This isn’t Hilo.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m so hungry.”

“Here.” Dad offers me a can of Spam.

My eyes grow wide and I peel it open and dig into it with my fingers. “Where’d you get this?” I ask between gulps.

“Well, it’s your consolation prize. I tried everything. Apparently grand mal seizures are pretty low on the triage list these days, if you would believe it.”

My memory grows clearer. The seizure happened Thursday night. “What day is it today?”

“Who cares?” Dad says. “It’s Friday evening.”

“Well, that was dumb.”

“No. It served a purpose.” Dad leans in close. “I’m convinced we’re really on our own.”

“What do you mean?”

“A bunch of us are going to petition tomorrow. And you’ll scan the perimeter while I’m with the others. Look for any weak spots in the fencing along the ground that you and I could crawl under.”

“Dad, this is insane. We can’t just break out of a military camp. What about our bags and—”

“Tomorrow night, if they won’t allow us to walk out of here, you and I start looking.”

“Dad …” I begin. He watches me closely, waiting. But I don’t really have anything to say.

“We can do this.” He hugs me. “Eat your Spam. And drink as much as you can. You missed your doses. Today’s, too. Take them both, and take them from now on.”

“Okay,” I say. “Oh, hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“Who won the round robin?”

He shakes his head. “No one’s played soccer since the shooting.”

* * *

In the morning dozens of people are vomiting and complaining of fevers and diarrhea. Very few eat the mush at breakfast; we all fear contamination. I’m so hungry, though; I force down some pasty oats mixed with ground-up Spam. While I’m psyching myself up for each bite, I grow clammy, thinking about scurrying under the fence.

I search for Aukina and find him standing guard near a part of the fence that’s about to be converted into another gate. A second large pen has been constructed, and a chain-link corridor will connect it with our camp. Aukina stands alone with a pile of fencing supplies and tools. The sight of his face perks me up, a little. So. Damn.
Cham
.

“Aloha.”

“Hey, Lei. Howzit? You feeling better?”

“You know what happened to me?”

“I think the four-star generals know what happened, the way your dad was … getting attention.”

“You think it’s funny?”

“No! Man, you’re always giving me the stink-eye.”

I sigh.
He’s not to blame. Cut him some slack
. “It’s just ’cause I know you know all of this is BS.”

I see Aukina’s knowing expression in his eyes above his mask.

“We want to leave, but no one will let us.”

“I know it’s bad, Lei. But be glad you’re here, ah? Have you heard about the factions forming?”

“No. We don’t know
anything
.”

“The corporate farms keep getting occupied by new
militias, so we’re taking them over. That’s easy to deal with. But part of it’s about a free Hawai`i. The Sovereign Nationers see a chance to secede from the States. Hawaiians are ganging up. The haoles are ganging up. The Asians are sticking together. The Filipinos … You and your dad are better off staying out of it. Especially since—”

“Ho. The Sovereign Nation folks?”

Aukina shrugs. “They’re part of it, yeah. But it’s messier than that. It’s about `
ohana
, yeah?”

We’re quiet for a moment. I hear the sound of gunfire somewhere across the bay again. The pops and cracks of distant bullets are just background now. Now it’s about territory? People splitting into racial gangs? At least it’s not just about Hawaiians and haoles. But … 
What group am I in?

Stop. That way of thinking is the problem
.

“And there’s some weird religious stuff behind some of it, too. Creeps me out.”

“Aukina …”

“A few Christian ‘armies’ are drunk on hellfire.”

“Aukina … People are dying in
here. You’re
shooting us. Everyone’s sick. The flights have stopped.”

He just looks at me.

“I want out. My dad and I need to get home. Can you help us get on a plane?”

Aukina stiffens. “I have absolutely no sway over that kind of thing, Lei.”

“Can you help us get out, at least? We’ll swim the bay. Once we’re back in Kailua, we’ll figure out what’s next.”

He opens his mouth to protest but then falls silent, and finally says, “No, Leilani! I … No. What you’re asking is …”

“Where’s your family, Aukina? Where’s your `
ohana
?”

“My parents are here. Pearl City. My brother lives on base.”

“My mom, my seven-year-old brother, and my grandpa are in Hilo, going through God knows what. We’re broken, Aukina. I don’t care about the turf wars. I don’t care about the blackout. We need to get home. We’ll swim if we have to. We need your help.”

“Do you know how many people have died trying to get down the island chain? It’s unbelievable, Lei. The ocean is powerful. We’re saving lives. That includes you and your dad.” My hands go up to my face.
I’m not going to cry. I won’t!
I just want to hide. “This is …” I can’t find the words.

“I know,” Aukina says.

“I had that seizure on purpose.”

“What? You
faked
it?”

“No. It was real. I triggered it. And it showed that nobody gives a rat’s ass about us.”

“You want out
that
bad?”

“Are you honestly surprised?”

Aukina shifts his weight around. Silence settles between us. He hesitates, and then fishes through one of his breast pockets. His hand emerges with a small tin canister, like an Altoids box, but plain and dull. “Here. Take this. Quick. For your dad, too.” He hands me the tin, urging me with his eyes:
Hurry! Hide it
.

“What is it?” I whisper as I fit it into my shorts’ pocket.

“Iodide tablets.”

“What’re they for?” I know that most salt is iodized because it’s such an important vitamin, or something, but I’ve never heard of tablets.

Aukina grimaces. “Don’t ask. We’re all taking them. You should, too.”

I look him in the eyes. “I don’t understand how your good intentions went so bad.”

“Someone thought this camp would be a good idea. Someone else who doesn’t care was put in charge of making it happen.

“But now problems
everywhere
are bigger. These camps are so low on the list, Lei, that—” He stops himself and readjusts the rifle strapped around his shoulder. He takes a few steps toward the pile of construction materials, picks something up, and then continues talking in a hushed tone.

“Lei, I want to tell you a secret. But don’t repeat it. I’m trusting you.”

I look him in the eye.

“So, our carriers and subs operate on nuclear fuel, right?”

I didn’t know that, but I nod.

“There’s a few in the … neighborhood. They’re not acting right, though. There doesn’t seem to be any danger, but who knows? Anyway, on top of that, we’re out of gas. Unnecessary flights have stopped. We need what’s left for something big. Our orders are to … I’d take you and your dad with us if I could. But I can do the next best thing, I guess.”

“What?” I whisper. I’ve forgotten to inhale.

“I like you a lot, Lei. You’re strong and you’re … eye-catching. You’re way older than your age. Hawai`i’s going to need people like you. I really hope you’ll be okay. I hate goodbyes, but this is it, okay? Don’t come find me again.”

“I don’t understand.…”

He tosses something at my feet. “Your shoe’s untied.” He turns away, stiffening to attention.

I look down. A foot-long bolt cutter is lodged in the mud at my feet, its red handles blaring in the sunlight. I kneel and pretend to tie my shoe. Without looking around, I snag the tool and, grimacing, slip it under my shirt and into the band at the bottom of my bra. My heart is pounding. I feel like a fugitive.