by Pam Richter
Michelle blinked hard and looked up again. She let out a shriek and stood up. It was still impossible to believe her own eyes. Michelle ran around the fire and hugged Heather, murmuring that she should be in the hospital. Was she really all right? What was she doing here?
Michelle gave Nakamura a quick smile, their recent intimacy making her feel uncomfortable. This wasn't the way she wanted him to see her, wearing almost nothing, abraded from the sand in her wild ride to the beach and with hair hanging in wet strings around her face. Her discomfort was momentary. Hell with it. She was so glad to see him. She broke into a grin and hugged him too.
"How did you get here? Oh, you're hurt," Michelle cried.
Michelle had knocked Nakamura down with her enthusiastic hug, but he was grinning up at her. His face looked like it had been skinned over the cheekbone, and his clothes were all torn up. There was something wrong with his leg. He took off his shirt and handed it to her.
"She'll eventually end up with all my favorite shirts," Nakamura murmured to Heather.
"Slightly damaged goods," Heather said, not really understanding.
The shirt was torn in several places but Michelle felt more comfortable as soon as she put it on. If she really had any healing ability, Nakamura was gifted with an almost uncanny empathic knowledge about how to make her feel better in any situation. It wasn't mere politeness. He seemed to have a peculiar knowledge of her that went way beyond the length time they had known each other.
Nakamura and Heather had a stranger with them who was grinning like he was enjoying the reunion. To top it all, Lucifer was screaming his head off.
Vincent had paused in his chore, noticing the newcomers on the beach and brushed the sand off his knees. He studied Omar and decided it would be impossible for him to get free. Vincent walked over to the group rather diffidently. Michelle introduced him to Heather and Nakamura. Nakamura introduced the pilot, Guy Thorner.
Lucifer was making so much noise that explanations were almost impossible. Michelle started opening up the cat-box.
"He's pretty wild right now," Nakamura warned. "Maybe you better wait..." He was remembering the ferocious attack he had received from the cat.
"Poor kitty. He's just scared," Michelle said, scooping Lucifer into her arms. She whispered to the cat, kissing it's nose, quieting him down until he merely let out soft little meows that mingled with her hiccups.
They all walked over and looked down at Omar. His head, neck and only part of his shoulders were visible above the sand. The gash on his head had stopped bleeding, but his entire face on the right was rimmed with blood, which had dried and turned almost black. In repose his face looked calm and quite beautiful. He had been unconscious now for about ten minutes.
"We have to get hold of the authorities, right away," Vincent said. "And we have to keep him here, or else he'll disappear."
"Right, two of his witches are somewhere in the area," Nakamura said, looking around. They weren't with Samson, who still appeared to be unconscious.
"I have a radio in the plane," Guy said. "We can call from there."
"I need to rest for a minute," Michelle said and the others nodded.
They all headed to the fire and sat down.
"How did you get here?" Nakamura asked, waving his arm around the improbably desolate beach and looking at Michelle.
Michelle and Vincent took turns explaining how Omar had dropped them into the ocean from the helicopter. Now that the ordeal was past they interrupted each other, laughing, each telling their own particular view. It was obvious for that act alone, pitching them into the sea, Omar could be punished legally. It could be interpreted as an act of murder.
Vincent's part of the tale made Michelle into a heroine when he explained how she had pulled him to shore with a belt in her teeth.
Michelle was uncomfortable as Vincent described how she had saved him, so she took off Nakamura's shoe and studied the grotesquely swollen ankle, touching it lightly.
"What are you doing?" Nakamura asked softly, not interrupting Vincent's tale. He looked at her with astonishment.
"Just checking. You have to go to a doctor. Am I hurting you?"
"Not hurting, no. Whatever you're doing, don't stop," Nakamura whispered.
"...she even taught me how to swim..." Vincent was saying.
