Ohana Page 4

  "You're very welcome Mr. Dyson."

  The two sides waved jovially as Dyson backed away towards breakfast.

  From the corner of his eye he could see the young woman standing by the morning bellhops with her arms folded across her chest, watching every move he made.

  Chapter Ten

  Favoritism or not, Connie was right.

  Dyson ate until his body protested from too much food, and then he ate some more. By the time he was done guests from neighboring tables were admiring his efforts and the diminutive Chinese woman manning the omelet station was questioning where the food was going.

  His appetite sated, Dyson wandered back through the lobby. He was careful not to even look over at the front desk as he went, instead walking straight out to the valet station and handing them his claim ticket.

  A moment later his rental car was presented to him and he was on his way back up the coast.

  The traffic was even thinner than the day before as he kept the car angled north, following Ala Moana Boulevard until it became Nimitz Highway and eventually ran into the H-1. Using the foldout map given to him by the rental agency, he followed the highway past Pearl Harbor towards Kapolei. Once he ran out of freeway he turned north, hugging the coast as he traversed the entire western shore of Oahu.

  The long and semi-coherent ramblings of Willaby came back to him as he went, recognizing the town names Nanakuli, Waianae and Makaha. Little more than small bergs along the coast, he passed easily through them before the road opened back up.

  The entire trip he alternated glances between the azure waters of the Pacific and the two-lane road in front of him. Occasionally he had to stop to let people carrying surf boards jog across, though for the most part he drove on undisturbed.

  After awhile he turned the radio off and dropped the driver's window, the ocean breeze the perfect temperature as it flowed into the car and filled his nose with the smell of salt water.

  The trip was one of the suggestions made by Willaby two nights before. He highly recommended Kaena Point, the western most point on Oahu. Well off the beaten tourist path, he haled it as a destination unto itself, but well worth it for the adventurous few that make the trek.

  Just be careful, he had warned, as there was nowhere to get water on the trail and very few people to help should he become injured in any way.

  The idea of being remote and not seeing a soul, left alone to his thoughts in the Hawaiian sunshine was one of the few things Dyson remembered with perfect clarity from Willaby's talk. The moment he awoke to find sun streaming into his room, there was little doubt where he was headed for the day.

  An hour slipped by as he drove through the morning air, sun enveloping the car and the sound of the ocean filling his ears. A few minutes after ten a sign announced he had arrived at the Kaena Point State Park and informed him no motorized vehicles were allowed beyond that point.

  Dyson pulled into the nearly empty lot and swung out from the car, taking nothing with him but the keys and his wallet.

  The first mile was easy going, the trail paved and even, wide enough for a car to pass over. Dyson kept a steady pace as he went, nodding hello at the old couple out for a morning walk and again to a middle aged man with his dog.

  By the time the pavement ended beneath his feet, he was the only soul as far as he could see in either direction. The path changed from asphalt to earth and the steady sound of his feet crunching along filled his ears.

  Around him the world seemed to come alive, finally resembling the Hawaii he expected when he arrived. Overhead, large gulls and a few albatross' floated by in lazy circles.

  The trail fell off on either side, giving way to piles of large rocks, and Dyson could see monk seals sprawled out in the morning sun. A small smile crossed his face as he watched them lazing about, their skin various shades of grey as it dried in the warm air.

  Peeling his shirt off over his head, Dyson stuffed the tail into the waistband of his shorts and let it swing freely around him. The sun felt good on his pale skin, the first it had felt in over four months of Montana weather.

  Underfoot the path changed again, this time from the wide earthen trail to a narrow footpath atop large boulders. A new sound met his ears as he walked on, replacing the crunch of his shoes underfoot.

  Walking steadily forward, Dyson kept his eyes focused on the horizon and soon found the source. His mouth dropped open as he stopped and simply stared.

  One perfect wave after another slammed into the point, rising almost twenty feet high in unending succession. As each one crashed into the dark grey rock, depositing thousands of gallons of seawater and sending spray into the sky, another promised to follow just seconds behind.

  Dyson walked on another half mile, entranced as he watched the waves roll in. When he had gone as far as he trusted the path to take him, he dropped to a seated position and continued to watch.

  As he did so, he let his mind go completely at ease, content to think of nothing but the waves pounding themselves against the shore. For almost an hour he sat, wondering aloud what brought the waves in with such force.

  Why he was lucky enough to be the only person there to witness them.

  After a while he lay back flat on the rocks, their warmth running through his body as the sun continued to splash across his face. Closing his eyes he lay there for a long while, letting the noise of the ocean fill his ears.

  Eventually, the sound carried him into a trance and on into sleep, his entire body seeming to rock back and forth with the rushing of the waves.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dyson awoke to a wet nose nudging his ear, followed by a long tongue dragging itself across his cheek. His eyes popped open to see the underside of a brown and black muzzle belonging to a German Shepherd.

  Sitting up abruptly, Dyson climbed to his feet and rubbed his eyes. Small lights popped in front of them and he shook his head from side to side to wake up.

