Ocean: War of Independence (2 page)

She would bring up the idea of a declaration to Kimo later today, and hoped he liked it. But first, she needed to practice with her waves.

Now Alicia focused on generating one of her mini-tidal waves, drawing the sides in on one as she had done before, creating a wave between herself and the cliff. She estimated that this one was at least two feet higher than her last attempt, which pleased her very much. Yes, it was around seven or eight feet high, and twenty or twenty-five feet wide.

She envisioned it in motion, and the wall of water rushed toward the cliff, increasing in velocity until it slammed hard against the base. Rocks and dirt on the lower portion broke away and crumbled into the sea.

Now she had several categories of waves—the vee wave, the mini-tidal wave, the whirlpool wave, a carrier wave on which she could ride, and a surfing wave—and all had variations in scope and power. She thought there must be other types, and that each of them had a specific purpose, as if they were tools in her extremely interesting tool box, and she could use them whenever she needed them.

Thinking his grandfather was dead, Jeff had driven the Jeep partway up the side of the volcano, finally pulling off the road after dark, at a place that was well-concealed by a rock formation, and foliage. Here, at an elevation of more than five thousand feet, he’d spent two nights, eating papayas, bananas, and mangoes he’d collected on the way up. But as he’d gained altitude on the narrow road that circled the mountain, the lowland jungles had receded, giving way to pine trees and other evergreens. The climate was cooler above sea level, and there was nothing to eat here that he knew how to find. He had been chilled at night and unable to stay warm even when he closed the side windows and slept in the vehicle. He hadn’t counted on it being so cold.

It was midday now, and he was on the shadow-side of the mountain. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the vehicle, he felt the cool air seeping into his bones, and didn’t want to spend another night in the Jeep. Before starting up the road he’d driven past Kimo Pohaku’s fruit stand, and knew that his Hawaiian mother, the crazy old
kahuna
healer, lived a short distance away from that. Jeff’s blood boiled at the thought of that family. Old Tiny Pohaku had made trouble with his land claims, and his son Kimo had brainwashed Alicia, filling her mind with disloyal thoughts, causing her to hold a ridiculous ceremony for his dead father on the Ellsworth Ranch, upsetting their grandfather terribly.

Now Jeff was on the run, thinking his grandfather was dead, and Alicia, too, for all he knew. It was as if a bomb had gone off in the midst of the Ellsworth family, scattering them in all directions. He could be the sole survivor in Hawaii.

He started the Jeep, thinking of his anger toward the Pohakus, and of the safe and trunk he had hidden in the jungle on the ranch, containing money and jewelry. After the confrontation with the police, it had not been possible to get there, but perhaps he could find a way to sneak back in the middle of the night. He remembered that the Pohakus had a small house that was not easily visible from the road, or from neighboring homes. It could be a good place for Jeff to hole up, giving him a base from which to retrieve his valuables.

***

Chapter 2

In San Francisco Bay, Gwyneth picked up a molecular transmission from Monique Gatsby, who had found a place just offshore of Marine Park to contact them. Gwyneth and J.D. Watts were out in the channel by the bridge, a couple of miles away.

“President Vanness is refusing to back down,” the actress reported. “He just concluded a speech in which he said he will not accept the demands of a terrorist organization that is running rampant in the sea, committing one crime after another. He has repeated the demand that we surrender unconditionally.”

“That will never happen,” Gwyneth said. “All right, Jacqueline, J.D. and I know what to do here. I want you to organize the big demonstration you talked about. If you can do it on the Golden Gate Bridge, as you mentioned earlier, that would be the most effective, especially if we can take over the bridge. I’d like to do it this afternoon, and stop all traffic.”

“My people are ready to go anywhere in the Bay Area, but the Golden Gate Bridge has a massive amount of commuter traffic between the city and suburbs to the north. We can do the bridge—it’s one of our options. But it’s unfortunate if we have to block ordinary people who are just trying to go back and forth to work.”

“If that’s the most effective way to get attention—and I think it is—we need to do it.”

“All right, but maybe we could limit the demonstration to twenty-four hours? That would inconvenience a lot of people, but we could then give them back the bridge and move our demonstrations downtown and elsewhere, not staying in any one place for too long. Of course, the police are likely to respond with mass arrests, but they can’t keep everyone in jail, and gradually we’ll wear them down.”

