Shadows Deepen

by Mirren Hogan

  “I guess.” She untangled herself from Flynn and stood up, wincing as her feet hit the floor. “Manny will be wondering where we are, and he likes to get as much outta his slave labor as possible.”

  “I don’t blame him.” He looked her up and down and wiggled his brows. “How are you feeling?” He was trying not to look as worried as he really felt. She’d almost died saving his family, who’d only got into trouble because Emma and Jason couldn’t say no to their children. If she’d died for that —he wouldn’t have forgiven his sister. He wondered briefly if they’d learnt anything from the experience, but he doubted it. They’d probably coddle the girls even more now.

  “I’ve been better,” Makani replied. While he watched, she searched in her bag for clean clothes and painkillers. Pulling a shirt and shorts out, she managed to get dressed with minimal pain. Makani found their toothbrushes and toothpaste, and started putting on her shoes. Her usual easy stride was shorter and mincing, but she refused to slow down. She tossed a towel on his naked body and smiled at Flynn, “You gonna lie there all day, or are we gonna get moving?”

  “I was admiring the view.” He grinned. He’d never been inclined to laze around in bed all day, but he could change that habit if she were there too. In spite of that, he got up and pulled on his clothes. Opening the door, he breathed in the clean, cool air. It was cleaner than Sydney and Oahu, and quieter, too. “I could get used to this.” Green Lady notwithstanding.

  “This is real country living.” Makani wrapped her arms around Flynn’s waist and kissed his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to the main house and see what needs doing today. If we finish early enough, I’ll show you some more of the coast.” She pinched his butt and ducked under his arms to get out the door.

  “Yes ma’am.” He grabbed his phone and camera and followed her out the door. He couldn’t help but look for signs of last night’s struggle. The ground was disturbed between the door and tree, and a few of the branches were bent. Apart from that, it didn’t look like anything had happened there. At least there were no monsters lurking in the immediate vicinity. None that he could see, anyway.

  Fortunately, they’d missed the first harvest. That would have been awful on Makani’s cracked rib. Instead, they were put on bagging detail, sacking up the raw beans and getting them ready to be shipped out to other factories that dealt with roasting or grinding. It didn’t sound too hard but stooping over to fill sacks and loading the heavy things onto pallets proved to be a serious workout.

  Seven long hours later, they were in a storage shed at the west end of the farm. Work was done for the day. Makani stripped a sheet off the largest item, and revealed her red and black motorcycle. “This—is the Ninja.” She ran her hands over the shiny bike and squatted down to check the hoses and engine.

  “See, I knew you were a ninja.” He ran an appreciative hand over the bike. “Why do you keep it here? It’s got to be more roadworthy than your jeep.” What wasn’t?

  She shrugged, tugging on a hose to see if it held. “I couldn’t afford to bring it back. So, I’ve kept it here so I’d have a set of wheels when I visited, and Manny takes it out to check the far side of the fields, or whatever.” Standing up, she started searching the shelves and found her set of helmets. She lobbed one at Flynn. “See if that fits.”

  He caught it just before it hit him in the face and jammed it onto his head. “It fits.” His voice was muffled by the helmet, but his grin was visible through the visor. “You’re not going to let me drive this either, are you?” he asked.

  “If you’re nice, I might! I’m not so territorial about this one.” Slipping her helmet on the handle, Makani started rolling the bike out onto the gravel path that wound through the plantation and out to the highway. Her leg swung over and she jammed the keys into the ignition, waiting for Flynn to get on the back. “Have you driven one of these before?”

  “I had a dirt bike when I was a kid. My dad and I used to go to the bush and ride them around, and then camp out.” He climbed up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “Then he had his heart attack and Mum sold the bikes before they rusted up. How different can this— oh crap!” The ground was suddenly a blur under their feet.

  “Oh, yeah—hang on!” They sped along the path, whipping by the other workers and out onto the dirt roads that would take them to the highway. She flipped her visor down as they turned left, and to the south.

