December 8, 1941 Volcano
The sky could not make up its mind. Rain turned off and on every thirty feet or so, and once they had put some distance between themselves and the guards, Lana pulled over to reexamine the directions.
Follow the road past Kano Store (29 miles). Turn up first side road, then at second cluster of Sugi pines turn right onto dirt drive and follow it about a mile or two. At fork, veer left. Watch out for cracks—and goats.
“Clear as mud,” Lana mumbled to herself.
“Mud is not clear,” Coco said.
Lana debated explaining but was too worn out. They rolled past Kano Store, which looked abandoned, though every place along the way had seemed the same: dark and closed up on the outside, while you knew there were people inside huddled around the radio, hanging on any and all news. In this case, though, she wondered if the Japanese owners had been hauled away.
Coco sat forward and looked out, her little button nose sniffing the air. “Where is everyone?”
“People are being cautious.”
“It smells spooky here, don’t you think?”
Marie jabbed Coco in the ribs. “She does this, talking about smelling things, like she thinks she’s a dog or something.”
It felt spooky everywhere, though Lana couldn’t attest to it smelling so. Air-raid sirens, convoys, armed men spilling through Hilo town. The fact that an invasion seemed imminent was enough to keep the whole island chain on the edge of their seats. But Coco was right—up here so far out in the sticks in a universe of fog, there was an extra feeling of unease.
Coco argued, “No, I don’t. It just smells weird here, like something rotten.”
A light went on in Lana’s head. “Oh, that. It’s the sulfur. Not far ahead, there’s what they call the Sulphur Banks, where the whole ground is full of yellow crystals and seeping gases. Fun to visit as long as you have a bandana or something to put over your nose.”
“Can we go?”
“Maybe once we settle in.”
They came to a side road on the right that might have been a driveway, but fifty yards up and to the left, Marie spotted another road.
“What about that one?”
Of course the directions had to be missing that one crucial piece of information. But the road heading right, toward Mauna Loa, looked more like a real road, so Lana ventured that way.
“Keep an eye out for the Sugi pines,” she told the girls.
Not far in they drifted past several tiny red houses surrounded by neat rows of vegetables and vine-covered fences. Not a leaf was out of place. Two fat and muddy pigs stood on the side of the road staring at them. But again, no people in sight. And no Sugi pines. Without the fog they would have been able to spot the towering trees from a good distance, but not today. They headed toward the last remnants of soggy light. Lord, she just wanted to get there already. All this fear was causing her stomach to twist in on itself.
Coco pointed to a tangerine tree. “Stop! Let’s pick some.”
“We have to keep going. Sorry,” Lana said.
The temperature had gone from cool to icy in the past few minutes, and Lana felt for those in the back. It was likely to get worse quickly. The nene geese were probably the best off, but even they were accustomed to Hilo and its sea-level air.
When they’d gone farther than seemed right with no pine trees in sight, Lana turned the truck around and headed back toward the main road, silently cursing—or so she thought.
“My mother would not approve of that kind of talk,” Coco announced.
Well, your mother isn’t here, is she? almost came out, but Lana was aware her temper had whittled down to a nub. Instead she said, “Your mother would be right not to. Sorry. It’s just that I’m extraordinarily tired, and now add cold and hungry to that.” She left out scared and uncertain and alone.
“My dad would call that an unhappy sandwich,” Marie said.
Lana laughed. “Your parents sound like good people, and you know what?”
“What?” both girls said.
“As soon as they’re back, we’ll make them a big welcome-home dinner and—”
Coco drew the scratchy blanket up around her and cut Lana off. “They aren’t coming back,” she said, as though she knew something that Lana didn’t.
Note: do not bring up the parents if you can help it.
“Your folks will be back once everything is sorted out. I promise you that. We just need to be patient.”
More empty promises being made, and in all honesty she had no idea if the Wagners were helping the Germans in any way or not. She hardly knew them. But they were probably innocent, in which case they’d have to be released sooner than later.
“They haven’t done anything, so quit your worrying. The people in charge will know that, won’t they?” Marie said.
“Definitely.”
“Who’s in charge?” Coco asked.
“I believe it’s the FBI and the US military working together. Right now their main concern is to keep everyone here in Hawaii safe. And in wartime that sometimes means acting first, asking questions later.”
They were back on the main road, and Lana checked to make sure no cars were coming, then crossed and headed the other way, downhill from the volcano.
“Sailor wanted to go with them, to help protect them, but I asked her to stay with us instead,” Coco said.
They hit a rut and all went flying.
“That was sweet of her,” Lana said.
“She loves me the most is why.”
“I’ll bet.”
On one hand Coco seemed like such a cute and delicate child, and on the other, precocious and strong willed and rather unpredictable. Either way, she was Lana’s responsibility for the time being. It was all so surreal, how life could upend with the swish of a horsetail. One day enjoying the garden in Honolulu, the next on a harrowing plane ride to Hilo, and after that, war with Japan. Just the thought caused a line of perspiration to break out along her hairline.
A minute later Coco bounced up and down. “Look, over there, the big trees!”
Sure enough, there was a grove of Sugi pines. Their distinct cedar smell came in through the cracks. They went past it and kept an eye out for the next one, which they soon came upon. But there was no road in sight.
