My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
The big bang
>> Around Oahu
People would remember the day for the rest of their lives, telling their children and grandchildren where they were when the Kailua dump blew up. (Later it would be determined that a giant pocket of methane was ignited by a smoldering toaster Pop-Tart.)
At the Rockin' Pikake Ranch above Kahuku, Lono Oka'aina was out back saying good-bye to his seven horses, whispering to them in Hawaiian that he would be gone for two weeks, that new men would be here to ride them, and he wanted his horses to show aloha. The horses began to whinny skittishly and a moment later Lono felt the ground tremble, then heard the rumbling blast. Damn, World War III, he thought, hoping this wouldn't stop the hunt club from renting his place.
At home in Enchanted Lake, Grace Ah Sun was getting ready to go visit her husband Sheets and son Lance at Queen's when an immense blast rattled windows and walls. Looking outside, the sky rained opala.
At the Honolulu Soap Co., Lily Ah Sun was already at work. This was the day she took over the company for her father, and she was at his desk reading through papers when the power went out and the production line shut down. She'd argued with him before about putting in their own generator, and always lost. One more item for her to-do list.
At 2002 Wilder, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes and Dr. Laurie Tang were doing the morning mambo and the earth really did move, for both of them, at the same time. Then came the roar of the blast and the sliding glass door rattled as the shock wave passed. "World War III," Gomes said. Laurie said, "The ER is going to be busy."
The doc was right, ERs across Oahu would be busy. Mortuaries too.
Hundreds of cars stuck in traffic on Pali Highway, Kamehameha Highway and the H-3 were knocked sideways by the blast, some off the road, then smothered in garbage, 20 feet thick in places. From Waimanalo to Manoa, Kalihi to Kaaawa, people were injured by flying trash.
Victor Primitivo, Esq., was on Old Pali Road, waiting to turn onto Pali at Waokanaka when a mass of something dark and greasy got dumped on the hood of his Escalade.
Damn, he'd have to get it washed. He had to look good, look the part, when he picked up Shauny Nakamura for their first, and last, date.
Back at his Nuuanu manor, Victor's wife, the former Meg Choy, was outside staring into the pool contemplating suicide when she heard the blast and a moment later out of nowhere a couch landed inches away and exploded at her feet. She shook her fist at the sky. "Dammit, God, you missed!"
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com