Island Fire

by Toby Neal

  There was no one to help the plane survivors and no way for her to communicate their emergency. Rainbow needed water, and Bea’s own throat felt raw and sandpapery.

  Around the back corner of the hotel, a line of people was trying to stop the fire. Motel guests in flowered resort wear and golf shoes were scooping buckets of water out of the swimming pools and reflecting ponds and passing them hand-to-hand to toss on the walls of the main lodge area. Several men with fire axes were chopping through the glass and wood of the connecting breezeway between the two sections of the Lodge—they must have decided the section where the rooms were located couldn’t be saved.

  Even as Bea watched, the flames on that building shot higher, catching in the limbs of the beautiful overarching banyan tree. The leaves darkened, curled, and floated away, obscene black snowflakes.

  Bea couldn’t bear to look, and there was nothing she could do. It was the same horrible feeling she’d had watching the plane wreck. Rainbow tugged toward one of the ponds, where swans and ducks quacked and milled in panic at the far end. Bea walked the mare over, and the horse sank her mouth in, sucking up water.

  Bea splashed water onto her hot, gritty face and hands, but she couldn’t drink the pond water. She looked around and spotted a spigot, ran over and turned it on. Nothing came out.

  Bea thought rapidly—the only water that would be running would be what was self-contained or entirely gravity-fed, like toilet tanks, which would be good for one flush. She knew where the employee lounge for the groundskeepers was, and there was a gravity-fed water dispenser there.

  When Rainbow had drunk her fill, Bea tossed a few handfuls of water onto the hot horse and picked up the rifle. She wondered why she’d bothered with the .22. It was tricky to carry, and so far the only people she’d seen had been terrified or occupied.

  But bad things would come later. She was sure of it.

  The mare bobbed her head with fatigue and nerves as they walked across the manicured putting green toward a discreetly painted storage barn. The utilitarian building was screened by gracious plantings and housed lawn mowers and equipment.

  Bea reached the steel-sided building and knocked on the door. “Hello? Anyone here?” She jiggled the handle and pushed the door wide. “Hello?”

  The break room was empty of people, but the plastic folding table, ringed by molded chairs, was covered with half-empty cups of coffee, open water bottles, and hands of cards scattered over the table and across the floor. Several of the lightweight chairs were upended.

  Bea pictured the employees on break, playing a hand of cards, eating malasadas from a pink box in the center of the table—and the event happening, knocking them flying. The electrical outlets were all surrounded by telltale burn marks, but because the building was metal, it hadn’t caught fire.

  She tied Rainbow’s reins to a tree branch and leaned the rifle against the building nearby. Inside the break room, Bea picked up a plastic water bottle from a rack of them beside the big five-gallon water bottle on a dispenser. That water was going to be very important to the people working up a sweat outside the burning hotel. In the meantime, she drank the entire bottle she’d found and refilled it.

  Casting about the room for useful objects, Bea wolfed down several of the Portuguese malasadas, slightly stale but still delicious—sugar-dusted, deep-fried dough balls filled with sweet, creamy haupia pudding. She found a cloth shopping bag and stowed several water bottles, two malasadas wrapped in napkins for Sam, some pruners, and a pair of leather gloves.

  “What are you doing here?” A man’s voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, came from the doorway. Bea gulped, swallowing the last of a malasada in a hard lump, and swung the cloth bag onto her shoulder as she turned to face the question.

  “Looking for my dad,” she said, glancing at the backlit shadow of an adult blocking the door. “I was just leaving.”

  “You mean looting.” Icy tones of disapproval as she approached him. The man was obviously a hotel guest, his lavender polo shirt streaked with soot, beefy face red from exertion.

  Bea decided not to answer and strode forward.

  “Hey!” He shot out an arm, blocking her. “We need help. We need all the supplies we can get. Give me that bag.”

  Bea had left the rifle leaning against the doorframe outside, and panic seized her at the thought of losing it.

