| The Shelter Maile Payne shifted fitfully in the absolute darkness of the shared sleeping cubicle. Bed had always been a place of solace and security, but now an unnatural chill seemed to penetrate even the down sleeping bag in which she tossed. Below in her bunk, Maile's sister Kawena slept blissfully. From habit, Maile found herself listening for the morning chatter of the mynah birds and the cooing of the lace neck doves, but this new day, like the previous dozen, brought no avian serenade. Missing too was the sweet fragrance of white ginger from outside her window. In place of Nature's morning was a stillness, staleness and a gnawing uncertainty. Maile's body clock told her it was time to rise, though the darkness said otherwise. Cocking her left wrist in front of her face, she pushed the illumination nub on her digital watch, confirming that indeed it was time to get up. A random spasm of fear raked her, forcing Maile to consciously seek control. God! Why couldn't she sleep like Kawena? This night like the others past, had seemed endless. Her senses had vainly strained to reach beyond the confines of the shelter for some sign that normality had overcome insanity. Reassurance evaded her. If it weren't for her family she surely wouldn't have survived. Yet even their presence had not erased fears and thoughts that wouldn't allow for the vlessed peace that sleep promised. While Kawena had dropped off to sleep immediately each night, Maile had lain there with her mind racing as though it were an endless recording of doubts and fears. What was happening outside? Why? Would the killers return? What about Grandmother Ho'okano? Would she ever hear her soft voice again singing Hawaiian melodies as she cooked her local specialties? And Auntie and Uncle Payne? So outgoing and active. Had they survived? What about her friends, especially Jason? Images of a handsomely tanned hapa Japanese-Haole" boy flashed though her head; followed by scenes at the beach, the university campus and other Big Island locales. She was alive and they were all probably dead, or worse, dying slowly from some sort of radiation sickness. For an instant she thought of graound zero, then shuddered. What would it be like when the emerged? What future did she have? The futility of further sleep being apparent, Maile drew herself out of her sleeping bag, rose to a sitting position, swung her feet off the side of the bed and dropped lightly to the floor. Passing through the flowered shower curtain which served as the cubicle's door, she moved into the main room of the shelter, flicking on a light switch as she did. A pair of fluorescent tubes fed by a bank of car batteries, which in turn were replenished by a wind powered generator, flickered twice, then glowed brightly. Blinking away the darkness, Maile surveyed her family's domain for the coming days, weeks, months.... She knew no one could tell her exactly how long they would have to remain in the safety of the shelter. The layout of the shelter bespoke of utility, with considerations for the human psyche evident as well. Shelves and cabinets which had been stocked with the means of survival, both physical and mental, lined most of the available wall space. There was canned and freeze dried food, tools, clothing, fabric, weapons, medicine, books, games and other essentials. At one point the shelving gave way to a pseudo window that looked out upon a sunlit wallpaper forest. Though reflecting this planned utility, there remained a measure of coziness emanating from the second hand furniture, pastel decor and limited, though not crowded, shelter floor space. "Home sweet home!" whispered Kawena as she stepped out of the cubicle behind her older sister. "Oh! You're up. Did I wake you?" Kawena, two years younger at seventeen, stood beside her sister adjusting to the light. Both girls showed the mixed features of their Japanese-Hawaiian-Caucasian heritage. Both were a few inches shy of six feet, possessed mid-back black hair and athletic bodies, reflecting their father's Hawaiian-Caucasian or Haole heritage. Their mother's heritage was most noticeable in their attractive faces. "No. I was ready to get up." "You slpet like a log. Everytime I woke up I could hear your breathing. I hardly slept." 'It's bound to catch up with you sometime. Maybe we should change bunks?" :I'll try anything," Maile yawned. "What's for breakfast?" "Cereal," Kawena replied after checking the menu posted on a clipboard hanging on the end of a shelving unit. She quickly mixed a quart of powered milk, opened a couple of dry cereal containers for both of them. To Maile she seemed completley unconcerned as she went about preparing breakfast and she wished silently for such apparent peace of mind. "Well, good morning girls!" Eric chimed bouyantly as the older Paynes joined their daughters, coming from their sleeping cubicle at the opposite end of the shelter. The cubilces had been included to add a modicum of privacy. "How's everyone doing?" Cheryl inquired after the good mornings had been said a communal hug had by all. "Kawena slept like a log, but i didn't. My head just won't stop." Cheryl put her arm around Maile's waist and hugged her taller daughter. "Maybe was should try a sleeping pill, just so you don't get run down. You're both doing fine. Dad and I are proud of how well you've responded." "Sometimes...." Maile struggled for words. "Sometimes it seems to big to comprehend. I mean, like last night. I should've been studying with Jason. I just...oh, I don't know." "I know how you feel, honey." her mother comforted. "It's hard to rationalize, isn't it?" Eric added. "I guess that's it. That and not knowing what it will be like." "No one can answer that," continued Eric as he pored milk on his cereal, "but, after you two went to bed last night, mom and I tried the radio again and picked up a faint station. Probably from the mainland. We really couldn't make it out, but you could tell someone was talking. There was even a little rock music. I'm sure there are other survivors on this island. The radiation levels haven't been extreme here, so if the dosimeter readings are the same as the last three days, I think we can go out tomorrow." |