Next, Nakamura was urged to tell about how he had found Michelle on this far removed beach in Kauai. He had to backtrack to the car explosion, and then his trip to the hospital.
Heather interrupted and told how Nakamura had saved her from the witch who tried to smother her with a pillow. Which led to them both discovering the chaos in Michelle's apartment and following the giant, Samson. Then they explained the plane chase to the island of Kauai.
Which reminded them of Samson and the witches.
When they glanced toward the back of the beach, Samson was still lying in the sand where Nakamura had pushed him from the path. They didn't think they would have to worry about him for awhile. The witch who had been tending him was gone.
None of them noticed when Omar opened up one eye. The eye on the good, unbloodied side of his face. It roved around darkly, taking in the whole scene.
The group around the fire had almost finished telling their tales. Michelle wanted to know how Vincent's first ride on a giant wave had gone. He had them laughing as he described how incredibly fast the wave advanced and how it had literally thrown him up on the beach. He had been so surprised that he forgot to move and got clobbered by the next one, but he managed to escape the sucking waves, although at one point he had almost despaired of never make it to dry sand.
Omar had both eyes open. His whole head and neck moved slowly to one side. Then he leaned in the other direction. He moved almost imperceptibly, keeping his eyes fixed on the group sitting in the light of the fire, only about twenty feet from him. Little by little his shoulders were getting loose, and he worked those muscles individually, rotating them, moving them up and down, pushing the sand aside.
"We have to get medical help for Rod and the giant. Omar too," Vincent was saying. "Some sort of medi-vac to get us all out of here. It's late, but there must be emergency services here in Kauai."
"There are," Guy said. "Tourists get stranded on these isolated beaches, sometimes. I'll drive the Jeep to the plane and call for help."
He was really the only able bodied man in the group. Vincent might have made it, but he was exhausted. Besides, Guy knew how to use the radio in the plane and had friends on the island that he could call for help.
Nakamura handed Guy the keys to the Jeep. He was wishing he hadn't let the air out of the tires in the truck. They all could have left together. He didn't have any qualms about leaving Samson here with his broken legs, or Omar, buried in the sand. But truthfully, when he considered it, he didn't think he could make it up that steep trail on his own power now that the emergency was past.
Vincent and Heather walked with Guy toward the path leading to the jeep, leaving Nakamura and Michelle alone by the fire. Heather had smiled and winked at Michelle when she practically pulled Vincent along with her.
Omar saw his chance, with three of the people walking away and the two by the fire in deep conversation. Suddenly he was moving fast as a rattlesnake, his whole upper body lunging, whipping back and forth, loosening the sand even more. Then he twisted like a dervish, around side to side, making the hole bigger. He was digging in the sand with his toes. His activity was so strenuous, perspiration sprang from his scalp and ran down his face, mixing with the blood. He kept his eyes on the two by the fire so he could stop in an instant if they looked his way.
Omar signaled to his two witches, nodding with his head that now was the moment.
"I was completely overwhelmed, seeing you and Heather." Michelle said smiling and shaking her head. "But I wanted to ask you a question. It's been burning in my mind."
"Yes?"
"Why you don't want me to work with you in Tokyo?"
"Many reas
ons. First, like I said, I couldn't be your boss. I can't tell you to do anything. Not now. But if you really want to go to Tokyo, work with the executive committee, I will recommend it to the chairman."
"I can see your point, of course," Michelle said sadly.
"You could end up in my position. Controller of Heroshi," Nakamura said.
"The only reason I wanted to go to Tokyo was to work with you."
Nakamura suddenly had a small smile on his face, "Really?"
"Otherwise it didn't appeal to me," Michelle said. "Oh, it was exciting at first, when you offered the position. The reason I said yes was, I was swept off my feet, so to speak. I really liked you and wanted to work with an expert. It was my rationalization at the time. I surprised myself, in fact, when I accepted. I hadn't even thought it out."
"As I said, you could be controller of Heroshi Corporation. The whole shebang."