  “No! My little brother needs help, too.” She flung his arm up. He tried to grab the bag as she passed, but she swung away, moving fast to scoop up the rifle, which he fortunately hadn’t seen. She headed for the mare, hidden by the side of the building.

  “Hey!” he yelled, coming after her. “We need that horse!”

  Bea yanked the reins loose and Rainbow sidled away, nervous at the raised voices and the man’s reaching hands. Bea leaped up onto her back, but the man had hold of Rainbow’s bridle.

  “Nothing personal,” he huffed, hauling on the reins as Bea pulled them the other way. “We just need this horse.”

  “Nothing personal,” Bea replied, releasing the reins to raise the rifle, sighting down its barrel to his sturdy midsection. “She’s mine.”

  The man yanked again. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I won’t kill you. But it will hurt and will probably get infected.”

  Bea could hardly believe that the low, flat voice threatening a man with bodily harm was her own. Slowly he let go of the reins and the headstall, smoke-reddened eyes reading her intent as he backed away, hands raised.

  “Good choice.” Bea used her legs to turn the mare, not lowering the gun until they were cantering away across the manicured grounds. She reached forward to catch the flapping reins, but Rainbow was spooked now, unused to the lashing, loose leather. The mare galloped across the golf course, headed out of town.

  Bea leaned forward, talking to the animal, one hand clutching her mane, the rifle in the other. Darned gun had finally earned its keep. “C’mon, girl. All this running is tiring you out. Just take it easy. We’re okay.”

  Rainbow tossed her head in agreement, snorting, and slowed to a walk. Bea was able to slide off and catch hold of the headstall, bringing the mare to a stop.

  Bea tilted her head to look at the sky—she couldn’t even see a sparkle of leftover phosphorescence in the deepening blue of evening. “Let’s go back to the rock and see what Sam’s been up to.”

  She walked beside the horse, giving the mare a rest as she looked back at the hotel. One side of the two-part structure was completely gone, the flames catching the banyan trees on fire. It appeared that the guests had succeeded in separating the two buildings, because the main lodge was not yet burning.

  Bea wondered how long the water in the break room would last for all those people. This morning, that man’s biggest problem had been avoiding a sunburn while golfing—and in just a few hours, he was willing to assault her and steal her horse.

  And she’d been willing to shoot him if he did.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick had met some young people as they finished hauling the last of the food and water out of the plane, along with all the carry-on bags. Kelly, Amos, Kevin, Mike, Ricky, Ashley, and Zune, all late teens and early twenties, had hurled themselves into helping, and now they’d finished dumping the contents of the bags into a pile, pulling out anything that might be useful for the group as the adults sprawled in shocked exhaustion along the beach.

  The sun had set in a bonfire of vivid color, though the spectacular effects they’d seen when the plane went down were gone. A chill wind blew up across the purpling ocean. Nick’s stomach cramped with hunger. He’d already eaten a crumpled plastic tray of cold meat loaf and drunk the last of a bottle of water.

  “I think I should go up the road, try to find some people,” Nick said to his companions. It wasn’t his usual mode to make a suggestion like this and stand out in a crowd—but this situation was extraordinary. He couldn’t stop thinking about going up the road, seeing where those kids with the horse had gone. He had to try
to find help for the injured and food and shelter for the rest of the survivors.

  Kevin, a bleached-blond Australian surfer traveling with his sister, Ashley, stood up from where he was sorting one of the suitcases. “I was just waiting for someone to say that. This is Lanai, not an uninhabited atoll. I mean, I don’t know why no one’s come to help us, but it seems like it’s time to find out.”

  It wasn’t long before their little band set off up the road in the light of the moon, with promises to return in the morning at the very latest. Nick was glad of the cool darkness as they hiked up the steep, switchbacked road rising to the highest point of the island. About halfway up, he spotted a dirt side road, leading to some sort of residence that was hidden by the darkness. An hour later, soaked with sweat, legs trembling, Nick stood with the other young crash survivors, gazing down at the conflagration that was Lanai City.

  “Well, now we know why no one’s come looking for us,” Kevin said.