  They started down through small towns and old neighborhoods, before they got to the coastline and its rocky cliffs. It wasn’t long before they found a lookout point and the bike coasted to a stop.

  Makani flipped the kick stand down and yanked her helmet off. “Here ya go!” She gestured out to sea, the waves crashing against the rocks far below.

  Flynn tugged off his helmet. “That was a rush!” Not surprising, since her car driving was terrifying. But then, there were fewer people on the roads here and less to hit. Climbing off the bike, he put the helmet on the seat and looked at the rocks below. It wasn’t a waterfall, but he hoped Mo’o wouldn’t show.

  “What’s gonna be fun is going skydiving later, if we can find the time.” She sat on the railing and stared out to sea. “Man, I missed this place. Home is home, but it’s like—a different time, here. Y’know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, like 1973.” Not that he was old enough to have been alive then. “A bit more modern than hippy, but not that current. It’s just right.” He sat beside her and slipped his hand into hers. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “Let’s see if we make it home alive, before you really say ‘thank you.’ “

  “I suppose that’s a good point,” he conceded. “But I’ll say it anyway. I assume you don’t bring just anyone here?”

  Makani shook her head. “Of course not! I come here to get away from the idiots and noise.” She looked up and smiled. “But I figured you’d need to get away from all that, too.”

  “I did, that’s one reason I came to Hawaii.” He was only half-joking. Not all of his family members were idiots and/or noisy. “But this is even better. Other than the Green Lady.” That really did go without saying.

  “Well, let’s be honest; that was better than a death chicken.” She laughed and started to stand up. “What else do you wanna see around here?”

  “What else is there? I’m the tourist, remember? Maybe I should wear my Hawaiian shirt more often, to remind you.” He knew how much she hated it, but he couldn’t resist teasing. She’d probably toss him off the cliff if he did wear it.

  “It’s called an aloha shirt. Now, come on.” Makani picked up her helmet and grabbed his hand. She got back on the bike and started the engine. “You wanna see the surf down the coast?”

  “Sure. Do you keep any spare boards here too?” He jammed his helmet back on and hung on. Surfing with sharks might be a relaxing diversion.

  “Duh!” She threw a smile back over her shoulder, and flipped the visor down. The motorcycle was quick, even with two passengers on it. The highway wove along the coast, twisting back and forth, offering long views or the cliffs and open ocean. It was a stark contrast from the smaller but more heavily populated Oahu.

  His response was to hold on tightly and laugh.

  CHAPTER 14

  There was relative quiet for four long, peaceful weeks. Waking up early, working hard, playing hard around the Kona coast, and enjoying the easy living on the Big Island.

  Makani showed Flynn everything on that side of the island, even taking him as far as Kilauea at night to see the lava flows and steam plumes as they hit the ocean. They saw the low green foothills of Mauna Loa when they toured Parker Ranch. They even fed a few horses that, surprisingly, didn’t become zombies.

  And the best part was the lack of disturbing encounters. The most harrowing thing was probably having Flynn pull her stitches out with toenail clippers and tweezers. Makani slept peacefully, exhausted into dreamless slumber most nights, or she indulged in quiet dreams about ice cream and Wi-Fi that didn’t
cut out when someone ran the fax machine in the main office. Nothing broke the quiet, and it was, undoubtedly, one of the best months of Makani’s life.

  Flynn was a big part of that. His silly jokes and easy-going nature blended in with the other residents and workers on the coffee plantation. He might have been a lot paler than the others, even with the tan he’d developed from working in the fields or going to the beach with her. But he got along easily with everyone, and even managed to convince her he was able to drive the motorcycle. The man even out-classed her on the shortboard, much to her chagrin. And every day they spent together, she found herself falling more and more madly in love with him.

  It was a Sunday when Manny asked them to load the truck with raw coffee beans, and take it to Hilo Town on the East side of the island. It was funny when the farm manager pointedly gave Flynn the keys and told him not to allow Makani anywhere near the pedals. It was even funnier when Manny had to figure out the fancy new GPS system he’d installed on the dashboard and program it with directions for Flynn to follow.

