| Prologue Just before it happened, Millie Miyashiro was barely visible in her family's backyard garden. Surrounded by a vareity of verdant tropical plants and protected by a broad brimmed, mainland Chinese reed hat, she was carefully snipping vanda orchid stems under a postcard hawaiian sky. The new blooms fairly glowed a rich magenta in the radiant afternoon sun. Within the hour Millie expected to drive the freshly cut bouquet to Kona hospital to brighten the room of her elder daughter Joyce, a patient in the maternity wing. She had given birth the day before to s seven pound, eight ounce boy. He was Millie's first granchild. He was special. When the Civil Defense sirten sounded and interrupted her reverie, Millie dismissed it as the monthly test. It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, Edgar Meyes and his two fishing buddies, Russe; Apaka and Eddie Ogales, were drifting offshore from the Kona airport with thier lines set out behind Edgar's twenty-one foot power boat, "LI DAT" The trio had already landed five good sized ulua and were now contrent to enjoy the sun and their cold beer. From a battery poweeed CD player The Bruddahs and Sistahs Kapuna were singing a classical Hawaiian melody to the accompaniment of a slack key guitar. The wind was blowing skoreward, so they never did hear the siren. It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, George Chun gunned his black four wheel drive Explorer along the twisting ironwood-lined mountain road from the village of Hawi towards Waimea, forty miles northeast of Kona. Rumors were rife that another Operation Green Harvest was at hand and Geroge was determined that he, and not the damn country police nor the Army National Guard, would harvest his marijuana crop this year. Last year they had cleaned him out. This year would be different. The tape deck was playing Eminem's latest hit, so George probably wouldn't have heard the siren even if he had been closer to one. It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, the rainbow festooned Aloha paradise Tours bus pulled into the new Parker Ranch Center to disgorge sixteen couples and three widows, all retirees. Those that wore matching aloha attire weren't prepared for either the mist or chill of Waimes. Keoki Koikoinui, the veteran and personable Hawaiian driver, had given his well-rehearsed, humor-spiced spiel about the center's offerings when the nearby ywllow siren whined into a deafening howl from atop its pole. To calm his wondering passengers, Keoki ahouted an explanation of the monthly Civil Defense tests. Reassured, his passengers disembarked through the continuing din, leaving keoki to ponder when the State had changed these tests from the first Tuesday to mid-month. He dismissed whatever doubts he may have had with the tought of spending the next hour visitng Leslie Botelho, the new manager at Kimo's. God she had a fine body! It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, Dave Toma sat at his desk in the Honokaa branch of Bank of Hawaii reviewing a loan application. The island was suffering from tough times and especially the Hamakua Coast, which had seen all sugar mills close several years earlier. The bank had been closed for over an hour and only staff remained. The quiet was broken only by small yalk and the other employees going about their day-ending business. Hi s boss, Gordon Fujii, poked his head around the corner and asked Dave to step into his office. As he rose to comply, the Honokaa battery of sirens sounded. It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, Eric Payne stood on his back deck sipping a can of Bud Lite and watching the wind ripple the remnants of sugar cane. In the distance, the Prussian b lue Pacific was flecked with white caps and an ocasional squall swept ashore to baptise the land Behind him, Mauna Kea's cinder peak was wreathed with a cumulus lei. The sweet aroma of wood smoke wafted from the fireplace chimney. Eric loved country living and never tired of watching his little part of the world from this particular vantage point. Cheryl, his Japanese-American wife, had just brought out a plate of sashimi and poke when the siren in Paauilo wailed into action. After listening intently to understand its message, Eric and Cheryl hastened into the house to round up their two daughters. It was four twenty-seven. Just before it happened, Hilo was experiencing a typical Spring rain. Silvie Carvalho had lived in the small port city all her life, so she walked with a casual indiffererence towards her fiver year-old Toyota station wagon, paying little heed to the steady drizzle. She'd been shopping unsuccessfully in the mall for a birthday gift for a niece. Only when the sirens had come to life throughout the city did all signs of her casualness vanish. Hilo had suffered the onslaughts of two major tidal waves in her lifetime, so Silvie's first thought was to get to the family home in the neighboring low lying Waiakea. Her elderly mother would be home alone, Earlier tidal waves had devestated the area. She fumbled with her car keys in her growing anxiety. I was four twenty-seven. Just befrore it happened, Ivan Kunishige and Lorie Adams were sitting in the middle of a water bed at Ivan's brother's house overlooking Hilo. While Ivan's brother was in Honolulu for a week, Ivan, a Senior at Hilo High School, was house sitting. Lorie, a sophomore, was somewhat overwhelmed that a varsity football player of Ivan's popularity was interested in her; a fact that had allowed him to slip off her Hilo Vioking tee-shirt and lavender bikini top without any resistance. Both of them were dimly aware of the sirens that had begun to sound, but neither was able to consider their implication in light of their rising excitement, fanned by Ivan's hand, which had alreadsy begun to probe inside Lorie's black nylon jogging shorts. It was four twenty-seven. On March twenty-third it happened. It's of ;itt;e significance why it happened or who was responsible. Both questions were academic in light of the furies unleashed; furies unequaled by any of the the island's previous earthquakes, tdial waves or volcanic eruptions that the ancient Hawaiian dieties inflicted on this land. No one would completely escape the coming venmgeance. At four thirty that day, Millie Miyashiro was becoming irritated and anxious over the continuing siren. Gathering the last vandas, she headed quickly past the uniquely shaped anthuriums, the rowas of eggplants and Japanese cucumbers towards the house and a radio. Aikane, the family mongrel, jumped expectantly against the chicken wire of his run as she passed. She ignored him. At four thirty that day, Edgar and his hriends had emptied the Igloo cooler. The last Buds would be ice cold. No more fish had been taken. No one really cared. At four thirty that day, Gerogr crested the last ridge before the road dipped towards Waimes. Jubiantly he noted that the sky east and south of the village nestled at the foot of the rolling Kohala Mountains was socked in with a heavy overcast. Today he wouldn't have to worry about prying pig helicopters. |