Chapter 4
4
K
enyatta set his jaw as he helped a woman pull yet another partially buried body from the mud.
“I tink dis the last one,” she said. “Gods be merciful I
hope
it’s the last one.”
Gods. Two years earlier Kenyatta had seen the power of the Gods brought to bear through mortals. Thoughts of that battle at Takashaniel sent his thoughts speeding back to the fateful day when a wall of darkness washed over the fields of the great tower. Hundreds of demons had descended on the fields of the Tower of Balance; Takashaniel. He, alongside Kita and three warriors from Japan, had battled the endless horde to their physical and mental limits.
The Children of the Gene. That was what Iel, the guardian of Takashaniel, had called them. Within Kenyatta, Kita, and the three Japanese warriors, existed a gene given by the Daunyans—the true name of the Gods—that quickened only when an irritant entered this plane of existence; an irritant such as a demon.
“Don’t go lettin’ ya faith be shaken, bwoy,” the woman said, mistaking Kenyatta’s silence. “Da Gods be merciful even in tragedy. Dem get us through dis.”
Kenyatta smiled at her. The Gods gave them the free will to choose their lives and live with the consequences and triumphs that resulted. Including tragedies like this. Humans were no more exempt from mass death due to natural forces any more than the animals they share the world with.
Having no words to offer, Kenyatta nodded his head and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He stood and looked around. Splintered huts, trees snapped like twigs, collapsed houses and fallen businesses. All of Rocky Point was destroyed. Not a single house or building had been spared from the fury of the ocean when it hammered down on the place. Kenyatta replayed the moment before the waves hit. He remembered the ominous sound of a tremendous inhalation as the waves rose up into the sky.
“Demons,” he murmured.
“I’d struggle to believe every demon we battled at Takashaniel combined could manage this,” Kita said as he climbed up from the remains of a fallen house. He glanced at the lady Kenyatta had been helping, but she was already off to help more injured survivors. “It would take a tremendous amount of power to reap this much destruction.”
“You heard that sound as the ocean raise up before the town, ya?” Kenyatta glared at the open sea. “Ain’t nothing got power to create something like dat, man. What else could it be?”
Kita looked out at the ocean as well, but offered no answer. “I heard people wondering what could have caused it. Maybe an earthquake in the ocean. All they have are guesses.”
“You don’t believe it any more than I do,” Kenyatta replied. “Tsunamis wash in from the ocean, not raise straight up out da water to crash down on top of you.” He ran a hand through his twisted locks. “Demons, man. Or one really powerful one.”
“So, what then?” Kita asked. “We go back to Takashaniel to find answers?”
“I don’t know,” Kenyatta replied. “I feel like we don’t have time for dat, but we need answers.” He turned away from the ocean to face Kita. “Der is a man who come from a long line of people called nature readers. We could try him.”
“Nature readers?” Kita frowned. “That’s an…odd title.”
“Me grandfather know dis man. Him talk all the time about how da man help him with his garden because dem friends. Grandpa say him a little on the grumpy side at times, but a good man. Maybe he knows something.”
Kita looked around at the ruin that had been Rocky Point. “Other than helping everyone get to higher ground, I don’t think there’s anything else we can do here.”
After asking around for more than an hour, they finally found the man on other side of the hills, walking in the midst of traumatized survivors. Though slender, there was a strength to the man despite his advanced years. He moved with a sure step, studying the ground, touching trees, whether fallen or not. He seemed to pay closer attention to any place where water collected.
“Seems really concerned,” Kita said dryly.
“Everyone do what they can,” Kenyatta replied. “He seeks answers in his way.”
“By going out for a casual stroll in the midst of a disaster?”
In answer, Kenyatta pointed as the man dipped his hand in a large puddle of water and closed his eyes. He stood and gave an irritated shake of his head.
“Ya find someting, old man?” Kenyatta asked.
“Ya parents raise you better than to address an elder as ‘old man,’ bwoy?” came the retort.
“I apologize,” Kenyatta said. “Can we help you?”
“I don’t know what you tinkin’ you can do to help me.”
Kenyatta stepped forward. “Please forgive me my lost manners on this terrible day. I’m Kenyatta Ihe, and dis me friend, Kita Sepata.”
The man rubbed his chin. “Ihe. Only one family in Jamaica wit dat name.”
“You were friends with me grandpa,” Kenyatta said.
The older man thought on that for a moment, then his face lit with recognition. “Barry. Such a long time ago, my friend leave dis world.”
“When I was no more than a handful of years old,” Kenyatta said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically serious tone.
Kita gave him a pat on the shoulder before offering his hand to the older man. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Kenyatta didn’t miss the muscles clench in the old man’s forearm as he accepted Kita’s hand.
“Looks like the foreigner got more manners than you, bwoy,” he said to Kenyatta. “Name’s Malimokuru.” He looked around at the ruins of the little town. “I need get out to the ocean if I’m to find out what’s going on.”
“I’d think that’s the last place to be,” Kita replied.
Malimokuru made a helpless gesture. “I’m a nature reader. I can’t know anyting about the sea until I’m out in it, dippin’ my hand in it, feelin’ the water and everyting livin’ in it. It’s the only way.”
Kenyatta waved a hand in the direction of the beach. “So you can dip your toes in over there and be done with it, ya?”
