Ke Kala o ke Manaolana (or, The Color of Hope)

Dystopian Fiction by Thomas Iannucci

Green was good. That much, she remembered.

Green was good, because green was warm. Green was…home?

Green was home.

And home was…good.

She was pretty sure that home was good. It was hard to remember, but as she staggered along, leg throbbing in pain, she tried her best to remember anyway.

Green was home was good.

She shivered.

Shivered because she was cold. Cold because there was too much white. White was bad. White was death.

White was…

***

“Snow.” The memory came, unbidden, into her head, clear and vivid. “Look, Kai. Snow!” That’s what he’d called it. Snow. The first time it had snowed here, in this place where it had never snowed, the man was excited. He picked up the white, powdery death and tossed it at her. Back then, the sharp sting of the cold was refreshing, not terrifying. “I can’t believe it! It’s snowing in Hawaii!”

***

He couldn’t believe it then, and he couldn’t believe it when the snow kept coming. And coming. And coming. Falling from the sky, nonstop, every day. Endless. Cold. Uncaring. Relentless.

Something wet trickled down her cheek. She brushed it away, gritting her teeth.

White was bad because white was snow and snow was death.

Death was why she was alone. Death was why she had to keep going.

One step at a time. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The frost crackled under her feet, which were numb even underneath her layers of socks and her thick boots. The boots seemed to be holding up okay, but it was hard to tell, because the sky was changing color.

Grey. Grey was bad because grey was dark. Dark was hard to see in. And dark was cold, too.

Cold was bad. White was cold. And white was death.

Another memory flitted through her mind like one the few remaining birds in the trees that surrounded her.

***

He was white. Not like the snow, but white he was, and nearly as cold. Even his lips, cracked and dry, were pale. All of him was white, except for the blossom of red in the middle of his chest. She tried to wrap him up in one of their few remaining blankets, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t even shivering anymore. He was still, and quiet, and white and cold, just like outside.

She wanted to stay, wanted to weep for him, but she couldn’t.

Couldn’t because they were close behind. And they were coming.

But where could she go?

***

“Home.” Her voice was weak from lack of use, softer than the white snow that fell from the sky each morning. Still, she needed to remind herself. “Home is…”

Home was where she was going now. Home was warm. And home was…

Where was home?

“Past the dead car. Out of the forest. At the bottom of the big hill.” She could hear him saying it in her mind’s eye. “Past the dead car. Out of the forest. At the bottom of the big hill.”

She repeated it to herself like a prayer. Because it was.

She had past the dead car miles ago. Or it felt like miles. She wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure about much anymore. But that was okay, as long as she could keep walking. But could she keep walking? She didn’t know. Her legs, though freezing, burned and ached. The bandage she’d tied around the nasty wound she’d received when they had last caught up to her was still red. She’d stumbled down a snowbank and she’d lost them, or maybe they’d lost her, but not for long. They could never lose each other for long.

She peered down at the bandage. It was red, definitely red. What was red? Was red bad? She couldn’t tell. The more red she saw on her bandage, the weaker she felt. And weak was bad. Weak meant no more walking. And red was the color that killed him…

But red was also the color of her coat, and her coat was warm, was the only thing keeping her warm right now. And warm was good. Warm was life.

So red was…both? She shook her head. Too much thinking. Less thinking, more walking. They were walking – running even. Maybe.

She coughed, and her hot breath felt good as it warmed up her lips and the thin, stringy scarf that covered them. It was wispy and weak, made for fashion, not for warmth, but he had given it to her, and it was all she had left of him. She fumbled with it, the leather gloves she wore limiting her dexterity, but she managed to pull the scarf a little tighter. On she trudged, leg aching, a lone spot of color against the sea of white.

Before her was a hill. A big one. The one. Maybe. But strain her eyes though she might, there was no green. There was no home here, even though she was at the bottom.

Wrong. This was all wrong. The hill was here, but the home wasn’t. There was no green. No green meant no warmth. No safety.

