Night of the Howling Dogs Page 3

  I leaned back on my pack. “How can anything grow here? Must rain about once every five years, if at all.”

  Casey took out his canteen. “It rains.”

  A pebble hit the dirt not far from my boots.

  I looked up. Louie flicked his eyebrows. He and Mike were sitting in the weeds, off by themselves.

  “Ignore him,” Casey whispered.

  “Sure, and I’ll just ignore it when a scorpion crawls up my leg, too.”

  Casey snickered.

  “You know, Case, what I can’t figure is why your dad brought him into our troop.”

  Casey shrugged.

  I took out my canteen and drank. The water was still cool. I felt like drinking the whole thing.

  “Better ration that,” Casey said. “No fresh water at Halape.”

  “What are we supposed to drink when we run out? Seawater?”

  “Stink water.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I looked at my canteen, wanting another long drink. I screwed the cap back on. Dust had gathered on my glasses. I took them off and rubbed the lenses with my T-shirt, then let them hang around my neck on the fishing line.

  I dug into my backpack for my towel and draped it over my head for shade. I closed my eyes.

  We sat, motionless, like lizards.

  Where were those dogs now? What did they eat? Birds? Grass? Mongooses? Or did they go begging for scraps at the Volcano House Hotel up by the crater?

  “Did you know Louie’s dad was a marine?” Casey said, low.

  I lifted the towel and peeked out. “Maybe I should join up.”

  Casey shook his head. “Naah, you too soft. They wouldn’t take you.”

  I bunched my fist. “Maybe not, but I can take you.”

  Casey laughed. I dropped the towel back over my face.

  “This place we’re going,” he said. “You’ll like it. Wait till you see the crack.”

  I pulled the towel off my head. “The crack?”

  “A swimming hole in this huge underground cavern surrounded by solid rock. The water’s cool in the day and warm at night.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “It’ll make all this hiking worth it.”

  “That’d be good.”

  To tell the truth, I’d rather have been home hiking up to a tall glass of ice water.

  Another pebble hit close and rolled up to my boot. I whipped around. Mike, sitting with Louie, had his head down, laughing.

  “Missed,” Louie called. “I was trying for hit that stick by your foot.”

  I picked up the stick and flung it farther away.

  “Dad,” Casey called. “We’re getting stiff. We gotta move.”

  Mr. Bellows nodded and grunted up, hefted his monster pack onto his shoulders. Reverend Paia headed back to the end of the line, tapping Mike’s shoulder as he passed.

  We all groaned and creaked up.

  An hour later we headed around the last hill, and there it was.

  Halape.

  “Wow,” I whispered. A thick green coconut grove curved around a white-sand beach. And beyond, a sky blue ocean sat smooth and calm.

  Casey pointed over to a deep fissure in the rocks to our right. “The crack,” he said. He and I jumped the rocks to look down into it. The water was emerald green, winking in the sun. I looked up. This place was a paradise, a small fraction of the old island that had somehow been spared by the massive lava flows that had turned the rest of the coastline into a desolate wasteland.

  “Senior patrol leader,” Mr. Bellows said, “take us in.”

  I dipped my head and led the troop down to the sea.

  Casey and I dropped our packs and ran to the beach. “Look at this place,” I said. Halape was untouched, a land in a time before man.

  “Nice, huh?”

  “Incredible.”

  Casey lifted his chin toward his dad. “He can forget about crime down here. Not many places he can do that.”

  I nodded. “He’s got a tough job.”

  “Yeah, but he likes it.”

  “I could live here.”

  What made Halape so amazing was the fact that it was there at all. It was like an ice cube in the desert, because everywhere else along that coastline there was only hardened black lava and a few scrubby weeds. I looked in both directions, trying to imagine what it looked like before the volcanoes blew and covered it up.

  Slow waves rolled in and ran up onto the white sand. Low green patches of naupaka bushes and a few tangled hau trees lined its edge, separating the cove from the rocky inlands. Nearby, the shady grove of coconut trees shimmered in the sun. You got to come see this place, Dad. Just once. After that, you’ll beg me to take you every place we go.

