Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' (10 page)

The Electra banked smoothly to starboard, the roar
of engines ringing in Chris’ ears, and Chris watched the hill-side
approach, so close he could count the leaves on the trees clinging
to its’ side. Gritting his teeth anew and straining to bank and
pull away from the mountain, Chris breathed a sigh of relief as the
view changed from green- to blue. But to his renewed alarm, it was
not the comforting blue of the sky, it was the foam-laced and
turquoise streaked blue of the ocean; the plane was still going
down.

“
Son-of-a-b-!” He hissed through
his teeth, and attempted to level out the craft with a jerk of the
wheel to his left as he stomped on the right rudder pedal. The twin
tails of the Electra responded quickly, and the nose of the plane
finally centered and rose as the kelp-strewn wave-tops disappeared
beneath the plane, the tires skimming the water with a blast of
spray. Chris breathed another quick sigh of relief and exclaimed,
“WHOOO-! Dammit! That was close!”

As Buddy writhed in tortured silence beside him,
Chris quickly turned to him and said tightly, “You just hold on,
okay? I'll try to get us down as fast as I can!”

Pulling the throttles back nearly to idle, Chris
swung the plane around above the waves and prepared to land. Only
to realize one small detail- he had no idea how to do it.

As he frantically cast his gaze about the unfamiliar
craft, his vision again fuzzed over, and in a strange, smeary sort
of black and white montage, he fell again into the dreamy world he
had just returned from.

The shattered debris and pock-marked tarmac flashed
beneath him as Chris, a truncated sigh of relief escaping his lips,
leveled out mere inches above the ground…

The Electra flashed toward the
last trees lining the runway, and Chris looked at the air-speed
indicator- 140. Too fast.
Way
too fast. He needed to slow down, and quickly.
“Okay... here we go. Flaps. Flaps? Ohh- GREAT! Where the hell are
the flaps?!” Chris closed his eyes, and then suddenly-
remembered…
Chris’ eyes
snapped open, and his left hand darted to the bright-red crank
wheel just behind the throttle cluster. As he fought to maintain a
straight line, his hand quickly spun the wheel as he counted out,
“Twenty…”

The nose of the Menehune drifted
alarmingly to the right as Chris continued to spin the flap wheel.
“Easy,
eeeasy...
”
Chris coaxed, drifting the lumbering craft back to centerline, as
he counted to himself in finality, “Forty. God, I hope that’s
enough…” The end of the runway flashed beneath him, and Chris
pulled the props all the way to idle and declared aloud, “Okay…
here we go!”

The plane dropped the remaining feet to the ground,
hitting once, hard, and then settling onto the hard-packed earth,
the tires rumbling loudly as Chris scrambled to reverse props,
quickly shoving the throttles back to full. With a roar of powerful
engines, the Electra began to slow, but the end of the runway and
the sheer drop-off to the sea beyond loomed large in the
windscreen.

“
Brakes-brakes-brakesbrakesbrakesBRAKES!!!!” he cried, casting
a desperate glance to the deathly-pale form of Buddy beside him as
he fought to control the now wildly fish-tailing craft. With his
eyes half-closed he watched with morbid fascination as his certain
death rapidly approached, and Chris could only hold on and pray as
the ‘Menehune’ slid and slewed from side to side as it raced toward
the jagged rocks at the edge of the island,
“Whoa-whoa-WHOAWHOAWHOAAAAAAH SH-!!!”

With the end of the world looming,
Chris tried one final desperate manoeuver to forestall the
inevitable. Stomping hard on the left rudder, Chris whipped the
plane around in a neck-snapping 180, at the same time shoving the
props back to normal. With a quick burst of forward power, the tail
of the Electra swung out over the end of the runway- and the
plane
stopped,
the tail wheel dropping gently to the ground
below.

Chris slapped at the kill switch, nearly bruising
his hand as he shut the plane down and flung himself back into the
seat, his eyes wide, his voice barely a whisper, crying softly,
“Oh- my- God!”

A soft mist of ocean spray washed benignly over the
plane as the engines whirred to a stop with a softly gentle ‘Bang!’
and final puff of blue smoke. Only the dulcet sounds of the surf
and a sharp screech of a gull proclaimed the arrival of this
most-unusual flight.

