by Toby Neal
Bea had made it her goal not to purchase anything for the garden, an exercise driven by necessity. She kept a well-stocked compost pile, leaves and organic matter, including chicken and horse manure, as the main nutritional elements. Today she harvested seeds. In every crop of green beans, lettuce, tomatoes, bell peppers, or squash, she’d let a few plants go completely to seed, setting the pods or flowers aside to dry and mature for a few months before she replanted them again. It took time and planning, but this was one of her favorite stages. Sam weeded as she moved among the dying string bean plants, harvesting dried pods.
“Taking these to the cave,” she told Sam. Her brother was withdrawn and grumpy. His eye had gone puffy and purple, obviously painful. He nodded, and she carried the handfuls of bean pods to their cache—a cave hidden in the outcrop of rock behind the house. She’d set up something of a storeroom in the cool, dry space—shelves of canned food, bedding, gallon jugs of water.
Ever since their mother died, Will Whitely worried that “something bad” would happen. He’d made sure there was a month’s supply of everything the house needed out in the cave, “in case of a hurricane.” But Bea knew he feared something more than that—other people, losing his job. The cave was the ideal place for storing what they’d collected in case it did. Hidden by a large lantana bush, the narrow slit opening into it was nearly invisible.
Once inside, Bea turned on the light, a dangling bulb their father had rigged up to run off the house’s electrical system. The yellow, swinging light illuminated the shelves she’d set up along the wall. She used old coffee cans for storage for the seeds, piercing them with a few holes so air could circulate but keeping rats and other pests out.
She made short work of hulling the beans and set them on a piece of paper sacking inside a coffee can turned on its side. Even though Dad drank a lot of Folgers, she never had enough coffee cans. She checked her other seeds, in various stages of undisturbed drying.
She walked back out. “Let’s put in a new vegetable bed. Get some more beans going.”
“Why?” Sam pushed sweaty brown hair out of his eyes, still on his knees among the lettuces. His bruised face made her chest tighten. “Do it yourself. You’re always telling me, ‘Do this; do that, Sam.’ You’re not my dad. Or my mother.” He punched the trowel into the soil with a stabbing motion.
The hurt of his words bloomed into a cramp in Bea’s stomach. “Fine. Whatever.”
She got out the shovel and hoe and began the unpleasant process of chipping a new vegetable bed into the hard red soil. After a half hour of battling the packed-clay soil, she tossed down the shovel.
“It’s getting hot. Let’s go down to the ocean and cool off.”
“Yes!” Sam got up and dusted off his hands and knees.
“I’m ready, too.” Bea cast a glance at the sky, bright with afternoon sun. For the first time she noticed a scrim of phosphorescent sparkles overhead, where she’d seen the northern lights last night. She frowned—she still hadn’t found anything out about the lights. It was so bright she put on her old pair of sunglasses before she slipped the bridle onto Rainbow’s head. “Let’s go down to the big swimming hole.”
She and Sam rode double and let the mare walk at her own pace down the path to Keomoku Beach, a long expanse that faced the vast golden island of Maui. The beach was downwind of the bigger island, so it caught all of its floating debris, and they rode past piles of driftwood and ocean-battered trash to a deep, sand-bottomed swimming area.
The sunlight had gone funny, a glaring whiteness to it, and Bea frowned up at the sky through her sunglasses—she could see the flickering bands of color even with them on. At the swimming hole they slid off the mare and tied her reins loosely to a sturdy bush. It was hot, and Bea bundled her hair on top of her head and pierced it with a stick as she followed Sam.
Sam tore his shirt off, tossing it on the beach, and ran into the water. His moment of grumpiness seemed forgotten as he turned to splash her.
The sky above her went nova.
A burst of white light limned every flying drop of water into frozen perfection. The flash burned the image of Sam, mouth open with laughter, water flying from his brown hand, into her mind’s eye forever.
