Quaranteam - 808 State Ch. 01

"Will they recover?"

"..."

"Oh, God! What am I going to do?!"

"Talk to your husband. Hug your little girl. Hold onto the family you have left, and pray that you all make it through."

"What are you -- oh. That's not -- we're not -- she's... They're not mine -- I'm... I'm alone. Mom and Dad were all I had left. My boyfriend stopped answering calls and texts a couple of weeks ago. Tūtū and Puna died right after lockdown began -- we weren't even able to have a memorial luʻau. Uncle Jerry's boys all died two days apart, and he started complaining about having trouble breathing about a month ago -- Dad said he went to Hilo Medical, and we haven't heard anything since."

"Aw, shit, miss. I'm sorry, I thought they were with you." The man pulled out a ruggedized tablet and tapped on the screen. "What was your boyfriend's full name? And your uncle?"

"Kaleo Kamalei Wilkerson. Jeremiah Kalekini Kopua. Are you able to check their status from here?"

"Not exactly. We do have a regularly updated list of "need to notify" deceaseds, people where we haven't been able to reach a listed next-of-kin -- so if we come across someone who is looking for someone, we're able to possibly give them some closure. If I find them on this list, do you really want to know?"

"The fact that you're asking me that question... I already knew I was right."

"I'm really sorry, Miss Kopua -- hold on. Yes, the entry-way is clear. You may proceed with the extraction. Your parents will be brought out now. There is a viewing pane, and you will be allowed to look, but please don't touch the bio-containment units. Sir, as Miss Kopua has told me that you aren't family, I'm asking you to depart. Please return to your home and do a better job of observing the recommended lockdown for your and your daughter's safety."

"No, wait. I need to talk to him still. Mr. Pilchard, could you please wait for a few minutes while I say goodbye to my parents?"

"Of course, Evelyn, take as long as you need. Kat and I will wait in the car. You and your folks are in our thoughts." Mal opened the rear door and Callie hopped right in, followed by Kat.

Mal watched from his car as the large, sausage-shaped, pressurized containment units were wheeled out of the ranch house and maneuvered carefully down the steps.

Evelyn looked into the first one, and Mal saw her shoulders shake as her head bowed. He could hear her -- not well, but it was so quiet, and the wind so still that her words were as if she'd been speaking quietly next to him. "Mom, I'm sorry for being a shitty daughter -- I should have hung out with you more and stuck with hula like you wanted. I love you, and please, please get better!"

The hazmat-suited handlers moved on, taking the containment unit with Mrs. Kopua to a waiting ambulance, and Evelyn looked into the second tube. "Dad, WTF. How am I supposed to run the ranch by myself, old man? I need you to tell me what forage to plant when and where. And to help keep Parker or VanderSloot from eating us up -- they aren't going to respect me, and we'll just become another one of their subsidiaries or maybe just a pasture. Damn it, old man, you're so stubborn, you gotta get better. I'll do my best, but I ain't you." Evelyn staggered back a step, overcome with emotion, then motioned to the handlers.

As the tube with her father headed toward the second ambulance, Evelyn wiped her eyes, and then began to walk over to Mal's car. He rolled the windows on the side nearest her up and got out, facing her across the vehicle.

"Evelyn, I'm so sorry. I wish I'd come up to check on your dad a few days ago."

"Not your fault. This fucking virus is destroying everyone and everything. Thank you for what you did -- you came to check on them. And you stuck around to help me, even though I was an ass to you. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Pilchard. Can I ask a favor? I might need some help with the cows again. They'll be fine for a few days, but I need to get them to their next grazing pasture, about 12 miles on the other side of the ranch, and that's going to take a few people. I'm going to see if I can get a couple of my AgSci classmates to come up and help, but it would really make me feel better if there was another person focused on closing the gates as we clear them -- you could drive the hauler again, so Kat could come with you. With your situation at home, I guess you aren't able to leave her behind."

Mal nodded to the young woman, fished a business card from his wallet and slid it to her across the roof of the car. "Let me know when you need me. You probably won't be able to call me -- our cell service has never been very good, and lately, it's non-existent, but email still works, and I check it several times a day. Tell me the day before what time you want me to show up, and Kat and I will be back here to help."

