Chief Distraction

by Kelly, Stella

  Cautiously, Blythe kept in step with Mak as they passed the first building. The area consisted of several structures, many having seen better days. It reminded Blythe of old news footage of Chernobyl, either that or some vague zombie movie that never ends well. The entire area was shroud in an eerie stillness and she couldn’t dismiss the notion that they were being watched. Her eyes began playing tricks on her as she scanned the vacant grounds, convinced she saw movement here and there, but it was only the wind moving the brush that surrounded the barren buildings. Blythe read a weathered sign that stood askew on a metal pole.

  WARNING!

  Kahoolawe and its surrounding waters contain unexploded ordnance, which are hazardous to public health and safety. Unauthorized entry onto the island of Kahoolawe and into the waters surrounding Kahoolawe is prohibited.

  A shiver traced up her spine as she read it. The words screamed out a silent warning. How she would love to heed the dangers and stay away. It was the best advice she’d heard in a long time…and a little too late.

  The buildings were cinderblock shells with grey peeling paint from decades of unforgiving weather. They were all uniform in shape and size, aside from one that stood out from the others. Stripped bare and made of wood, the building looked completely out of place, like some hillbilly shack about to blow down in the next strong gust.

  Mak pulled her down beside a pile of rusty steal barrels. “The CB’s located in there. See the metal tower beside it?” Mak pointed toward the lone wooden shack.

  Blythe nodded, another shiver creeping through her involuntarily. There was no telling what, or who, was in there. But again, she fought her flight or fight responses.

  “Lets go.”

  They ran full out for the frail wooden structure. Out of breath, they flattened themselves against its side, crouching low as they scanned the area for signs of life. Nothing. Blythe leaned away as Mak squared himself with the rickety door before ramming his shoulder against it. The lock gave way as if it was barely attached to begin with and the door split as if made of rice paper. She followed him into the darkness of the cramped space. One grimy window filtered in the bright moonlight, offering just enough light to see. Mak closed the door behind them, though it didn’t quite fit the frame anymore.

  Blythe’s eyes were as wide as could be, her heart pounding a drum-like rhythm she was sure Mak could hear. The internal space was dark with an overpowering smell of kerosene, the wind whistling through the cracks of the planked rudimentary walls. At one point in time, the entire building had been covered in sheets of metal that had fallen off or blown away in the stiff island breeze, with a few still clinging to the side and clanging violently against the frame. Each clang jarred Blythe senseless, spooking her out of her skin. She was convinced each noise was an approaching murderer here to finish what he’d started.

  As their eyes adjusted, they could see a simple wooden table sitting dead center and one wooden chair leaning against an old rickety cabinet.

  Mak strode with purpose toward the CB. “Damn.”

  “What?” Blythe asked, but deep down she already knew the answer.

  “It’s been cut.”

  “Can you tell when?”

  “It’s fresh. The wire shavings are here on the floor. It was cut recently.”

  Panic overrode her senses as an anxiety attack crept into the equation. “Now what’ll we do?” Blythe ran both hands through her hair, clutching fistfuls while holding Mak’s stern expression. They’d walked for hours only to be left for dead. And whoever had cut the CB was probably very close. A sinking desperation took root, and in that moment Blythe understood their fate. Resolved to the fact that this would be her last day alive, she wanted nothing more than to survive.

  <><><>

  Using the dim moonlight streaming in through the one window, Mak assessed the situation. The one-room structure was bare-bone essentials. No electricity, no running water, no bathroom…and now no chance in hell of being rescued.

  He rummaged through the cupboard, finding a stash of emergency crackers and leathery fruit bars, vacuum-packed and as close to cardboard as cardboard itself. “Better than air,” Mak passed Blythe a couple, and in doing so noticed her blank face. “Blythe, it’s not over yet. We’re still alive, still staying one step ahead.”

  “I’m just so tired, Mak,” she leaned an arm on the table and slumped. “And how can you say we’re one step ahead when someone has clearly been here. Someone who wants to kill us!”

