The Hidden Manimal Mine of Maui Lou

The tunnels, lava tubes, and storage facilities beneath Lahaina have long been popular places for those with an adventurous spirit to explore. Finding supplies and weapons can be very lucrative to those brave or foolish enough to explore these dark places. However, one such location has held the imagination of islanders much more than any other, and it might not even exist. The Hidden Manimal Mine of Maui Lou is a story every child knows, and a dream a handful try to find every year.

Maui Lou was not a well-known man in his time or a successful one. He spent most nights sleeping on the beach beneath the stars, and his days wandering from place to place. When he was younger, Lou dreamed of being a professional surfer, but in his early 50’s the only thing he surfed was couches. And so it would have gone, had it not been for the great fracture. Like so many, the accident awakened something inside Lou and showed him his destiny.

From his time wandering the town, Lou knew many places to seek shelter and the best gardens in Lahaina. He helped many make it through those first terrible weeks and soon found himself with quite a following. While harvesting vegetables from abandoned backyards, and canned foods from demolished stores, was helpful to the survivors, Lou began to believe that they owed their lives to one thing, the hydrating powers of Manimal.

His Manimal obsession and strange beliefs around the drink grew, and his believers followed suit. They began calling themselves “The Quenched”. They believed that in addition to your physical thirst, Maimal could satisfy your emotional and spiritual thirst as well. Under Lou’s leadership, the group followed The Three Tenets: intensity in all actions, ferociousness of thought, and daily acts of daring. The group became famed for its outrageous escapades and chaotic nature.

While they were not openly hostile to others, working with a group of The Quenched was all but impossible. They could not resist climbing tall structures and leaping whenever possible. When exploring an unknown area, it was common for a member of the group to run ahead with a Manimal in each hand, screaming their intentions. Others began to shun the group and refuse to be involved with any project that included the drink-loving fanatics.

Soon, they found themselves outcasts, and it was too much for Lou. He moved his followers to the Mauna Kahalawai mountains and began preaching visions of doom. He told The Quenched that this new world would not be the last. Another great cleansing was on its way, and that in the future the extreme would inherit the Earth. They began expanding an old mine to make it a suitable place to live out the upcoming catastrophe. It is here that the stories diverge.

Some say The Quenched built a gigantic recirculating pool, to hold all the Manimal they had collected over the years at a perfect temperature. Others say they were much too unorganized for such a feat, and simply filled many tanks with Manimal to serve as a source of life-giving hydration, while they waited out the end. Whatever the truth, one thing is certain. When they were done, they hid the entrance and sealed themselves inside with Maui Lou delivering a warning, anyone who were to go inside without believing in the Three Tenets, would find nothing but their doom. The Quenched were never seen again.

There the tale might have ended, a bedtime story for children, had it not been for a Thriver woman named Cork Waltz. By all accounts, Cork was an excellent scrounger and bragged that she came from a long line of treasure hunters. While Cork could find a single wire hidden in a field of pili grass, what she loved finding above all else was Manimal. She was obsessed with the old drink and stories of the mine. Every year, Cork would explore the mountains for a few weeks in the spring, looking for the hidden entrance and return to the jokes and teasing of her friends. Then one year, Cork didn’t return as usual.

Everyone assumed she had been taken by one of the island’s many dangers or had slipped from a cliff. They were overjoyed when she finally made it back, but her pack bursting full of Manimal made them wonder. The usually boisterous Cork remained unusually quiet about where she found the drink as well. When she left again in the morning, the rumors spread quickly.

Over the next few months, Cork would take many long trips, each time returning more intense, and with more Manimal. Her neighbors were now sure that she had found Maui Lou’s Manimal Mine and many tried to follow her. Cork began to take long dangerous routes to throw off any pursuers. The speed and energy she’d display while scrambling up rocks and navigating the narrow twisting trails did little to dispel the rumors, and attempts to follow her always failed. Then a group of trackers happened upon Cork at the bottom of a ravine. Apparently, her attempts to elude her followers finally caught up to her. She had slipped and fallen from a ledge, but before she passed she left some tantalizing clues.

According to the stories, Cork’s lips and hands were stained red with Manimal, although her pack contained no Radical Red flavor. Even more tantalizing, she had scratched a crude map on a rock next to her with the words, “Extreme Refreshment” underneath. Since then, many have searched for the location of the mine without success. There are almost as many copies of the map floating around, as there are people gullible enough to buy them. Still, there just might be a pool of Manimal underground somewhere out there, just waiting for someone brave or foolish enough to go looking for it.

Hugh The Hunter Part I

There are many legends on the island and many mysterious events every day, but one of the most recent is the appearance of strangers dressed in the clothing of the old. The Kanaka have come to call them “The Tourists,” because of their brightly colored shirts and their large old-style hats. Many of my people believe that they are the spirits of those lost in the great fracture, returned to help the brave and warn the trustworthy of danger. However, I now suspect their presence has a much more technological basis than a mystical one.

The Kanaka had no stories of The Tourists and I personally did not believe the reports until a group of hunters in my village brought one back. We call him Hugh, and many of our bravest owe their lives to his reckless courage. We still know little about his life before, or where he comes from, but he has become an important ally and guardian of my village.

For weeks we had heard the stories. Strangers with strange clothing were appearing across the island. While there are few pleasant surprises anymore, stories of encounters with the Tourists were wonderful. Tales of their courage and deeds spread quickly. Kanaka talked of Tourists emerging from the forest and shooting enemies. A village to the North claimed that one jumped from a hill to attack a herd of boars, who were menacing a group of children collecting shells. There was even a tale of a Tourist who took up residence with a group of Thrivers and made items from the days of old.