  “I hate these things,” Flynn confided once Manny was a safe distance away. “What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned map? Or getting lost and seeing places you never thought you’d see?” He shrugged and turned the ignition over. The truck sounded like Chitty Bang Bang, but it went well enough most of the time. It was still more roadworthy than her jeep.

  “It’s a really big island, and we could get really lost. Manny’s just making sure the boss’ sister doesn’t disappear without a trace.” She smiled, rolling down the window and letting her arm hang out.

  “Does he think a GPS is going to stop me from running away with you?” They pulled out onto the road and he glanced at her. “He better think again!” He grinned. “We have enough coffee to last for ages if we roast it and grind it ourselves.”

  “If only man could live off coffee, alone. Y’gotta admit—this is some of the best coffee you’ve had, right?” Makani held up her own travel mug and sipped.

  “Mud would taste good if I was drinking it with you,” he replied gallantly. “But yeah, it’s bloody good coffee. I never knew how much better it’d be when it’s fresh.”

  “Here’s the big secret—” She put her feet up on the dashboard and wiggled her toes. “The so-called ‘Kona coffee’ you drink, tends to contain only ten percent of the real stuff. The rest is arabica, or whatever swill they can get cheap from elsewhere.”

  “Why is that legal?” He glanced at her again, a frown on his face. “That doesn’t seem right at all.”

  “Dunno! But it doesn’t matter to me, since Manny said he’ll start shipping me beans.” That made Makani frown. “Crap! That means I’d have to buy a grinder.” Her secret to saving money—never buy anything. You’d be surprised at what you could live without, if you had to.

  “You could chew them,” he joked, “or run them over a few times.”

  “I heard in Indonesia, they feed the beans to cats and after they crap ‘em out, they grind ‘em and drink it. Funny, no one ever mentions anything about washing the beans off.” She laughed, and continued sipping on her own cat-shit free coffee.

  “So, maybe I’ll start drinking more tea. Tea is good.” He nodded. “How far to this place anyway?” He glanced toward the GPS but looked back up as the truck wobbled on the road. “Oops.”

  Makani didn’t flinch since she was so used to her own maniacal driving. “This is gonna take us all day! Hilo is on the exact opposite end of the island.” That gave her an idea. “Why don’t we . . . stay the night out that way? Y’know, make like tourists and bum around the old town? You can meet my Great-Uncle George!”

  “Is there anyone on this island that you’re not related to?” They made a turn as the GPS directed. “Apart from me?”

  She pretended to think about that for a moment. “Maybe? But does it matter, since I only plan on sleeping with you?” Her hand found his thigh and squeezed it.

  “Actually, I was thinking of how many people would want to beat me up if I do anything to piss you off,” he said. “So, I guess Manny doesn’t need the truck back tonight?”

  “I really doubt it. He’s got the better truck at the farm.” But Makani shot an email to him, anyway. And then she sent one to her uncle, who was surprisingly tech-savvy for an old man. In fact, his Twitter and Instagram accounts had more followers than some movie stars.

  “That figures. I hope it’s not going to break down halfway there.” But now that the truck had warmed up, it was running smoothly and wasn’t too bad a ride. For a truck.

  “It’s fine! Don’t worry so much.” Makani leaned back and squeezed his leg again.

  The rest of the drive passed quietly, punctuated by the sound of email coming in to confirm their plans when they got there. In fact, Uncle George sent her pictures of the remodeled house and the massive mango and papaya trees in his backyard, and asked why she didn’t have a Facebook account, because he wanted to tag her in a check-in when she came over.

  Hilo, while considered the most populace district on the island, was still rural. It was a country town with no high-rises, and lots of small businesses lining the streets. Even a tsunami from a half century prior hadn’t been able to strip it of the old charm.

  Dropping the bags of coffee off at the plant, Makani called Uncle George, and told him they’d be by in an hour or two. “Let’s check out the temple, while we’re here. Have you ever been inside a Buddhist Hongwanji?”

