Red Sky Over Hawaii

by Sara Ackerman

  “I left Japan when I was ten, and I haven’t been back since. Usually it’s the young men sent to fight the wars, but could be I know some of their fathers, or grandfathers.” He shrugged. “I might look Japanese, and have some Japanese thoughts and beliefs, but my heart is in Hawaii. Like your folks.”

  Coco went and stood in front of the fireplace. “Our folks aren’t Japanese.”

  “No, but they came here from another country, and now they’ve made it their home.”

  “But why are they in trouble?”

  “Because Japan and Germany are friends,” Marie said.

  “It’s stupid. Why can’t we all just be friends?” Coco said in all seriousness.

  “Sometimes you get a bad person in power, and they start doing things to hurt people. What they believe in is corrupt. And then other countries try to intervene. But you have alliances already formed and it gets complicated,” Mochi said.

  Outside, the fog lifted, revealing a low layer of silvery clouds spreading up toward Mauna Loa and down to the sea. If they were going to stay, she had better get moving. “Tell you what—let’s get started making this place more comfortable, and we can answer all your questions later.”

  THE ENCOUNTER

  Lana parked the truck a little way in from the beginning of the road and pulled the bike out of the back. Tiny water droplets fell from the Sugi pines onto her shoulders, but thankfully there was no rain. On the radio more information had been given about staying off the roads. Complete blackouts were ordered, all schools were closed and suspicious aliens were being rounded up. Not just aliens, Lana thought. Food was to be rationed, as Hawaii had only enough provisions to last just over a month, and anyone found disobeying rules was subject to being shot. The worst part of it all was that more attacks were expected.

  Every single clothing item she had brought on this trip was wrong. From the white dress, skirts and blouses for ninety-degree Hilo life to her scant supply of toiletries. For lack of options she had on her beige skirt, pink checkered button-up and white tennis shoes. All of that was hidden under her father’s heavy army jacket. As she pedaled along, water from the wet road sprayed up on her. There was no point in trying to stay clean. All of this was fine, as long as she wasn’t arrested for being out and about.

  The gloom did not help her mood, and she fought back tears several times as she rode toward 29 Mile. Houses along the main road were mostly summer houses. Not a soul was in sight. She passed a little red-and-white schoolhouse. The sign read Volcano House Japanese School. Two men in military uniforms stood outside by an army jeep, reading a piece of paper. Lana put her head down and rode past on the far side of the road, fearing for whoever ran the school.

  A little way beyond that, she came upon Kano Store, which to her surprise was open. There were cut anthuriums and red ginger out front on the wooden porch, and baskets of oranges, plums and tangerines. When she walked in, the cracked wood beneath her feet creaked and groaned, announcing her arrival. The place smelled of kerosene and boiled peanuts, of childhood and better times. A radio blared from behind the counter.

  “Hello, is anyone here?”

  Lana remembered old Mrs. Kano from when she was a girl but doubted the woman was still around. She had been ancient even back then. Tiny, generous, and full of spunk, she always handed out an extra few pieces of gum, or, Lana’s favorite, the rice candy with paper that melted in your mouth.

  A white head suddenly appeared behind the counter, and Lana found herself looking down into a set of watery black eyes.

  “Mrs. Kano? My goodness, you’re still here!”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I...um...well, it’s just been so long since I’ve been up here.”

  “You look familiar. Where you from?”

  “I’m Lana Spalding from Hilo. I used to come up here when I was young. Jack was my father. Maybe he’s been in here lately?” Lana said.

  “What you mean was?” Mrs. Kano said, in her own variation of pidgin English.

  “He contracted meningitis and died several days ago. I’m sorry to have to tell you. It was a shock to everyone.”

  The old woman huffed. “Damn that man, he was my best customer. When he was up here. I could tell it was him by the way he always came skidding to a stop out front, like his car was on fire. He brought me things from Hilo, too.” She shook her head. “Plenty bad news today.”

  Lana sighed. “To be honest, I can hardly remember a worse few days.”

  Though of course that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Stupid Japs,” Mrs. Kano said, a drop of spit landing on her chin. “Bombing all their own countrymen, and pissing off America. Don’t they know Hawaii is mostly Japanese? Big mistake, you watch.”

  The word Jap coming out of her mouth like that momentarily stunned Lana. People had been bandying the word around so much lately that it had become commonplace—and yet still disturbing—but hearing it spoken by a local made her realize how many of the people here identified more as Hawaiians than anything. There was a huge blending of the lines.

  “Any updates?” Lana asked.

  “Word is the water is poison. So they say to fill up your bathtubs. Lucky up here we catch our own damn water. You staying at Jack’s house?”

  “For now. Before we got here, I had no idea it wasn’t finished. So I was hoping to find some much-needed supplies.”

  Mrs. Kano came around the front of the counter. She was a tiny woman but still moving well for someone well into her nineties, at least. “Who is we?”

  “My two girls and our dog. We have a Great Dane who eats more than two men do.”

  “Just the three of you?” Mrs. Kano said, squinting at her as though she could see right through the lie.

  “Yep. Just us.”

