Night of the Howling Dogs

by Graham Salisbury

  “Why?”

  He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from the inside band with a finger. His short hair was black, peppered with gray, and his scalp was eerily white from wearing the hat all the time. He put the hat back on. “One time two guys came down here. Mainland guys. One of them had a pistol, for protection.”

  “From what?”

  “Good question. Anyway, they wanted to go swimming, and like you, they saw Fred. Fred was just curious, you know? He likes company. So Fred came in close to check out his visitors. The one guy got his gun and shot him in the fin. You seen the hole. Fred took off and they went swimming. But he came back.”

  “And attacked them?”

  “No, no…he came back later, at night while they sleeping…lying on the sand in their sleeping bags.”

  We waited for more. Masa took his time.

  “Well, what happened?” Mike said.

  Masa looked sideways, as if checking to make sure no one would hear. “About two o’clock in the morning,” he whispered, “the guy with the gun wen’ fly up! Boom!”

  We all jumped.

  Masa went on. “The guy scramble out of that bag and reach for his gun.”

  “Ho,” Mike said. “What was it?”

  “Something bumped him.” Masa held up two fingers. “Two things happened. One, his gun was gone. Two, the guy’s finger was frozen stiff. Trigger finger.”

  “Yai,” Mike whispered.

  “You just made that up, right?” I said.

  “No, boy. True story. But here’s the end of it—the guy’s finger stayed stiff all the way until the second they hiked across the national park line. Then—pop!—the finger wen’ unstiff.”

  Louie burst into a laugh.

  Mike and Casey grinned.

  Masa raised his eyebrows. “Obviously, you boys never heard of the ghost shark of Halape.”

  “Pssh,” Louie spat.

  Masa seemed so sincere I didn’t know what to think. The other cowboys looked amused.

  “Of course, Fred is just the name we gave him,” Masa went on. “He’s got a Hawaiian name, but none of us were around two hundred years ago to find out what it was. But don’t be fooled, Fred is for real. An old Hawaiian spirit lives inside that shark. You can swim right up to him and he won’t bother you. He likes people, actually. It gets lonely around here. If he could, he would talk your ear off, I bet.”

  “Come on,” Louie scoffed.

  “I tell you what, boy…. What’s your name?”

  “Louie.”

  “Louie, listen…we going down by the trees, get set up. Then you come with us and we go swim. I show you Fred is Fred and not a shark like you think of a shark. How’s about that?”

  “Naah,” Louie said. “No need.”

  Masa smiled and nodded. “Well, you change your mind, you come get me, ah?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Masa clicked his tongue and his horse stepped closer to him. He picked up the reins and remounted. He tipped his hat and turned the horse toward the sea, the other paniolos following. And us, right behind them.

  They unsaddled and brushed the horses down and carried the gear from the packhorse into the shade of the small cabin near the grove.

  “You going to sleep in the cabin?” I asked.

  “Black widows in there. We going sleep under the stars. When you boys came? Just today, or what?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Then you saw the stars. Hard to believe, ah?”

  “Saw some dogs, too,” I said.

  “Dogs?”

  “Wild ones…up there.” I turned and pointed to the cliff. “I saw them at the trailhead, too…back when we started.”

  Masa’s face turned serious. “What they looked like?”

  “Well, one was big and black. The other was a small white one. Kind of skinny, too, and scraggy. I thought it was pretty strange to see dogs in this rocky place.”

  Masa glanced at the other paniolos. One was studying the ridgeline.

  “What?” I said.

  “We first spotted those dogs about two years ago,” Masa said. “I think they been around here long time, too. Like Fred. But that small one…”

  Masa hesitated. When he went on, his tone was quietly respectful. “What I think, is that white one is Pele.”

  I stepped back. Get serious! Pele was a ghost, a Hawaiian myth, a legend, not someone who was actually alive, and surely not a small white dog.

  “Pele?” Casey echoed.

  “Unreal,” Louie said, throwing up his hands. “You no can see he’s joking?” He elbowed Mike. “We go make a campfire. You cooking tonight, remember?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  Louie had to pull Mike away, Mike glancing back as they headed toward the fire pit.

