Read Online Ocean: The Awakening by Brian Herbert, Jan Herbert - Free Book Online Page B

cinders that had tumbled down from the hill above. Ferns and scrubby Norfolk pine trees clung to the slopes, on small ledges and in cracks. As cliffs went, this one was not that high, but he’d heard of people being seriously injured here, and even killed, when they fell.
    In his youth he used to run barefoot on the trail as part of a training regimen, but he’d found that he was not that much of a land creature, and preferred to get most of his exercise in the water. Now, he saw a small reddish beach and blue-water swimming area that the locals called Crimson Cove. Most tourists did not know about the hideaway, so it was a favorite place for Kimo to swim and meditate.
    Long ago, so many years back that the events had slipped into the mists of mythology, local warriors had mounted a gallant defense on this hill against elite royal troops sent by the Hawaiian king, in his military campaign to unite the islands. Ultimately the king prevailed, but many died here. It was said that the red sand was from the blood of the warriors, blood that kept running down the hill every time it rained. In reality the beach consisted of red lava cinders that had fallen from the hill and been pulverized by wave action.
    Before reaching the beach he took a side trail that was even narrower than the other one, and eventually dead-ended on the steep hillside. Beyond the trail he scrambled laterally, using his hands to hold on where necessary, as he had done many times before.
    Arriving at a small cave on the slope, he poked his head inside and said, “You home, Jiddy?”
    A voice came from above. “I was just having my coffee. Would you like to join me?”
    Looking up, Kimo saw a balding man in ragged clothing, perched on a promontory. In his late forties, Jidhat Rahim was a Christian minister from Lebanon who had come to Hawaii to escape the turmoil and violence of the middle east. This was by far the larger of two caves in which he lived, and where he usually slept. He called the smaller one at Olamai Beach his “second home”, and from both he liked to watch swimmers and other activities on the beaches and in the water. At Olamai, he had rescued five people from drowning in recent years; tourists who were caught in dangerous undertows.
    “I didn’t know you drank coffee,” Kimo said, as he climbed up and sat next to his friend. “Where is it?”
    “Don’t have any. I’m just having a fantasy about one of the things I miss most about my homeland, the rich, dark Arabic coffee I used to drink.”
    “Perhaps we should share a cup one day in Wanaao Town.”
    “I have no money; you know that.” Jidhat Rahim was one of many people who lived off the land in the Hawaiian islands, finding a simple method of sheltering himself from the weather, and subsisting on the fruits that grew in abundance, and on fish from the sea. In remote areas on the slopes of the volcano there were numerous squatters who had built shacks and other primitive structures, either without the knowledge of the landowners, or with their tacit permission.
    Kimo smiled. “We can work something out, I’m sure.”
    “If you’re offering me a job at your fruit stand, you know I can’t remember the last time I maintained regular hours.”
    “Jiddy, you rescue people from the surf and dispense philosophical wisdom to me. The least I can do is to buy you a cup of coffee.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I assume you heard what happened at Olamai yesterday morning.”
    Jiddy nodded. “From what I hear, no one was badly hurt. I went there in the afternoon, and the lifeguards told me there were a few bumps and scrapes but no broken bones, and no serious stings. Box jellyfish and stonefish! Amazing that no one was killed. One sting from those jellyfish can cause respiratory problems and death, and hardly anyone survives after coming into contact with a poisonous stonefish.”
    “Fortunate, indeed, and most mysterious.”
    “You have a special way with sea life,” Jiddy said.