Daniel’s throat went dry. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he’d been distracted the past two weeks, first by Mama and Maile, then by the news of his father’s return. Meanwhile the lava flow had edged ahead of everything else. Hadn’t he learned by now that life was a race you never could really win?

“Which direction?” he asked, already knowing it wasn’t good with the market empty. Everyone must have hurried home after the news.

Auntie Nori answered this time. “The geologists at the volcano center say it’s following the natural drainage down the mountain.”

“Threatening our water, yeah,” Uncle Samuel added.

“Not just our water,” Auntie Nori added, a quiet and steady dread in her voice. “The lava is flowing directly toward us.”

“Have the geologists said anything about what they’re going to do?” Daniel asked. “There must be something?”

“They’re not saying much right now,” Auntie Nori said. “Until they do, there’s nothing any of us can do, yeah, except wait again, and hope Pele will change direction, or stop the flow before it reaches town.”

Daniel shook his head at the irony of it; modern science would always be at odds with the island’s ancient beliefs. He didn’t care which side won as long as the lava flow stopped. What Daniel hated most was the helpless waiting. If he were still working in the hospital’s emergency room, he’d be calling out for vital stats, saline drips, blood transfusions to a rush of people in motion, trying to find ways to save the patient. Instead they stood there powerless and silent while the lava flow continued to destroy everything in its way.

Auntie Nori moved them out of the kitchen. On a piece of white butcher paper, she wrote the latest news to be tacked up on the bulletin board: WORD FROM THE VOLCANO OBSERVATORY CENTER . . .

He knew word had already spread through the community. They would quickly gather again at the fish market for another meeting, even if there was little they could do other than be together. Daniel’s first thought was to go see Maile, relieved to know Uncle Koji was safe up at Puli. The resentment he felt now seemed small and insignificant. He should have been reassuring Auntie Nori and Uncle Samuel, but his head was spinning, and all that came to mind were the lines from the children’s story his father had once read to him that afternoon years ago.

“Run, run,” cried the snake.

“To where, to where?” asked the rabbit.

“As far away as you can go.”

30. Nightmares

30

Nightmares

“Run, Nori, run!”