by Mirren Hogan
“I guess it is.” It suited the description of their predicament to a tee. “But only two of us against all of them? Those are bad odds.”
“We have a secret weapon,” he pointed out. “You. I think we should . . . ah!” He startled as the plantation’s rooster suddenly crowed, greeting the first rays of the morning sun. “See, there are death chickens,” he joked wanly. “That nearly scared the life out of me. I suppose that means we’re off duty. Someone will come and right the truck. We should get some sleep. We’ve been up for twenty-four hours.”
“Please tell me you can lift your arms to call someone to get the truck, and get us back to the cottage? I don’t think I can walk that far.” She looked up at Flynn and shook her head. “I doubt you can, either.”
“I can manage.” He put his arm around her, under her armpits. “C’mon, I’ll help you.” He looked and sounded close to exhaustion, but she knew he wouldn’t rest until they were both safe. He started to lead them toward their hut, albeit slowly, with careful movement.
“How are we going to explain what happened?” She allowed him to push her along, even if she leaned back into his chest. “To the truck, and the rows—there’s a nice collection of broken trees. That’s gonna cut into profits. My brother is gonna flip out!” Her head swiveled around, surveying the damage they’d done.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose we could run before they notice, but I need to sleep first.” He shoved the hut door open and helped her inside.
“What about your face?” She eased down onto the bed and managed to untie her shoes before leaning back with her legs hanging off. “We should . . . get you looked at . . . ” The phrase was punctuated by a yawn. They both looked and felt like hell, after the night they’d suffered. Sleep was so tempting, even more than a bath or painkillers. “At least put some Bactine on it.”
He flopped down beside her, not even bothering with his shoes. “It’ll be fine.” He raised a hand slightly and waved it in dismissal. “Besides, I can’t get up now anyway.” He closed his eyes. Within moments, his breathing was steady in sleep.
It took Makani just a little longer. Her mind wouldn’t stop reeling from the abrupt end to their idyll. Why now? Why, when everything had started to feel perfect? She sighed and got to the floor, slowly taking Flynn’s shoes off. There was probably no way to get his feet on the bed, so she curled herself around his torso, and pulled a quilt over them both. They would just have to sleep in this position.
Her thoughts turned to Flynn and his revelation about starting the process of procuring his green card. That meant he wanted to stay. At least, he had. What about now? There was going to be no peace for them, that much was apparent. No matter where they ran, these things were going to follow. Makani wanted nothing more than to have some peace for them both, but especially for Flynn. She looked at him, fast asleep beside her. The long, singed scar across his cheek was definitely going to be a permanent fixture on his handsome face. Another reminder of the hell they’d gone through.
Eventually, she couldn’t form coherent thoughts and drifted off. Her last waking thought was the hope for a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 19
It was late afternoon by the time Flynn awoke. How long his stomach had been rumbling, he didn’t know. He remembered a midnight sandwich, but he hadn’t eaten since then. He shifted on the bed. The covers were still under him and his shoes weren’t on his feet. He must have virtually passed out last night. No, this morning.
He felt Makani stir beside him and rolled over. “Hey, sleeping beauty.”
She rolled over as well, and blinked tired eyes at Flynn. “Hey.” Her hand reached up and she traced the edge of the long burn on his cheek, a frown creasing her brow. “These used to be called ‘Heidelberg Dueling Scars.’ “
He winced; her touch stung the wound. His mother was going to kill him when she saw it. He doubted she’d believe he’d cut himself shaving. “Really?” he asked. “I think, to be fair, I should have been armed too, then. And warned with a count to three.” He smiled.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you hold the gun next time.” She at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. Removing her hand, she traced down Flynn’s neck and over his shoulder. Makani kissed him and sighed, her eyes dancing over the man’s face.
“You saved my ass, who am I to argue?” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “I’ll remember you every time I look in the mirror, too.” As if he’d ever forget her anyway. He kissed her, his tongue running over her lips, probing into her mouth.
