Free Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' by Robert Vaughan

listened for a
moment and then replied, “No, no he not bleedin' or nothin'. I
think he just got like a concussion or somethin’. Anyway, you wanna
let Doc Onagawa know I on my way wit' him so I don' waste no mo'
time today? Mahalo, bro, see you in about twenty, Aloha!”
    Buddy clicked the mic back onto
its holder and reached above his head to a document pouch that
bulged nearly to bursting with what looked like literally hundreds of music CD’s.
Rummaging casually through them with one hand as the other rested
lazily on the wheel, he selected one almost at random and slid it
into a nearly invisible slot above the instrument rack. As the
plane bounced noisily above the pastoral landscape, Buddy tapped a
key, and the lilting strains of ‘E Ala E’, a traditional Hawaiian
ballad, drifted softly from the speakers, a gentle serenade to the
passing scenery below.
     
    Chris awoke in the darkness of the
cargo hold, the dull throbbing hum of the engines and a warm tenor
voice greeting his return to consciousness. As his blurry vision
cleared, his eyes suddenly focused on the other living occupant of the plane’s
cargo hold. It was an enormous, furry brown spider , its tiny eyes glittering in
the semi-darkness, slowly crawling towards him on a stalk of gently
swinging bananas.
    In stumbling panic at this frightening sight, Chris
reeled and scrambled backward as he sputtered, “What the f-! Oh-
my- God...! Ohhh SHIT!” and tumbled backward onto the flight deck,
his elbow striking the throttles in the center of the console and
knocking them askew as he toppled awkwardly into the co-pilot’s
chair, crashing into the control yoke and pinning it into the dash.
The engines roared and the plane dove sharply and tilted to one
side as Buddy exclaimed, “What da hell?!” and scrambled to regain
control as Chris flailed helplessly beside him. Now thoroughly
awake, a mask of confusion crossed his face as Chris patted his
head and his hand encountered the cold, hard plastic of the helmet,
and then creased further in puzzlement as he looked through the
face-guard and saw the shoulder-pads.
    Buddy guffawed and righted the plane as he casually
addressed his accidental co-pilot, only adding to Chris’
bewilderment at awakening in this alien environment, “Hey! You
awake! Welcome back, bro!”
    Chris could only sputter a reply as he pointed to
the sight of the giant spider still framed in the cockpit opening.
“There- there- there- there's a- a- A-!”
    Buddy inquired lazily, “C'mon, bro, spit it out-
There's a...?”
    “ A spider!!!”
    Buddy raised a sardonic eyebrow
and queried casually, “A really big , fat brown one...?”
    “ Yes!”
    Buddy waved a hand in dismissal and laughed. “Oh,
don't worry about him, that's jus' Arnold,” he said, pronouncing it
‘Ah-nuhld’, as in Schwartzenegger, and continued, “He prob'ly jus'
curious. He ain't nevah' seen no Haole before.”
    Chris struggled to remove the
helmet, the effort clearly painful on his bruised and tender skull,
and asked with a note of temerity, “What? Ow! You have a pet spider
named Arnold ...?”
    Buddy replied, matter-of-fact, “Yeah. He's in charge
of pest control.”
    Chris squeaked, “He's what -? Oh- my-
God.”
    Chris struggled out of the shoulder pads, which to
Buddy’s silent amusement was like watching a neophyte illusionist
trying to remove a straightjacket. Finally casting the pads aside,
Chris checked out his new surroundings as he turned and settled
into the co-pilot’s chair.
    The flight deck of the antique aircraft was
festooned with a myriad of knobs and cranks, toggles and switches,
all of which were stuffed and strewn with what looked like a
veritable family album of photographs. Glancing out the window with
a perplexed shake of the head, Chris turned back to Buddy. “Man,
it's like travelling back in time... exactly what am I flying
in?”
    Buddy responded proudly, “Bruddah, you on a Lockheed
Electra 12-A, only one of its kind on