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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
To the last bite
>> Big Island
As the chopper carrying Cruz MacKenzie and Nick Ornellas hovered near the yacht Pet Shop/Wet Spot, Ornellas exclaimed, "What the hell's going on over there?"
Through the smoke from the approaching lava, they saw at the water's edge 12 brown-skinned females swarming a Caucasian male, kicking and punching. An Asian female in a glittery silver bikini lay clutching her stomach and gasping for air. "Hey, that's Sonya!" Cruz said. "Put us down!"
At the bottom of the scrum on the sand, Daren Guy fought back with a desperation that only an imminent $5 million payday can inspire. But he was losing. He'd been poked in the eye, kicked in the privates, punched repeatedly in the nose and mouth, had his hair pulled and ears twisted. Through their screeching he heard one say, "You no hurt Sonya! Good lady!"
Sushi Leclaire was running around, frantically jabbering in English and Japanese trying to break up the fight. He did not want his beauties bruised, scratched or otherwise injured just hours before they were to become stars of his new Internet porn site.
"Magdalena, Poinsettia, Agnes, ladies, stop!" Sonya shouted, still gasping, brushing sand from her silver bikini with one hand, pointing a Glock 9mm in the other. "Thank you, though."
When they heard her voice, saw the gun, and that she was OK, Sushi's 12 Filipinas gradually backed away, although Magdalena did give Daren one last stomp to the ribs. Dazed, bruised and bleeding, he lay clutching his groin and moaning. Through his misery he saw the sun gleaming off the silver Glock and her suit. And thought, Sonya really does have a knack for color coordination.
Keeping the gun on Daren, Sonya quickly hugged her 12 saviors, whispered reminders that she would always be there to help them. Magdalena's hug was a little too vigorous, and as she pulled Sonya to her the gun went off with a roar. Sand kicked up a foot from Daren's head.
Suddenly he was on his feet and running, a gimping crabwalk really, as fast as he possibly could away from Sonya and the gun.
Cruz, Ornellas and the pilot had the best view from the chopper as Sonya ran after him, stopped, raised the pistol and fired. And missed.
"He's heading straight for the lava," Cruz said.
The lady in red waved a hand and a second stream of molten rock burst out to the right, in an instant trapping Daren between fingers of hot lava and the ledge above the bay. Ignoring the rope dangled from the chopper, he limped about, desperate to find some way out, but there was none. At last, lava mere inches away, he leaped into the sea, where Mano the shark god, the 14-footer, awaited. And for the second time recently, Daren Guy was eaten by a shark.
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com