Suddenly, her leg gave out. Knee buckling, she stumbled, collapsing face first into the snow. It took her a moment to even register that her leg was no longer obeying her commands. She tried to stagger to her feet, then fell again. This was bad. She knew this because she’d seen it before. Walking was hope. Falling was giving up. Giving up was weakness. Weakness was death. That much, she knew for certain.

***

They had been so close when he’d collapsed. So close to where they thought needed to go. But he had always been sweet, and soft, and weak, and the cold was no place for people like him. The first time he’d stumbled, she’d helped him up, helped him keep going. But the second time, he could move no longer. She’d had to drag him.

“Just go,” he’d told her, but she didn’t listen. At the time, she was still strong, strong enough to pull him to safety. But it was no good. The place had been ransacked, stripped of anything valuable. It was all for nothing.

“I won’t leave you,” she’d said. “Come on. Hele mai.”

“I’m sorry, Kai.” He coughed, then shivered violently. He’d still had enough strength to shiver, then. “I’m so sorry.” Another hacking cough. “They’re getting desperate. Kalani knows they can’t live out here forever. It’s too cold. And now that he’s with the Eaters, he won’t hesitate…” He winced.

“’A’ole. We can stay here,” she said. “We’ll make it work.”

“There’s nothing left here,” he replied. “Not even a fireplace. And even if they give up on chasing you, he’ll just turn back for the others. You can’t let him get there first. You have to warn the others that Kalani’s gone snowmad. It’s the only way they’ll stand a chance.” Gripping her arm, a small bit of strength filled his eyes as he looked at her. “It’s the only way.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Helloooooo?” called out a voice, full of jovial menace. “Anybody home? Let me in, please. This is the only time I’ll ask nicely.”

“Kalani,” she breathed, looking frantically at the door, then back at her friend. “What do I do, James?”

“Holo aku ʻē,” he said. Run.

***

She took a breath, and then another. Now, it was all very simple. If she stayed here, she would die. Staying out here, alone in the white, was death. She would die, like he did, if she was weak, like he was. But she could not afford to be weak; she had nobody left to carry her.

Legs creaking, she stood. Caught her breath. Took a step, and felt her knee buckle again. Teeth gritted in anger and fury and desperation, she forced herself back up again. It would not be easy. It was up hill. But she would do it. Do it for him. She had to.

And so she did.

White is bad, she told herself. White is death. Get away from the white. Find the green. Green is warm. Green is home.

Green is home.

Crunch.

Find the green.

Crunch.

The white crackled under her feet, under her determination, which blazed a furious red. The red gave her strength, so she latched onto it.

She nearly laughed, but she didn’t have the strength. Maybe red was good, after all.

Red battled white and the darkening grey in pursuit of green. A clash of color, a clash of wills. Still, she trudged onwards. Up the hill. One step at a time. In the distance, she heard mechanical thunder; the once-familiar sound of a vehicle rumbling ever closer in her direction. Maybe the dead car wasn’t as dead as she’d thought. If that was the case, it meant Kalani was nearby. Only he knew how to fix these things; there weren’t many with his knowledge left after the government came recruiting. Realizing she had little time left before he was upon her, she willed herself onward.

After an eternity, or perhaps five minutes, she made it to the top of the hill. When she looked over, she saw…nothing. It was too dark, now. It was too dark, and the white was taking her vision. Snowblind. It happened, sometimes, where you were out here too long. There was something about this snow that wasn’t right, wasn’t natural, but that didn’t matter anymore. It was over. A wave of exhaustion hit her. She had hoped…but no. She’d failed. It was too late. It was too dark, she was lost, and she didn’t have the strength to go on. Hot, angry tears, clear in color but red in spirit, burned down her cheeks. She staggered forward, then slipped and fell. Tumbling, jumbled up, crashing into the white again and again, she rolled down the hill, until she finally slammed into something hard and unyielding with a loud thud.

Her ears rang and her head spun. It was over. She would die out here. The white continued to fall on the sky, down onto her, caring not at all for her struggle. Soon she too would be white, and then she would be dead.

It was over.