Her mouth was too busy to respond. Her tongue met Flynn’s, while her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. A smooth leg ran up to his hip and back down over his thighs. Her foot tangled against his, and she shifted just a little until Flynn was over her.
Deciding that she was overdressed, he slid his hands down her belly to the hem of her top. Hooking his hands under it, he pulled it up and over her head. His mouth broke off from hers and moved down to kiss and lick her neck.
Makani moaned softly, her fingers trailing lazy circles down his warm, hard flesh. She squirmed under Flynn’s touch and snuck her own hand down to start working the fly on his pants down.
He undid her shorts. He slipped them down and tossed them aside.
It was Makani’s turn to shimmy out of her clothes, sitting up just enough to let Flynn unhook her bra, and arching her hips to let him slide her panties off. She let him go to finish undoing his pants and slide them down with her knees, laughing at how clumsy the motion was. Getting his shirt off was easier, but Makani frowned at the blue and purple bruises that had blossomed on his skin from being jostled around by the flipping truck. “You’re all beat up.”
“So are you.” He ran his hands around cuts and scrapes and bruises on her otherwise smooth skin. “His and hers battle scars.” He ran his hands along her belly, down to her thighs. There he gently parted her legs. He kissed his way up the inside of her thighs.
She gasped and shivered. Her hands tangled in his hair as she squirmed and panted. Drawing her thighs up, she wrapped them around his ears and dug her heels into his back to arch against his mouth. “Damn tease!”
He lifted his face and grinned. “Oh? Really?” He lowered his face again.
That had Makani nearly jumping out of her skin. She moaned out loud and bit her bottom lip to keep quiet. Her hips wiggled and thrashed as her cheeks started to turn a pleasing shade of pink under her deep tan. It didn’t take her long, with all the attention she was receiving. Gasping for air, Makani felt her toes curl back and she cried out loudly as her fingers bunched in Flynn’s hair.
He came up for air, careful not to pull out his own hair where she gripped it. He’d never get tired of making her feel good. Pushing himself up off his elbow, he carefully slid his fingers out of her and moved up and back over her.
She purred in pleasure as her own eyes fluttered shut. Once she let go of his hair, Makani grabbed onto his waist. Her fingers dug deep into his skin, as she urged him on.
Flynn rested his hands on either side of her, savoring her. Every time they were together could be their last. He wanted to enjoy every second.
Opening her eyes, Makani drew Flynn’s mouth down for a long kiss. Her teeth caught his lower lip playfully, and she smiled softly at him. Her breathing was ragged, and she wasn’t going to last too much longer. She squeezed him with her muscles, shivering at the sensations that passed through her whole body.
Flynn leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I love you.” A moment later, he felt a surge of pleasure that he couldn’t resist any longer. With a grunt, he let go, letting it wash over every part of his body like an exquisite tsunami.
She held tight to him, her own release following close behind. Hips rocking up to meet Flynn’s final thrusts, she bit down into his shoulder to keep from screaming. When she finally calmed, Makani looked at Flynn with a very tender expression. “I love you, too.”
He sagged down to one side of
her and drew her tightly into his arms. “That’s good, considering we’re naked and sweaty.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear lobe. Only food would move him now and that was getting more and more urgent.
“You hungry?”
“I could eat. And take a bath. And go back to sleep!” She made a show of sniffing at his chest and neck, wrinkling her nose. “We both stink. Maybe a bath first is a good idea.” But her stomach interjected, with a loud rumble. “Or, we can start scrounging up dinner-lunch-breakfast?”
“How about you bathe and I’ll go scrounge us up some di-lu-fast?” Reluctantly, he let her go and dragged himself up out of bed. No point in dirtying clean clothes, he pulled on last night’s . . . or were they today’s? He couldn’t remember. “I’ll be back,” he said in his best Schwarzenegger impersonation, which was pretty bad. “Any requests?”