  "Don't mind Clem," a voice said from behind him. "She's just curious, that's all."

  Dyson whirled to find a Filipino woman standing before him. She was dressed in spandex shorts and a blue tank top with a massive twist of dyed blonde hair atop her head.

  Even with the added height, she still barely came to his chest.

  Forcing a bashful smile, Dyson said, "Oh no, she's alright. She just startled me, that's all."

  The woman laughed and pointed at his chest and stomach. "How long you been out here?"

  Dyson's eyes drifted down to the bright pink flesh she was pointing at. "I don't know. I didn't think that long, but I fell asleep so who knows."

  The woman nodded her head. "Mainland, right?"

  "That obvious, huh?"

  The smile grew into a laugh as the woman watched her dog sniffing along the path. "Oh yeah. Visitors don't realize how much further south we are than the rest of the country until it's too late."

  Dyson tugged his t-shirt from his waistband and fitted his head through it. "So you're telling me it's already too late?"

  The woman opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Instead she held out her arm and pointed to the deep bronze skin stretched tight around it. "Let's just say I didn't get to look like this in just one afternoon. You might have a long night ahead of you."

  "Great," Dyson mumbled, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He offered the woman a farewell and excused himself around her, following the trail back up the rocks of the coast.

  The walk back went even quicker than the walk out, the sound of the waves receding behind him and the sound of his feet hitting gravel growing underfoot. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep on the rocks, though the angle of the sun told him it was getting well on into the afternoon.

  Picking up his pace to a brisk walk he covered the ground fast, the trade winds tugging on his shirt. Already he could feel the skin of his stomach and face beginning to tighten with sunburn and he hoped to put something on it before the woman's prophecy came true.

  The
earthen path beneath him gave way to pavement as thoughts of getting into his car began to sink in. A small smile tugged at the corner of Dyson's mouth as he alternated between the idea of air conditioning and finding someplace to get a cool drink.

  Unceremoniously, the sound of shattering glass jerked him from his thoughts.

  Snapping his head up he could see ahead into the parking lot. On one side sat two aging Jeeps with the tops open. On the opposite side sat his rental car.

  Grouped around his car was a trio of young men, all of them in their early twenties. Each had short dark hair and went shirtless, their dark brown skin flashing in the sun.

  Dyson picked his pace up to a jog as one of the young men reached in through his shattered rear passenger window and opened the door. A moment later, his entire body disappeared inside.

  He thought to call out for them to stop, but couldn't muster his voice as he broke into an even sprint across the hot blacktop. Sweat poured down his face and back, stinging his eyes and molding his shirt to his body.

  Both of the young men standing outside the car were intently peering inside as he approached, neither one noticing him bearing down hard on them. Without breaking stride, Dyson ran straight ahead and rammed into the closest vandal, lifting the young man from his feet and sending him rolling across the pavement.

  The second thief stood rooted in place for a moment with his jaw dropped as Dyson scrambled to his feet and stood across from him.

  "Yo, what the hell was that?" the third guy said, pulling himself out from the backseat to see Dyson and his partner squared off with one another.

  Without a word he fell in beside his friend, the two spaced evenly apart and inching forward.

  "You should have just waited until we were done haole," the young man that was rummaging inside the car said. "It's not like you had anything in there anyway."

  Dyson slowly gave up ground as they approached, weighing the situation. He had a couple of inches and some weight on both of them, though each seemed toned and lithe from a life spent on the water.

  They weren’t the worst odds Dyson had ever faced, but they were far from the best.

  "Where you going haole?" the second young man asked, his confidence rising with the presence of his friend. "No help for you over there."

  Taking one more step backward, Dyson planted his foot and propelled himself forward, swinging his forearm through as hard as he could. The broad, even bone of his lower arm smashed into the young man's nose, sending a stream of blood down his exposed chest and across Dyson's skin.

  Pivoting on his right foot, Dyson swung a hard overhand right that the third man ducked under, sending his own jab into Dyson's ribs. A small puff of air passed over Dyson's lips as he twisted his head to track where the young man went.

  As he raised his head a wicked hook came out of nowhere, connecting just above his left temple. A streak of bright light passed before his eyes and a dull ringing settled into his left ear as he fell to a knee.

  Every fiber in his body told him to stand up and protect himself, but the triple image of his shoe kept him from doing so.

  Bracing tightly he remained motionless, waiting for impact from another blow that never came. Instead he heard the sound of tires slinging gravel and looked up to see Clem racing towards him, the tiny Filipino woman right on her tail and waving her hands overhead.

  Clem was the first to reach Dyson, pressing her nose into his neck and licking along his ear and cheek.

  "Are you alright?" the woman asked, jogging forward and placing a hand on his back.

  With great effort Dyson pushed himself upright, steadying himself against the side of his car as the spinning in his head slowly receded. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just lucky you guys came along when you did."

  "Yeah, old Clem here might be a big softie, but she can sure look tough, can't you honey?" the woman asked, scratching her dog behind the ears.