It is with these stories fresh in their minds that our hunters went out one day to look for supplies. They planned on targeting the area around the old wellness center, because of the many untouched buildings buried in the rubble. When they arrived, they got quite a shock. Standing in front of the center was a man in a flowered shirt, wearing a bucket hat, with a bag across his shoulder. It was a Tourist.

The hunters stopped and called out. They raised their weapons above their heads and shouted a greeting, as is our custom. Instead of shouting back a greeting, the Tourist ran quickly to a collapsed building to the North. At first, the hunters were confused, this did not appear to be one of the brave and mystical warriors of the past they had heard about. Then the explosions went off.

They had almost walked into a bandit trap, but the Tourist had tripped the mines hidden alongside the road. He jumped just at the right time, and the force of the detonation lifted him up onto a piece of flooring jutting out of the side of the building. The bandits poured out like angry ants and tried to scramble up towards the colorfully dressed man above them. The Tourist walked to the edge of the flooring and the whole thing came down. He rode the wave of debris like he was Layla Kalani herself, drowning the bandits in rubble and exposing an opening in the building.

For a few seconds, nobody moved or said a thing. The Tourist brushed off his clothing and looked at the Kanaka who began to cheer. It was one of the most amazing things they had ever seen. Not only had the stranger saved them from an ambush, he had done it without a weapon, and had opened a way into a building that had been buried since the fracture. The stories about the Tourists were true!

He was unable to speak but seemed to understand us. The only communication he was capable of was scribbling, “HU-3501” in the sand. We called him Hugh. The elders debated what his scribblings meant as the hunters tried to learn what they could from him, but Hugh was clever. He pretended to know nothing about fighting. Like all great teachers, he let his students show him what they knew by teaching him.

So it went for almost a week, when a group of Thriver guards came to the village and announced that they had found Mea ‘ohi, the great trophy collector, using the old train station as a lair. For decades the King of the trophy collectors and his court had terrorized the island and collected the heads of many. In addition to his remarkable strength, Mea ‘ohi was very cunning for his kind and never stayed in one place for long. While it was extremely dangerous, the Thrivers thought that together we had a chance to finally rid the island of the horror of the great collector, and avenge all those he had killed. We looked at Hugh and knew we had more than a good chance with his help. Our best hunters and Hugh gathered weapons and set off with the Thriver guards.

The hunters could tell right away that the Thrivers were right. Skulls littered the steps leading into the station. Inside the walls were adorned with heads of all types. Bear, boar, wolf, and shrig were mixed in amongst the human head decorations. The inside of the station had been rearranged. Chest-high barricades of tables, desks, and chairs filled the lobby. A pair of trophy collectors rushed forward towards the group incredibly fast. The Thrivers got off what shots they could before the Kanaka engaged the monstrosities, while Hugh ran up the stairs.

The hunters dispatched one of their opponents quickly and gave chase to the other, with the Thrivers covering their back. More monsters poured in and the fighting became fierce. Teeth and claws tearing, as clubs swung and bullets rained out. Soon there were so many that even the Thrivers were forced to fight hand to hand. The hunter’s weapons were covered in the vile blood of the beasts, and their arms began to burn, but still, the creatures came, and Hugh was nowhere in sight. The Thrivers screamed that they should pull back and the hunters begrudgingly agreed, but as they tried to make their way, Mea ‘ohi finally appeared.

The hulking terror knocked over a wall of tables by the doors and stood before the remaining heroes. His cracked lips curled into a huge toothy grin knowing that the hunters were trapped inside, and he would soon have more decorations. At that moment, the Thrivers and hunters knew that they would never see their homes again. They had underestimated the creature. It was over. Just as the last of their hope was draining from them, they saw something miraculous. It was Hugh.

He lept from the floor above, digging his machete deep into Mea ‘ohi’s thigh, and tumbled as he hit the floor. The beast fell to his knees behind him, and Hugh sprung to his feet smiling. The other trophy hunters screamed and ran into the depths of the station. Hugh turned just in time to see the monster reach out. Mea ‘ohi grabbed him, and twisted off his head in one quick motion, screaming in fury and pain. Hugh’s sacrifice rallied the heroes. They could not let him die in vain. The Thrivers filled the beast’s chest with bullets and the Kanaka surged forward finishing him off.

Hugh had saved them again, even though it cost him his life. The group decided to leave before the rest of the creatures regrouped, but took Mea ‘ohi’s head as a trophy of their own. The Thrivers thanked the hunters for their help and left to return to their outpost.

While the village was excited that such a terrible danger had been removed, it had cost the lives of many, including Hugh. They gave them all a ceremony fitting for heroes and loaded their remains into a canoe together so that they could continue to protect each other in the next world. As custom, the village stayed up all night sharing stories about the ones they lost, and they wondered what would happen to Hugh. Would his spirit continue to travel with the Kanaka he fell protecting? We got our answer this morning just before dawn.

We were all very tired when he walked up to the fire and sat down. Many rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Hugh just sat smiling and pointed out towards the train station, made a chopping motion, and gave a thumbs up. I’m not sure how or why Hugh is back, but I’m glad that he is. I have a feeling we will have many more adventures

How The Augustinian Cliffs Got Their Name

The Kanaka have many sacred areas and revered places on the island, but a few stand out from the others. The Augustinian Cliffs are one such place. Sitting in the shadow of the great peak Pu’u Kukui and overlooking the vital Kahoma stream, the cliffs are a place where one can beseech the spirits of the island for protection and the ancestors for guidance. Although it was once a Thriver outpost, it is now considered a cherished Kanaka site, and a place where you can remember the power of bravery and belief.