  Mak noticed the defeat in her words, along with just a hint of hysteria. He needed her strong, fearless. If she was going to fight and win this race they now found themselves in, she had to want it bad. Walking quickly around the table, he pulled her into a spontaneous hug before she could protest. He noticed her body stayed ridged for a moment before melting into his embrace. She held on tight, prolonging the hug even when he was about to release her. It surprised him. In that moment, he sensed her need for comfort and reassurance and was more than willing to give it freely, whenever needed.

  “Listen, the person who cut that CB probably did it as a precaution to someone calling in suspicious activity on the island. It may have been done days ago. It’s you and me here, Blythe. I’m sure they still don’t know we exist.”

  “Hmm, maybe. I feel so helpless and the unknown is killing me. I don’t know if we’ll get off the island, I don’t know if they’re after us, everything. I don’t want to give up, but…”

  Mak squeezed her shoulders caressingly. “You have so much to live for, Blythe. You’ll be a famous reporter someday, maybe even a star on the evening news. Is that what you want?” He brought her tighter into another embrace.

  Blythe sighed into his chest. “No. I want more than that. I want…I want to live. I want to try new things and be brave. Brave in a way that doesn’t involve fighting for my life. If only someone would come and rescue us.” He felt her let go and sob gently against him. He gripped her tighter, shouldering the brunt of her sorrow.

  Mak knew being rescued by an outside source probably wouldn’t happen now. That made him the man for the job. He’d have to get them out of this one without his trusted team backing him up.

  Blythe let him go and wandered around the room, her arms wrapped around her waist in a self-embrace. Mak watched her for a moment, finding her vulnerability irresistible. “Let me take on the stress of all this, Blythe. I’ll do the worrying for you.”

  She stopped and stared him down. “Easier said than done. You’ve been in these kinds of situations. Said so yourself. I haven’t. I need a task, something to distract me from all this.”

  “Okay, you can start by searching this shack for anything useful.”

  “Gladly.” Blythe walked with purpose toward the cabinet. “Nothing’s going to come flying out at me, right?”

  “Can’t promise you that.”

  Blythe swallowed and stared at him. “I’ve had enough surprises on this interview.”

  Mak laughed. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any animals on the island aside from a few monk seals at the shoreline and I don’t think they’d be hiding in the cupboards.” He held his smile as he turned and opened the top cupboards, rifling through empty glass jars and plastic bags. “Aha, a first aid kit. Bonus.” He pulled it down and rested it on the small wooden table. He turned toward the cabinet and yanked out another drawer. “A drinking box!” He held it up and waved it around triumphantly. “We can share. Hope you like apple.”

  After inspecting the package of generic liquid, Blythe downed her half of the drinking box before passing it back to Mak. She then inspected the small package of crackers, flipping it over a few times in curiosity. “There aren’t any expiry dates on this stuff.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just eat,” Mak huffed. He drained the rest of the drinking box and threw the carton onto the floor. The acidic taste of concentrated apple made him thirstier, the small amount of liquid a mere tease. “I still have to find us some water.”

  “Is
there another supply building or is this it?” Blythe asked.

  “You’re looking at it.”

  “But what about those other buildings? Are they empty?”

  “They were used as storage for military gear and as bunkhouses long ago.”

  “So we can sleep in a bunkhouse?” Blythe asked. “Like the scientists do?”

  Mak shook his head. “No, the scientists rarely sleep on the island. If they do they tent in another area, close to their research. Besides, scientific expeditions are few and far between here. Depends on the time of year.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Are you tired then? I’m surprised you can think of sleep at a time like this,” Mak asked.

  “I’m exhausted, but I have no plans to sleep until we’re rescued…if we ever are. Can we lock ourselves in the bunkhouse for the night and stay protected? Maybe we’ll find some blankets for warmth.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Lets make sure we’ve cleaned this place out of anything that might be useful first.”