Malimokuru shook his bald head. “Nah, man. Doesn’t work that way. You bite the tip of a piece of food, you don’t get all the flavor hiding deeper in. I need get out in the ocean and dip my hand in.
Kenyatta sighed. “Then let’s get out dere while the water’s calm and hope we don’t get swallowed up in another tsunami.” He spared Kita a quick warning glance, and his friend nodded. If this was indeed the work of some major demon, they would be virtually helpless out in the ocean. But they were just as helpless here as well, and Kenyatta had a feeling that the last flood was a warning.
A woman turned down the street toward them, her arms laden with blankets. The woman—somewhat impatiently—approached when he waved her over. “We’re trying to help,” he said to the woman. You know who’s organizing?”
“On my way there now,” the woman said, holding up the blankets.
“Tell everyone to get to high ground as soon as they can,” Kenyatta replied
The woman nodded. “Yeah, man. People already on the move.” She looked from him to the others. “We could use some extra hands, ya know. Lotta people injured and in shock.”
“We’re on our way to do our part now,” Kenyatta assured her.
They reached the docks and found a boat that would have been small under the best of conditions, but looked a great deal smaller given the recent event.
Kita looked at the boat, then out at the ocean. “Oh yeah. That looks safe.”
Kenyatta let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, man.”
“The swell that come crashin’ over Rocky Point can flip dis boat or a ship ten times its size.” Malimokuru climbed into the little rowboat and moved to the front. “Quit wastin’ time and get in.”
“I suppose we rowin’ then?” Kenyatta said as he and Kita climbed aboard.
“You see extra oars?” Malimokuru replied.
At the nature reader’s insistence, they rowed for a couple hours until Jamaica was little more than an outline on the horizon.
Kenyatta and Kita pulled the oars aboard and the trio sat in silence for a time. Kenyatta leaned back on his elbows and shared a look with Kita as they watched Malimokuru. The nature reader sat cross-legged with his eyes closed for a time. While the older man appeared to meditate, Kenyatta’s thoughts drifted back to the horrors of the day, and considered what abysmal monster might be behind them. He was about to speak his thoughts on it when, without a word, Malimokuru leaned to the side of the boat and dipped his hand into the water. After a few moments, he immersed his arm in above the elbow.
Kita drummed his fingers on his lap in the ensuing silence, gazing out at the surrounding infinite blue sea. “Water seems calm enough. Maybe whatever happened was an anomaly that just passed through.”
“Maybe,” Kenyatta said. “Let’s hope so—”
With a wide-eyed gasp, Malimokuru snatched his arm out of the water and fell back against the other side of the boat. The sudden movement was so harsh, the younger men had to hold on to the sides of the boat to stop it from capsizing.
“What happened?” Kita asked. “What’s going on? Did something attack you?”
“No … It can't be possible,” he said between breaths. “Someting so big, so primal.”
“Whatcha on about, den?” Kenyatta asked. He looked over his shoulder towards Jamaica and licked his lips.
Malimokuru’s eyes were wide with fear. “Fish, large and small, are swimming away. Sharks, bottom-dwellers, anyting livin in the ocean that can move, is fleeing.”
“From what?” Kita asked.
The nature reader pointed a trembling finger toward Jamaica. “Dat tsunami wasn’t natural, man. Someting big force the waves up in the sky and bring em crashing down. Someting big and powerful. A primal force like nothing I’ve ever felt.”
Kenyatta stared into Kita’s eyes as Malimokuru spoke. Demons. Or a major demon. What else could summon such a destructive force? “How much time we have?”
The old man sat staring at the floor of the boat, but looking much farther away. “I don’t know. It was too much. If I’d maintained the connection any longer I might have gone insane. It was like a mountain roaring in my mind. There was no focus to it, man. Just a kind of frustrated rage, like it’s mad at everyting and nothing at the same time.”
“I don’t understand,” Kita said.
“I can't explain any better,” Malimokuru replied. “I just know anyone back home better get to high ground and hope it’s enough.”
“Enough?” Kenyatta and Kita asked in unison.
Malimokuru nodded. “What I felt was enough to swallow Jamaica whole.”
“It’s under us?” Kita asked, and he and Kenyatta looked over the side of the boat.
“No … I don’t know. It was a presence. Like another mind touching mine, or I touched it. I don’t think it knew I was there, and I’m glad it didn’t.” He looked toward the island again. “What I felt was limitless rage heading in the direction of our home.”
Kenyatta snatched up his oar. “We need to get back now.”
“We’re safer out here,” Kita said.
“We can warn …”
Malimokuru shook his head sadly. “Best we can do is get close enough to witness the destruction. You want that?”
“I’m not gonna sit here and not try,” Kenyatta snapped. He snatched up his oar, lifting his as well, and they rowed with all their strength back toward Jamaica. After an hour of nonstop rowing, they took a break, then resumed. Despite pushing themselves to their limits of endurance, to the anxious trio, it felt as if the boat hardly moved.
“Land,” Malimokuru finally called.
Kenyatta looked over his shoulder, relieved to see Jamaica still there waiting for them. They might still have time to warn as many people as possible to get to high ground…
His hope shattered with what sounded like a huge intake of air.