Augustin never dreamed of being a leader, but the fracture allowed many to find their true purpose. Before Veilcorp tore the world apart, he taught the ancient Hawaiian martial art of Kapu Kuialua in his dojo on the beach. While countless screamed and ran in terror, he remained calm and gathered those that needed shelter inside until the earth stopped shaking, and the orange rain ended.

The world that was born from the fracture was a much harder one than before, with little mercy for the weak. Augustin took in as many Kanaka as he could, but soon realized that unless they had the tools to survive, he was not truly saving them. However, there were so many that he couldn’t possibly teach them all by himself. It was then that he picked his 9 best students, including his daughter Anakalia, and made them his Kumu, each a master in an aspect of Ku’ialua. With his 9 trusted Kumu at his side he could teach the people to protect themselves quickly, and the Kanaka had a chance.

The people learned how to break bones, strike with purpose, and bend vulnerable joints. No longer prey for the wolves, bandits, and the terrors of the forest, the Kanaka began to reclaim their rightful place on the island. Word spread quickly of the teachings of Augustin and his 9 Kumu. Soon, Kanaka from across the island traveled to his dojo to learn how to protect themselves and their people. One young man caught the eye of Augustin, a gangly young son of a fisherman named Ikaika.

The boy became his star pupil. He was not the most talented physically but what he lacked in body he made up for in heart and spirit. By the end of the first year he challenged and defeated his first Kumu, and eventually proved his prowess against all the masters, even Augustin. Fifteen years after arriving at the dojo, the great chief Ikaika began to rally other Kanka to sweep the island clean of the terrors of the fracture. He eventually cleared the menehune from Front street, drove the green ladies North, and aligned with the Thrivers of Pu’u to meet the vast night marcher horde at Black Rock Beach.

The outcome of the battle was not certain. Ikaika took virtually all the able-bodied with him North, leaving many Kanaka under the watchful eye of the aging Augustin and his Kumu. The Thrivers sent the old and infirm, as well as their children, to a stronghold in the mountains for their safety, but instead of protecting their weak, they had served them on a platter. A group of night marchers heading to Black Rock Beach had noticed the vulnerable Thrivers high on the mountain, and discovered the single trail leading to the outpost.

The walls kept the initial wave from getting inside but it soon became apparent that the meager defenses would not hold, and with only one trail up or down, there was no escape. 3 runners were dispatched, and one eventually made it through the throngs of claws and teeth, all the way to the dojo for help. She was heartbroken when she found that only a handful of Koa and the old Kapu Kuialua masters were left behind. She was busy trying to convince one of the young warriors to send for help when Augustin stopped her. Laden with as much rope as they could carry, he vowed that he and his 9 Kumu would save her people.

Knowing that the single trail going up would be their doom, Augustin and the masters began to climb the cliffs, fixing anchor points and securing lines as they went. Hands hardened by years of discipline and practice, now quickly found purchase in the cracks of the rock face. The group climbed over 1,500 feet as fast as most could walk. When they crested the top they could see that they were probably too late.

The walls burst in and the night marchers howled. Without hesitation the Kumu surged forward. Where stone and wood had given way, the screaming horde found a new wall of hardened fists, clubs, and expertly placed blows. So ferocious was their attack that the night marchers withdrew for a moment to assess their new foes. This was all the time Augustin and Anakalia needed. Together they began to usher down those who could climb the ropes, and began lowering down those who couldn’t.

Sensing the Thrivers escape, the creatures rushed forward again. The Kumu fought valiantly for as long as they could, but they were too few to fight off the hundreds of night marchers. Eventually only Augustin and Anakalia were left. The Thrivers say that they were covered with the creatures when they lowered the last survivors down, but did not stop to fight back until they were sure that the Thrivers were safe.

When Chief Ikaika returned and heard the story he went to the outpost himself to look for his old teacher. However, Augustin, Anakalia, and the other Kumu were never found. Some say their bravery and prowess helped remind the night marchers of their true purpose, protecting the Kanaka and their great chiefs. It is rumored that Augustin and his 9 Kumu still guard the cliffs from those who would harm the island and its people. Whatever the truth, the Thrivers agreed to respect the warriors by never using the outpost again, and the area has been known as the Augustinian Cliffs ever since. It remains one of our most sacred and beloved places.

The Lahaina Merchants Association’s Roadmap for the future

For over almost 20 years I’ve proudly led this group. When I started, many of us were selling scrounged tools and cans of food in dark alleys. Under my leadership I’m proud to say that the consumers of Lahaina may now purchase a wide variety of newly smithed metal items, lifesaving medicines, and fresh foods. Your entrepreneurial spirit and hard work have been an inspiration to me and to our customers but times are changing. The markets are in fluctuation and we need to pivot or run the risk of losing the footholds we’ve fought so hard to carve out.

As many of you know, last month someone was able to restart the global backup connection, and people started pouring in. I understand why some of them have turned to hawking their items. They’re confused, scared, and in a world that is vastly different than the one they remember. I sympathize with them, but I do not condone their activity. We can’t afford to look weak.

If these new visitors are going to conduct business in our territory they should be informed of the rules. I can forgive one transgression especially if they haven’t been enlightened, that’s what penalty charges are for. However, if they continue to disregard the rules we must be ruthless. This only works if we all work together. They need to know how important it is to pay association fees in a timely manner, (a lesson some of you are still struggling to learn I might add).

This is a good start but let’s be honest, it won’t solve our problem. Too many of them are showing up to effectively monitor. The writing’s on the wall and we need to step up our game. We need to come together like never before and show the people of Lahaina that they can consistently get quality products at a reasonable price from any of our businesses. I have a plan in place, but again, it only works if if we all work together.