Bea clenched her eyes shut reflexively as she flew backward, flung by an intense force that shuddered through air, water, and earth with a shock that changed the foundation of the world.
Nick woke to the sound of screaming.
The woman beside him emitted a sound like a fire alarm. The seat was bouncing so hard he would have hit his head on the ceiling if he hadn’t been belted down. Nick tightened his hands on the armrests instinctively, realizing something else—there was no vibrating hum of engine noise. Nothing surrounded him but the sounds of people in terror. The plane was dropping so rapidly Nick’s stomach felt like it was crawling up his throat.
At the front, near the cockpit, a flight attendant was yelling. “Tighten your seat belts and assume the crash position!”
“Holy crap,” Nick whispered. This was really happening. They were going down. Nick couldn’t remember what the crash position was; he’d never paid attention to the usual blah-de-blah at the beginning of the flight, and he looked around frantically. The woman beside him, still screaming, had leaned forward with her arms folded against the seat in front of her.
Like that was going to help.
They were dropping thirty thousand feet in a tin can with wings, and when they hit the water at this speed, it was going to be as hard as concrete.
Nick looked around, trying to spot the nearest exit, just in time to get hit in the head by the oxygen mask dropping down out of the ceiling. He put it on, keeping panic somewhere far away, the same detached place where he kept fear when he was getting in trouble on the dip.
They were descending at a steep downward angle, but as Nick looked out the window to the wing ahead, he could see the flaps were down. So they were trying to straighten out and descend as slowly as they could. Maybe there was a landing strip nearby?
Nick peered out the oval of window and could see the ocean below, vivid cobalt blue flecked with scudding whitecaps that were getting closer way too fast. No land anywhere that he could see. His heart began a roaring that filled his ears, drowning thought.
He heard the flight attendant yelling again, and the wails and screams subsided to listen.
“We’re going to try to make it to Lanai. We’ve had some kind of power surge and have had a complete electrical failure, so our pilots are trying to bring the plane down at enough of an angle to come up on the beach on the island. Be alert and prepared to help yourself and the passengers around you when we land!”
Nick had heard the tail was the safest place to be on a crashing plane, and he hoped it was true. He sat up straight, assessing the people around him, plotting a route to the nearest exit and mentally rehearsing his moves.
He wasn’t going out like this. He was going to live.
The aircraft trembled, the metal shivered and moaned, and as the plane leveled off, the passengers’ cries tapered off to sobbing. No lights were on anywhere, and the plane would have been dark but for windows with their shades up. A breathless tension gripped the passengers as they glided lower and lower, and suddenly the water was right beside the window and they were still going way too fast. Nick saw the leading edge of a wing catch on the surface, and with an agonized shriek the plane flipped over.
The world erupted in chaos as metal and human screams broke out, and they barreled forward upside down. Nick screamed, too, horror and rage filling his voice and echoing the chorus of destruction all around him.
This. This was it. This was all there would be, and it was so unfair.
Still upside down, he was hurled forward as if by a giant hand, and hit his head on the plastic seat back in front of him. Everything went black and silent.
Chapter Six
Bea opened her eyes a moment—or maybe a lifetime—later. She was prone on her back in the sa
nd, her legs in the water. The sky above her was on fire, blinding white light banded with color swirling overhead in hypnotizing patterns where the sky should have been. The phenomena drowned out broad daylight, gloriously beautiful.
Bea’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. Something major had just happened. Was it a bomb? She sat up.
“Sam!” He was floating face down in the water in front of her. She thought she screamed, but she couldn’t hear anything other than a ringing in her ears. She surged up and ran into the water, catching Sam under the armpits and hauling him to shore. She whacked his back. He coughed and spluttered, rolling over and sitting up to push sopping hair out of his eyes.
She saw his mouth moving, thought he might have said, “What happened?”
