Death by Facebook (33 page)

“
Jimmie!
Hang on!” Star yelled before moving farther up the tree.

The
small first surge quickly moved through trees and back downhill of
the coconut grove, taking a moment to pause before beginning its
retreat back to the sea.

Janet
had been forced underwater twice, but fought hard to find a bit of
air every time she bounced off some object hard enough to surface
again. After only a minute the roiling mass of water changed.
Incredible! she thought, the water stopped moving and she found her
footing. Standing now on rocks and debris she was up to her waist in
water. She could see Star climbing higher on her coconut tree when
she turned and yelled something at her. Maybe it was over, she
wondered.

“
Climb!
Jimmie! Climb, Jimmie!” Star was yelling, competing to be
heard with the onrushing second wave, the volcano and the wind. It
was the wind that carried her voice back to Janet. It was the wind
that tried but failed to stop the water that now wanted to rush back
to sea, to fall back to its natural level.

Janet
felt her feet swept out from under her again, this time falling
backwards, this time sweeping her toward the dark sea ahead, the
churning bay and coral and certain destruction. The water picked up
speed as it fell back to the beach, dragging Janet with it, holding
her up a little better. She was headed right back to the coconut
grove, spinning through the first few trees. Briefly she saw Star
ahead and above it all, yelling mutely, waving one of her arms.

Janet
was bumping into things unknown, rough and sharp but they didn't
hurt, nothing hurt in the fascination of surprise and confusion. The
silence was somehow comforting as the water pulled her through the
trees and toward the gaping maw ahead that wanted to consume her.
She tried to get her feet back down, so she might stand up against
the rushing water. Having bounced off what she thought was the
bottom a few times, the flood couldn't be that deep.

She
was pushed into a coconut tree, tried to grab it but was spun up and
around it quickly, sweeping her backwards now. Another tree smashed
into her back, banging her head hard. It seemed the water was
picking up speed somehow, it seemed so hungry, so desperate to take
her.

Janet
flailed wildly with her arms, trying to grab onto anything. She was
being pushed up against another tree now, enough to stop her progress
to the sea, the water now rushing over her instead of with her.
Flipping herself around to face the tree her arms found something, a
piece of wood, a board. She sunk her fingers, the very bones of her
fingers deep into it. The water was furious now, angrily tearing at
her fragile grasp of life, intent on returning home with its trophy
human flesh.

If
she could just climb, her mind told her, if she could just get a step
up onto this tree she might win. She might live.

Rubbish
was flowing back into the sea with the returning tsunami, chairs,
books, couches, most of Star's cabin, in pieces. Janet, her head
well above the water, still hanging on with one hand to the first
step, noticed Star's car bumping among the trees like a pinball.

Something
moved underneath her, something buoyant, something hard, bruising her
legs with a crushing force. Instantly, she was a few feet higher;
she found the second and third steps and pulled herself up just as
the large propane tank spun around off her tree and fled toward the
chaos in the bay.