  “Of all you boys,” Masa said, “that one should believe. Look like he got Hawaiian blood.”

  I studied the ridge. “Something woke me last night. I just had this…this feeling. Everything was quiet, everyone was sleeping. Still, I had that feeling, so I went out to look around…and there they were, looking down on us. Same dogs we saw up on top, I’m sure of it.”

  “It was a warning,” Masa whispered.

  “A warning?”

  Masa nodded, looking grim. A two-hundred-year-old shark didn’t spook him one little bit. But that small white dog sure did.

  For the rest of the day I couldn’t stop thinking about that, even after Mr. Bellows returned from the hike. Who was this guy Masa? Was he fooling with us, like Louie said? Or trying to scare us away so they could have Halape to themselves? No, that didn’t feel right.

  Now I was starting to get spooked.

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Bad thoughts can take you down a deep, dark hole if you’re not careful.

  That night around the campfire we roasted marshmallows on sticks. Billy tended a nasty blister on his heel, and Mr. Bellows had a cut on his shin where he’d slipped and hit a jagged rock. Sam, Tad, Zach, and Reverend Paia were so beat I thought they might fall asleep sitting up.

  “That hike too much for you, Pop?” Mike said.

  Reverend Paia grunted, too tired to respond.

  In the twilight across the grove, the paniolos had their own campfire going. Soon the last glow of sundown faded away and turned the ocean black.

  We sat quietly around the campfire. Everyone was worn out. And full. Mike had actually planned a decent meal of potatoes, carrots, onions, a magic potion of spices, and hamburger kept on ice that was nearly melted. We each sliced and combined all this, wrapped portions in aluminum foil, and stuck them in the fire to cook. I could have eaten five of them.

  Mr. Bellows went over to invite the paniolos to join us around the fire, but only Masa and a round-faced smiley guy named Cappy came back with him. The other cowboys had already gone fishing down the coast, their lamps glowing in the distance.

  “This is Reverend Paia, father of Mike over there,” Mr. Bellows said, and Masa reached out to shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Reverend.”

  “Same here,” Reverend Paia said. “Have a seat.”

  Masa and Cappy eased down around the fire. “You and John are the first Boy Scout leaders I’ve ever met,” Masa said. The sound of Mr. Bellows’s first name gave me a small jolt. I hardly ever heard him called anything but Mr. Bellows or Dad.

  “First time for everything.”

  Masa smiled.

  Mr. Bellows swept his hand toward the rest of us. “Meet Troop Seventy-seven, small, but mighty. We’re out of Hilo.”

  “Did they clean this place up?” Masa said. “I never seen Halape so spotless.”

  “I think that was the big boys,” Mr. Bellows said.

  Masa nodded toward Louie and Mike. “Nice job.”

  “Were you ever a Boy Scout, Masa?” Mr. Bellows asked.

  Masa shook his head gravely. “No, I grew up on a ranch in Kau. Same place I work now. Too far for anything like that. I was chasing cows and pigs by the time
I was ten. Cappy, too. Me and him go back to the beginning of time, ah, Cappy?”

  “Long time.”

  Reverend Paia poked the glowing coals with a stick. “It’s so easy for some boys to get sucked into a bad way of life, you know? Which is why I’m glad these boys want to be Scouts…. We have a good time.”

  Mr. Bellows nodded, firelight wobbling on his face. He knew way too much about how bad it could get. He saw it all day long in his work.

  “Mr. Masa,” Casey said. “Tell us more about the small white dog.”

  Mr. Bellows looked up. “What dog is that?”

  “Dylan saw it.”

  Masa shook his head.

  The younger guys perked up, sensing something interesting. Louie stretched out on the sand, his head propped up on a coconut wrapped in his sweatshirt.

  “Pele,” Masa said softly, looking out into the darkness.

  Mr. Bellows raised his eyebrows.

  “One of your boys saw a small white dog last night,” Masa said, seeing his confusion. “Down on this end of the island, that means something. You see, Pele often appears as a small white dog.”