“Whatever you want. You’re the better cook anyway.” He’d proven that over the time they’d been together. She was, at best, indifferent in the kitchen. Makani gave Flynn a quick kiss before grabbing her slippers from under the bed. Redressing in last night’s clothes, she picked her towel up and opened the door. “Do we have rice? I can get some from Manny.”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” he replied. “No, I used the last of it with that curry, remember?” That had been a good curry.
“Okay. I’ll grab some on my way back.” Makani started for the bath house.
Flynn headed in the opposite direction. A mile or two down the road from the plantation was a tiny store. It stocked everything from sandwiches and coffee, to cooking ingredients and cigarettes. It was well enough stocked with alcohol to survive the zombie apocalypse, but not remember any of it later. It also stocked bags of rice too big to buy for two people. Manny tended to buy one and share it out amongst everyone else.
Flynn bought fruit, fresh vegetables and a tray of chicken breast, enough for a good meal. With all of that and a six- pack of beer stuffed into a string bag, he headed back to their hut and started chopping the chicken.
***
Makani was surprised there weren’t other people out in their section of the farm. There was usually a small crowd near the communal baths. At any other time, she would have found the quiet disturbing. The only thing Makani could really think about, was having the whole facility to herself.
She bathed thoroughly, hunger creeping up on her as she washed away the layers of grime and sweat. Wringing her hair out, she tied it into a knot and started out toward Manny’s place, the largest structure on the plantation besides the tractor garage. What she found when she got there, sent her running back to Flynn.
Flynn was tossing the chicken into a pot when the door flew open. Chopping knife in hand, he swung around, apparently ready to defend himself. When he saw Makani, he lowered the knife and exhaled in visible relief.
“Don’t scare me like that—” He stopped and stared at her. “Makani? What’s wrong?”
“Manny! Manny . . . his wife! They’re dead!” She doubled over and panted. Reaching over to Flynn, she grabbed his hand and tugged hard, “C’mon! Bring your phone, call the cops!”
“What? What do you mean they’re dead?” Looking dazed, he grabbed his phone off the table and followed.
“They’re dead, damn it! Just . . . just, c’mon!” She ran, ignoring the pain in her side. Makani’s mind was swimming, and she couldn’t quite process what was going on. She was becoming used to death, but nothing prepared a person for it when the deceased was a person she knew and respected, worked with every day. Manny had been like family to her, and now . . .
Makani opened the door but didn’t quite look inside. She already knew Manny and his wife had been eviscerated, blood and bits of gut painting the walls. It almost looked like someone had tried to eat them from the inside out. That’s what had her the most scared.
Flynn stood behind her and stared. “Bloody hell.”
That was all too appropriate. Was that brain on the ceiling? Her stomach churned. The only thing that kept her from emptying it was the fact that it was already empty. Her eyes settled on a form on the table, half-filled out and dotted with blood. It was a form requesting a green card based on employment. She could see Flynn’s name scribbled at the top.
Others had gathered behind them, a soft murmur rising up. Makani stepped back from the door and swallowed hard, bile rising in her throat. “What the hell happened in there . . . ?”
Flynn shook his head. They could guess, but not out loud in front of all of these people. “The police are on their way. Maybe everyone should step back and not contaminate the—” he gulped “—crime scene.” He waved everyone back and closed the door behind them. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he took Makani’s elbow and took her aside.
“Did you see anything?” he asked. It was doubtful there was an “anyone” involved.
Swallowing again, Makani looked up dumbly at Flynn. Her skin had gone pale in shock at the memory of what she’d seen. Finally, she pulled him close and whispered, “Manananggal. It went east.”
He nodded briefly and turned back to the gathering crowd. “Come on, we need to get salt and a few other things and go after it. There’s nothing we can do here.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right.” Makani frowned a little. “Shouldn’t we wait for the cops to get here? They might have questions.”
“Do we have answers?” he whispered. “None we can give them anyway. Come on, before that thing gets anyone else.”
“Okay.” She was of no mind to argue. What would she tell her brother when he found out? He, of all his siblings, would be the least likely to believe the truth. The idea of having to call him was enough to give her the shakes.
