X. THE LONG WAY HOME
WAIKIKI BY WAY OF THE NORTH SHORE
BIG STORMS AND BIG WAVES AT BONZAI PIPELINE
(Part Ten; Part One is HERE.)
A Dangerous Dip In The Giant Surf Of Waimea By Night
"Where are we?" Holly enquired blearily, still woozy from the blow to her head.
"Waialua," Kris grunted.
"North Shore???!!! Can we go to Fred's Bakery???!!!"
"Sure. If they're open."
"No. I just love Fred's."
"Mm. Good place." As good a place as any, he thought.
Holly fiddled with the FM radio. Finding nothing, she switched to AM and found only one station playing music. Oldies, to her.
They rolled on into the darkness, bypassing the tourist trap of Haleiwa, skimming along through a light rain in Big Surf Country. This time of year, there might be fifty-foot waves on Oahu's North Shore with the winter storms in the North Pacific.
There was little traffic at this time of night, with a chilly rain coming down. No cops up here, hardly ever. Anything could happen, and frequently did. Young girls disappeared up here all the time. There was talk of a cannibalistic cult in Pupukea, psuedo-retro-Hawaiians. Just talk.
They passed famous surfing beaches, deserted in the rain. Holly fidgeted in her seat, unable to establish a groove with the bland music on the AM radio.
"Do you have an MP3 player, or CDs?"
"Just some cassettes, in the trunk."
"Cassettes? You mean, like, tape?"
"Yeah. Cassette tapes. This car doesn't have a CD player."
"Why don't you get a new car?"
"Don't you make money with your taxi?"
"Not much, lately. It's been a slow year."
"Yeah. For me, too. I hope Obama will be good for hookers. He's black, right?"
"Half black? Like me. I'm half Cherokee. Well, my great grandmother was, I think."
"Yeah? You look real Indian, with that pale skin."
"Shut up. I can't help it. I just don't tan. Could we get those cassettes out of the trunk? This music is boring me."
"Your wish is my command."
Kris pulled over at the look-out by Waiamea Falls. They had a clear view of the ocean, and you could see huge surf pounding the beach. Vaguely luminous whitecaps seemed forty feet high, way out to sea, as swell after swell rolled in.
"HOLY SH*T!!! Can we go swimming!!!???"
"In that? Are you nuts? More like drowning."
"Afraid? Are you a big chicken, Kris? Buk-buk-BAWK!"
"We don't even have suits. And the beach is closed."
"Leave the car here. We'll skinny-dip."
"Oh, so you wanna see me naked, hunh?"
"Twenty bucks, oofah! Hah-ha-ha-ha!"
"How 'bout a free cab ride round trip to the North Shore? That's about $200."
"Well, you're in it too, so that's only one hundred. You can look at me five times. Hah! Come on, Pokey, let's go!"
Holly yanked off her dress, stripped off her panties and got out of the car. She yelled and screamed in the chilly rain, dancing around in it. Then she took off, a white streak disappearing in the darkness.
Kris took off his clothes quickly, leaving his boxer shorts on. He picked his way down to the beach gingerly, looking for Holly. She was right at the edge of the water, running back and forth in it, naked as sin. She looked really happy, for the first time since Kris had known her. A real water baby. She plunged into the surf and disappeared. Kris hesitated and waited for her to resurface. She didn't.
Kris waited and watched, walking up and down the beach. He was unsure of whether there was an undertow, and which way it might go. Could Holly have been sucked out to sea? Could she have been permanently put down by one of the big waves? Did a shark get her? Anyway, she was gone. Gone ten minutes now. Just gone, into the black ocean, just like that. Nothing but water from here to Alaska. Thousands of miles, hundreds and hundreds of feet deep, full of killer fish. Gone. The wind blew and the rain came down. The waves got bigger and louder. Holly was gone.
[ PART ELEVEN copyright 2008 Cosa Nostradamus.]
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