First and foremost we need to renew our focus on quality. In the past weeks, I’ve heard a number of complaints about the selling of tainted clams, especially along the beach. I’ve talked to a few of you individually about the issue but it has to stop. Worse yet, it’s come to my attention that a number of spears have made it out of shops without fire hardening. We need our customers to feel like they can count on a LMA spear in combat. Their trust in us breaks a little every time one of those spears does. We can’t afford to carry members who cut corners.

We also need to start specializing. With the increased flow of consumers coming from the station stores nearby are busier than ever, but they are also having trouble keeping inventory. I think becoming more specialized fixes both of those problems. If the vendors near the station specialize in food, they can send customers down the road for weapons. The weapons shop can send them to Front street for medicine…..on and on it goes. This will ensure that we all benefit from the new traffic and each business can maintain a proper inventory.

Before you start complaining, I’m not suggesting that you can’t sell ammunition or a dagger if you own a place near the station. I’m just saying it would be in your best interest to make a plan with the other merchants in your area to spread your resources. Let’s make sure everyone gets a piece of the action. As you know, I’ve been working very hard on getting the armory up and running and plan on using it as the go-to stop in Lahaina for all your combat and protection needs. If you haven’t contacted me personally yet about selling weapons in the armory, please do so soon, and I will pass on consignment agreements.

I know there has been a lot of concern about the loss of market share due to the increase of working Reality Machines around the island, but I don’t think we have anything to fear. First, there are only a couple up and running and it’s not like they’re making new parts anymore. Secondly, the products coming from these glorified vending machines lack the quality and character that our handmade items do. Quality will always be king as long as I’m in charge of the LMA. It would be foolish to completely brush-off the danger of these automated hucksters however, so any member caught providing plans to one will be treated as if they were caught stealing from the association. I don’t need to remind you of what the penalty for that offense is.

Finally, we need not only need to get the word out, but we need everyone from the Thrivers to the Kānaka to think of us as family. We need to become integral to the Lahaina way of life. I’ve heard suggestions ranging from a gun raffle, to complimentary canteen fill-ups on purchases over 100 rai, to a preferred customer program. All of these ideas are alright, but I think they miss the mark. We need to get back to what got us here, breadfruit and bodies. We never saw a year like we did when we swept the Menehune from around the train station back in 08. Our Breakfast-N-Bullets event was the largest single day promotion we ever pulled off.

Rounding up some bandits, or better yet a few Night Marchers, and stringing them up in front of some shops and high traffic areas will yield hug benefits to our bottom line. If we add a few strategic luau’s, I don’t see how we can lose. It’s time for us to focus on each other and what matters most, the rai.

The Legend of Lindy the Dancing Bear

We Kanaka are natural storytellers. We teach our children about the island, our beliefs, and our history through our tales. While these stories cover many topics, the most common theme is respect for the land, and all the creatures that fly, swim, or walk upon it. It is this reverence for the Earth that has protected us from dabbling in the same kinds of endeavors that led to the great fracture. Our people learn from an early age that everything in nature has its place, and role to play. We have many stories that teach this lesson, but one of the most popular among the children is the legend of Lindy the Dancing Bear.

Lindy was a cub living in the Lahaina Zoo on the day of the fracture. While many animals suffered the same fate as people, those that survived found a better life than they had before. Without people driving their cars, polluting the air and water, or confining them with concrete, steel, and rope, the animals thrived. Many zoo animals experienced freedom, and the feel of soil beneath their feet for the first time in their lives, and they rejoiced. However, some people survived and brought with them their unnatural beliefs. Little Lindy never got a chance to revel in her freedom as the other zoo animals did because she was captured by the Tappers.

Tapper caves and dark buildings are not the places a young bear cub should grow up, but it was all Lindy knew. Worse still, something happened to the tiny bear during her Tapper training. Nobody knows if it was something the deranged dancers did or something caused by the fracture, but Lindy changed. She became smarter, more aware of her situation, making her more angry and more dangerous. The Tappers jumped for joy.

They fed her their enemies, the unrhythmic, and the plain. The dyed her hair audacious colors. They dressed her in sequenced outfits, poofy skirts, and frilly lace ruffs. They taught her their most deadly dances: the can-can, the hully gully, the shuffle, the mashed potato, the foxtrot, and worst of all, they taught her how to pogo through the innocent. They forced their fearful and fantastic beliefs on the growing bear, and Lindy was a fast learner.

Soon they started to bring the bear with them on their raids. Tapper attacks are terrifying and terrific enough on their own, but with the addition of a trained bear, they were unstoppable. Stories of Lindy charging into an unsuspecting village, balancing on her ball and mauling anyone too slow to get out of her way spread quickly. If that wasn’t bad enough, they continued to teach Lindy new terrible tricks, and worked on her battle choreography. One week she was doing handstands across the bodies of the fallen, and the next she was jumping a bloody rope through a Thriver outpost. Nobody was left out of the dancing bear’s reign of terror.

Unable to fight off the attacks by themselves, the Kanaka and the Thrivers arranged a meeting to figure out what to do. The Thrivers were worried that the Tappers would enlist other animals into their troupe, and teach Lindy more complex tricks. “What could we do against a herd of perniciously prancing ponies? What if they teach the bear to drive an ATV, or ride a motorcycle? We must focus on the Tappers themselves and not the bear during the next attack,” they said. The Kanaka disagreed. They had fought the Tappers many times before and survived. It was the bear that was the key. The fear it caused was contagious in battle, and they believed getting rid of Lindy was the key to victory. It was then that one elder Kanaka came up with a plan.