  I wish.

  I turned and looked back at the land sweeping up to Casey’s swimming hole and beyond to the thousand-foot cliff that loomed over Halape. “It’s called Pu’u Kapukapu,” Casey’d said. “Means regal hill.”

  It was regal, all right, but it was way more than a hill. It was a flat-faced cliff with huge boulders pocking it. We’d be camping right below it.

  Reverend Paia gazed out to sea, his hands on his hips. “What an inspiration.”

  “I knew you’d like it,” Mr. Bellows said.

  What was inspiring to me was the thought of getting my boots off and my feet in the ocean.

  We headed single file into the coconut grove. A slight breeze cooled my face as sunbursts on the ocean blinked under the waggling palm fronds. Mr. Bellows spread his arms wide. “Pick a spot.”

  Beyond the coconut grove were a couple of three-sided park shelters, an old cabin, and an outhouse just uphill. But it was the ocean that whispered to me. A small island sat just offshore. We could easily swim out and explore it. “Can we go swimming, Mr. Bellows?”

  “Sure, Dylan. But after we get set up.”

  “That water is calling my name.”

  “Mine, too, but you need to know that there’s a pretty strong current out there beyond the island. You can’t see it, but believe me, it’s there. You get caught in that and we’ll have to fly down to Tahiti to pick you up. Listen, all of you. Do not—I repeat, do not—swim past the island. Is that clear?”

  We all nodded.

  “Forget the ocean,” Casey said, stuffing his boonie hat in his back pocket. “We got the crack!”

  “That you do.” Mr. Bellows rubbed the mop of hair on Casey’s head. “But first let’s set up camp. Dylan, you got your lunch crew in place?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He turned to the rest of the guys. “Before you pitch your tents, your SPL will assign buddies, and remember, never go anywhere without your buddy.”

  “Yes, sir,” we all said.

  Mr. Bellows tapped my shoulder. “All yours.” He left to set up his tent.

  “Okay,” I said. “Buddies—me and Casey, Louie and Mike, Tad and Zach, Sam and Billy. That okay?”

  Louie smirked. Everyone else nodded.

  I waited to see if Louie agreed. I couldn’t tell. “Louie?”

  He turned and spat. “No problem.”

  He and Mike headed down the coast toward the point, where the cliff came closer to the sea. Sam, Billy, and Tad decided to set their tents up in the coconut grove near Mr. Bellows and Reverend Paia.

  That left me, Casey, and Zach.

  Zach was twelve, younger than me and Casey, but he wanted to hang around with us. Casey was just fine with that, because he liked Zach’s sister, Sarah.

  “Where you guys want to set up?” Zach said.

  I shrugged. “You should prob’ly set up by Tad.”

  “Why? Buddies don’t have to camp together, do they?”

  “I guess not,” I said. “You don’t like him, or what?”

  “He’s okay. It’s just that…those three…they get kind of—”

  “Weird?” Casey said.

  “Yeah.”

  Silly was the word my mom would have used. Always goof
ing off.

  “So where we setting up?” Casey said.

  I glanced around, wanting to stay away from Louie and Mike. “How about there?” I said, pointing my chin toward one of the park shelters. “Save us having to set up the tent.”

  “Looks good to me.”

  “Me too,” Zach said.

  “You have to put up a tent,” Casey said. “Part of your Second Class requirements, remember? Sleep in a tent you pitch?”

  Zach sagged. “Oh…right.”

  Casey winked at me. “We get the hotel.”

  Zach dropped his gear on the sand. Casey and I went into the shelter. We’d passed the tent requirement a long time ago. We were Star Scouts now, working up to Life, the last level before Eagle. Mike was a Star, too. Louie wasn’t even a Scout yet, as far as I knew.

  The shelter was about halfway between the coconut grove and the spot down the coast that Louie and Mike had chosen, which was a sandy nook enclosed within the arms of a rock outcropping. They were setting up Mike’s tent. It had a flap that came out like a small awning in front. Nice spot—if the tide didn’t come up in the night.

