Fifty-Four
Saturday, May 28
Kamalo Harbor, Moloka‘i
As Thomas stepped off the Aggressor onto the small pier at Kamalo Harbor, the steep green mountains of Moloka‘i looming in the background, his fishermen cousins were already there and ready to go. Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle at the name of their boat: Moke, which meant tough guy. Or perhaps better yet, it approximated the Moloka‘i version of redneck.
Kai called to him. “Aloha, blue eyes. Hurry, we are waiting on you, braddah, to go rescue Auntie.”
Thomas held a rifle case holding the Ruger Win Mag in one hand and a go-bag of supplies and extra ammunition in the other. Axel helped him offload his dive equipment, and at Thomas’s request, retrieved his sawed-off Magnum too. Then Thomas was ready to go.
It had been a long time sinc