“We have to get to higher ground. Tsunami,” she said, but she could tell by his blank expression that he couldn’t hear, either. Everyone in Hawaii lived with the invisible threat of tsunami, tidal waves caused by underwater earthquakes. Maybe this had been an earthquake—or something more. She didn’t remember the earth shaking, but something had sure knocked her flat.
She turned to look up onto the slope where Rainbow was yanking and bucking at her headstall but fortunately hadn’t escaped. She jumped up and ran to the mare, cooing and soothing her, undoing the reins from the bush they’d tied her to.
“Come on, Sam!” she called to her brother. She couldn’t hear her own voice, though she was pretty sure she was yelling as loud as she could because she felt her throat vibrating. Her brother stumbled toward her, smacking his ear, and Bea’s eyes widened as she looked beyond him.
Trailing smoke, a passenger plane barreled toward them like a runaway locomotive.
Bea knew she must be screaming. She could feel her mouth stretching, the vibration of her throat, but still the world was silent as an antique horror movie set on slow motion.
The plane plowed into the ocean well behind Sam, raising a wall of water. It bounced like a skipped stone, flipping over and splashing down again, careening toward the reef.
Rainbow redoubled her efforts to escape. Bea barely held on to the reins, running alongside the mare and hauling herself up with a handful of mane as the panicked animal fled up the hill. She clamped onto the horse’s heaving sides with her legs and hauled on one side of the reins to turn Rainbow’s head, but there was no stopping the usually gentle animal. Rainbow blasted straight up the slope until exhaustion eventually brought her to a trembling, sweating halt.
That was the soonest Bea was able to turn the mare. She brought the horse around to look back down to the beach and see what they’d left behind.
“Bea! No!” Sam was yelling, but all he could hear was a thrumming in his ears as Rainbow hauled Bea farther up the hillside, the mare’s glossy hindquarters churning up rocks and dirt. Something had scared the horse even more than the explosion or whatever it was. That was when Sam felt the earth shudder beneath his feet, knocking him sideways. He turned around to see something massive, metal, and looming, roaring silently toward him.
He scrambled away—straight up the hill, following the mare. He could feel his bad leg buckling and slipping but paid no attention—if he stopped, he was dead. He was sure of it.
Colors blurred in front of his eyes as he ran and ran and ran, breath sobbing through his lungs until a pain in his side stabbed him as he tripped and fell. This time he hugged the ground, feeling sweat burn his tightly closed eyes.
Gradually, the world stopped spinning and his lungs hurt a little less, the tearing sensation in his lungs subsiding. His nostrils filled with the smell of earth and something hot, like burning, a strange smell that tasted like metal at the back of his throat. Sam thought he might be able to hear something, a high-pitched sound, far off and fuzzy.
The hard red dirt felt like heaven against Sam’s cheek because just this second, nothing bad was happening. He wasn’t sure he was brave enough to look back at what had chased him, but finally he pushed himself up and turned to look back down the hill.
It was a big white plane.
A wing had broken off, leaving a spinning jet engine still attached to the cigar-shaped hulk that had landed upside down, covering the reef and halfway into their swimming hole.
He was surprised at how far he’d made it up the hill. He stood up and his legs wobbled. His side still hurt—a stitch, Mom used to call that.
People probably needed help in that plane. But he was scared now, and the fear felt like bands around his chest, chains on his arms and legs. He just wanted to get home to the house, get in bed and pull the covers up over his head. Maybe forever.
He looked around for Bea. Sure enough, she was coming back down the hill, still riding Rainbow. She could make that horse do anything.
He yelled “Bea!” She turned her head and saw him—maybe she could hear better than he could.
He knew she said “Sam!” as she slid off Rainbow, towing the mare as she ran to hug him in the hardest hug. He could smell her, a familiar comfort, and with his recent growth spurt, her cheek and his head collided. He could feel how skinny she was, like his arms could go around her twice. He was almost the same size as his big sister.
“We have to get help,” she mouthed, standing back. He banged his ear again, but nothing happened except more ringing—it felt the same as when Dad whacked his head.