  “What are you smiling about?” Casey said.

  “You think it’s high or low tide right now?”

  Casey checked the beach. “I’d say it’s low. See the junk up there on the sand? That’s your high-water mark.”

  I glanced back at Louie and Mike’s campsite.

  “Nah,” Casey said. “They’re not that dumb.”

  I grinned. “Too bad.”

  Our hotel was a dirt-floored shelter with a slanted corrugated iron roof that drained rainwater into a catchment tank on the backside. “That’s where you get your water,” Casey said. “Go check it out.”

  I went around back to the tank and cupped some water in my hand. I raised it to my lips and spat. It smelled like a swamp. “Haw! We supposed to drink that?”

  Casey staggered, laughing.

  “Man, that’s nasty!”

  “You got to boil it first. Then it will taste good as lemonade.”

  “Impossible.”

  “You’ll see.”

  The sides of the shelter were made of rocks held together by grainy concrete. In a good, solid wall the rocks are jig-sawed together with no cement, like Hawaiians made them hundreds of years ago. Most of those old walls were still standing. But whoever had built this shelter hadn’t taken that kind of care. Chunks of cement fell away when I touched them.

  I unrolled my thin rubber pad onto the dirt and puffed out my subzero sleeping bag on top of it. I hoped it wouldn’t be too hot to sleep in. I sat down on it and took my glasses off to clean them. “What time you got?”

  Casey checked his watch. “One-forty.”

  “No wonder I’m starving.”

  “Who’s got lunch duty?”

  “The young guys, who else?”

  “That means what, peanut butter sandwiches?”

  “Whatever it is, I’ll eat it.”

  Casey chuckled.

  “Yah!” I yelped, leaping up. I scrambled away from my sleeping bag, slapping at my legs. “Something bit me!”

  Casey grabbed his sleeping bag and shook it. “Stinging ants!”

  A line of them had set up a roadway through the shelter, and we’d set down right on top of them.

  “We got to sleep with these?”

  Casey used his T-shirt to slap the red ants out of the shelter. Then he dug out his bug repellent and sprayed a rectangle around his sleeping bag. “They won’t cross over that.”

  He tossed me the spray and I painted a moat around my pad, thinking how funny it would be to see my sister, Dana, sleeping here. I could just see her slapping red ants out of her hair and shrieking her head off. She’d hate this place. So would Mom.

  I tossed the bug spray back. “That ought to pucker their noses…if ants got noses.”

  “Now you only got the black widows to worry about,” Casey said. “Oh, and the centipedes and flying roaches. Forgot about them.”

  “Thanks, Case, that was something I really wanted in my head.”

  “Anytime, bro.”

  “Zach,” I called, rubbing my stinging shin. “You done setting up that tent? Time to go eat.”

  “Just waiting for you slackers.”

  Casey grinned. “Cocky, ah?”

  I gazed out at the ocean—so blue, so close. Down the way, the coconut grove sat green against it, almost like a dream. It made me feel calm, like I could sit and stare at it for the rest of the day and not get bored. I humphed, thanking my lucky stars that Dad wasn’t here. Probably take him two seconds to find something for me to be doing.

  As we headed over to the main campsite in the coconut trees, I glanced up at Pu’u Kapukapu, the rocky cliff that loomed over us.

  Relax. They wouldn’t build these shelters under it if it was dangerous.

  I heard voices and glanced back.

  “Whatchoo looking?” Louie said, he and Mike following us to the coconut grove. I turned away.

  A minute later a piece of driftwood spun past my ear, making me duck. Louie and Mike laughed.

  “Hey!” I yelled, turning back with my fists balled. I’d had enough of this.

  Casey grabbed me. “No, Dylan.”

  “He wants it.”

  “Don’t.”

  Louie motioned me closer. Come on, punk. We go.

  Casey jerked me around. “Forget it!”

  Zach gaped, not knowing what to do.

  I bunched my lips. Yeah, sure, forget it…until something hits me. Then me and him got a problem.

  “It’s not worth it,” Casey added.

  “Fine.”