"But you don't want me there..." Michelle said. She wondered why he was talking about her taking over his job.
"No. I don't want you in Tokyo," Nakamura said. "Not half a world away. Commuting between Tokyo and California is too exhausting, every weekend or so. It's much easier, California to Hawaii, when you contemplate logistics. Even if I am being selfish."
"What?" She hoped he meant that he wanted to see her every weekend, but didn't understand the California, Tokyo, Hawaii itinerary he was talking about.
"I'm leaving Heroshi. I would have been your boss for just a little while, anyway. So if you want my job, I'll propose you for the spot and give you my entire backing. I pull a lot of weight in the corporation, so whomever I propose will probably get it. I'll teach you everything I know in the next three months. Then the chairman will be your boss."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. I've been buying property in California. Along the coast. I'll manage that and my father's property. Maybe even buy some fee simple land here in Hawaii. I'm tired of Tokyo, tired of having nothing of my own."
"I see," Michelle said slowly. It was a generous offer. He would promote her to the Chairman of Heroshi, and give her a crash course in everything he knew. It was tempting.
"So it's really up to you," Nakamura said. "You can go to Tokyo and become Controller of Heroshi. Or you can stay here in Hawaii."
Michelle got up and moved closer to the fire. After all the frantic activity during the last few hours she hadn't even felt the chill, but the northern sides of the islands could get surprisingly cold. She looked up and saw fat clouds bunching up around the moon, which had a ring around it. Ring around the moon meant rain, she remembered, in one of the old tales she had been told as a child. She hoped there would be no lightening tonight.
Omar became still as a cement statue when Michelle got up. Nothing moved but his eyes, and the expression of rage on his face. He could feel Michelle looking at him, like the warmth of the sun on his head. He scarcely breathed until the feeling was gone, then he opened his eyes again.
Nakamura was struggling to get up when Michelle turned around. "Dammit," Nakamura said. "This thing really hurts."
"It's broken."
"Oh. I thought it might be." He pulled himself closer to the fire. "I guess it's too soon for you to make a decision?"
"It's been made," Michelle said.
As Guy Thorner started the Jeep he had a sudden inspiration. There might be a car phone in the truck the giant had driven. He didn't relish driving all the way to the plane and then driving back to beach again to pick up everyone. Then he'd have to take them all back to the plane. It would take hours.
He shut off the Jeep’s engine and went over to the truck. As he gazed inside the vehicle now sitting on flat tires, he smiled and opened the door to turn on the overhead dome light. There was a cellular phone. Up here, near the top of the cliffs in Kauai, there would be little problem with transmission anywhere on the island.
When he finally got hold of Kauai Emergency Medical Services the man in charge had to be awakened. Then he was disbelieving. "You're telling me there's one man on the beach with two broken legs, one with a broken ankle, and another with a possible concussion who is buried up to his neck in the sand? A total of eight people to be rescued?"
"Yes."
"This is a joke?"
"No. We need help fast. Medical services and the law." Guy Thorner recited a list of the people he knew on the island as references.
"You better be telling me the truth." The man's voice was sleepy, but very serious.
"I am. I swear," Guy said.
"Damn. We'll try to get there within a half hour. We're only a few minutes from Princeville. We'll fly out from there."
The two witches had been sneaking quickly across the sand, bent low so they couldn't be seen over the fire. They dropped to the sand on their stomachs and were slithering like snakes toward Omar. When they reached him they swiftly got to their hands and knees, one on either side of Omar, and started digging. They looked like two dogs frantically uncovering a bone. Sand flew wildly. Omar gyrated like a man possessed.
Omar was free.
Michelle and Nakamura heard the frenzied commotion behind them and when they turned their heads, Omar was standing right behind them, looming over them like a wicked gargoyle. He had a malevolent, victorious smile on his face. The two witches on either side of him were actually hissing menacingly.