Immediately in the distance at the end of the
runway, a reddish cloud of dust formed and the dirty-white shape of
an antique ambulance materialized from within it. Chris wiped the
cold sweat from his brow and turned to the barely conscious form of
Buddy beside him. “Hang in there dude! We're down!” he said
anxiously. Scrambling out of the co-pilot’s chair, Chris stumbled
over the scattered cargo littering the floor, completely forgetting
all about the giant spider lurking within as he grabbed at the
cargo door handle, giving it a jerk and sliding it open, a blast of
warm, fragrant air and golden light streaming into the plane as he
leaped to the ground beneath.

A lazy cloud of dust announced the arrival of the
battered, vintage-looking white panel truck with a simple gold
cross on its’ side. Chris swayed unsteadily toward it with hands
waving frantically over his head as its occupants slowly climbed
out, obviously unaware of the now-critical need for their
services.

Chris yelled, “Hurry guys, I think he's having a
heart attack!”

The lead Paramedic, an attractive and clearly
pregnant native girl whose name-tag identified her merely as
‘Francesca’, looked at this wild vision with confusion and asked
it, “What? But they said- I thought Buddy was bringing some
stupid-?”

Chris interrupted, bent over at the waist, dizzy and
exhausted from his latest adventure and wheezed, “Yes. Well... No-
well, yes, but- Whoa...!” And then he abruptly passed out, again
toppling forward like a fallen tree, only to be caught one-handed
by another paramedic, this one’s name simply ‘Mannie’, just before
face-planting into the bright red-dirt. A third attendant walked
laconically over to Chris, slapping oxygen onto his face and
pulling up an eyelid to see who was home, as Mannie and Francesca
scrambled into the dark opening in the side of the ‘Menehune’.

Francesca’s brows knitted with concern as she took
in the pale and sweaty vision of Buddy, who slumped still and
silent in the pilot’s seat. Quickly unlimbering her stethoscope,
she slapped it onto Buddy’s chest. “Shee- bro, you don't look too
good! What you been eatin'?” Her casual rejoinder suddenly changed
to one of alarm as she turned and yelled at her companion, “Dammit!
He's in de-fib! Mannie, get the paddles, NOW!” Mannie stumbled out
of the tight confines of the cockpit as Francesca fought to strap
an oxygen mask onto Buddy, at the same time ripping open his shirt
and awkwardly climbing atop the dash to face him. “Don’t you dare
die on me now you big ape!” she cried, fighting to gain a position
where she could start chest compressions, her arms reaching
awkwardly around her own bulk as she wrestled to help Buddy.
“Shit!” she exclaimed in frustration, “Why you gotta choose to go
belly-up in dis frickin’ tin can?!”

Seconds later Mannie stumbled back through the
opening to the cockpit and flung the paddles of the defibrillator
at Francesca. Francesca quickly squirted a copious gob of contact
gel onto the paddles and rubbed them together as she called
frantically over her shoulder to her partner, “Mannie! Talk to
me!”

Mannie replied, tension edging his voice, “Charging!
Not yet…! GO!”

Francesca depressed the buttons, and the
defibrillator fired. Buddy flinched, but only slightly, his huge
bulk held in a tight embrace by the narrow confines of the cockpit.
Mannie slapped the stethoscope to his chest and shook his head
‘No’.

Francesca yelled, “AGAIN!!!”

Chris drifted back to awareness and glanced up at
the ‘Menehune’, which now rocked slightly back and forth from the
frenzy of heroic activity that echoed out of the open side window
of the plane. And then- a disturbing silence ensued.

With his heart racing in fear, Chris ripped off his
oxygen mask and began to rise, staggering to steady himself against
the port-side wing, just as the trio of Buddy, Francesca and Mannie
emerged from the plane. Chris’ attendant, a quick glance reassuring
him that his charge would survive, quickly set up the gurney and
helped his comrades load the massive form of Buddy onto it, and
then slowly, carefully rolled it toward the waiting ambulance.

Chris sat with a heavy sigh on the wide rear bumper
of the battered white vehicle and turned his face into the warm
Hawaiian sun, smiling vacantly at Francesca as she began to tend to
him, speaking to the distance where his father basked in oblivion
under that same sun, blissfully unaware of his son’s latest brush
with death.

“
Nothing to do but 'lie on the
beach', huh?” he said with self-satisfied irony, smiling benignly
at Mannie as he swung his legs into the rear of the ambulance.
Mannie smiled at him in return and shook his head in dry amusement,
and then gently closed the doors.

Above – Part Two

S
unlight
streamed through the louvered glass of the rural hospital windows,
the musical sounds of a variety of tropical birds lending a gentle
underscoring to the soft sighing of the warm breeze they let
in.