  She ran her eyes over the shattered window and the rental car standing open, quickly deducing what took place. "They get away with anything valuable?"

  "Naw," Dyson said, "I don't think so anyway. I just happened to come along at the right time."

  "Or the wrong time, depending on how you look at it."

  Dyson nodded begrudgingly at the words, unable to argue with them as the entire left side of his face seemed to be pounding. Running his eyes along the parking lot he noticed several sprays of broken glass and cursed himself for not noticing them earlier. "This sort of thing happens a lot out here I take it?"

  "Happens a lot in the whole state," the woman said. "Locals see rental cars, they think stupid tourists. Never leave anything out of arm's reach you're not prepared to lose. Doesn't matter if you're hiking or surfing or watching a luau."

  "Thanks, I'll remember that," Dyson said, dabbing at the side of his face and pulling his fingers back to see a thick smear of blood.

  The woman watched him closely, a look of concern on her face. "Can I give you a ride somewhere? You going to be okay to drive?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay," Dyson said, swinging his hand to his side and rubbing the blood off on his shorts. "Thank you though, for everything. I appreciate it."

  The woman shrugged off the thanks and instead twisted her head to peer at Dyson. An involuntary wince creased her face. "I take back what I said earlier. You've definitely got a long night ahead of you."

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite what Dyson told the woman, it took over an hour for his head to clear enough to drive. The bulk of it was spent sitting on a parking tie with his head between his knees, staring at the ground and talking softly.

  Her name was Loretta and she was from a second generation Filipino family on the island. She worked as a teacher at an elementary school in Wahiawa and lived alone with Clem not far from the point. Every afternoon the two of them climbed into the Jeep and went somewhere to hike, though more often than not they ended up at that spot.

  She claimed it was because the area was always quiet and people left them alone, a statement Dyson couldn't help but find ironic given his situation.

  For his part, Dyson listened politely and answered any questions she threw at him, though didn't elaborate on himself much.

  After a spell the spinning in his head receded to a dull stabbing pain and he ventured to his feet. Walking in slow circles he found his balance return to him and any double vision recede.

  He also found the source of his tremendous pain, as a large rock spotted with blood lay on the ground not far from where his attackers Jeep had been parked. Rolling it over with the toe of his shoe, he bent to pick it up and examined it under the sun.

  Loretta watched him as he rolled the stone over in his hands, a well of anger rising within him. In one fluid movement he rotated on the ball of his foot and launched it far out into the silent blue ocean, setting Clem to bouncing as she wondered if she were expected to retrieve it.

  The sun began to slip down over the water in front of them as Dyson thanked Loretta profusely for her help once again. The two exchanged contact information and each drove away, Dyson following her along the northern coast before turning south down the H-2.

  He’d seen enough of the western shore for one day.

  The drive south took right at an hour, the freeway making the first part of the trip much faster but afternoon traffic evening things out on the back end. By the time Dyson pulled up to the hotel and tossed his keys to the valet, the sun was already a blinding orange disk above the water.

  The valet gave him an alarmed look as he walked by, but said nothing.

  His enormous effort from the buffet that morning was now nothing more than a memory, hunger hitting him as he walked through the front door. On the drive home he had planned to order pizza and stay in his room for the evening, alternating between icing his face and applying liberal amounts of lotion to his burnt skin.

  The smell of charred meat wafted to him as he passed into the lobby, changing his mind instantly. For a moment he considered going upsta
irs to change and find his baseball cap to hide behind, but thought better of it. Instead, he ducked into the men's room and washed away the sweat and blood, trying not to notice the red and purple already splashed across his face.

  Again he questioned the wisdom of going to back to the café for dinner, decided to follow his nose. He didn't know these people and could care less what they thought.

  Arranging his shaggy hair to cover as much of his face as he could, Dyson emerged from the restroom and strode to the café, the smells growing stronger as he went. It was still early for a dinner crowd and the seating area was almost desolate, save for a few senior citizens coupled up.

  A sign at the front asked guests to please seat themselves and Dyson chose a table in the far corner with his back to the room. He put his left side against the window so nobody approaching could see his face and pretended to be interested in the Sportscenter highlights playing on a television above.

  A few minutes after sitting down a bored young blonde girl came to take his order. Without consulting the menu Dyson ordered a bacon cheeseburger with fries, a side of wings and a lemonade, barely turning his head as he spoke to her.

  His fears of having to explain his injury were unjustified though, as the girl didn't even bother to look up from her pad before mumbling something unintelligible and shuffling away.

  Overhead ESPN switched coverage from Sportscenter to another in the unending string of college bowl games, this time pitting Syracuse against North Carolina State. Leaning back in his seat, Dyson repositioned himself to get a better view of the overhead screen and settled in.

  "So I talked to Connie," a voice said, interrupting the game before the first play was even ran. "And she was right. I owe you an apology."

  Casting his eyes to the side, Dyson saw the young woman from the front desk standing beside him, fidgeting slightly. "Don't mention it."

  "I didn't mean to come off so harsh," she continued, "I just hate it when guys think I can't take care of myself."