“Good idea. And it goes without saying that you and Professor Greco need to be especially careful, because of the arrest warrants on all of us.”

“Right. We need to set up the first demonstration fast, in order to keep the authorities from getting wind of it and setting up their own police barricades. I had a meeting with the event organizers this morning, and we can converge on the bridge from both directions in vans and other vehicles that are packed with more than a thousand people. The vehicles will stop in the middle of the span, stopping traffic, and our demonstrators will stream out, plugging everything up. At the same time, we’ll have pedestrians and bicyclists walking the sidewalks in each direction, and congregating in the middle. We’ll also have people fanning out all over the parking areas on the south and north ends of the bridge.”

“Your demonstration sounds like a military operation, like something Dirk Avondale would set up. I’m impressed, Monique.”

“Thank you. I do see it as a tactical operation, and I want us to take over everything to do with that bridge. My friends have even arranged with some hardy souls—mountain climbers and rock climbers—to ascend to the tops of the towers and hang large ocean-rights banners. People can begin appearing on the bridge about the same time as you set up the floating barricade across the channel. It should take you what, two or three hours from now?”

“Sounds about right. Like you, J.D. and I have already made our preparations, getting the marine animals ready for action.”

“Just leave the land operation to me. I have links to environmental groups, university students, bicycle clubs, and even sailing clubs. We can also fill the water with boats. It will be big! I promise you that. They’re all ready to go, waiting for our instructions.”

“All right. Tell them to move forward.”

Within moments after they concluded the conversation, Gwyneth began to form large-bodied marine creatures into a cordon across the channel, a quarter mile east of the bridge. There were humpbacks, blue whales, orcas, dolphins, whale sharks, sunfish, and a host of other animals. She even brought in a plesiosaur and placed it near the center of the barricade for effect—a genetically ancient creature with a small head, sharp teeth, and a very long neck. The animal kept turning its head this way and that, like a dinosaur or a Loch Ness monster, and would make for good publicity photographs.

By suppertime, Gwyneth had set up the floating barricade across the entire channel, stretching from San Francisco to Marin County, and had used additional animals to turn back surface ships and boats. On each side of the blockade, Jacqueline Rado and J.D. Watts had infested the waters with a security force of white sharks and great barracudas. The available sharks were in great number, with many of them having come from their breeding ground in Tomales Bay to the north. There were perhaps a quarter as many barracudas, but the combined security force seemed to be more than adequate.

J.D. was showing some talent in handling the barracudas, but he was not entirely comfortable with them yet. Nonetheless, the marine animals appeared to be trying to do as he wished. Jacqueline, in addition to her skills with these creatures and with sharks, had an affinity for shorebirds (as did Kimo), and she had attracted a number of rare species from the Point Reyes National Seashore north of San Francisco. Now the birds flew back and forth over the schools of fish that she commanded, as if guarding them—and this made for an impressive display.

Just when everything was arranged to Gwyneth’s satisfaction, she saw vehicles stopping up on the bridge, heard emergency sirens, and saw the blue flashing lights of police cars as the cops tried to get through. A large crowd was forming on the sidewalk on the east side of the bridge, and more people kept coming. It didn’t take long for traffic to come to a complete halt in both directions.

In the water on the other side of the bridge, a pair of harbor pilot boats turned a cruise ship around, and on each side of the cordon additional ships and boats were turning around. All the while, more animals kept adding to the bulk of the barricade, including a large number of seals that came around from Seal Rocks on the ocean-facing, northwest shore of San Francisco.

Within half an hour, Gwyneth was pleased to see a huge SAVE OCEAN WILDLIFE banner displayed on the sidewalk railing of the bridge, and climbers taking more banners up to the tops of the towers. She heard crowd noises, police bullhorns, music, and chanting protestors. Things were happening fast.

The deep-black, starlit darkness of the mid-Pacific settled over the island of Loa’kai, just as Jeff reached the bottom of the mountain and turned onto a dirt road. This was not the road that led to the Pohaku house; instead, it led to an isolated spot where he could park the Jeep and sleep in it, a place that would be warmer than up on the mountainside. He was tired, and wanted his mind fresher before going to old Ealani Pohaku and confronting her. At this early evening hour, she might have visitors, and that would complicate things. Better to wait until after 4:00 a.m. when she would be asleep, and probably alone in the house.

