Free Ocean: The Awakening by Brian Herbert, Jan Herbert

“I’ve seen them gather around you, and follow you.” Jiddy did not know much more than that, and did not know about Kimo’s physical advantage of being able to breath underwater, or any of the other unusual physical attributes he had.
    “But I don’t know why they did what they did at Olamai.”
    “Some people think you and I are completely mad, you know,” Jiddy said. “You in one way, and me in another.”
    “Perhaps we are the most sane people in the islands. I like to think that is so.”
    “But our sanity is supported by the pillars of our own perception, with our minds filtering out things that do not support our particular worldviews.” The man nodded. “As you know, I have a great deal of time to consider such matters.”
    “I have my own diversions.” Kimo gazed longingly toward the sea, where he saw the fins and heads of sharks, schools of reef fish, and green turtles, evidence that his aquatic friends were waiting for him out there.
    “So I see.” Jiddy nodded toward the marine animals gathering in the water. “They always seem to know where you are, don’t they?”
    “Yes, they do.” Somehow they sensed where he was, even when he was on land, and now they were gathering at the nearest place to him in the water. It had always been that way for Kimo, but he wished he knew what was the matter with them now. He could see them churning and circling in the water, trying to get his attention more than usual. When added to the strange behavior at Olamai and the other disturbing local events, he felt that something was very, very wrong around here.
    For several minutes the pair sat silently, listening to the chirping of birds in the trees, and the rustling of branches and leaves in gusts of wind.
    Finally, Jiddy asked, “Shall we pray for your father?”
    “That is why I came to see you, my good friend.”
    Reaching over, the Middle Eastern man took Kimo’s hands in his own large, calloused hands, as if sheltering the younger man and his family with his holiness. And, although Jidhat Rahim referred to himself as a Christian minister and believed in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, he was tolerant of other faiths and belief systems, and knew that Kimo preferred to worship the Polynesian gods of his own ancestry.
    “To the gods of the sky and all things of nature,” Jiddy said, “we pray for our beloved Tiny Pohaku. Please ease his pain and comfort his family.”
    After several moments of silence, Jiddy added a Christian prayer, in which he called upon the name of Jesus, and then fell silent.
    Kimo didn’t mind the additional appeal. If his friend was more in touch with the Christian God than with any other, perhaps he could summon up more power from that source. Kimo could only hope.
    With his eyes misting over, he looked gratefully at Jiddy, then withdrew and made his way down to the red-sand beach, and waded into the water.
    ***

Chapter 11
    Gwyneth McDevitt wanted to escape from Chelsea Hospital, this asylum, in the worst way. She was always looking for opportunities, and frequently ran through possibilities in her hyperactive brain, ways to free her body of these institutional shackles. So far she did not see any way out, but vowed to keep trying.
    In a very real sense she was not a prisoner at all, not as long as she could access the wondrous realm inside her mind. If that avenue ever became blocked, she didn’t know what she would do. This meant, of course, that she was fully embracing the autism that others said was a disability. She heard the doctors and nurses talking about her all the time, apparently not knowing, or not concerned, that they were within her earshot. Maybe they didn’t think she could understand or focus on their medical terminology, but if so, they were wrong.
    Before arriving at the hospital, she’d spoken often to her family and to others, and with patience most of them had been able understand her, despite her social awkwardness. Now, since her attempt to swim out to