Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place'

by Robert Vaughan

  Alani stomped on the gas and gravel spit from the tires as she peeled out, another rain of gravel pelting the house in a renewed assault and pinging off of windows. Noelani jumped back in alarm and shook her fist at her daughter as she raced down the driveway, yelling over the roar of the Jeep. “YOU NO DRIVE TOO FAST, YOU HEAR!!!”

  As the rusting yellow rattle-trap disappeared into the distance, her seemingly-oblivious daughter waved a lazy shaka sign out the left side of the Jeep in reply, abruptly whipped the car to the right, and was gone.

  Alani raced down the winding country road in the battered vintage Jeep, dodging and darting around gaping pot-holes and muddy depressions. The Jeep, its ‘caution yellow’ paint faded and battling for space with rust, was more than just a color- it was a warning, a glaring reminder of the nature of its occupant, for Alani was clearly not the most attentive of drivers. Weaving wildly back and forth on the twisting country road, narrowly avoiding yet another muddy ditch as she fumbled for a CD in the case in her driver’s side visor, she finally found what she was searching for and swerved violently at the last minute to avert what would have certainly been a plummeting death over the cliffs that hugged the edge of the narrow track. She slid the disk into the player, and a moment later a rollicking take of John Denver’s ‘Take me home, country road’ by IZ- the late island singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole- tumbled forth. Alani smiled in satisfaction and pulled the battered hat down tightly onto her head, taking a moment to practice a hula motion with her hands- both of them.

  The questionable skills of its driver now quite obvious, the various decorations that littered the outside of the vehicle told a colorful story of their own, each one giving additional insight as to the quaint and quirky nature of its occupant. On the rusty rear bumper, a large ‘I (heart) NY bumper sticker vied for space with another, three Japanese-style ‘Precious Moments’ Hula girls with matching flowers and skirts. A huge logo of the New York Yankees, tilted and slightly askew, graced the cracked and worn tire cover that dominated the rear of the vehicle. A final faded sticker, this one on the rusty and dented red gas-can that was affixed to the rear of the Jeep read teasingly- ‘On nice days I go topless’.

  In contrast to the overlapping tale on the outside of the Jeep, two simple, distinct ornaments dominated its’ interior. The first was almost cliché- a swaying and shimmying hula girl mounted to the dash, a Betty Page-style version of the traditional dash-top ornament. The other was a simple plumeria lei, fluffy orange ‘ilima petals alternating with the delicate cream and yellow blossoms, one of which Alani reached to now, gently plucking it from the swinging strand and tucking it casually behind her right ear.

  At first glance the flower garland would have seemed to be just an ordinary adornment to the antique vehicle, but which upon closer inspection, one would notice that this was far from just any old lei…

  It was virtually identical to the ones the Matthews had received upon their arrival.

  The glider climbed slowly, lazily drifting skyward on a warm thermal from the earth below. The music in Chris’ ears built in thumping intensity and Chris’ heart began to race as if in anticipation of something spectacular. A tiny pause in the melody signaled the next movement, and with an almost casual flick of the wrist, Chris provided the pay-off, pitching the sailplane over and down as a crashing blast of percussion exploded in his ears in a deafening crescendo. Falling in a straight-down spiral as the plane plunged rapidly earthward, Chris yelled exuberantly as the glider now became the world’s tallest roller coaster ride. “YEEEEE-HA!” he cried, the ground below spinning and flashing toward him with frightening speed. Then, just as the tree-tops began to become distinct, Chris pulled firmly back on the stick and sent the glistening craft rocketing skyward again, rolling and climbing as it blasted through cotton-ball puffs of clouds.

  The glider climbed, and climbed, and climbed- the ground below fading to a mass of overlapping green and red, the small towns and outlying villages growing tiny and indistinct. As the soaring white craft approached its’ zenith, its’ inertia finally spent, it began to slow, and slow, and with a slight shudder of ailerons and elevators- stalled. As the craft stopped dead in the air, its’ nose pointed heavenward, Chris took a deep breath and waited for the moment when gravity reclaimed its prize. The slight backward lurch of the stall was the sign, and as the gleaming sailplane slid in reverse, Chris pulled the stick over and back, flipping the craft into an inverted, lazy roll that caused him to fall against the straps of his harness, eliciting another yelp of delight as he fell earthward.