Makani allowed Flynn to drag her back to their quarters, and started moving automatically to fill her backpack. Headlamps, matches, phone, lighters . . . all of the essentials were still in there. “Are you sure we should go now? Are we in any shape to do this?”
Flynn hesitated. “Not really.” He gazed longingly toward the chicken sitting in the pot. “It looks like sandwiches again before we go.”
Makani picked up her pack. “I’m really not hungry anymore.” She walked toward Flynn, put her arms around his neck and held him close. “This is gonna be rough. This isn’t the ‘Big Island’ for nothing.” Where could they be coming from? From her dreams?
“We both need our strength,” he insisted. “I’ll fix us something if you finish packing.”
Luckily they’d slept, at least.
“Yeah, fine. But— “ Makani rummaged in a drawer and started looking for a map of the island. Finding one, she spread it across the table and pressed her finger against the southern end. Working her way north and east, she started picking out possible locations. “Ka’u . . . leads to Chain of Craters Road. That leads to Volcanoes National Park, where you find the Thurston Lava Tube. That’s a likely spot.”
Flynn raised his eyebrows as he buttered some whole wheat bread. “Lava tubes? Is that safe?” he asked. “Wait, we’re chasing manananggal, of course it isn’t. Silly me,” he added under his breath. He cut the sandwiches, plated them both and passed one over to her.
“It used to be. A lot of tourists visit the area but, once again, this is the slow season. And a lot of it’s cut off from public access. Lucky for you, us kids used to sneak up there all the time to explore after dark.” Her lips quirked to the side as she poked the sandwich and pulled a tomato out. Nibbling on it, she picked out the route on the map. “Salt. Spray cans. Hair spray, not spray paint. We can’t deface this area. Although, considering the collateral damage we inflicted at the falls . . . ”
He snorted. “Okay, no tagging the lava tubes. And no writing ‘Makani and Flynn were here.’ I’m sure we’ll leave a mark, though, one way or another.” He bit into his sandwich and looked at her. “You would have made a good general. No,” he corrected himself, “you are a good general. Hopefully we won’t have to collapse too many more tourist attractions,” he added. “I don’t think th
at’d be too good for the economy.”
“No, not at all. It’s crappy enough here as is.” She studied the map harder. “At worst, if we need to, we can draw these things into the desert here,” Makani stabbed her finger at a spot not far from the Park, “And light ‘em up. No one to bother us, nothing to destroy. No greenery to catch fire, no houses, no people.”
He nodded approvingly. “I’m going to be the bait again, aren’t I?” As if he hadn’t volunteered the last time. He finished his sandwich and put his plate in the sink as the sound of sirens reached the hut. “We should go before we can’t.” The police would take ages to question everyone and waiting could put other lives at risk.
“Yeah, let’s go.” She dumped the mangled leftovers of her sandwich and put their plates in the sink. Shoving her feet into her boots, Makani took a last look around. “We’ll take the bike. It’s faster. I don’t even know if anyone got the truck.” She fished her keys out of the beat-up couch and started for the door.
“I’m not even going to ask to drive,” he said.
“Good.” She checked for her phone and wallet and followed him out the door. As she locked it behind them, she wondered if this might be the last time she ever did so.
CHAPTER 20
Helmet on, visor down. The wind swept by and had a chill, raising goosebumps on Makani’s arms. She leaned forward, speeding them down the highway, past the Ka’u Desert. With the sun down and the stars up, it looked like a landscape from a foreign planet. No plant life, no animals. It was barren and desolate.
Every so often, she looked up toward the sky to see if anything was coming or going. Eventually, it paid off. Great wings blotted out the stars. She watched it head east toward the Lava Tree Forest, close to Thurston Lava Tube. Not pointing or saying a word, she turned the bike onto the Chain of Craters Road and mentally braced herself as they rattled along over fresh lava flows that had closed the roads for visitors. It would be the fastest way to get where they were going.
