Page 27 of Talk Story

Lei glanced at the lowering light and caught my eye. “I don’t want to have to hike out of here in the dark.”

“This won’t take long.”

We reentered the cave. I was pleased when my phone beeped and blipped as each of the cameras was activated by our motion; I turned them off again as we passed. “Sensors and cameras working!”

“Good job,” Lei said; her smile shone in my headlamp. “The thieves won’t know what hit them.”

“I sure hope the signal can reach my phone once we’re back in Ohia,” I said.

Pali led us around the bend in the wall where we hadn’t been able to see to a new area. Once around to the new area, Pali pointed his beam to the upper right corner, a section I hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t translate this area yet, because I wasn’t sure of the reading. I wanted to check it against some reference material first.”

The carvings here were different from the others. Fewer figures, more symbols—dense, precise hashmarks, dots and gouges. At the center of the composition was a sun symbol I recognized from other sites, surrounded by four ‘Iwa wings at the cardinal directions. Below it, in two careful lines, a sequence of glyphs.

“This is in a formal chant register used for prophecy and kapu declarations. I can’t give you a word-for-word translation; the language has changed, and some of the symbols are specific to this area’s dialect.” He paused, his headlamp on the stone. “The general meaning is something like . . . ‘when the ‘Iwa wings are separated from the stone, the valley will call its children home. And the children who answer will carry the land’s memory in their hands, and from that memory, the land will be made whole again.’”

‘Chicken skin’ passed over me; the cave was very quiet. Lei and I exchanged a glance.

“The ‘Iwa wings have been separated from the stone,” I said slowly. “Some of those petroglyphs were on the stolen panels.”

“It’s a prophecy.” Pali kept his voice neutral, but he was gripping his phone tightly enough that his knuckles had gone pale in the harsh headlamp. “The valley’s being robbed. This prophecy says that theft is the condition that brings the guardians back together.” He pointed at the four points of the carved compass. “Perhaps there are four of these guardians.”

“And who are they?” Lei asked. Her notebook gleamed in her hand as she scribbled notes; I peeked and saw she was copying the symbols on the wall.

“I’m not sure—but my family, the Mokus, and Uncle Kalani’s people, the Opunas, are some of them. I need Dr. Emerson to help with other names.”

“We definitely need to find him,” Lei said.

“And that archive Hannah Chang wrote about,” I said.

“That’s why I planned to stay here and look for the archive tonight,” Pali said. “I brought my backpack; I’m used to sleeping in the Valley. You two, go find Dr. Emerson.” He patted a canteen swinging from the pack he’d leaned against the wall. “Now you know why I needed a little more water.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “What if Chang comes back to get more petroglyphs?”

Pali’s teeth gleamed in a feral grin. “I’m hoping they’ll show up.” He picked the heavy pack up and swung it onto his back with ease. “I’m as at home here as I am anywhere. I’ll check in tomorrow and let you know if I find Pearl’s cache of records.”

Lei and I glanced at each other; she shrugged. “Okay. It’s your funeral.”

“I don’t like that choice of words at all,” I said. “Check in with me tomorrow, Pali, or I’ll come for you myself.”

Pali nodded, then strode off into the darkness of the lava tube, his headlamp bobbing. He soon passed out of sight.

Lei and I stood in front of the wall with the prophecy carved above us. Neither of us said anything for a long moment. Finally Lei turned toward the entrance; Tiki was already on the move in that direction, her tail aloft and waving. “Sorry I said that about . . . his funeral. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. He’s a big boy. He’ll be okay.” But my gut was churning as I followed Lei toward the distant gray glow of the outside world.

Lei and I came out from the Valley at close to seven p.m., and it was nearly dark when we got into her truck. My phone caught a signal as we cleared the ridgeline, and notifications arrived in a cluster: one from Keone, one from Officer Peahi.

I checked Peahi’s first. “Emersonʻs truck confirmed at library lot since Tuesday PM. No sign of owner. Officially opened missing person case.”

Then Keone: “Got your message. You’re in trouble, Trouble. I wanted in on that!” But he’d added a kiss emoji; maybe we were okay.

I was still on my phone when Lei said quietly, “There’s someone waiting for us at the junction to the road.”

I glanced up. A figure was standing, hands in pockets, semi-blocking the turn onto the main road; in her late thirties, approximately five-foot-five, slim build, mixed-race. The woman wore name-brand ripstop hiking apparel and was watching our approach with close attention.

Lei pulled the truck up beside her and rolled down her window. “Yes?”

“Ms. Smith?” The woman gazed past Lei at me; she already knew who I was.