  “Whoooooo-HOO!” he yelled, aiming the nose down in a low-angled dive that arrowed toward the end of the island and the rugged cliffs beyond. Rapidly gaining speed as he descended, Chris flashed over a lonely road, the red-dirt track winding sinuously through the green. And as he did, a flash of yellow, a cloud of dust boiling up from behind it, snaked along its course.

  As Alani sang blissfully along with the tune, a fleeting shadow flashed unexpectedly overhead. Alani glanced up quickly but saw nothing. An sudden gust of breeze threatened to blow her hat from her head, and she reached up a hand to keep it in place as her attention was jerked back to the road, her other hand abruptly pulling the wheel to the right in order to dodge another gaping pot-hole that had suddenly materialized before her.

  Leveling out mere inches above the tree-tops, now flying almost blindingly fast, Chris reached the cliffs at the end of the island and plunged over the edge, instantly plummeting a thousand feet toward the line of waves and sand below. Pulling up just above the heads of surfers and sun-worshippers as he skimmed the wave-tops, Chris leveled out along the steep cliffs and pulled out his phone, snapping several shots from his camera in rapid succession- instant postcards all. Flying swiftly along the edge of the coastline, Chris continued to point and shoot, capturing all manners of wonders and delights as he sped along the cliffs, not noticing the oddly-menacing dark gray cloud that had inexplicably materialized before him.

  As a wisp of the anomalous cloud splashed over the canopy of the glider, the tranquility of the flight was suddenly shattered by a simultaneous ‘FLASH!’ and ‘BANG!’ that rocked the plane violently in response and provoked a strangled yelp of alarm from Chris.

  “Ho-LY SHIT!” he cried, hunching down involuntarily in surprise. But worse than the shock of the abrupt light and deafening noise was the sudden and sickening lurch of the craft to port. With a quick, panicky glance out the left side of the canopy, Chris was rewarded with a sight that made his stomach clench in fear- the port-side wing-tip was completely gone, the aileron flapping uselessly, smoking trails of debris fluttering casually off into the ocean below.

  Chris moaned, “Oh, just fucking terrific!” and yanked the stick firmly to the right as he reached for the radio affixed to the dash. As he clicked the switch of the handset with his thumb, the entire face of the radio popped free from the dash, smoking wires dangling from the back of the now useless device. “Seriously?!” wailed Chris, and dropped the smoldering ruin onto the floor as he went back to fighting to right the plane.

  Just as the glider wobbled and finally leveled out, another blinding flash exploded in his vision, again simultaneously accompanied by a thunderous crash of sound as the plane tilted alarmingly to starboard. Chris swore and gritted his teeth, quickly looking over his shoulder to his right, where to his gut-wrenching dismay he now saw that the other wing-tip was destroyed. “Oh, even better…” was all Chris could manage to utter as the damaged sailplane suddenly pitched alarmingly downward, heading straight for the jagged black rocks a hundred feet below.

  Pulling back with all his might on the stick, Chris struggled to level out, only to have a sudden gust of ocean breeze shove the nose of the derelict craft back toward the island, where the dark-green cliff-side now loomed before him like a wall.

  Chris cried forlornly, “Ohhhh- SHIIIII-!” as imminent death stared him in the face, and he jerked back forcefully on the stick as he closed his eyes and silently praye
d for a miracle.

  Fate answered.

  Another puff of wind gently lifted the ruined glider over the top of the ridge, the underbelly of the now-fatally damaged aircraft scraping tree-tops as he spilled into a lush, sun-drenched valley below. Chris opened his eyes to see thick branches whipping the canopy and a thin ribbon of road flashing in and out through the trees before him, and he could only mutter a faint and pointless expletive as his demise became apparent.

  The glider plunged headlong through the trees, the stout branches shearing the wings like paper. The ruined sailplane dropped like a stone and slammed onto the narrow dirt road and the corpse of what had once been Schleicher’s best bounced and rolled like a NASCAR wreck, spinning and sliding crazily on the muddy surface- until suddenly, almost violently, it stopped.

