Holy s**t, yes, the lava was very close to the last house on the road, the last one still standing, untouched. Against my will, I was very aware of the man next to me, and I didn’t know if I was talking directly to him or to his audience when I described the hellish scene. There was a woman jumping and waving her arms on the driveway, with the wall of red, flowing lava coming slowly toward the garage. She kept looking over her shoulder and pointing to the front of the house. The circular driveway was still smooth and flat. I lit it up, and we set down. And I knew where I was, whose house it was, and who was trapped within.
It was Tutu Angelica, a former nun who had come to Hawaii several decades ago after leaving her holy order for a man, a man who then disappeared. She was an Auntie in t
