Popi
Lighting a cigarette, Popi paces the room.
“You know what I think? He shouts callously. “I think the prophecy is bullshit! Some fairy tale they made up just to give us false hope; to wish for change that will never come! We’ve checked everywhere, every single birth record since ‘49 and there hasn’t been one single birth that’s matched any of the descriptions we’ve been looking for!”
“Popi,” His father responds with a tranquil voice, “I know things haven’t been easy, but our ancestors have never lied. We will find her soon, it’s been written for centuries by many sources, not just ours. Son I know you’re irritated, but I need you to go check out the city tonight. Find her and bring her here, out of harms way.”
“Fine.” Popi sighs, “I hope you’re right.” He knew better than to argue with his father, he was the High Priest, after all, and held their caste community together. Besides, he had never been wrong before.
They had lived in Oahu before the tragedy, for the first six years of his life. Then they packed up and moved to New Honolulu. It happened a week before his sixth birthday, his father came home after sermon from the church he had pastured at for 16 years. He shouted a lot about something he’d decoded in the scriptures, packed up everything, said the whole chain of islands was about to be destroyed, and everything left on it would perish. He tried to evacuate everyone he could get to listen, but few did and instead whispered that he had gone crazy. Only his family and a few of his dads close friends and church members escaped. They sailed to California the next day. Six days later, their home was engulfed beneath the flow of lava.
Life in New Honolulu isn’t much different than the rest of the world these days. Stores are run from 9-10, and the kids hang out at the local arcade after school. Houses line the streets and cars pass through regularly. The difference is that all the cars are theirs, no outsiders are aware that the district even exists, and for good reasons. It has become a haven for those who are aware of the prophecy and those who don’t fit into societies unflawed image. But even the haven has its rejects, like the High Priests son, who’s usually only ever seen at the tavern, playing pool.
“Yo! Popi wait up!” His best friend Joe calls eagerly, running up to him.
“What? I gotta get ready to go man, what’s so important?”
“Huh?” Joe pants, trying to catch a gulp of air. “Oh, your dad asked me to go with you tonight, just in case you know?” He pauses for a moment, seeing the peeved look on the face of his best friend, he’d been like a brother to him ever since he’d moved there and he hated to see him in a bad mood, although it was his most common one.
“Yeah. Just let me go home and get ready. I’ll meet you back here in 15.” Popi stops and agrees, then again walks off kicking the dirt.
Popi felt he could handle the situation by himself, but understood why his father wanted Joe to go with him. At 6’3 245 lbs. Joe was no weakling. His father had been a boxer, before he was killed in the war. He followed closely in his fathers’ footprints.
Most people were intimidated when they first saw the tall muscle-bound black man stride up to them, but as soon as they spoke with him the opposite feeling always took place. Joe had always been the class clown, and his real joy in life was making people laugh.
Unlike his best friend Joe, who next to constantly has a grin on his face, Popi would rather have been left alone and isn’t easily broken of his icy demeanor. Not to say that Popi couldn’t handle his own. He is almost six feet tall himself, his medium built body defining itself with enough muscles to let the world know he is not to be played with. His jet-black hair, striking bottle green eyes, and tan island skin have always made him a magnet for the girls in his town.
“Ready?” Popi asks Joe, hitting unlock on his keyless car remote back at the bar. “Where are we going first anyways?”
“Let’s go to the Aeroplane. It’s their 20th anniversary, all week long free drinks, you can’t beat that.” Joe grins.
“Ok then, let’s roll. Seems like a good place to start.” He shrugs. “But we’re taking my car.”
Joe nods and climbs into the passenger seat of Popis’ 2055 Ford Galaxia. They both look at each other for a moment, wondering what their fortunes will hold.
Chapter I ->
Back to Index