“
Climb,
Jimmie! Climb higher!” Star's frantic voice was coming in
loud and clear now from the tree next to hers, urging her to live, to
find the will.

~~~

Larry
felt like the little dogs were barking just behind him in some kind
of encouragement. “Go faster, big guy!”

He
did. Soon he was rounding the corner to his house and the open
garage. Shirley was two seconds behind him.

“
Put
the dogs in your backpack!” Larry said, running into the
garage and rapidly pulling the motorized paraglider out to the
driveway.

“
They
won't fit, baby...”

Larry
ran back into the garage and got his tandem rig, used to carry a
passenger. Quickly he spun the bolts, latched them and looked over
to Shirley.

“
Honey,
both of us on here will take a lot of takeoff power. The dogs...”

“
They
only weigh twelve pounds, together!” Shirley pleaded.

Larry
nodded, this was no time to argue. He knew the engine could lift
three hundred and forty pounds, in perfect conditions. He laughed
out loud at that last caveat.

“
What's
so funny, Larry? They do, only twelve pounds, I swear!”

“
Help
me push this out to the side road.”

The
lava bombs were still peppering the area every few minutes. As they
rounded the corner of their yard to line up the paraglider with the
side street Larry saw two large rocks steaming about a hundred yards
down the road, smack in the middle of his rural runway. Just beyond,
about another fifty feet, were the first Ohia trees, which they had
to clear. He calculated they would need absolutely every inch of
take off roll with the added weight. The dogs were going to be a
problem. That and the darkness.

The
parafoil laid out nicely for once on the first try, ready for a
breath of wind. He ran over to the paraglider, checked the bolts to
the parafoil and to the seat and relied on his last engine prep to be
a good one.

“
Shirley,
the dogs will most likely be OK here. They will hide until this is
all over, and then we can come back for them.” He sat down in
his pilot seat and strapped in, pulling Shirley into the tandem
harness.

“
If
we get close to the tree tops, you'll have to let them go and that
won't...”

“
Larry,
they're twelve pounds!”

He
pushed the electric start while holding the brake, and flipped on his
10,000 watt halogen lights. Shirley held the dogs under each arm
once she was strapped on. Her backpack sat in her lap.

The
gauges looked strong and Larry let the brake go, the parafoil behind
them already inflated. They began a painfully slow roll down the
street. Larry was leaning to the side to see around Shirley and she
was looking down at her little dogs. They seemed to be enjoying the
wind in their face.

His
first obstacle was going to be the large rocks in the road. They
were approaching them straight on. If he couldn't get enough speed
in the next three seconds, he thought, he would have to abort or risk
crushing Shirley, the dogs and eventually himself into the still
steaming mass.

The
parafoil above them shimmered loudly with some external wind. It
might be twirling thermals or a bit of tradewind making its way into
the open area of the street. Larry looked back at the rock ahead and
up to the parafoil quickly. It was full, already flying for the most
part and just waiting on him to give it a chance to rise.

Out
of the corner of his eye he saw another lava bomb ripping through the
trees to their side, screeching and tearing and leaving fire and
smoke behind it.

Risk.
It is certainly a part of flying. Too much risk was foolhardy, as
the saying reiterated: Old, bold pilots simply don't exist.
Conservative pilots understand risk as something to manage to the nth
degree. Never underestimating it, never ignoring it, but always
understanding it. Often in the complex environment of flight, it was
a matter of balancing multiple risk factors. In such cases a choice
had to be made, if for no other reason than to rid oneself of at
least one risk factor.

Larry
saw the massive rock ahead approaching and he saw new ones falling
all around them. Should he abort and try taking off the other
direction, or should he bet on his lift being sufficient to clear it?

His
engine sounded strong and deep inside his consciousness he knew he
had one more advantage. He had always been a lucky guy.

“
Lift
your feet up! Now!”

He
released the hold on the parafoil, allowing it to fill completely,
letting it lift them up. Immediately they left the ground, a few
inches. The dogs were barking excitedly, urging them all higher.

The
largest rock was only ten feet away and they still had at least
another foot to rise to avoid it. Larry attempted a slight turn to
at least avoid hitting it head on. A side hit would spare Shirley
and the dogs and maybe just hit his stainless side tubing.

The
parafoil above them fluttered again, in the presence of a burst of
wind, from where Larry could never guess. But, it was enough to
clear the rock by some small immeasurable amount and they sailed a
bit sideways, still climbing slowly and now clear of the rocks.

“
Go,
Larry, Go!” Shirley started chanting. “Go, Go, Go!”

They
were some twelve or fifteen feet off the ground now, Larry figured,
and needed another ten to clear the now approaching Ohia forest that
began the jungle canopy for the next several miles. As they got
within fifty feet, Larry knew they did not yet have enough altitude
and he turned sharply to the right. They swung around back toward
their house staying in the small opening of theirs and a neighbor or
two worth of clearing.

“
We
need more altitude, Shirley!”

She
just hugged the dogs closer to her body.

Larry
circled another time, still needing more room to climb. But, the
engine was not giving them anymore for now. They were just too
heavy.

They
were high enough, though, to see the plume a little better.
Both
of them could see the glowing rockets rising within the smoke and
falling out to the side.

Shirley
turned as best as she could to see Larry.

“
Can
we climb anymore if we keep turning?”

“
I
don't think so! I think we are too heavy!”

Shirley
looked down into her lap and sighed. The two little dogs were
squirming, excited to be flying, but quite a bit apprehensive about
the fact that their little feet were dangling in space.

As
their next turn pointed them directly at the plume, both of them
watched as another huge lava bomb rocketed up and out of the smoke,
this one headed their way.

Larry
tried to pick a line that would steer them clear of the missile, but
he had to keep turning to stay out of the tree tops. Hating to have
the plume at his back for more than a few seconds, he turned early
this time, to spy the approaching rock.

As
it did he saw it was going over their head, by a few feet. They
could hear it crackling, pushing the tropical air out of its way,
rushing to crash into the edge of the clearing and bombing into the
edge of the Ohia trees there, knocking one over.

“
OK,
OK, Larry!” Shirley yelled over her shoulder. “I know
we're too heavy.” Larry leaned forward to kiss her on the back
of her head, then looked over at both little dogs with a heavy heart.
Turning again, he kept an eye on the plume as he knew Shirley was
making one of the most difficult decisions anyone could. The dogs,
after all, were part of their family.