  We walked on.

  I didn’t get Mike. Why didn’t he step in? He used to be a good guy. It was Louie. He’d shamed Mike into turning against us, because Mike had some Hawaiian in him. “Where’s your pride, man?” I’d once heard Louie say to Mike. Mike had no answer. I didn’t think Louie wanted one.

  “How’d he get that scar, anyway?” Zach whispered.

  “Kissed a barracuda,” I said, still steaming.

  Casey humphed. “He fell off the roof of his house,” he said, almost whispering. “His brother made him go up and get his stuck football.”

  I glanced at Casey. “And you know this because…”

  “Dad…Louie told him.”

  “What else did he tell him?”

  “Can’t say.”

  I spat. “Right.”

  “Really, I can’t,” he whispered. “Dad doesn’t want rumors going around.”

  “About Louie?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I grabbed Casey’s arm and pulled him off the trail. Zach kept going toward camp. Louie and Mike passed, Louie’s eyes drilling mine. When they’d gone by, he turned away, laughing. That was when I saw the knife. It was in a leather sheath, sticking out of his back pocket.

  “Tell me,” I said, still looking at the knife.

  “Not now…later.”

  “Way to go, little punks,” Mike said, and slapped Billy, Sam, and Tad on the back. “That was a good lunch.”

  The rest of us nodded, still wolfing down oranges, bologna sandwiches with mustard on soft white bread, and small bags of Fritos that they’d packed in for our first meal. I could have eaten ten of everything.

  Mr. Bellows and Reverend Paia sat off a ways, letting the guys working on advancing to Second Class manage the meal alone.

  Louie belched and patted his stomach.

  Mr. Bellows stood and pushed his blue Dodgers cap back on his head. “Listen up, men. The Reverend and I are going down the coast, see what’s around the bend. Feel free to do some exploring, too…but don’t drift too far.”

  Reverend Paia stood and put his straw hat back on, then grabbed a canteen. “Nobody goes off alone. You have buddies for a reason. Keep your eyes open and your common sense engaged.” He pointed at me. “SPL…you’re in charge.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Louie snickered. />
  “You can do whatever you like except go in the ocean,” Mr. Bellows added. “For that you have to wait until we get back. Understood?”

  Nods and mumbles, yeah.

  Mr. Bellows turned to look out at the small island. “Last time, we spotted a shark just to the right of those rocks.”

  A shark?

  They headed out, Mr. Bellows in his blue cap and Reverend Paia smiling under his floppy sun blocker.

  “You heard it,” I said. “Stay with your buddy.”

  “Me and Louie are going to check out the cliff,” Mike said. “Just so you know.”

  Louie shoved him. “Why you talking to him, ah? You his slave?”

  “Hey!”

  “We go,” Louie said.

  When you get up to the cliff, jump off, I thought.

  “I’m just telling him where we’re going, that’s all.” They left.

  Zach helped the young guys clean up the lunch mess. He had to stay with Tad anyway. “Make this place shine,” I said.

  Casey and I went down to the ocean, took off our boots, and sat with our feet in the water. I closed my eyes. “Man, does that feel good!”

  “Watch for eels,” Casey said, and I jerked my feet back.

  He laughed. “You are hopeless, bro, hopeless.”

  I scowled, knowing he was right. I fell for everything. I skimmed a flat rock out into the bay. “You see that knife in Louie’s pocket?”

  “Yeah.”

  We sat for a moment in silence, the ocean calm, whispering.

  “Bothers me,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Because?”

  “Because Dad knows what he’s doing.”

  I let that thought sit a moment. It was answer enough. Mr. Bellows would never let Louie bring it if he didn’t trust him. So he must trust him…but does he even know Louie has it?

  I tossed another pebble into the water. Why am I thinking about this? I stuffed my socks into my boots and stood. “Your dad didn’t say we couldn’t swim in the crack, right?”

  Casey looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. Maybe you aren’t so hopeless.”

  Five minutes later we were heading up to the crack in our swimming shorts, with rubber slippers slapping our feet and white towels hanging over our shoulders.