"Ah, shit," Nakamura said, right before Omar kicked him in the head.
Nakamura ducked and Michelle lunged up when she saw Omar's unmistakable intention. She partially blocked the strike.
"You win, Omar. I'll do anything you say," Michelle said quickly. There was no doubt in her mind that Omar would kill Nakamura. She stood in front of Omar, trying to block access to Nakamura.
"I'll need your entire attention, Michelle," Omar said, speaking slowly and inexorably. "And so will the child. If this man is anywhere in the world, you will be divided. Not that he deserves it." Omar glanced contemptuously at Nakamura. "But he will be on your mind; you will build him up to grandiose proportions, even more so because of the separation. I simply can't have that."
Good grief, Michelle thought, there was Omar's rationalization for murder. He was trying to show justification, and in his own mind believed he was acting rationally, in all probability. On top of that, he was trying to persuade her that what he was proposing was a sane act. Didn't he understand that she would never forgive him? Michelle decided she could act insane too.
Michelle stepped up to Omar and put her arms around him. She leaned against him, resting her head against his chest. Electrical impulses throbbed painfully throughout her whole body at the contact, but suddenly she knew she was doing exactly the right thing. This was the only way to fight the Necromancer.
"I can see right through you, Michelle," Omar said, frowning down at the top of her head.
"Good. Read my thoughts," Michelle whispered. She closed her eyes and put the picture of the child that she and Omar would have in her mind, blocking out everything else. She knew Omar had a crude mind reading ability. She also knew it was sometimes false and hoped it would work spuriously now, like it had when she told him that Vincent had drowned. She had sounded convincing and he had believed her. He had seen the picture of Vincent's last gasp in the ocean, which he had somehow pulled from her imagination. Michelle knew she had to make him believe her images now, or they were all dead.
"You're trying to trick me," Omar thought suspiciously.
Michelle looked up into his eyes and moved her arms up his back and over his chest until they were around his neck. "No, I'm healing you. You know I can. Your head is hurting and I'm making it all better, Omar. You can hear what I'm thinking. You can read my thoughts." Michelle was thinking, not talking, soothingly, like she would to a small hurt animal.
Michelle had a hideous feeling that she was being invaded. It was awful. Like becoming infested with tiny bugs crawling throughout her brain. She felt like scratching her head, the perception was so overpowering and alien, but she had to concentr
ate and she shut all thoughts out of her mind except the concept of the child she and Omar would have.
Michelle locked her eyes on Omar's and sent pictures of the baby with big blue eyes. She sent images of the toddler with curly black hair, running on chubby legs. She sent pictures of the handsome adolescent with the mesmerizing blue eyes that sent out flames. The only difference in the descriptions she transmitted and Omar's representation were in the temperament and behavior of the child. For her the child was composed of fun, mischief and laughter, innocence, sweet vulnerability and love.
Omar jerked in her arms, but she held on.
He tried to look away, but she held him fast with her eyes.
"No. I won't get rid of the witches," Omar murmured in his mind, and Michelle heard him. She now understood that Omar had contemplated his own very human destiny of endless death. What he wanted, his final goal, was to live on through his own progeny. He was trying to trick the final irrevocable enemy. That was why he needed a child at this point in his life, when he was growing older, prey to the dissolution, disease and limitations that all humans must endure at the end of their lives. He might look young, but he was painfully aware that his ending was not that far off in the future.
Michelle sent Omar pictures of he and the beautiful child together, running along the beach. Of Omar lifting the baby in his arms and throwing him in the air, only to catch the bundle as the child giggled down at him with blue eyes into Omar's dark ones.
"You're hurting me," Omar said silently. His face appeared tormented.
Michelle imagined she was hurting him. He must have hated his own father with a passionate rage to have killed him. He had no memories like the ones she was presenting. Omar's childhood had been a sterile wasteland. She kept giving him painful visualizations of what he had missed and what he had disassociated from entirely.