Chris casually sat on the edge of
the bed, his jacket off and a tank style t-shirt barely concealing
a tanned, well-muscled body. He smiled his typical lop-sided grin
as he listened to the cell phone he had tucked beneath one ear, and
then responded with a laugh, “I'm o-kay!.. Mom, mom, Mo-ther! Yes,
a scratch or two- well, okay... maybe even a bump, but nothing
requiring surgery...” He stopped and listened, his eyes rolling
skyward as he countered, “No! Nooo...! No, Mother, I did
not
say I require
surgery. Yes, no, but I- I'm fine! Yes, yes- I'll be waiting...
Okay! Thanks! Love you too! Okay, see you soon- Bye!” Chris tapped
‘End’ and grinned with silent amusement, his dimples deepening
further, and then turned his gaze to the only other occupant of the
tiny emergency wing.

In the bed immediately adjacent to his, Buddy smiled
hugely from behind an oxygen mask, nodding his head in time to the
music that leaked from a miniscule pair of high-end headphones
perched incongruously on his enormous head. He winked at Chris and
then closed his eyes as he leaned back onto the pillow, pulling the
mask aside as he muttered, “Dude, I owe you one- Mahalo!”

Chris patted the recumbent giant
reassuringly on the arm and replied, “No problem man, there
was
no way in
hell
I was going to wreck
two
planes in
one day!”

The emergency doors suddenly flew open and the
disheveled form of Alani burst through, still dressed in dirty,
mud-spattered clothing. She dashed across the room to Buddy and
gathered his bulk into a hug like she would never let go as a
torrent of melodious language issued forth from her full brown
lips, their tone alternating rapidly back and forth between
admonishing and consoling. Seconds later, the doors swung open
again, this time ushering in a flustered and distraught Noelani and
her austere Japanese husband, Kenji.

Suddenly the room was filled with
a cacophonous flood of overlapping dialogue in three separate
languages- Japanese, Hawaiian and English- Noelani fluttering
around like a mother hen, Alani alternately crying and laughing in
relief, Kenji offering terse comments and then looking on in stoic
silence.

As Chris watched the curious exchange from his perch
next to Buddy, the ER doors gently parted again and revealed the
smiling form of a tall, slender, vaguely Asian-looking man, his
crisp white lab coat embroidered with the name ‘Steven Onagawa –
M.D.’. He crossed to Chris and began a cursory check of his vital
signs, determined conclusively that he was alive and well, and then
turned to the beeping and technology-laden form of Buddy and his
entourage.

“
Mr. Nakamura?” he inquired
gently, addressing the near-silent form of the somber Japanese man,
who turned and greeted the doctor solemnly with his arms crossed
protectively across his chest, his face a tight mask of
concern.

“
Yes?”

“
I'm Doctor Onagawa. Do you happen
to have any more detailed birth records for Buddy?”

“
He was- adopted. Is something
wrong?”

“
I'm not certain. That's why I was
hoping to have a better idea of Buddy's medical history.” He
consulted his chart briefly and then continued, “Buddy suffered
what you might call a mild heart attack. Nothing major, but I think
it might indicate a more serious problem.”

“
What- problem?”

“
Are you familiar with the term
'ventricular septum defect'?” The blank look that stole across
Kenji’s inscrutable face belied the obvious, and Dr. Onagawa smiled
and continued, “It means, quite simply, that Buddy may have a small
hole in his heart-”

The large brown mother hen that was Noelani stood
abruptly and sputtered with alarm, “How can that be? Then all his
blood leak out!”

Doctor Onagawa laughed softly and
placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “No- no, Mrs. Nakamura, the
hole is
inside
the heart.” He pointed to a faded anatomical illustration on
the wall. “Let me explain. At birth, all babies have a tiny hole
between the two halves of their heart. This typically closes up
just after they’re born. Occasionally, however, it remains open,
and blood leaks between the two. When this happens, it forces one
half of the heart to work harder than the other, and enlarges and
weakens that side. As Buddy got older, and his physical activity
diminished, his heart naturally got- out of shape. Anyway, this
strain on the two hemispheres of his heart caused an arrhythmia, or
a change in the normal heartbeat. Which is what I believe happened
to Buddy.” Doctor Onagawa paused, and then smiled softly and
continued, “Anyway, I want to know for sure exactly what we're
dealing with before suggesting any action. I've scheduled him for a
full cardio workup at UH Med next Tuesday.”