Although his village was destroyed, Paulele and a handful of others had survived a recent attack, and he believed he saw something in Lindy’s eyes, sorrow. He told everyone assembled that he could subdue the bear himself if they followed one simple rule, ignore Lindy. He would do the rest.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what village would be attacked next because the Tappers had been dancing a straight line across the island. Nonetheless, when Lindy came cha-chaing out of the forest, flanked by the frolicking fighters, it was almost more than the defenders could take. After a brief moment of hesitation, they remembered the plan, and ignored the bear as it shuffled into the heart of the village. While everyone fought to keep the Tappers out, a bewildered Lindy found herself face-to-face with the elderly Paulele.

Lindy roared and began a simple box step, but Paulele didn’t respond. She stood on her hind legs and spun around, yet the man remained unmoved. She did a somersault that ended just inches from the old Kanaka man’s face, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached out very calmly, unfastened the sparkling collar from her neck, and let it drop to the ground. The elder told Lindy that she should be free to roam the forest without having to wear costumes. He told her that she should be tearing apart logs, and looking for fish in the stream. She should be living as a bear, and not dancing for the Tappers. He offered her something she had never known her entire life, freedom.

Lindy could feel the truth in Paulele’s words and ran into the forest. The battle ended soon after. Lindy lived the rest of her life as a bear should, at peace in the wilds. She never wore another poofy skirt, or balanced on another ball. Some say she could still be seen dancing in the forest when the moon was full, but when she danced it was out of joy, and not hate.

How The Mission Became a Sanctuary for All After the Fracture

There are a number of buildings that survived the great accident. The comm tower, the veil station, and the power plant all offer those who survived a reminder of how the world once was. None of them are held as dear as The Mission, however. Once a place of quiet contemplation, The Mission was vital in the battles that drove most of the horrors out of this part of the island. In the years since the fracture, it has served as a sanctuary for those in need, a place of healing, and a symbol of what can be accomplished when we work together.

Known as Maluhia or The Place of Peace to the Kānaka, The Mission offered seekers of serenity and knowledge a refuge before the Fracture. It was only natural that survivors sought shelter and safety there. For many years Maluhia served as a place of healing for the people. There the greatest Kānaka herbalists and healers practiced their craft. Whether it be a fever, a broken bone, or something more serious, you could find relief at The Mission. Countless lives were saved there, and not just those of the Kānaka.

The Place of Peace was open to all who needed help and served as an embassy of sorts. When one of the many veil storms threw the great cruise ship against the rocks, the survivors sought refuge there. They traded books, their knowledge, and their stories for food and shelter. Eventually, they formed a school and taught many of our children the power of words and ideas. A group of them reside there still today. While we all seek peace, it is sometimes hard to secure and the island was becoming more dangerous.

The horrors born from the explosion were gaining strength and growing quickly. Night Marchers and Trophy Hunters prowled the trails, the Menehune scurried through the rubble, and the Green Ladies haunted the forests, hungry for blood. The people feared leaving the safety of the village, and they were losing hope. It was then that the great chief Ikaika began to gather the people to fight back. He gathered a great number of Kānaka warriors to battle against the creatures. He formed an alliance with the Thrivers on the hill and the people to the North. Together, the army of Ikaika cleared much of the island and made its way to Black Rock Beach.

The fighting there was terrible and lasted for days. Hundreds lost their lives, and so many were injured that The Mission was overflowing. It was then that Ikaika decided to turn away all who were not Kānaka. Many Kānaka survived that day because of that decision, but as the people were treated, we watched the bodies of our allies pile up outside. Eventually, the Thriver’s commander Colonel Kaua arrived and demanded we treat his people. With his elite band of Koa behind him, Ikaka thanked the Colonel for his bravery but said there were too many injured Kānaka to worry about the lives of Thrivers. He told Kaua to take his wounded and go in peace. The Thrivers were angry.

While most of the monsters had been eradicated, tensions between the people and the other groups on the island grew. The Thrivers refused to trade. Soon there was no ammunition, and when machines broke there were no replacement parts. The people of the North would no longer exchange food for medicines and nets. It wasn’t long before the first skirmish broke out and a scout returned to the Mission with a Thriver bullet in his shoulder. Ikaika may have cleansed the island of the evil the Fracture had spawned but he had made new enemies. The Kānaka could now walk the roads without worrying about Night Marchers, but we walked them alone.

The people began to worry. We had beat back the hordes only with the help of those we had turned our backs on. If the creatures grew in strength again would we be able to fight them off alone? The future seemed uncertain and dangerous, but Ikaika was given a second chance.

The colonel arrived at the mission one day flanked with a large group of Thriver soldiers. At first, the people thought they had come to attack and Kānaka warriors filled the courtyard with spear and koa axe in hand. It was then that the people saw the colonel was holding his son in his arms. The boy had been attacked by Trophy Collectors while on a scouting run and his blood was now tainted with their disease. They had tried for days to cleanse him of the poison but he continued to get worse.

Ikaka listened to Kaua’s story and stopped him before he could finish his plea. He said, “Of course we will do what we can for someone as brave as your son. Sometimes the hardest battle for warriors such as us is learning to live in peace. I made an enemy when I didn’t need to. I beg that you forgive me for my decision to turn you away. From this day forward The Mission will be open to all who need sanctuary or healing. This will be a place of peace for us all.”

And so it has been since that day. Kaua’s son was saved and teaches those interested in learning the way of the warrior near Pu’u. The descendants of the cruise ship survivors have come back and all are now welcome as the great chief promised. I spend my days telling our stories and teaching the lessons of our history, ensuring that we never forget the power of peace and cooperation.

