My Kind of Town

Don Chapman

International army

>> Above Kahuku

There was the black-beard Saudi, his robes flowing with the wind as his big mount cantered across the pasture. A huge curved sword was his weapon of choice. It rested in a golden sheath that hung down to the stirrups.

Beside him, Victor Primitivo, the only Hawaii resident member of the club, was the luna, keeping the tropical sun from his face with a broad straw hat and loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt. His $100,000 Blazer R-93 was loaded and ready.

The Aussie in the floppy hat who rode nearby looked ready for the outback. Four others wore camouflage of varying hues and carried combat rifles, M-16s, Kalashnikovs and Uzis, and had cammy-painted their faces.

There were a variety of western-wear desperados, a Mexican bandolero, a German in leather pants and crested cap, and a Japanese samurai.

What a goofball bunch, you might think. But you weren't watching them from the forested hills, seeing them fanning out across the pasture and coming faster now. And behind the horsemen came what appeared to be a horse trailer towed by big SUV, behind that a trailer carrying four all-terrain vehicles.

"Spread out!" Shauny Nakamura called to the others who had just been freed from their prison -- and certain human sacrifice performed by cannibals who liked to eat their victims live. "Go!"

It was like the scattering of the tribes. There had been 20 of them until an older gent was shot during the escape, and now some went solo, some like Shauny and her new companions teamed up.

"Let's run," Shauny said, and they did, the young Filipina clutching Shauny's hand, the hapa college boy at their side.

Most of the others ran more or less straight up the slope. But Shauny was an island girl, loved to hike, and knew that in Hawaii "up" inevitably left you at the edge of a ravine, maybe a cliff. If there was help to be had, it would have to come from down the hill. Down, she was realizing, toward Kahuku. But first they must get around this international army. So Shauny led her new family across the slope, angling upward for now.

Further upslope, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka had been awoken earlier by gunfire. And it wasn't little pistol stuff. Hunting rifles. Another shot echoed through the trees and he peeked out of the cave hidden under a rock outcropping.

Far off he thought he heard a shout, a scream. Then a staccato blast of automatic fire. That was closer. He ducked back into the cave, grabbed the first Bud of the day, popped the top. Just to calm the nerves. Which it did. But not nearly as much as the Glock 9mm in his other hand.

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


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