Somewhere in the pitch black, Raymond heard drums and then chanting.
Then, the earth-shaking result of footfalls—thousands. Before his senses could catch up to his physical form awakening, he felt a searing, sharp pain in his side. Before he could scream, the pitch black was now illuminated by countless angry red torchlights. Holding those torches were warriors who looked very much like his father, uncles, or perhaps even his grandfather, except they were not. These were the angry, cognizant spirits of night marchers who, by all accounts, are designed to be angry because Raymond slept on their path. He'd been pierced with a spear, and to make the pain more unbearable, the night marcher who pierced him with the thick, dense point of the spear broke it off inside him and marched off with the rest of the un-ending procession happened to be the one who was leading it. Kamehameha the Great.Hikers, tourists, and ne'er-do-wells coming down the path into Waipio Valley at sunrise were the ones who found Raymond just in time and took him to a medical facility in Kohala. The valley residents knew well enough not to venture out on a night marcher moon lest they, too, end up like Raymond. Once the doctors removed the spearhead and stitched Raymond up, he asked if he could keep the spearhead, to which the doctors agreed. "To answer your question," Raymond began. "My friends and I were playing the 300, and I got shanked like a Spartan."
The attending surgeon shook his head and laughed. "Some friends you got, they speared you and left you for dead. At least you didn't fall asleep on the trail; I hear there are night marchers out there?"
"Yeah," Raymond chuckled nervously. "Who would be that stupid?"
~
One of the housekeepers recognized Raymond and, seeing his condition, offered him a ride back to his truck, which was parked at the top of the trail leading into the valley. The housekeeper, Mark Playce, was a transplant from Encino trying to leave behind the life that beat him up and spat him out.
"I expected the same would happen to me once I moved here, but it's been twenty years. I just thought I should be okay if I keep my head low, mind my business, and not get involved in other people's kūleana. But man, the people in Kohala didn't let that happen, you know? Everybody is filled with this beautiful humility, and now I have people who are more family to me than the ones I got away from," Mark got misty-eyed and wiped away a tear streaming down his cheek. Raymond's attention was directed to the spearhead on his lap, sitting in a red hazmat bag. It was vibrating, and it was pulsating when it wasn't vibrating.
Mark began sniffing the air, "You smell that? That's weird, considering we're in my truck with the windows rolled up and the a/c on,"
"Whaddaya mean?" Raymond muttered.
"It's the ionic atmosphere, which we should be smelling if we were outside, but we're in my truck," Mark's voice cracked with concern. The hazmat bag on Raymond's lap with the spearhead inside suddenly shot straight up like a missile and embedded itself through the cab's roof. "WHAT THE FUCK??" Mark screamed. Raymond said nothing; he sat there frozen in fear while Mark pulled the truck over and got out. "Here, here, let me get in on your side!" Raymond slid out from the passenger side, and as Mark got in to look at what happened, he removed the hazmat bag and took the spearhead out of it. Holding it in his hands, he gasped with wonder and amazement. "Whoa, it almost feels like it's alive,"
Those were Mark's last words before the massive shadow of Kamehameha manifested, and grabbed the spearhead out of Mark's hands and began stabbing him with it. On either side of the spearhead were barbs facing down. Three on the left and three on the right. At the bottom, two barbs face up. One is on the left, and one is on the right. While plunging the spearhead into the greater mass of Mark's upper body, the weapon sank into his flesh like a knife in butter, except that when the spearhead was pulled out, the six barbs took everything with it. Mark Playce was given not a moment to comprehend the measure of pain coursing through his body because the spearhead penetrated in and out with such veracity that he could not pinpoint one singular sensation. Raymond's knees went out from under him, and he collapsed on the grass and dirt. Even before he could scream something without words, the shadow of Kamehameha vanished, leaving the spearhead to fall on the floor inside the cab. Mark lay there more than dead; he was mangled, disemboweled, with most of his insides strewn about. Removing his shirt, Raymond wrapped it around the spearhead and ran for as far and as much as his legs, panic, and fear could take him, forgetting entirely about the wound that was inflicted on him the night before.
~
Henry's Impala ambled along Kalaniana'ole highway, passing Kuli'ou'ou. The spearhead wrapped in the red mechanics' shammy cloth vibrated like a phone receiving a text, but only intermittently. "I know you're hungry, but don't you worry," Henry said reassuringly. "I got something for ya'."
Henry's first stop was a house at the top of Pu'uowa'a. Before he took the spearhead to a buyer for official business, he had a personal vendetta to take care of first. "This guy up here," he said to the spearhead. "He's got a big mouth, but he's also an asshole. So the point of penetration is up to you, you know, the greater need. Where you get the most impact, stuff like that."
The intended victim was in the house's garage, and by all accounts, he appeared to be a regular local guy just trying to make his way through the day like everyone else. Once Henry's Impala rolled up, the local guy's demeanor changed. He puffed up and gave Henry the bird. The spearhead bounced on the front seat, but Henry was already triggered. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, Henry plowed his Chevy straight into Steven Berra. The impact forced Steven to fly into the back wall of his garage. Henry quickly got out of his car and grabbed the spearhead. He unwrapped it from the cloth and let it fall on Steven's chest, but nothing happened. "Do your job, guttdamned you!" Henry screamed at the spearhead, but it did nothing but lie there.
Steven's husband, Will, came running out after hearing the commotion inside the house. The spearhead flew into his chest before he could comprehend what he saw. The shadow of the great chief manifested, and in mere seconds, Will was torn asunder. Henry only had a split second to react. Retrieving the spear from Will's body, Henry jumped into his car, put it in drive, and ran Steven over, killing him instantly.
~
"I helped a little bit," Henry said to the spearhead." But you did the necessary work; who knew we'd get a two-for-one?"
The Impala ambled toward Waialua, where a crucial business deal would be brokered. Multimillions were at stake, all because of this spearhead of the great ali'i. He'd be set and could get out of the life and be normal like everyone else, except that he didn't have to tell anyone about his financial status.
~
When Raymond got home, he placed the spearhead in his fire locker and headed straight to the shower, but he never made it. On the way, he fainted to the floor, and when he woke up, it was 2:33 a.m. Something banged the floor very loudly in his room. It was his fire locker. Raymond knew that the only thing in it was the spearhead.
....to be continued
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