  Mr. Bellows shifted to face Masa. “Listen up, boys,” he said. “What can you tell us about Pele, Masa?”

  “Where did you grow up, John?”

  “Arizona. My wife and I came here after I got out of the marines.”

  Masa nodded, drawing circles in the sand with a stick. “So maybe you might be…reluctant to believe?” He looked up.

  Mr. Bellows cocked his head.

  Masa dropped the stick. “Pele is…Listen…see, not everyone believes this, but…Pele actually exists.”

  I glanced at Reverend Paia. Did church people believe this kind of thing?

  Reverend Paia said, “Pele is something these boys should know about, living on this island.”

  “Everybody already knows about Pele,” Louie mumbled, lying on the sand with his eyes closed.

  “Louie,” Mr. Bellows said in a tone that meant Be respectful.

  “Well,” Masa went on, “what I know about her is that she was once a goddess, an akua, who was forced away from her home in Tahiti by her bad sister, Namakaokahai. Pele had to flee with her two brothers, who had shark bodies and who guided her safely to these islands.”

  “Maybe Fred knows them,” Casey said.

  “Maybe Fred’s one of them,” I added, joking.

  “Who’s Fred?” Mr. Bellows said.

  “A shark, Dad. Out there by the island. We saw it today. Masa knows it.”

  Mr. Bellows turned to Masa. “This is getting stranger by the minute.”

  “Go on, Mr. Masa,” I said.

  “Well…when Pele got to Hawaii, she found a home up at the volcano, right above where we are now. She dug a deep pit to live in. She had many brothers and sisters, and some of them lived with her. For a long, long time she been in this area. Still now she wanders around her volcano home. People have told of running into her on a lonely road in the black of night. She might appear as an elderly woman in your headlights, or sometimes as a beautiful young girl. People who have seen her tell of how she would smile…then vanish.”

  I liked hearing about this kind of stuff, like the night marchers, even though it was scary, especially around a campfire at night in a desolate place like Halape.

  “Spooky,” Casey said.

  “People think she’s mean,” Masa went on. “But she just cares about her island home. When she does get angry, she shakes the earth and the ground opens up and fire comes out…what we call a volcanic eruption. She has great power.”

  Masa turned toward the dark sea. Stars fell clear down onto the black line that marked the horizon. The air was cooler now, but still warm, and thick with salt. “In fact, right now, as we sit here,” Masa went on, “Pele is at work…out there.”

  “The underwater volcano,” Louie said, his eyes still closed. I thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “That’s right. One day it’s going to pop up out of the ocean and there it will be…a new island. That’s Pele’s creation. So you can see she’s also a generous akua.”

  “So if that white dog is her,” I said, “what’s she doing down here?”

  Masa looked my way. “That, boy, is what has me worried. You see, it is said that when you spot Pele as a small white dog in a desolate place like Halape, or up in Kilauea or Kau…it usually means the volcano is going to blow.”

  I sat up and looked around. Tad was biting on his blue blanket. Billy peeked out from under his sweatshirt. But Mr. Bellows and Reverend Paia looked calm. “Don’t worry, boys,” Mr. Bellows said. “This is legend, not fact.”

  Masa shook his head. “Oh no, John…Pele is very much present, very real, and very much a part of these islands. If you see that small white dog, something’s going to happen.”

  That night it took me hours to doze off.

  Not long after I did, I bolted awake. There was something…I listened, then slipped out of my sleeping bag and went outside.

  All was still.

  I rubbed my face and took a breath. No lava oozing over the cliff. Next time someone told spooky stories maybe I should cover my head like Billy.

  I shivered, but it wasn’t cold. The stars—millions of them—were hard as ice. It made me feel as close to heaven as I’d ever been. I was about to go back into the shelter when I heard it.

  Something was out there.

  Something far, far away.

  Howling dogs.

  They were back.

  I found my glasses and put them on, then dug into my backpack for my flashlight. I slipped out into the night.

  The howling had stopped.