Bruddah Lee
Kanaka Historian

John Driscol: Restored from Backup

Saraphim? No, I don’t want you to burn anything in the room, or rub anything on me. I just want the usual treatment. Saraphim….restoration? No! I come here to catch up on sleep. I don’t want anything extra. I’m an Ambassador class account holder and I don’t come to the spa to be harassed! I don’t want any Saraphim or any extra restoration why do you keep asking me if I want……. Her name is Saraphim. There was an accident. Everything is gone. This is not relaxing.

I’m still a little confused and groggy. She asks me about the last thing I remember. I tell her how I’d been using the treatments to help me fill my sleep bank. I’ve found that getting a 10-minute treatment in one of the new machines was just like getting a full night’s sleep, and I like overfilling my sleep bank whenever I have the chance. I remember the machine shaking. That was it. That was when it all ended.

She says she’s a Newuskin account specialist and she was able to save a “select group of clients who were being held in the back-up system”. She recently got this restoration point working. It’s just off Front Street and she wants me to explore downtown. She says that I’m not the first person she’s restored. That’s all I need to hear.

I died the perfect death, and this overachieving customer rep decided to ruin it. It takes me a minute to figure out where I am. So much is ruined and overgrown. She says it’s been over 60 years since the fracture, and some other stuff that I don’t pay attention to. I don’t know about the other people she brought back, but I’m not going to go poking around for her. I went my entire life never working a full-time job, and I’m not about to start after the apocalypse. I tell her I’m going to see if the Laki Beach Lodge is still standing. I need to lay down and figure out what to do.

It’s still standing alright, but like this day, it looks like a nightmare. It’s out on an island now. I can see things moving in the dark channel that surrounds it. I can hear music coming from the building, but something about it doesn’t feel right. The closer to the water I get, the worse I feel. I see an old valet stand and a call button. Saraphim says I should push it. My gut is screaming for me not to. The fact that this lady thinks it’s a good idea to push the button, lets me know that I shouldn’t. I just need someplace to sit and regroup. She says it might be dangerous for me to sit in the open. I can’t understand why she’s doing this to me. I’m going to give her managers an earful if they’re still alive.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing at first. It’s one of the public Manimal ATVs and it’s running. That alone is shocking. With all the problems they had through the years, I never would have imagined they would have survived the destruction of the world. It isn’t the ATV that stunned me, however. It’s what is around it. A group of little….things are taking it apart. I suddenly realize what must have happened. Finally, my luck may be changing. The day isn’t a total loss after all. They’re aliens! I have a plan. I run towards the little hairy things.

Since I was a kid, I always loved stories about people being put into alien zoos. There are plenty of sc-ifi stories and comic books about hapless humans being forced to live on display for the amusement of an advanced species. While they are supposed to be scary, I’ve always thought it was a dream come true. All your meals are provided, top-of-the-line health care, nobody telling you what to do, not to mention the breeding programs, it just doesn’t get any better than being put into an alien zoo. I haven’t seen anyone yet so maybe humans are rare. I think I might have a shot, so I start yelling when I get close. Things do not go as well as I would have liked.

It turns out that I know the old man. His name is Pa’ani Mahelona, he was a few grades ahead of my daughter Rachel. He explains that what I thought were aliens are something called Menehune. They take things apart and sometimes eat people. Unsurprisingly, Saraphim seems completely unconcerned that a group of armed people had to save me from being eaten alive by a group of tiny cannibal-car-strippers. She won’t stop asking questions and telling me what to do. I wish I could shut her off. All I want is a nice place to lay down for a while. I’m hopeful that is finally going to happen until he recognizes me from the Veil Sale show.

He asks if I’m John Driscol, and I say that I am. He seems really excited. He hits me with a barrage of questions: Where have you been? How did you get here? Are you injured? Are you affiliated with anyone? On and on. It’s giving me a headache. I think for a moment about jumping off and trying to find more of these Menehune. At least they’d eat me in peace, without wanting to hear my life story, or ordering me around. When he asks me about Rachel however, things change. I ask if Rachel is alive and if he knows her. Immediately the mood changes. He says that he thinks she’s still around but isn’t sure. He says she and that dancing kid Kaholo started something called the Tappers, and asks if I’d be willing to try and talk to them. I can’t understand why everyone is so quiet and why he’d ask me something like that. I tell him, “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to them, especially if it turns out that she’s still alive.”

A few of them start to whisper, and Pa’ani says we’ll talk about it when we get to Pu’u.
It’s hard to filter Saraphim’s constant talking out, but I manage. Today might be salvageable after all. With any luck, there is a comfortable chair waiting for me in Pu’u, and by the end of the night I’ll be living it up as Grandpa Tapper. Hopefully, Rachel has a nice cozy place and a soft bed for her long-lost father. I just hope she’ll hold off with the questions until morning when I fully relaxed. It’s been a rough first day back, and I’m not sure I can handle much more.

The Story of Bulai Joe: The Untrustworthy Trader

Before the fracture a person could get anything they wanted delivered to their home. My grandpa says they could even return it and get their money back if they didn’t like what they got. There were special stores that sold anything you could imagine, even things like candles and weird smelling oils. Things aren’t like that anymore. There are a few places you can go in Lahaina that have basic necessities, like clean water and clubs, but other things are hard to find. That’s why traders are so important. If you want to buy some medicine or ammunition, a trader is your best bet. Since so many count on them for important items, everyone loves honest traders and hates ones that lie. This is the story of Bulai Joe, the most untrustworthy trader who ever lived on the island.

Nobody knows what Bulai Joe did before the accident but one thing was for sure, he was a great liar. Joe could convince almost anyone of anything. Joe sold little things at first: water, canned food, colorful rocks and shells, and was very successful. People liked talking to Joe and many looked forward to a daily visit because he told such good stories. Joe’s name began to spread in the area and soon he was the busiest trader around. Even though he was popular and made a good living, Joe wasn’t happy. He didn’t like the people he sold things to, and the people in charge of his village. He wanted to make more money and he knew just how he’d do it.

