Prologue
The clouds hung full, bunched like ripe grapes in the sky. The air was stagnant, the humidity high, and the smell of approaching rain unmistakable. These were the precursors of Tropical Storm Beatrice, which was disrupting the normal currents and trade winds.
For two days the humidity had been building until it was now unbearable. Even with all the windows open, no member of the O’Rourke family was able to sleep soundly. Mary found it especially hard, since she was pregnant with her fourth child and it was due at any time.
Another day dawned, and even though the clouds appeared thicker on this morning as they blocked the sun, there was no relief—the temperature in the 80s before noon and a humidity near 100 percent.
At 1:40 p.m. both waters broke and chaos started. Beatrice lashed the island with intense rains while Mary prepared for the new birth.
The family was startled three hours later by a bolt of lightning that fried the landscape just outside their ranch-style home. A long rumble and a crash of thunder followed to drown out the woman’s cries of pain.
Beatrice continued to pummel the island. Howling winds created horizontal sheets of rain. Eerily, thunder and lightning would arrive just in time to announce another contraction and obscure Mary’s latest wail. On it went, an opera playing
out over many hours, Beatrice roaring across the island in a rhythm reminiscent of Wagner’s Ring cycle. Finally, it was over, and a different cry filled the room. At 10:35 p.m., as John O'Rourke held his new son, the skies cleared to reveal the constellation Capricorn rising on the horizon.
out over many hours, Beatrice roaring across the island in a rhythm reminiscent of Wagner’s Ring cycle. Finally, it was over, and a different cry filled the room. At 10:35 p.m., as John O'Rourke held his new son, the skies cleared to reveal the constellation Capricorn rising on the horizon.
The child was named Beetle Makena Bailey O’Rourke, born August 4, 1953, on the island of Maui, Hawaii, on the north slope of Haleakala Mountain, in an area later known as Paia.
Chapter 1
June 14, 1957, began with an atmospheric cover that obscured any light from the sky. Dressed all in black, and with grease on his face, an intruder watched the headquarters of Fortunes United Building America’s Resources, acronym FUBAR, from his hiding place in the trees. He saw the lights go out. Then he observed personnel leaving The Organization’s building. He waited. At 3 a.m., he observed a guard walk from the headquarters to sweep the grounds. He knew from previous surveillance that there were two guards, and the other was likely still inside in the control room.
In the northeast corner of the premises, a dart felled the first guard at 3:07 a.m. The second guard came out to check on his partner and was knocked out at 3:27, less than two feet from where the first guard lay. The intruder entered the building. Wherever he went, he upturned bookshelves and kicked over wastebaskets.
In the secretary’s room next to the boardroom he found copious notes, many handwritten from industry and government leaders, detailing changes that would be coming during the next six months. It riled him that these men were circumventing the will of the people to line their own pockets. He knew very well the work of The Organization and its elites, and how they subverted people and the legitimacy and sovereignty of the government. In disgust, he scattered the papers.
On one wall he noticed a large map of the world stuck with pins of many colors. Areas of known conflict were identified by yellow pins. He perused the map and made a mental note of the orange and red pins and their locations. He recognized the orange pins as denoting locations of “natural” disasters. The few red ones had no immediate significance for him, but he noted that one red pin was placed in Peru, another in Italy, a third in Greece, a fourth in Egypt, and a fifth in London.
He entered the personnel offices, picked the file cabinet’s lock, and with the aid of his flashlight located six hanging files. After securing these in the backpack he was wearing, he slammed the cabinet door shut. This would be a meticulously studied crime scene. No need to draw attention to one file cabinet, so he tossed the rest of the office before he set off. In the computer room, he lit a match and threw it onto the punch cards before leaving the building. It was 3:37 a.m.. He smiled. Ten minutes, no more, no less.
Returning to his perch, he watched quietly as the sedative wore off and the guards revived. The guards awoke in time to see flames inside the building and fire trucks approaching. An hour later, the intruder left.
The next morning, the intruder placed the files in a safe deposit box.
Chapter 2
Beetle began to put his puzzlement into words. “What’s going on?” he wondered aloud. “Why can I see colors that show me how people are feeling? Where is this coming from? What does it mean?”
His family was leaving Green’s Grocer where his mother had bought food
and other supplies. It was a bright, sunny day, and the temperature was already into the 80s. As they left the grocery and crossed Dairy Street, Beetle looked at the various people. Every time he focused on a person, a color and emotion pushed into his mind. He was two days past his fifth birthday.
and other supplies. It was a bright, sunny day, and the temperature was already into the 80s. As they left the grocery and crossed Dairy Street, Beetle looked at the various people. Every time he focused on a person, a color and emotion pushed into his mind. He was two days past his fifth birthday.
“Mama, what color is that lady over there?”
“Color is not important," Mary said, observing an ocean of Hawaiian brown and tan. "No one’s different from anyone else.”
He turned to his older sister, Angela, and asked her, “Do you get their feelings when people walk past you? Do you see people in different colors, like that blue woman over there?”
Angela gave him a quizzical look. “There is no blue woman over there. Nobody has blue skin, Beetle. And no, I don’t feel emotions when people pass by.
I don’t notice anything special about them at all.”
I don’t notice anything special about them at all.”
They entered a clothing store. Mary spent a few minutes sifting through outfits before the family noticed a man approaching. It was the store’s salesclerk, but what Beetle saw was red, and what he experienced was hatred and rage. He ran to his mother, wrapped his arms tightly around her leg, and shivered in fear.
Mary tried to move but was unsuccessful with her youngest holding firm to her leg. “Angela, come get your brother,” she implored.
Angela pried Beetle from his mother’s leg. His sister held him close, asking, “What’s wrong, Beetle? What frightened you?”
He cowered in Angela’s arms, and only after she took him outside did he speak. “That man came toward me, and I could feel he was red and angry and hateful. He scared me.”
Angela said, “Nobody sees into other people like that, Beetle. It’s your imagination. Just relax and it will pass.”
It didn’t, though. It just got stronger.
Mary brought everyone else outside after she finished with the clerk, remarking about him, “That young man was very rude. He must be having a hard day.”
Beetle turned away from his sister and looked at his mother. “Mama, that boy over there is all black. What’s wrong with him?”
Mary glanced around, but couldn’t see the boy he was talking about. There were no black people on the street. She did, however, see the boy he was referring to.
As they watched, the boy picked up his walk to a faster gait. Then, passing by an older woman, he reached out and grasped her purse by the strap and pulled hard. Beetle saw the strap break and the boy run away with the purse in his grip, leaving the woman to fall.
One of Beetle’s older brothers spotted the boy just as the purse came free. He lit out after him. It required sprinting three blocks, but the purse-snatcher was finally caught and the handbag returned to the woman, who was being attended to by other passersby.
Angela stared at Beetle and asked, “How did you do that, brother? How did you see that boy was bad?”
Beetle didn't know but shrugged and said, "He was all black, just like the night."
_______________________________________________________ Robert L. Bacon
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