  The roots of a giant banyan tree had snagged the nose of the shattered craft like an arboreal net, spinning what was left of the glider into the middle of the road and completely blocking the narrow track. And as it did a speeding yellow Jeep and its oblivious occupant emerged from around a distant corner, racing unabated toward the wreckage as its driver swayed and sang to another loud country tune, idyllically unaware of the impending danger.

  Alani looked up as another unseen pot-hole nearly jarred her hat from her head, and then a look of shock galvanized her face as she saw the unexpected obstacle before her. Alani slammed on the brakes of the Jeep, locking up the tires and sending the vehicle sliding in a slow, spinning circle toward the obstruction before her, her arms stiffened in a death grip on the steering wheel as the Jeep careened down the muddy road. She watched helplessly as the world slowly spun out of control, and hissed, “OHHHH- SH-!” as she braced herself for the inevitable collision. But just as her unavoidable impact seemed clear the Jeep came across a swampy, sodden spot in the road and decelerated with alarming swiftness, spraying her windshield with a blinding coating of dark red goo as the tires gouged a curving track through the soft mud- and just as abruptly stopped, the front bumper of the Jeep ever-so-delicately nudging the crash-damaged and mud-splattered side of the wrecked sailplane.

  After a silent, breathless moment, Alani opened her eyes, one at a time. Her hands were still locked in a white-knuckled vise on the steering wheel and she stared ahead with a look of shocked disbelief at having so miraculously skirted disaster. She painfully pried her hands from the wheel and crossed her chest in a quick gesture of genuflection and relief as she glanced incredulously to the heavens, only to have her skyward gaze quickly dissolve into a look of rage as she leaped from the Jeep and stormed around to the mud-drenched cockpit of the glider.

  She slapped the slimy glass in anger and yelled at the silent form, “Are you CRAZY!? You almost killed me, you idiot!!!” Only the whisper of the wind and the soft sound of the birds from the surrounding trees was her reply. Alani knocked sharply on the glass and shouted again, “Hey! Hey, anyone in there?”

  No response. Alani attempted to wipe the globs of sticky mud away, but merely created a smeary mess of earthy finger-painting on the glass, and leaned in closer to peer inside.

  “Hey! Hello?”

  The canopy suddenly burst open as Chris sprang up with his arms upraised and shouted triumphantly, “WHOOOO-HOO!! Ha-ha! Yeah! WHOOOO!!!” Alani screamed in surprise and fell backward into the muddy water of the trench beside the road, splashing wetly into the thick red muck as Chris, suddenly aware of the startled woman who stared up at him from beside the craft, simply gazed down at her and smiled.

  “Oh- Hi!” he said, almost nonchalant, his face twisting into his patented grin. And then he suddenly wobbled, his eyes becoming unfocused and rolling up into his head as he unexpectedly pitched forward and toppled out of the plane, falling like a tree felled by the lumberjacks axe.

  Alani called out with a tilt of her head in concern, “Hey! Are you all-?” as Chris tumbled out of the cockpit and plunged into her sodden lap, his impetus driving them both backward into the muddy ditch.

  As she recoiled from the sudden and unexpected burden of Chris in her lap, Alani reached to his head and touched his face. And as she did, the world suddenly flashed brightly around her, white light and a rush of sound like the echoing reverberation of a distant explosion…

  The light and sound faded and the world slowly sharpened back into a sort of smeary black-and-white focus. Alani looked into her lap, where Chris’ head lolled like a broken doll. She stiffened with fright as her vision cleared, for where previously had been a baseball cap-clad, golden-haired vision of silliness was now something else entirely. The Chris she saw now was the same, but very- different.

  He was dressed in a torn and smoke-stained Navy flight suit, his hair military short, the cloth flight helmet and shattered goggles blood-stained and dangling from his neck. He was barely breathing, his gasps short and ragged, and the deathly pale skin of his bloodstained face meant only one thing- he was dying…

  Alani gasped sharply and the world flashed again. She stared with open mouth into her lap, where she saw the now-Chris lying unconscious in the muddy mess of her jeans. In panic and confusion at the bizarre occurrence, she blindly scrambled to extricate herself from beneath Chris, who sloshed wetly into the muddy road as she leaped to her feet, his face falling sideways into a rust-colored puddle. She shook her head to clear the remains of the disturbing vision and then dashed to her Jeep and frantically dug through the pile of stuff on her passenger seat, finally digging out her phone. She jabbed at the keys in a barely restrained frenzy, hit a final note, and was rewarded with a message on the screen that stated blandly- ‘No Service.’