He started lightening the loads of his bullets, so he could sell the extra powder. They’d still work on small game, and he figured anything larger would take care of his customers before they had a chance to complain. He’d sell used medkits as new. His scales were always a little off, and he’d steal something from a person’s house only to sell it to their neighbors later.

Joe lived his life lying and cheating people for years. It would usually take a few weeks before people could figure out what he was doing, and by that time he had moved on to a different part of the island. Joe would lay low for a while, and start the whole thing over again when he was running out of rai. Then one day he wandered into Lahaina and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

There were two big groups that hadn’t heard of him, and while the Kanaka had a lot of trade goods, it was the Thrivers that caught his eye. He couldn’t believe how much rai the Thrivers had, and how good their equipment was. He thought to himself, “They have so much that I could retire if I come up with a good plan.” Joe emptied all of his emergency caches and introduced himself to the people of Lahaina.

He sold worthless gadgets and water to the Kanaka, and gave the Thrivers a great deal on some boxes of his special ammunition, and a few crates of old guns. He told them that in addition to lots more weapons, he had two hospital size Reparre med units that he was willing to sell for the right price. The Thrivers couldn’t believe their luck. Back then, there were lots of sick people in Pu’u and two medical units that size could take care of everyone for years. The price was high, but not as costly as the people they might lose if they didn’t have the machines.

A few days later Joe made a deal with the Thrivers for the imaginary med units. The Thrivers gave him half the rai, and for security, he left behind all of his worthless goods and worries, or so he thought. News that someone was selling Reparre machines had spread beyond Lahaina. A group of bandits was watching Joe, and waiting for just the right time to grab him and the valuable machines. Joe wasn’t even out of town before the bandits grabbed him.

Joe woke up inside the bandits hideout. The leader told him how much they wanted the units and that they were willing to spare his life if he told them where he was keeping them. Joe didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have the machines, but was sure that the bandits wouldn’t believe him. He decided to draw a map to buy some time, but he knew it wouldn’t give him long. Some of the bandits took the map and left, while Joe counted how much time he had left.

A few days passed, and he knew that the bandits would be returning soon. His lies had finally caught up with him. Then he heard someone call his name. It was group of Thrivers come to rescue him. It had taken a while, but they had discovered where Joe had been taken. They told him to go to the back of his room as they put explosives on his door. Unfortunately, they brought the detonators they bought from Joe. The first one didn’t work, and neither did the second.

While the Thrivers were trying to figure out what was wrong, gunfire rang out. Most of the Thrivers were using equipment that they had bought from Joe. Their guns jammed or misfired, and the few bullets they managed to get off were unable to get through the bandit’s armor. Instead of freeing Joe, the Thrivers found themselves captives too.

It didn’t take too long before everyone figured out what had happened, especially after the bandits with Joe’s fake map came back. Joe pleaded with the bandit leader to set him free. He promised all of his inventory, and that he’d find the units he had promised the Thrivers in exchange for his freedom. But the bandits didn’t believe him. Instead of dealing with Joe themselves, they thought it was better for the people of Lahaina to pass judgement. They kept many for ransom but let a few Thrivers free to escort Joe back to town. After hearing the story, the Thrivers and Kanaka tied some of Joe’s heaviest equipment to him and threw him into the sea. The water washed Joe and his lies from Lahaina.

Telling the truth is important for everyone, but especially for traders. I don’t want to be a trader when I grow up because I think it would be boring trying to get people to buy things, but my lying cousin talks about it all the time. My grandpa says he’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t sell anything heavy.

Akamai Mahelona
5th Grade
Pu`u School Lahaina

The Night Ice Dancing Came To Lahaina

Snow may not be the first thing people think about when they think of the island, but the summit of Haleakalā does occasionally get snow, and it’s not unusual for the top of the volcano to be covered. Of course Lahaina is different. Before the fracture snow was only recorded a few times and it didn’t last long, but the accident changed a lot of things, including the weather. Some people might tell you that a little snow is nothing to worry about, but they are wrong. The people who lived through the big blizzard years ago like my grandpa know that the ice brings more dangers than just the cold. This is the story of the week long snow storm that hit the island, and the horrible night that ice dancing came to Lahaina.

There were only a handful who had actually seen snow before on the day the first few flakes fell on Front street. At first, most loved the unusual weather. Often violent and dangerous, the Veilstorms would usually send people scrambling for shelter. The snow was different. It was cold, but not deadly, at least not at first. Kids learned how to make snowballs, and for a couple days everyone had fun, but then people began to worry.

The plants started to die and lots of people didn’t have warm clothes. Many Kanaka got frostbite and the Thrivers wondered what would happen if things didn’t warm up again. Four days into the blizzard, streams began to freeze over and many began to panic. The Kanaka burned their boats and the Thrivers began crafting coats as fast as they could, and making plans on how to keep the pumps from freezing. Then the snowmen appeared and things got worse.

They were in pairs, dressed in sequined outfits, with odd looking shoes strung over their shoulders. They were in front of every compound in Lahaina that morning, and the people who discovered them didn’t know what to think. The shoes were really strange, and nobody could figure out what they were at first. Then the elders got a good look and knew immediately what they were. They were skates.