  “Oh my God.” Ashley had tears in her voice as she drew close to her brother. “What are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t think we should bother going down there,” Zune said. “They won’t be able to help us, and we’ll just get in the way.”

  “We should go down tomorrow when we can see, and find people to talk to,” Nick said. “I saw a side road leading to a house back down a ways. Why don’t we see if they can shelter us for the night.”

  “Good idea,” Kevin said. They filed back down the road.

  “I’m so tired.” Ashley started crying. The girls banded together, arms around each other. Nick walked a little faster ahead, wondering how he’d somehow become a leader in this little band. Dodger would have told him to melt into the darkness and find his own way, but Nick had a feeling that surviving now might depend on having the right friends.

  The house was a silent, dark hulk, hunched and waiting in the deepest shadow under tall trees. Kevin went up onto the porch first, knocking loudly on the door. “Hello? Anyone home?” Kevin persisted at this while Nick went around the back, finding a screen door.

  “Hello?” Nick called. No sound, no movement, no light of any kind. Nick tested the handle. Locked. He picked up a heavy rock near the steps, and a couple of bashes later, the door handle fell off. He pulled the screen door open. There was no further barrier, and his heart pounding, he tiptoed into the dark house.

  It smelled ever so faintly of fish, and his footsteps creaked on old wooden floors. He crept forward, feeling his way. “Anybody home?”

  No answer. The place had a feeling to it, an empty echo that confirmed the residents were gone. Nick made his way to the front door and unlocked it for the rest of the group. “No one’s here,” he said. “We might as well spend the night here.”

  Sam and Jaden stared down the road, flat on their bellies, chins resting on folded arms. It seemed like they had been waiting like that for hours. Sam sneaked a glance at Jaden. The sixteen-year-old’s head had rotated to the side, his mouth slightly ajar. He’d fallen asleep.

  Jaden must have been really tired. He said he’d been passing buckets of water ever since the fire broke out, until his father pulled him off the line and sent him to find the two of them. Sam looked back at the town—the smoke had thinned quite a bit, and he could see that about a third of Lanai City was gone, nothing but black shells marking the shapes of homes and cars.

  The billows of smoke were lit from within with an otherworldly glow. Darkness gathered and thickened across the battered area. Emerging from those shadows, Sam spotted the silhouette of a horse—and walking beside the mare, the slender shape of his sister.

  “She’s coming back!” He shook Jaden’s arm. “Jaden, she’s back!” He scrambled backward across the rock and clambered down—his foot never slowed him climbing—and he hit the ground at a run. He reached Bea first, throwing his arms around her, noticing she was damp and smelled of smoke and pond water.

  Bea squeezed him back, and he felt her look up at Jaden, the shift of her attention. “Thanks for keeping an eye on my brother.”

  “You’re welcome. What did you find?”

  “I think I know where Dad went, and I want to go look for him. Rainbow is played out, though. I have to send her home with Sam.”

  Sam tightened his arms. “No! You can’t go back into town alone!”

  “Yeah, Bea. Bad idea.”

  “Not an option. I had word he took the truck to town. He could be hurt.”

  “Then I’ll go back with you—my brothers could help.”

  “But what about Sam—and Rainbow? Someone tried to steal her. I want to get her out of town. And Sam…”

  “I can take Rainbow home myself,” Sam said, pulling away from his sister. She was treating him like a handicapped kid—and he was sick of it.

  Rainbow’s head hung low, and her sides were streaked with sweat. He reached for the reins, took them from his sister, and felt rather than saw Bea and Jaden trying to figure out what to do. He gave a tug on the leather. “Come, Rainbow.”

  The tired animal followed him without protest as he led her back up the road. He squelched the fear rising up like bile. His bad foot already ached. There were several more miles to go, but he wasn’t going to be treated like a baby. He could help, too.

  A moment later he felt Jaden’s hand on his shoulder. “Let me give you a boost up. Rainbow can carry a lightweight like you without even noticing.” The mare gave a snort but no further objection as Jaden boosted Sam onto the horse, and he couldn’t help being relieved not to be walking as he settled onto the riding blanket and rearranged the reins.