Evelyn took the card and looked at it before slipping it into the pocket of her shirt. She then crouched down and tapped on the glass to get Katherine's attention. She waved at the little girl, gave her a thumbs up, and then placed her knuckles against the glass. Kat beamed, and put her little fist against the inner glass. The two girls pulled their fists away, and Kat opened hers, wiggling her fingers as she went "Blu-du-lu-du-du-la!" Evelyn stood up and shot a quizzical glance at Mal.

"Big Hero 6. Baymax. Disney movie. She loves the fist bump explosion that he does, because it's so silly."

"Ah. I haven't seen that one. Thank you again, Mr. Pilchard. I'll get things set up with my classmates, and then send you an email."

"Mal. Truth be told, I know I said you could call me Mr. Pilchard, but I hate how stodgy that sounds. Please call me Mal."

"Okay. Mal. Thank you. See you in a few days."

The following day, while perusing the news articles about the elevation of Speaker Pelosi to the Presidency under the 25th Amendment, Mal received an email from Evelyn, asking if he would be available to help with the cattle drive (or as Mal explained it to Kat, the 'cow move') the day after next. Evelyn had reportedly secured help from two of her classmates, and the three of them would drive the cows from pasture to pasture on ATVs, while Mal and Katherine came along behind in the enclosed tractor and closed the gates. After confirming that his calendar for the 10th hadn't suddenly, inexplicably manifested an appointment, Mal responded that he could be there by 7:30 am, once he'd gotten Kat up and fed.

-=#=-

Glossary of non-English words:

keiki -- Child (lit. "little one").

ʻōhiʻa -- Commonly used name for "ʻōhiʻa lehua", a native tree. The state tree of Hawaiʻi. Very pretty.

luʻau -- You might recognize it without the ʻokina - luau. They aren't just demonstration celebrations for tourists. We might have luʻau for birthdays, graduations, weddings, funerals, special events, or "just cause". The last one is kinda rare, cause a luʻau is a LOT of work.

haole -- White person (technically, "foreigner", but these days only used to refer to white people). Depending on the speaker, the tone, and a whole bunch of other factors, can be derogative (ranging from mildly to profoundly), or just an adjective. But if you ain't one local haole (i.e., born and raised in the islands), and someone refers to you as "one haole", there's a good chance it's the former.

pilikia -- Trouble.

lōlō makuakāne -- Crazy (stupid) father (old man). This is actually a mix of Pidgin and ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, although all the words are Hawaiian. "Lōlō" translates as "brain" but in Pidgin it's used to mean crazy or stupid. And "makuakāne" is "father". But you wouldn't say that to or about someone else's dad.

kuleana -- A VERY important word in Hawai'i. Kuleana is a responsibility or an obligation, and not really a short-term one. All of us from Hawaiʻi have kuleana to mālama ʻāina -- a responsibility to care for and protect the land. When I was a keiki, my kūpuna taught me that kuleana was an obligation that we gratefully accepted. I don't think that everyone feels that way or was taught that, cause a lot of people say "not my kuleana," kind of dismissively when they're just trying to avoid doing something, but if something truly isn't your kuleana, it's cause you aren't worthy of it, and you should maybe be DISAPPOINTED about that.

mālama ʻāina -- Care for and protect the land.

kūpuna -- Grandparent or other respected elder.

kolohe -- Troublemaker, rascal, naughty.

Tūtū & Puna -- Grandma and Grandpa (Special case for Puna, it's a colloquial shortening of kūpuna. Not sure how common it is in other people's ʻohanas.)

ʻohana -- What? You never saw "Lilo & Stitch"? ʻOhana means family. A really important word and concept in the 808.

hula -- Seriously? Hula is hula. If you REALLY don't know, it's the traditional dance of the Hawaiian Islands. There are different names for the different types, depending on if it's traditional or modern. But I think you were just messing with me -- you knew that all along, yeah?

Pau -- for now.