  They left the safety of the shack and ran for the bunkhouse. Mak knew which one was best from previous visits. Darkness settled around them as they ran, making Blythe feel a little less exposed and overt. Even so, in the sudden quiet she was sure she’d seen movement behind a window of one building as they’d passed.

  “Did you see that?” she asked.

  “See what?”

  “I could have sworn I saw something move over there, in that building.”

  They ducked into the shadow of the bunkhouse and waited, straining to hear something, anything. Blythe’s senses felt acutely heightened, like her sight and smell and hearing was supersonic.

  “Was it a person?” Mak asked.

  Just as she was about to answer, a door creaked open in an adjacent building and slammed shut, then opened and shut again in the wind.

  “It was probably just the wind then,” she confessed, feeling paranoid.

  They kept moving around the building until they reached the front door. Mak twisted the knob and it opened, making him leery that it wasn’t locked like all the others. Cautiously entering the open-concept cinderblock building, Blythe expected to see row after row of military style cot beds, all made with care, blankets pulled so tightly you could bounce a quarter on them. Instead they found a long empty space with two piles of metal cots stacked in the corner, the exposed springs giving the beds a barbaric, dated look from another era. The thin mattresses were rolled and tied with twine and then stacked on a table against the wall. Beside the mattresses were stacks of folded grey blankets. Blythe walked over and ran a hand over a blanket, feeling the starchy woolen texture and cringing. “Not the coziest accommodations.”

  “But they’ll do?”

  “I guess. There isn’t much in here of any use,” she said, skirting the parameter of the room until she reached a metal storage cabinet. She unlatched the handle and the door swung open to reveal bare shelves. Bending, she inspected each shelf with sincere gullibility that a hidden treasure was surely awaiting her at the bottom. And to her surprise, she found something on the very last shelf.

  “Binoculars. These will be useful,” she placed the leather strap around her neck and wore them proudly. They grew heavy by the time she’d walked back to Mak so she placed them on the window ledge.

  “Better keep clear of the windows, Blythe. We don’t want to attract any unwanted attention,” Mak said as he lifted one cot and then another from the pile. The beds creaked on their frames as he placed them side-by-side at a distance from the window. “Wanna grab a few blankets while I unroll the mattresses?”

  “Sure.” She flicked the blanket and it spread down the length of the small cot. “How are you ever going to fit in one of these things?”

  “I’ll manage. It’s better than the ground.” Mak tucked the ends under haphazardly. “There we go. Hop in, your luxurious bed awaits.”

  Blythe giggled, forgetting for a second where they were and why they were running. It felt good to laugh, like a slice of normal in the twilight zone they now found themselves. She lay in one bed to test it out, the springs creaking and bowing with each toss and turn she made to get comfortable.

  “Well this is…nice,” she said with condescension before hopping out.

  Mak grabbed two folded blankets from the pile. He sauntered over to the wall and threw each one down beside it. “I’ll go looking for a cistern in a few minutes. Just want to rest for a second.” He slid down the wall onto the folded blanket. He leaned back with his legs outstretched and crossed his ankles. “I’ve gotta think of a plan.”

  “We have to think of one. You’re not in this alone, Mak.”

  He tilted his head up at her and patted the second blanket. “Have a seat.” He watched as she cautiously followed suit, sitting close but not too close. She was holding it together better than he expected. Even still, he knew that despite their dire situation, she was fully aware of his curse – even though it seemed more absurd now than ever. “What have you heard about me?” There was no time like the present for some honesty. He’d been honest with her, now he expected the same.

  “What do you mean?” she said a little too defensively.

  “Well, are you superstitious?”

  “Depends on your definition. I avoid black cats if that’s what you mean.”

  “I mean do you believe in our island traditions?”

  Blythe paused as if pondering her present situation. No doubt thinking his curse had roped her in along with him. “I’m certainly beginning to believe. More than ever before.”