  Except for the ocean whispering along the rocky shore, Halape was eerily still. Down by the cabin where the paniolos were camped, I saw the glow of a dying fire…and a shadow. Someone was standing in the dark like I was. Had he heard the howling, too? I looked up at the outline of the cliff. No dogs.

  But I hadn’t really expected to see them. What I’d heard had been too far away. They couldn’t have gotten here that fast. Unless Masa was right. If the small white dog really was Pele…then anything was possible.

  I rubbed my arms.

  This place was really starting to creep me out.

  I went back into the shelter and snuggled inside my sleeping bag. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the spooky dogs out of my mind.

  Sometime later, the ground under me rolled.

  The solid earth turned fluid. It groaned, somewhere far below.

  I tore out of my sleeping bag. Struggled into my shorts. Grabbed my bouncing glasses.

  I couldn’t stand up.

  “Casey!”

  He didn’t move. I crawled over and shook him. “Casey, Casey, get up! It’s an earthquake!”

  “Wha—?”

  “An earthquake!”

  He tried to sit. It was impossible.

  Moments later the rolling subsided. The ground beneath us flattened and settled. We stumbled out of the shelter into the night as a horse whinnied. Zach peeked out of his tent. “What was that!”

  “Look!” Casey said.

  Down in the coconut grove two flashlight beams swept the landscape. One of them turned and headed our way. Mr. Bellows appeared out of the darkness. “You okay over here, Casey?”

  “We’re fine, Dad.”

  “Zach?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “That was…awesome,” I said. “I mean to feel the ground move like that.”

  “Just the earth releasing some pressure,” Mr. Bellows said. “No damage done, as far as I can tell.” He shined his light up toward Pu’u Kapukapu. The beam didn’t reach.

  “How big you think that was?” I said.

  “Not big. Two-point-five, maybe three.”

  Somebody once told me that a magnitude of seven meant total destruction if you were anywhere near the epicenter. Had Mom and Dana felt it in Hilo? “Should we move closer to the ocean, Mr. Bellows? Get away
from the cliff?”

  He swept his light toward the sea. The wet rocks glistened black. I knew what he was thinking—tidal wave. Tsunami. But there was nothing out of the ordinary out there.

  “No, I think you’re fine where you are. But there might be a few smaller aftershocks, so be ready. That’s how it usually goes.”

  A horse whinnied, and I heard a man soothing it, though I couldn’t see them. Mr. Bellows headed over to check on Louie and Mike. A moving flashlight glowed in their tent.

  The horse snorted, its hooves clacking on rock. I tapped Casey’s arm. “Let’s go check it out.”

  “I’m going back to sleep,” Zach said.

  The rocky ground that broke the sandy trail was treacherous in the night. It would be easy to stumble and go down hard. We had to be careful. The flashlight helped.

  Masa stood with Cappy and the spooked horse. They were talking quietly. I turned off the light as we approached. “The horse all right?” I said.

  “Yeah, fine. Just jumpy. This little gal is mine. Her name is Hoku.”

  “Star,” I said.

  “Right. Because of this small white patch on the forehead, see?”

  I turned on my flashlight, subduing the beam by putting my hand over the lens. “Sure enough.”

  “How’s about you boys?” Masa said.

  “Fine,” Casey said. “But that was scary.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said. “It was awesome.”

  Masa laughed. “Pele got a mind of her own. Every now and then she got to let you know who’s boss, ah? Now you know why I was worried about that dog.”

  He ran one hand down Hoku’s neck. In his other he held a rope that was slung over her nose and tied in what looked to me like a clove hitch. Cappy tapped Masa’s arm and left to join the other paniolos, who were with the rest of the horses. The horses weren’t tied up.

  “How do you keep them from running away?” I asked Masa.

  “Shine your light by the feet.”

  A short length of rope coupled Hoku’s front legs together. “Ah,” I said. “You handcuffed them.”

  Masa chuckled. “Hobbled, is what we call it…but handcuffed works.” He slipped the rope off Hoku’s nose and rubbed her neck one more time. “You go back to sleep, girl. Dream about all that sweet kikuyu grass back home.”