  “They say that rations are starting up, so get what you can now. I had a rush earlier this morning, and plenty goods got cleaned out.”

  Lana glanced around. The shelves were still stocked, though somewhat sparsely. “What I really need most are mattresses and maybe a few extra blankets. And any leads on where I might be able to pick up some furniture around here.”

  Just then the door to the back opened and a young woman stepped out. “Can I help you, Baba?”

  “This lady wants a bed.”

  The young woman said, “I’m sorry, the Volcano House is just up the way. I would suggest you go there, but from what I hear, they’re closed to civilians since Sunday.”

  “No, no, I have a house, I am looking for mattresses or beds—”

  Mrs. Kano butted in. “She’s Jack’s daughter.”

  A look of confusion passed over the woman’s face. “Jack?”

  “Hilo Jack.”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Oh, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Iris, her granddaughter.”

  Outside, a car door slammed. Iris peered out the window, as men’s voices carried up through the open glass with no screen. “Oh hell, Baba, let me do the talking, okay?”

  The three of them stood there staring at one another, fear and tension emanating from the two Japanese women, and Lana on edge herself, heart thumping and palms sweating. Two men entered, both in uniform. One young and blond, with overdeveloped biceps, the other tall and wiry and serious-faced. The younger one ran his finger along a shelf and held it up to reveal a layer of dust when he reached the end.

  “Dirty,” he said, looking directly at the women.

  “Mrs. Kano, Iris,” said the older one with a small nod, not acknowledging the comment from his peer. “We have to ask you to come with us to answer some questions.”

  Lana felt herself nearly gag. Not again!

  Iris appeared to be working hard to breathe, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “Major Bailey, can you please ask us here? We have nothing to hide, you know that. And my grandmother, she puts up a good front, but she�
��s old.”

  Mrs. Kano swatted at her hand. “Don’t call me old.”

  “Please don’t make this harder than it already is. I have my orders,” Bailey said more gruffly than necessary.

  These poor women.

  “You taking all us Japanese in? Gonna arrest the whole island?” Mrs. Kano said.

  “Depends on what happens next. Maybe your comrades will do another raid and then we won’t need to,” the blond one said.

  Major Bailey shot his friend a look. “Snyder, enough.”

  Snyder saluted. “Sorry, sir, it’s just hard when it’s personal, you know?”

  “I do know.” His jaw clenched.

  Lana felt invisible, until the younger one turned his gaze on her and looked her up and down. “And who might this be?”

  “I just stopped in for a few supplies.”

  “Your name?”

  “Mrs. Hitchcock. I live just down the way.”

  Major Bailey also seemed to notice her for the first time. The way his eyes finally locked onto hers caused a swishing of her insides. His brown eyes were set wide apart, beneath unruly brows, and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.

  “I haven’t seen you up here before. I’m Major Bailey,” he said.

  “I just returned from O‘ahu. I was there for a while,” she answered. Her voice was shaky, even though she was innocent of any crime, at least in her mind. She kept waiting for him to look away and get back to business, but he just stood there, staring at her in the most awkward way possible. It was both intimidating and perplexing.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Bailey?” she finally said.

  “Forgive me. There’s no problem, ma’am. And it’s Major.”

  He turned his attention back to Iris and Mrs. Kano. “We’ll wait out on the porch. Take a minute or two to close up and we’ll head out.”

  The two men walked out, leaving a chill in the air. Lana wanted to head outside and give them a scolding for being so rude and insensitive. How could they think that taking Mrs. Kano could do any good at all? She was about to march out there, then stopped. Calling attention to herself was a dumb idea and could lead to trouble down the road. There were others to think about.

  Iris said in a hushed voice, “Mrs. Hata just called and said they took away the Shigetanis, at the Japanese school up the road. What do you think they are going to do with us?”

  Mrs. Kano apparently did not feel the same need for privacy, and said in a voice even louder than usual, “Nothing, that’s what. If they take us away, who you think gonna grow their food? The menehune? Pele?”

  An excellent point, actually.

  Lana whispered, “The FBI took away a German couple, my father’s neighbors, yesterday, and I have no idea where they took them. I was going to ask to use your phone and see if they’ve returned home yet.”

  “Come back tomorrow. You can use it then,” Mrs. Kano said.

  If they were back tomorrow. She hated to leave them, but there was nothing else to do. “Thank you, and good luck,” she said, giving them both a quick hug.

  Snyder leaned against the railing sucking on a cigarette as though his life depended on it, and Major Bailey stood with his hands in his pockets watching the rain fall. Light enough that it could have been snow, it had already soaked Lana’s bicycle. She was not looking forward to the ride back to the truck. Not to mention the fact that she had accomplished nothing she had come to do.

  Lana hoped to make it past the soldiers without having to speak to them, but Major Bailey said, “What were you doing on O‘ahu, Mrs. Hitchcock?”

  She turned in time to catch him looking at her hand, which was now ringless. She had left her wedding band in her jewelry box in the bedroom she used to share with her husband and now regretted the decision. There were likely to be enough lonely men around here in the upcoming months to be an annoyance.