Jeff found a place he remembered, a small clearing down a bumpy dirt road in the jungle. There were no houses anywhere around, only thick, leafy vegetation on all sides. Switching off the lights, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Night birds called out, perhaps warning each other that he was there. He set the alarm on his watch, to awaken him at the proper time. Finally, fitfully, he drifted off to sleep in the bucket seat, leaning his head against the door.

Once during the night, he awakened to the unsettling sounds of a wild boar as it huffed and snorted around the outside of the vehicle, probably wondering, like the birds, what an intruder was doing here. After a few minutes, the animal went on its way, and Jeff fell asleep again.

He awoke before the alarm went off, maybe from another noise he didn’t hear now. Checking his watch, he saw that he was forty minutes ahead of the alarm, not enough time to fall back asleep. He sat up, yawned. In his pocket, he felt the reassuring lump of the .38 pistol.

It was still dark when he turned onto the quarter-mile-long, unpaved road that led to the Pohaku house. He went partway, then stopped and switched off the headlights. Jeff drew the gun, and stepped out into the starlight.

Even after waiting for his eyes to adjust, he could barely make out the road that had been cut through thick jungle. Keeping a hand extended to avoid running into anything, he made his way slowly, until he was surprised to see the lights of the Pohaku house still on. Creeping around the outside of the small dwelling, he saw old Ealani Pohaku sitting in the living room, dozing in a rocking chair with an open book on her lap.

She stirred when he squeaked open the front door, and her eyes opened wide. The book fell from her lap as she rose to her feet.

Waving the gun at her menacingly, Jeff said, “You Pohakus have always hated my family, haven’t you?” His gaze narrowed as he drew nearer to her. “What did you do, old woman? Put a Hawaiian curse on us?”

She shook her head sadly and said, in her coarse, earthy voice, “On the contrary, young man, I have always wished the best for your family, not the worst. I have always hoped you and your grandfather would see what is right, the way your sister already has.”

“Where is she?”

“With my son. She is quite well, and quite active.”

“If she’s with your son, she is
not
well. He brainwashed her, got to join him in his ridiculous, hopeless campaign for the cause of the ocean.”

“It is not ridiculous, and I am pleased to report it is not hopeless, either, as you must have heard.”

“I’m not interested.”

“She’s your sister. Of course, you’re interested.”

“I don’t know how you stirred things up in the spirit world, old hag, but I’m convinced you did it, and you did it maliciously, no matter your lies. Everything that’s happened to my family is your family’s fault, and I should kill you for it. I already killed a man on a boat, as you may have heard, even though it was self-defense.”

She stood calmly, showing no fear.

Her composure unsettled him. He felt a deep despondency, that even if he retrieved his stash of money and jewelry he would never find a way to escape, at least not for long. A new, dark thought came over him.

“I should kill you, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll kill myself in front of your eyes—to show you the results of your family’s meddling and demands for land that doesn’t belong to you. That will make two Ellsworth deaths that are your fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“My grandfather and me.”

She took a step toward him, her eyes and face filled with kindness. “You think your grandfather is dead? I’m happy to tell you he is not. I just got back from the hospital, where I spoke with the nursing staff. They say he has a chance of recovering.”

“He was shot in the head, a terrible accident! I saw him fall.”

She took another step toward him. “The bullet shattered part of his skull, but glanced off and did not enter the brain, though bone fragments did—which have been removed. He’s still in a coma, but his vital signs are good, and improving.”

“You’re lying! Stay back!”

She continued toward him. “He’s going to get better. We’ve asked the healing gods for help, and I think they’re responding, knowing he’s worthy of being saved.”

“Stay back! I’m warning you!”

She reached him, and put a hand on his gun-hand, pushing the snub-nosed weapon down. “You don’t really want to hurt me or yourself.” Her voice was infinitely calm, as if she was able to draw from her otherworldly resources, the spirits that were with her constantly. “You just need someone to care for you, and get your thoughts in order.”

She took the weapon away from him, and said, “Come, I’ll take you to your grandfather.”

Jeff burst into tears. “The doctor thinks he’s going to be all right?”

“He has a chance, boy, a real fighting chance.”

***