  “Fuck!” she swore softly in frustration, and angrily flung the phone back into the pile of debris on the seat. She rushed back over to Chris, who was now blowing unconscious mud-bubbles into the puddle that cradled his face. “Ohhh, shit!” she cried, and knelt in the muck and pried Chris’ head off the road, cradling it into her lap as she pondered her next move. It was then that she saw the distinctive Boston logo on the baseball cap and said with scorching disdain, “Red Sox! Red Sox? Ooooh, I should just let you drown!” Alani sighed and then grabbed Chris’ face and shook it lightly, an obviously half-hearted attempt to revive him, and called to him gently, “Hey! You okay?”

  Chris stirred and muttered incoherently, “I’m fine, Mommy, I just fall down…” and tried to raise himself up onto one shaky arm.

  Alani tucked a hand under his shoulder and clumsily struggled to get him upright, saying somewhat less than encouragingly as she sighed, “C’mon, let me help you…” Chris’ eyes fluttered open and he grinned at her with a goofy smile, his rubbery legs slipping on the slick surface of the road as he tried- quite unsuccessfully- to stand. He slipped and sagged in her arms, nearly dragging both of them back down into the muck and Alani cried with annoyance, “Stop trying to help, it’s not working!” She growled and groaned with the effort as she hauled the rag-doll form of Chris over to her Jeep and unceremoniously dumped him into the passenger seat, wincing slightly and then smirking with silent amusement as she heard his rear end crunch noisily onto her pile of assorted junk.

  After an exhausted outpouring of breath, Alani tried vainly to secure him with one arm thrust stiffly into his chest as she yanked the saggy seat belt around him, again swearing under her breath as the reluctant device failed miserably to do its’ job. Chris’ head lolled forward with an insipid grin still plastered to his muddy face, and Alani voiced an exasperated growl of frustration at the ridiculousness of this situation. She straightened and let him slump against the worthless restraints as her gaze darted about to find a solution to her dilemma. She had nearly given up on finding an acceptable answer when her eyes drifted to the pile of Sonny’s football gear in the rear seat- and she got an idea…

  A few moments later Alani stood back with her hands on her hips and tilted her head with a smile of ironic satisfaction. Chris was now wearing the football helmet and the shoulder-pads, a soiled jockstrap securing his helmeted head to the head-rest o
f the seat. Quickly rounding the car and sliding wetly into the driver’s seat, Alani feverishly employed her ritual and again tried the ignition. The engine cranked as usual, and as usual it didn’t catch. She tried again, and again the balky Jeep tried, and tried, and tried, only to begin to fade with a pathetic mechanical moan.

  “Not now you stupid piece of sh-!” Alani’s words dissolved into a rapid-fire string of Hawaiian, their translation unnecessary, their scathing tone clearly one of withering disgust. With a quick, mumbled prayer skyward, she took a deep, shuddering breath, closed her eyes and tried again. This time the reluctant engine caught, and Alani exhaled gustily and replied with a grateful, “Thank you!” She quickly slammed the Jeep into gear and spun a muddy about-face on the narrow road, russet rooster-tails spraying from all four tires as she raced back the way she had come.

  A short time later, the frenzied retreat a hazy blur in her still-frazzled mind, Alani glanced with concern at the unconscious form of Chris lolling in the seat beside her and then swerved sharply to her left, splashing through a muddy dip in the road and soaking a pot-bellied pig that was grazing near the trees. The pig merely shook off the unexpected soaking and shivered in added pleasure. Chickens scattered and feathers flew as Alani raced through the compound and roared up the hill towards the hulking antique plane in the distance- the huge, lumbering craft now belching voluminous clouds of blue smoke from its’ twin radial engines as it slowly began to move off. With a burst of speed Alani swerved past the wing-tips, the prop wash blasting her hat from her head, and gradually began to pull ahead of the dusty Electra 12-A, peering intently at the small window in its’ side where a dark shape stared pointedly forward, its’ form completely unaware of the presence of the Jeep that was now pacing it.