***

“You can’t run, Kai.” Kalani’s voice echoed through the snowy forest, calm and soothing. “Why bother? Just tell me where they hid their food. Then you can scurry on home. I know Malia had to stash it somewhere. It wasn’t at the cabin. Were you trying to throw us off the trail?”

She said nothing, partly because she was overwhelmed with fear – Kalani would not hesitate to kill her, kill her like he killed him – and partly because she knew the truth: there was no food. It was all gone.

“Come on, Kai,” he said. “Don’t be selfish; there’s enough for everyone to share. You don’t wanna hog it all for yourself, right? Because I’m hungry. So, so hungry.” He fired a shot into the air, startling her, but she didn’t jump. Frustrated, he kicked a rock, sending it whizzing past her head. “I’m tired of being hungry, Kai. I’m so hungry, I could eat you.” He laughed.

She couldn’t speak. She wouldn’t. Noise was her enemy, and so was he. So she stayed silent, eating her fear, weeping tears of pain, each droplet a stifled scream of impotent fury shrieking down her unwashed face.

“I know you’re alone, now,” he said. “I saw his body. Did he cry before he died? He seems like the kind of guy who would. He was weak. He wasn’t a survivor. He wasn’t like you and me. If anything, he was selfish, clinging onto life for so long, wasting our valuable resources. I did us all a favor, killing him. He deserved –”

Unable to hold it in any longer, she leapt upon him. She could tell she’d caught him by surprise, because, for once, he had been stunned into silence. Not her, though. She was screaming as she struck him over the head with a rock, screaming as she clawed his face, screaming as she took off running, screaming outside the way she’d been screaming inside for so very long. She took off like the deer that lived this far up the mountains. It was not fast enough.

She heard laughter echoing behind her. “You stupid girl,” Kalani sang as he cocked the shotgun. It was a strange sort of singing, full of anger. “Don’t be an idiot, Kai. You know you can’t run away from me forever.”

The quiet of the forest was shattered by the rifle, and then her leg ignited in pain, and then she fell, and she rolled, and rolled, and rolled down the snowbank.

***

Falling and rolling, rolling and falling. Was she still falling? Her head was spinning, just like before. No doubt Kalani would find her again, and this time, she no longer had the strength to run. It was over, all over. There were no colors anymore, only shadows. She had failed. She closed her eyes as she prepared to meet her end.

There was a sound from above her. She could barely make it out. Was it Kalani, coming to take her home at last? She fought back the urge to cower; she would not show weakness, even now.

Something creaked open. There was a shuffling noise, and then footsteps.

“Hello?” a voice called out. “Hello? Is someone out there?”

She opened her eyes. She was still surrounded by white and dark – but like a knife, an orangish-yellow cut through them, a sliver of light giving her grasping eyes something to latch onto. A figure stood at the top of…stairs? Were they stairs? She shuffled around, trying to stand.

“Who’s there?” demanded a gruff voice. There was a familiar sound, the click-clacking of a rifle, and then another. Kai tried to speak, but she couldn’t.

“Hoi, try wait!” exclaimed a second voice. “Oh my God, Zyrus! Someone’s really out there – it looks like a young girl! Is – is that you, Kai?” The second figure turned to the first. “Quick, let’s get her in here!”

Footsteps, quick and heavy. Two pairs of strong arms wrapped around her. And then she was flying, carried in the air. The arms smelled of smoke, but pleasantly so. They were warm, too. So warm.

“It’s okay, Kai, you’re okay. We got you,” cooed the second voice, which sounded feminine and familiar. “You’re okay. You’re home.”

Home.

At that, Kai’s eyes snapped open. As they carried into her house, she made out the color of the building, dimly lit as it was by the light from inside.

“Green,” she said, and then she smiled.

---

Bio: Thomas Iannucci is a writer, poet, and musician from Hawaii of Italian/Filipino descent. He has been published in places like Bamboo Ridge, Takahē Magazine, and The ‘Ulu Review. You can keep up with him and his writing on instagram @thomasiannucci or on twitter @thomasiannucci_

Read more Dystopian Fiction on The Yard: Crime Blog.

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