  “No offense, sir, but how is that pertinent to what’s going on here?” she asked, stopping underneath the eave and holding her hand out to catch the droplets.

  “Just covering all my bases,” he said, tipping his hat.

  “If you must know, I used to live on O‘ahu, and I just moved back here.”

  “When did you leave?”

  “I flew over on Saturday.”

  He whistled. “That was cutting it close. Mighty lucky you weren’t up in the air yesterday morning.”

  It felt more like small talk than questioning, and she was about to step down into the cold when the thrum of engines stopped her. Something big was coming their way. “Are you fellas bolstering troops at the military camp?” she said.

  “The whole Volcano area is on high alert, and we’re mobilizing troops and national park rangers and civilians, you name it. Every side of the island is vulnerable to attack or invasion, even up here.”

  That got her attention. Volcano felt so far removed and so unimportant in the large scheme of things that coming here seemed a safer bet than staying in Hilo. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely the case. A moment later a line of police cars came into view, rattling and rumbling their way up the road.

  Lana muttered to no one in particular, “What the dickens?”

  The cars moved at a crawl, and when they passed, she saw with shock what they were hauling—Japanese men, all crammed into the back seats, eyes blank as they looked out the windows. The faces of men who had just lost their freedom and families and livelihoods, and had no idea if and when they would ever get them back. Freedom, it turned out, came in many shapes and sizes.

  “Important Japanese. It’s just a formality,” Bailey said, as though he needed to explain.

  “Where are they taking them?” she said.

  “The camp.”

  If Mochi had stayed in Hilo, would he be in one of these cars now? As soon as the last car passed, she made a beeline for her bicycle. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  “You take care now,” Bailey called after her.

  She rode off, spokes whirling. Who would have ever imagined Volcano would be where they brought suspected...sympathizers? Spies? Saboteurs? The only thing for certain was that being of Japanese ancestry automatically made you a person of interest. It made you dangerous, and it made you untrustworthy in the eyes of the government.

  She no longer cared about being splattered with rain or mud or fragments of leaf. Maybe she ought to investigate the new Volcano House lodge and see if they had any spare mattresses there, now that there would be no visitors coming to the park. Quite a shame, since the hotel had just had a big fancy opening in November, the old one having burned to the ground the previous year. And from all accounts, Theo Karavitis was still running the show in grand fashion.

  Tiny red ‘apapane flitted through the trees around her, the whir of their wings one of her favorite sounds. Lost in thought about what to do next, and only several hundred yards up the road, a tire burst and Lana suddenly careened off the road. Metal screeched against stone just before she flew headfirst into a bush. Her arm folded up under her at an awkward angle, and she tasted tree bark and moss and possibly blood. Before moving, she took stock of all her limbs. Other than a throbbing knee, everything seemed in order. She rolled over and sat up, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. It came away red.

  Dazed, she remained in place for another minute or so, and as luck would have it, a car pulled up and stopped next to her bicycle. She waved them on. “Carry on, I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding. Have you hit your head?” said Major Bailey. He’d already opened the door to get out.

  “It’s just my lip. I must have bitten it on the way down.”

  He came over, kneeling next to her. She squinted and rubbed her eyes. Were his edges a little blurry? She glanced over at the car and saw Iris and Mrs. Kano in the back seat.

  “Major, or whatever it is, please let me be,” she pleaded.

 
; “My name is Grant. How about you stick with that?”

  This kind of fall was nothing more than an embarrassment, the kind you hoped and prayed that no one was around to witness, so you could pretend it never happened. The timing could not have been worse.

  “It would be remiss for us to leave you here. Look at your knee—it’s badly skinned.”

  A big strawberry, smudged with dirt.

  Grant pulled out a handkerchief and held it up to her lip, dabbing with surprising tenderness. It smelled of cinnamon. “You’re hurt,” he said softly, as though this was news to her.

  “Darn flat tire,” she said, looking at her knee, which seemed the safest place to look right now.

  “I have a repair kit,” he said, still one foot away.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I don’t have far to go. I can walk the rest of the way.”

  A wave of dizziness hit her and she closed her eyes for a moment. Surely she hadn’t hit her head hard enough for a concussion. Or had she? When she opened them, there was Grant, eyeing her with concern.

  “How about we give you a lift, and I can come back for the bike later with the jeep?”

  Lana held out her hand. “No, thank you. Help me up, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  He pulled her to standing as though she were a doll, his hand big and warm and full of some invisible current that ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. As much as she wanted to let go, she couldn’t. Looking up at him, she saw for the first time a hint of a smile. Just the very corners of his mouth turned up, the sides of his eyes crinkling.

  “Mrs. Hitchcock, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  This time she pulled with more force, and her hand came away. Hot and tingly. She wobbled, slightly unsteady on her feet. “Maybe you’re right.”

  She climbed in next to Mrs. Kano, who said, “Need one of those army helmets.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  It felt strange to be a free person riding along with two women who, given a choice, would not be in this vehicle. The car smelled like cigarettes and damp socks, strong enough that she kept her head halfway out the window as they cruised down the road, Grant working hard to avoid any potholes.