  “A Buddhist what?” Flynn asked. “That can’t be as fun as it sounds.”

  “It’s a great cultural spot. The Buddha statues and the architecture make it worthwhile. And there’s a zen garden on the property.” Makani fondly remembered the place, and hoped it was being kept up. “Uncle George helps maintain the gardens. He lives behind it.”

  “It sounds nice. I’ve been to the Nan Tien Temple in Wollongong, south of Sydney. That was a long time ago though. I got dragged along by an old—friend. I really liked it though. It was really peaceful. Much better than church.” He grimaced.

  “Church is usually more bearable when you’ve got a—friend with you.” She smirked and slid her eyes over to Flynn. “But I’m glad to know you’re not gonna freak out because I don’t go to church on Sundays.”

  He snorted. “I had enough of that growing up. Especially at school. It’s just another thing to keep my mother awake at night.” He rolled his eyes and smiled wryly.

  “Your mother is just afraid for your immortal soul.” That was a familiar sentiment she’d heard from other mothers, her own included. “After all, you’ve shacked up on an ungodly island in the middle of nowhere with one of those—unwashed heathen women. Has she asked if you’ve gotten me pregnant yet?” Her mother had asked that, the last time she called.

  He hesitated. “You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?” he asked. “Because you might not like the answer.”

  “My mom asked that. I told her it’s fine, because we only do it up the butt.”

  “You what?” He went red. “Now I don’t feel bad about what my mother asked. But I’m still not going to tell you.”

  “Oh, look! There it is!” She pointed up ahead to a large white building, happy to change the subject.

  “Nice building.” So was he, evidently. “I should take some pictures in the morning, when the light’s better.”

  “Yeah, we can.” She got out of the truck and headed to the side. The small shrubs surrounded pebble gardens carefully raked into swirling patterns. A statue of Jizo, the protector of children’s souls in the afterlife, was carefully being straightened out by Makani’s Great-Uncle George. “Hey, Uncle! The garden looks good!” She carefully stepped around the stones and gave the old man a kiss on the cheek.

  Flynn was a few steps behind her “Yeah, it’s nice,” he agreed, smiling and holding out his hand politely to George.

  “Hey, howzzit?” Uncle George gave a firm handshake for someone of his advanced years. After giving the tall stranger a quick apprais
al, he turned to give Makani a questioning look.

  She took the hint, and introduced them, “Uncle George, this is Flynn. He’s staying with me on the coffee farm. Flynn, this is my mother’s uncle, George.”

  “You’ve finally decided to settle down a little, ah? Good for you!” He patted Makani on the shoulder, and started picking up his rake and a garbage bag full of clippings. “Although I bet your mother had someone a little less—haole in mind for you?”

  She snorted and grabbed the bag from him, “I guess, but Grandma would have approved.” At least, Makani wanted to think she would have. “I’ll throw this in the trash. Flynn, why don’t you go with Uncle George? I’ll be along in a minute.”

  Flynn gave her a bemused look. “Okay . . . just don’t take too long.” He turned to George. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Nah, nah. I’m done for the day. Too old to dakine, do too much. Come in, come in! Sit down, I get beer.” Uncle’s cottage was almost as sparsely furnished as the quonset hut where they were staying. George directed Flynn to an old couch, while he proceeded into the kitchen for the beer.

  Makani was at the side of the cottage, throwing the bag into the proper receptacle. Something caught her eye, at the corner. Another Jizo statue. But this one was larger, newer than the one in the garden. And a bowl of rice and an opened beer was set before it. Curious, Makani leaned down and looked carefully at the idol, wondering why the church or her uncle would need another. A cold chill ran up her spine, an evil feeling of foreboding creeping up and making her shiver.

  She finally tore her eyes away and started back toward the house, running up the steps and into the house. “Hey, Uncle! Why’s there another Jizo out back?”

  Uncle George didn’t answer as he slid the beers across the table and sat down. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, the man didn’t look into Makani’s eyes, as he normally would. “There are things that happen, sometimes. No need worry. Jizo protects me.”