Someone had opened the door of the plane, and a few people climbed out, dropping into the waist-deep pool. Some seemed dazed, bleeding, staggering toward the beach, while a few turned to try to help the other passengers out the door.
Bea turned her head, her eyes scanning the area like she was looking for something, like she was listening. She did that a lot, and she reminded him of an owl, the native pueo, when she did. She said something, and he wasn’t sure what, but it seemed like it was about getting help at Lanai City for the people on the plane.
“Okay.” He didn't know what else to say. He was a kid with a bad leg. He couldn’t help anybody—and it made him mad. He’d been feeling mad a lot lately, though there was nothing to do about it but keep trying.
Bea hopped up onto Rainbow and gave him a hand up to sit behind her on the hot, trembling horse. They kicked the mare into a trot back up the hill.
Chapter Seven
Something was very wrong. Nick felt someone smacking his cheeks. His head felt like a giant water balloon. As consciousness formed, he realized it was because he was still hanging upside down, belted into his seat. The woman from beside him was kneeling below, reaching up, patting and pulling at him. “Oh, honey,” she said. “You’re alive.”
Nick reached for his belt and realized he’d dump himself on his head. He took hold of the chair arm with one hand and released the belt with the other, and that slowed him down enough to sprawl into the space between the seats unharmed.
Chaos still reigned. Shouts and cries filled the jumbled space around him. Beside the window, waves beat on the side of the plane. Nick felt disoriented, trying to figure out what was going on. Was the plane under water?
“No, but this side of the plane is rotated over and submerged. We don’t seem to be sinking, and people are getting out. Come on.”
Nick must have spoken aloud, and for the first time he really looked at his seat companion. The woman had the freckled, crumpled skin of midlife, a brunette dye job showing white roots. She wore purple sweats with a teddy bear appliquéd on the front. She had the kind of warm brown eyes he’d seen on Labradors, and they were pleading with him as she tugged on his arm.
Nick shook his head, hoping to clear it, and moaned at the pain—his brain literally felt like it was sloshing. All around them, people were helping one another into the aisle and toward the front of the plane, but getting out was going slow.
“There’s a door in the tail,” Nick told the woman. “We should get it open. It might be easier to get out from this end, too.”
She nodded. He retrieved his backpack and crawled past her to the open area where the food service carts had
broken loose and tumbled into the aisle.
Nick felt his strength returning even as his head pounded from its impact with the seat back. He moved the carts aside, pulling and pushing the spilled and jumbled contents out of the way.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked him. Nick paused as he reached the upside-down door, considering. This was his chance to assume another identity. Maybe now was the time to break away, make his move in the confusion of the accident. On the other hand, he hadn’t even checked out his grandparents’ situation yet. He could always switch identities later.
“Nick,” he said. “And you?”
“Janice.”
“Here it is, Janice,” Nick said, gesturing her forward. “The door’s upside down, but at least it’s on the side above the water.” Nick took hold of the metal handle and cranked it. It wouldn’t move. Janice stood up beside him and put her weight onto it with his, and with a screech, the handle finally moved. Both of them put their shoulders into it and pushed the door. It slid down the outside of the plane, landing with a splash in the ocean.
Blinding sunlight, strobing with color, stabbed Nick’s eyes. He cringed away. “So bright!”
“Something’s off with that sunshine,” Janice said. “I’m going to get some more people out this way. We still might blow up or something.”
She hurried away while Nick reached up into the door opening, hauling his body up to sit on the tail of the plane and check the exit path.
The full extent of the wreck was revealed in blinding-bright, midday glory.
Straight ahead, a barren hulk of golden-brown island rose before Nick, the only real trees at the crown at the very top. The vast slope before him appeared to be arid grasses, stubble, and beach shrubs. The plane had come to rest on what must be a barrier reef, because another hundred feet of shallow turquoise water stretched before the twisted hulk of the plane. A long arc of deserted beach fronted them.