The storm was really bad that day and it was hard to see outside, but strange sounds could be heard all morning. Faint dance music was being broadcast from somewhere that mixed with the sound of the icy waves. Bells could be heard coming from the forest, and the sound of skates being sharpened carried on the wind. Terrified of what might come the Kanaka gathered in The Mission for protection, and the people of Pu’u assembled in the courthouse waiting to see what was next. The answer came later that night when many heard what they had been dreading, a rhythmic tapping on the walls of the buildings. Shots rang out and everyone was yelling and screaming, but the Thrivers and Kanaka were no match for the Tappers. They had challenged all of Lahaina to a ice-dance-off and they weren’t about to let anyone bow out.

Everyone knows that The Tappers really know how to capture and hold an audience so escape was impossible. The tinseled terrors had dammed a stream and constructed a makeshift rink. Pairs from each group were chosen to participate and showed the routine for the short dance portion of the competition. The remaining captives were bound and encouraged to watch and cheer at gunpoint.

It did not go well for the Thrivers who were quickly served and received savagely low scores by the scintillating judges. The Kanaka seemed to fair a bit better until their second couple made the fatal mistake of following the melody and phrasing instead of the beat. They were immediately disqualified and destroyed. The judges ruled that no replacement would be allowed, much to the relief of the Kanaka in the audience. The Tappers on the other hand nailed every lift, spin, and twizzle despite the soft ice and sense of dread in the air.

During the break for ice smoothing, the captives discussed their fate. It was over for them. Their best bet was the short dance. The free dance was up next and the scoring would weigh creativity most heavily. They didn’t have the costumes, choreography, cross roll, or choctaw skills to survive. Their chances of making it out of the competition alive were as thin as the edge of their skates.

However, just before the next round began the audience noticed something wonderful, a thin stream of water across the ice. It had stopped snowing hours ago and the weather was returning to normal. The Tappers were as furious as they were fabulous. The conditions were already poor, and continuing on even softer ice would interfere with the quality of their programs. There would be no more swing rolls, slide chasse’s, or icey murders for the day. Before departing, they promised to save the scores and resume the competition when the streams froze again.

Some people say that the Tapper ice dance never happened, and that it’s just a story they tell kids around the campfire, but my grandpa and his friends say it’s true, so I’m not sure. I’ve been practicing forward crossovers on the beach just in case.

Akamai Mahelona
5th Grade
Pu`u School Lahaina

Pu’u: The Home of the Thrivers

When the veil fractured everything that people counted on to live their lives was gone. Many of the roads were damaged, there was no internet or electricity, phones wouldn’t work, and there wasn’t even clean water to drink. With: earthquakes, deadly diseases spreading across the island faster than they could be treated, and extreme weather stirring up volient storms, more destructive than anything seen before, many were lost in the first few days. Many more gave up, because they hadn’t worked hard enough before the accident, and didn’t have the drive to fight all the bad things stacking up against them. But not my grandfather Pa’ani, he and a handful of others knew how to work hard, and knew that they’d have to work even harder if they were going make new lives for themselves and their families. That’s what they did when they founded Pu’u. From that day on, they were known as the Thrivers, and they made the best home that they could for the people who deserved it.

People tried to make it through that terrible first month in lots of different ways. The Kanaka turned back to many of the old ways, by honoring the land and learning what new treasures it held. The people of Tanager Lane closed their gates and nobody was allowed to come or go. The Lucky Dodge Hotel stayed open for those who were secretive, or wicked enough to get a room. Many went off to create a new world and a new way of life; some believing in the power of dance and destruction, and others focused on the drinks of the past and living a reckless life. None, however, had the determination, drive, and resources that the Thrivers did.

As soon as he made sure my grandma and my dad were ok, Pa’ani knew who he had to find. As Vice Principal of Pu’u high, my grandfather knew that he’d need the talents of everyone in his PTA golfing team. If he was going to help his family make it through this catastrophe, living the life they had grown accustomed to, he’d need the help of “The Hole-In-Nones”.

Grace Luahi had connections at the SSHAM factory and owned a number of warehouses filled with useful items, food, and drink. Chris Treadwell helped run a turbine and geothermal energy company. He had maps of well sites and plenty of equipment. Trip Alunu owned the islands biggest HVAC company and had plenty of spare solar cells too. Lastly, my grandpa had keys to every building on campus, including the vocational buildings with medical supplies, and all the extra tools and equipment they would need.

The surviving members of the golf team pulled together and worked to lessen the great burdens of life after the fracture. They had power and water running again within a week. Soon, others found their way to the school, and asked for shelter, but it was always the same. These people didn’t work hard or prepare before the accident, and they didn’t after. They would steal, and not do their assigned tasks. Even though the team tried to give them a chance, they didn’t share the same values and had nothing to give or contribute. Worse still, they let a number of Kanaka in even though the ube fever was running rampant. They gave the Kanaka water without getting anything in return. The Thrivers knew that it was only a matter of time before these outsiders would ruin everything. They needed to find more people like them.

Then someone said they knew a retired officer from the yacht club, and suggested that they try to find him. It turned out to be a great idea. Colonel Kaua had set up his mobile bunker along the beach and had taken in many influential families, but they were under constant attack by desperate people, and the horrors of the forest. The team explained that the yacht club people would be much safer on top of the hill at Pu’u, and that the mobile bunker would be just the thing to deter people looking for handouts. The colonel agreed, and over the next few days, they moved the bunker to where it still sits today, with his son guarding Pu’u and teaching the ways of war.

Along with other families like: the Pahili’s, the Hoomana’s, and the Palakiko’s, The Hole-In-Nones created a paradise within paradise by sharing values, working hard, and being smart enough to have things before the accident. They didn’t just survive, they thrived. I’m proud of what my grandpa and his friends did, and I hope that nothing like the fracture ever happens again. If we have to count on the hard work of people like my brother, we won’t make it. He can’t even pick up his toys.

Akamai Mahelona
5th Grade
Pu`u School Lahaina