  “You know about my curse. I can tell.”

  She hesitated. “Yes, I’ve heard.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out which version you’ve heard.”

  “Lou told me the true version this afternoon. Before that, I’d heard the false version.”

  Mak snapped his fingers. “I knew it. I figured something had changed when I picked you up at the peer. You seemed different.”

  “Nicer?” Blythe smiled.

  “Yes. Nicer. Or was it pity?”

  Blythe turned serious. “You’re too strong in character to pity, Mak. Only weakness should be pitied.”

  “Then what?”

  “Admired. I admire how you shoulder the brunt of your grief, how you stay.”

  “No other choice. This is my life.”

  “I guess I don’t understand why you don’t tell everyone what really happened?”

  “There’s no point. People believe what they want. To make things worse, some hotshot reporter wrote an article about the damn curse and I swear everyone on the island read it. How can I convince an entire island what really happened when they’ve read a different version in the paper? People believe what’s in print.”

  <><><>

  Blythe gulped and stayed mute.

  “Thing was, the article wasn’t accurate. Damn near ruined me. Said I was this womanizing bastard and my ex-girlfriend placed a curse on me. The article was written to make a point that if everyone believed in curses, more women would be cursing their boyfriends and where would that leave us? The reporter basically said people in Maui are gullible and will believe anything. It was very derogatory.”

  “So the reporter used your story as an example to make a generalization?” Blythe tried to make him realize that he shouldn’t have taken it personally – though she did regret writing it now more than ever.

  “Yes, it was supposed to be a generalization, but the writer published my name and where I live in the article. My story was what every woman in Maui clung too and my love life has deteriorated ever since.”

  “Who wrote it?” Blythe chanced asking, holding her breath.

  “Someone who’s name I’ll never forget. Angela Dyson. Thing is, she wrote the article from Chicago after digging up the local dirt in Maui. She worked for some gossip rag. Hey, maybe you know her? You’re from Chicago, aren’t you?”

  Blythe shook her head a little too vigorously. “Nope, never
heard of her.”

  “Hmm. I thought maybe. I’m sure the world of journalism is tight, being so competitive and all.”

  “Nope, Chicago’s a really, really big city. I have no idea who she is. What did you mean by she ‘worked’ for a gossip rag? Do you know where she works now?” Again, Blythe’s adrenaline spiked.

  “No. I tried to track her down but her trail ran cold. Seems she dropped off the face of the earth – which suits me just fine. She’ll never know how damaging that article was to me. Like I said, it kicked me while I was down. And it was so random, so out of the blue. I often wonder what I’ve done to deserve being treated like that. I’ve been forced to do a lot of soul-searching.”

  “And? What’s the verdict?”

  “I’m an innocent victim. Even so, I refuse to play the victim role. Life’s too short.”

  She appreciated his honesty. But there was no way in hell she was going to reciprocate. Not now, not ever.

  “You put that much stock in the elder’s spiritual preaching that you’ve believed in this curse all these years?”

  “Yes, Blythe, I do. We do – the entire community. The elder was taught by her Kupuna, one of the last great Kahuna of our time.”

  “Kapuna?”

  “Her father. She shares his blood, his gifts. She is a vehicle for the Uhane Hemolele.”

  “Holy Spirit?” Blythe chuckled. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Please, Blythe, we take this very seriously. Mainlander’s are very limited in their understanding of such things.”

  Blythe leaned away. “Well, excuse me.”

  “She can also see the future as Akua allows it.”

  “Hmm, a Hawaiian fortune teller. How much does she charge?”

  Mak shook his head. He wondered why someone so beautiful hid behind a wall of sarcasm. Self-preservation, he thought. Didn’t everyone have a reason? “See. You don’t get it.”

  “Listen, Mak, I’m a hard facts kind of girl in case you hadn’t noticed. My dad is a physician; my mom’s a lawyer. I was brought up on concrete thinking. There was no room for flights of fancy in my household.”