I heard a distant siren but knew I couldn’t stay in that building a minute longer than I had to. I managed to get Sandra over my shoulder in the fireman’s carry and struggled back across the room, picking my way carefully again. By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, though, the fire had spread considerably.
Flames crackled around the narrow staircase as I slowly moved down, trying to balance Sandra’s weight over my shoulder, praying that the fire would come no closer, that it wouldn’t collapse the treads and risers under me. It was hard to breathe without getting a lung full of smoke, and the air burned on its way down my throat.
By the time I made it to the first floor, I was ready to collapse with exhaustion. The air was a little fresher down there as the updraft forced the fire and smoke out through the roof. I paused at the foot of the stairs, leaning back against a wall, and saw Gunter dragging Robert out the back door. They both seemed to be on fire, like I was watching some kind of horror movie.
The staircase began to collapse behind me, and I knew I had to get out. I took big, heaving, running steps toward the street, chased by a wall of flame rushing toward my back. The last thing I remember is getting to the front door where Haoa waited for me, feeling that utter sense of relief that I imagine only little brothers feel, when you know a big brother is there to take over for you.
COLORED PINWHEELS
I woke up flat on my back on the street, an oxygen mask on my face and an EMT leaning over me taking my blood pressure. Somebody was pounding a jackhammer inside my head, while the shrimp I’d so gleefully dipped in cocktail sauce and swallowed only a short while earlier seemed to be rising up in revolt inside my stomach. I pulled the mask off and immediately started a coughing jag that seemed to loosen everything inside my lungs and throat.
“Don’t worry,” the EMT said, as he tried to put the oxygen mask back on me. “You swallowed a lot of smoke in there, but we’re going to get you to the hospital and by tomorrow you’ll be just fine.”
I struggled to sit up and pinwheels of colored light went off behind my eyelids. My legs and arms felt so heavy I thought they might be pinned to the pavement. “My family,” I finally croaked out. “What happened to my parents and my brothers?”
“Hey, big fella, you just lie down there.” He tried to ease me back down flat, but I wouldn’t let him. “Tell me your name.”
I told him, and he pulled out his radio and made a call. “They’ve got an Al Kanapa’aka at Queens. Smoke inhalation. They’re admitting him for observation. Any other names?”
We went through the list. I kept coughing, every time I tried to get a name out, but the EMT was remarkably patient. My brothers and their wives hadn’t been hurt. Sandra Guarino was the worst, with a concussion, burns, maybe some internal injuries. Robert and Gunter had both been admitted for observation, with burns and smoke inhalation. I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask about and it frustrated me.
Sitting up, I could see what was going on around me. The streetscape was bright with high-intensity lamps, headlights, and the last glowing embers of the fire. At least four fire trucks were present, dozens of firemen, and a phalanx of cops. Off to one side I saw TV cameras from KVOL, my brother’s station. It reminded me of the carnivals at the Hawai’i State Fair.
“Feel better now?” the EMT asked. “You want to cooperate? You ought to go to the hospital, let them check you out. Just to be safe.” He was a skinny, red-haired haole with a stethoscope hanging sideways around his neck. He had a bunch of different patches sewn onto his white tunic but I didn’t bother to read them.
“I’m a cop. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.” I stood up and swayed on my feet, jackhammer pounding, stomach churning, pinwheels dancing. I took a deep breath and for the first time smelled something other than smoke, a deep under layer of salt water and seaweed on an ocean breeze that was layered over with car exhaust, smoke and urban grime. I felt like the coughing was getting a little better.
“I can’t be responsible for you if you won’t listen to my advice,” the EMT said.
“So don’t be.” I patted myself down, just to make sure everything was there, and discovered that Haoa had returned my badge and cell phone to me while I was knocked out. I felt a cool breeze against my back and realized that my shirt must have been torn or charred at some point. But my jacket, which I’d wrapped around Sandra Guarino, was on the ground next to me, and I slipped it on. I flipped the phone open and scrolled down to Haoa’s cell number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, brah.” I started coughing again.
“Kimo? Hey, brah, where are you?”
“I’m still back here. What’s up with Dad?”
“They want to keep him overnight, run some tests. Everybody else is okay- Lui is still over by you somewhere, running his coverage, but Mom and Tatiana and Liliha are all here. Mom has been shaking down half the hospital around trying to find out what happened to you.”
“I’ve gotta stay here for a while. You guys be okay?”
“We’ll hold it together. Liliha says if you see Lui, send him home.”
“Like he’ll do anything I say,” I said, laughing and coughing at the same time. I heard Haoa laughing too. “Hey, brah.”
“Yeah?”
I didn’t know where to start. How do you thank your brother for being there for you? It’s just what brothers do. It’s what we expect of each other, what makes the love between us so fierce, and also what makes us want to rip each other’s hair out from time to time. “Thanks,” I said. “Just thanks.”
“I hear you, brah. Aloha.”
I said good night and then scanned the crowd, looking for any face I recognized. Unexpectedly, I saw Lieutenant Sampson, incongruously wearing a suit and tie. Next to him was a tall, blonde young woman I recognized from the photograph on his desk. I started walking toward him, happy to see that my legs had begun to respond again. By taking deep breaths I was able to control the churning in my stomach, and the colored pinwheels seemed to be dying away. The jackhammer I figured I’d have to live with for a while.
“I thought it would be you, Kanapa’aka,” Lieutenant Sampson said. “I was driving Kitty home and I heard the report of this blast on the scanner. I couldn’t figure out at first how one of my detectives was already on the scene even before the fire department. I had to come by and see for myself.”
He introduced his daughter. “Kitty just made the dean’s list at UH. Tonight was our celebration. She got to pick the place, so of course she chose a restaurant that made me wear a coat and tie.”
“That explains it,” I said.
“I give the guy ties every time there’s a holiday and he never wears them,” Kitty said with a smile. “I just want to know that what I do is appreciated.”
The tie in question was a Gianni Versace, with its signature icon dead center, in a red and blue stripe. I’m not a big tie guy, like the Lieutenant, but I’d have worn that one.
Sampson grinned and then turned back to me. “So tell me what happened here.”
“We had some trouble with protesters, and I was outside with them.” I gave him a quick rundown of the evening. “I gave my cell phone and my badge to my brother and told him to call it in and then I went inside.”
“So I understand,” Sampson said. “You were lucky, Kanapa’aka. You were able to get inside and get that woman, and get out in time. They could just as easily be pulling your body out of there now, as well as the Vice Mayor’s.”
“Shira? I looked around for him when I was inside but I didn’t see him.”
“Looks like he was the only fatality, so far. Which makes this a homicide case as well as a fire department investigation.”