Heat Wave(40)

“This is it,” Logan says.

“I’ll wade across,” I tell him.

He looks across to the woman who has reached the middle of the stream and nods. “If the stream was any higher I’d say no. You’d be surprised at the current. Especially with this wind picking up. Things change fast.”

I look at the water. It doesn’t look anything but inviting and I can see the current with my own eyes—it’s moving steadily but fairly slow, snaking past us until it meets a bunch of rocks at the end and drops down into a few more pools until it finally reaches the beach and spreads out for the ocean and pounding surf.

“I’ll take my chances,” I tell him, determined.

Nikki and Daniel hop across the rocks with ease, balancing only in the middle for a beat or two before arriving on the other side.

Logan is waiting for me.

“Go ahead,” I tell him as I undo my sneakers, taking them off along with my socks.

He grabs the sneakers and socks from me. “I’ll hang onto these.” Then he nods at the water. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I nearly roll my eyes. Nothing is going to happen. Even if I did slip on a rock under the water, I wouldn’t fall down. And even if I fell down, I wouldn’t be swept away in two feet of water.

Yet there’s some sort of reverence in Logan’s expression, so I take my time. And the rocks are slippery and hard against the soles of my feet.

But Logan is right behind me the whole way and I can feel him, tense and poised, as he follows me through the water, like he’s prepared to catch me at any moment. I hate to admit it but I kind of like the feeling, like I’m being watched over. Like someone cares.

I make it. It’s not as triumphant as when I finally got up on the surfboard, but it is a relief to know I didn’t make a fool of myself.

Once Logan comes across, walking through the water with ease, we head down toward the beach, a small stretch of sand and rock between two sheer cliffs. I can see why it’s so deadly. The waves are absolutely pounding the shore, scattering the rocks and boulders. The wind is picking up more, sending the sea spray flying.

We find a spot to sit down at the edge of the vegetation. I perch on an uncomfortable rock and bring my quinoa bars and fruit out of the backpack, letting my feet dry before I put my socks and shoes back on.

“Ten minutes, then we’re heading back,” Logan says before he downs a bunch of water. I watch his neck as he swallows until he catches me looking. I quickly avert my eyes back to the shoreline.

There’s a lot of people on the beach and since half the beach is being swallowed up by waves, it feels strangely crowded. Quite a few are down by the shore and few of them are almost swept away from a rogue wave that reached in further than anyone expected. They shriek and run away from the surf playfully, like they have no idea how close they were to being sucked out to sea.

“Holy shit,” I say. “Those people are crazy. Didn’t they see the sign?”

“Ignorance heeds no signs,” Daniel says, trying to retie his hair back into a ponytail, the wind making it difficult. “If they did, we wouldn’t have people dying here all the time. Have you heard of Queen’s Bath? Guide books won’t even post about it because of all the people who die there. People just don’t listen. They think the waves can’t be that big, the current can’t be that strong, that their swimming skills are better than the average person.”

“The other year,” Nikki says between handfuls of granola, “a family was here, just like this. Dad turned his back for a second to get out food and the kids got too close to the shore. The wave swept them out. Bless him, he swam right in the waves after them and got them.”

“They made it out?” I ask.

“Eventually,” Logan says. “They couldn’t get back to shore. See the cliff right there? Around the corner is a small cave. He shoved his kids in there. Saved their lives. Hung onto the edge of the rock walls. The rescue boats came but it took a while—it’s six miles to the nearest harbor. And there’s no signal or reception out here so someone has to run back on the trail all the way to Ke’e Beach to get help. When the boats came, it was too rough and dangerous for them. Finally, two firefighters on one of the boats decided to swim for them. Took forty-five minutes for each person to be rescued. Fucking miracle. And that wasn’t a case of being negligent. It just happened. But those folks over there,” he says, pointing at the people by the water. “Are pushing their luck.” He looks at his watch. “And we might be too. Five more minutes. I thought I heard thunder a few moments ago. Wind is picking up.”