“It says right side, doesn’t it?” Lana held the paper up for Coco, who passed it to Marie.
“Yep.”
Lana backed up the truck, careful to stay on the road, which was already muddy enough. Getting stuck out here would be cause for a mental breakdown, for which there was no time. “Keep an eye out. It has to be there,” she instructed.
This time she thought she saw a narrow opening in the bushes, barely wide enough for a car, with ginger crowding in on both sides and tall grass down the middle. A couple of lava rocks had been placed across the front, almost as a deterrent. As if anyone would be driving down this overgrown corridor on the side of an active volcano. Darkness was closing in fast.
Marie saw it, too. “That?”
“Has to be. Can you guys get out and move those?”
Much to her relief, the girls did as they were told. Coco also said to Sailor, “We’ll be there soon, so don’t worry.”
Lana swung the truck wide and gassed it. They could put the rocks back later. Or not. Her father always leaned toward being overly cautious, but maybe in this case that had been in their favor. And as much as she was hoping that the house would be just what they needed, a small voice reminded her that this was Jack Spalding they were dealing with. Nothing involving her father ever went as expected.
After moving through dense ‘ohi‘a and tree ferns the size of giraffes for what seemed like an hour, they suddenly came upon a clearing. For as far as they could see—which wasn’t saying much—there was only lava and tiny ‘o¯helo berry bushes. Lana came to a stop.
“Is this it?” Marie asked.
There was no sign of a house. And almost no sign of a road across the lava. In this part of the volcano, there were newer flows over older flows, and you could have a barren rock desert next to a rain forest.
“Maybe this is where the road forks,” Coco said.
Lana climbed out and noticed what could have once been a dirt road off to the right, and straight ahead there were signs of crushed lava and an ahu, a small piling of rocks the Hawaiians used to mark the trails across the lava. Earlier she had wondered about the cracks and goats comment. Now it made sense.
“I guess we go this way,” she said, watching her words come out in small puffs of steam. “You guys okay back there?” she called.
A muffled yes.
The truck creaked and groaned along as they crept across the lava flow. Coco sat at the edge of the seat. “Why would you put a house here?”
Lana had been wondering the same thing. Everyone with houses at Volcano built them mauka—toward the mountain—from the main road, where rich soil and rainfall made for an enchantingly rich landscape, with rhododendrons, blackberries, ‘o¯helo berries, plums and wild strawberries dotting the forest. As a girl, Lana and her best friend, Rose Wallace, used to make up stories about the wild bands of fairies that traversed the area.
“I guess we’ll see.” It was too late to turn around now.
The ahu rock piles were helpful when one could see, but between the fog and the oncoming night, they came to a standstill. If it had been just her, Lana would have curled up with exhaustion and closed her eyes until the morning. In the past week her total hours of sleep had been less than twenty.
“We need to put the covers over the headlights so I can turn them on,” Lana said.
“Even out here in the boondocks?” Marie asked.
“Better safe than sorry. That’s our motto now, okay? You saw how jumpy everyone was back in Hilo. And we don’t want to call attention to ourselves.”
Lana hopped out and secured the heavy blue cloth with slits down the center over each light. She kept the lights off until they were absolutely necessary. But with the fog, the lights only magnified the white. She imagined going off into a tantrum, just like Coco had earlier, but thought the better of it. You’re the adult here; you need to act like one.
At several points they passed steaming cracks in the lava, and the girls hung their heads and arms out the window, and Sailor began another round of barking. At least they knew where they could find warmth if they needed to. Apparently the girls’ parents had never brought them up here to see the volcano. Marie said it was because they spent every spare moment working.
They came to another abrupt switch in terrain, where they were back at an old-growth forest with strands of yellowish-green lichen hanging down from the branches. A group of small black animals scattered at their approach, revealing a narrow road.
“Pigs,” Lana said.
“Ooh, I love pigs,” Coco said, sounding delighted.
“Not these kind.”
At long last the fog thinned and so did the foliage. At a small grassy clearing, another fork in the road showed up. The path they were on seemed to keep going downhill, while another one curved in. Visibility had gone from bad to worse, and Lana’s eyes burned from all the squinting. For all she knew, they had driven ten miles, not one or two, so she took the turn and circled around a large cluster of cedar trees. If this wasn’t it, well, they would pull over and camp.
Then Coco and Marie both screamed, “There it is!”
There, just beyond the trees, was a long one-story structure. Untreated wood siding, with an olive tin roof and rust-colored trim, a big deck out front and an empty trellis to one side. It looked large enough to house several families at once. A hand-painted sign said Hale Manu. At least they were in the right place.
“Is that a tree coming out of it?” Marie said.
From where they were, it did appear that a large tree was coming out of the roof. “I think it just looks that way.”
“Do we get to choose our room?” Coco asked, as if they were on a Girl Scout adventure or at summer camp. She certainly had perked up in the last ten minutes, and Lana prayed it stayed that way. The mood swings were wearing on her.
“Of course.”
The driveway ended in the grass, and she pulled up as close as she could get. With the motor turned off, the quiet was an eerie contrast. That was when they noticed the side of the house. Or rather, the lack thereof.
Coco’s little face scrunched up. “Where’s the wall?”
Lana mustered every ounce of strength she had to sound upbeat. “Well, that is a wonderful question. What do you say we go find out?”