  Sam looked back. Bea had already disappeared, back the way she’d come. The darkness closed over the smoking town, flickers of red the only illumination. “Why did you let her go?”

  “She’s going to my house to get my brothers. She’s got the gun—it’ll be okay. I just wanted to go where the food was.”

  “Yeah, right,” Sam said. “She’s making you babysit me.”

  “What? You kidding? Actually, she told me she’s worried the people from the plane will find the house and take it over.”

  A new fear emerged, one he realized had always been there.

  All those people—hurt, hungry, and thirsty. Where would they go when they realized no one was coming to help them? They’d walk until they found the road—a steep blacktop ribbon leading to the spine of the island and Lanai City—and a rutted two-lane track that came off it going straight to their house. Fortunately, the house wasn’t visible from the road, but still …

  Sam kicked Rainbow’s sides. “C’mon, girl! We have to get home!” The mare rolled an eye and walked slightly faster, but that was all.

  Sam liked Rainbow, and the horse tolerated him—but he was no Bea to be obeyed.

  “Let’s just hurry.” Jaden shifted his spear gun to his shoulder. “And hope no one’s broken in.”

  Bea broke into a jog back toward town. The dark wrapped her in dubious protection, and she was grateful for it even if her footing was uncertain on the asphalt road. She was wearing rubber slippers—hardly the right footwear for trekking through rubble from a fire.

  I will lead you to him. Her `aumakua sent her a mental picture of her dad’s truck, crashed in a ravine on the way down to the industrial harbor. Bea hurried faster, her heart squeezing, wondering, as she often did, if Beosith was just her stressed-out imagination at work. It didn’t really matter. She didn’t have any better idea where to go.

  The explosion could have caused the truck’s engine to fail, because everywhere along the road, automobiles were pulled over and abandoned. Once again Bea wondered what kind of disaster had befallen them—it seemed to have ruined everything that relied on electricity.

  Jaden had handed her a piece of rope from his backpack in that moment of communication they’d shared as Sam led the tired horse away. She remembered the intensity of his shadowed dark eyes as he’d grasped her shoulders and how he’d leaned toward her. For a moment she’d thought he was going
to kiss her, and there was no denying the disappointment she’d felt as he just leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear and lifting the hair on the back of her neck. “Get my brothers to help you. Be careful.”

  Bea thought of a use for the rope and stopped to slip a knot over the hard resin stock of the .22 rifle and another half hitch over the barrel, with slack in between. She slung the gun over her shoulder with the makeshift strap. She still carried the cloth sack holding a water bottle, pruners, gloves, and the malasadas.

  Bea knew she might as well eat the malasadas. She was going to need energy—but her stomach churned, imagining her father trapped in the cab of the wrecked truck. He hadn’t always been the violent, drinking, paranoid man he’d become. He’d always worked hard and had been a little stern—but he used to know how to laugh. When their mother was alive, he’d been a good dad.

  Sometimes she still glimpsed love in his chambray-blue eyes. Losing Angel seemed to have broken something in him. She wouldn’t blame him for any of it, if it weren’t for how he treated Sam.

  She slowed to walk through the town. The part of the village closest to the hotel had fared the worst. Whole blocks of the modest wooden homes, roofed in tin, were nothing but smoking rubble now. The smell of the smoke was a sharp, sour tang, painful in her nostrils. A dog barked from a driveway, and she saw campfires and lanterns with people clustered around them in the yards and houses that remained.

  Her rubber slippers crunched over cinders and rubble in the road. She broke into a trot, making her way into the unburned portion of town and up Jaden’s street. His house, a small green cube with white trim and a corrugated tin roof, was black but for the glow of a lamp in the kitchen window.

  Bea started up the walkway, a path lined with ocean-worn stones from the beach, and glimpsed the scene inside the window. Jaden’s family was holding hands, heads bowed in prayer around the dining room table. Bowls set before each person steamed.