IN THE DAYS OF CYRUS
The tempestuous wind demonstrated its assigned place within the realm of mankind; swirling as an everlasting symbol of eternity upon the earth. Weary eyes began to wonder if the end of life as he knew it had arrived. His countenance had fallen considerably in the last few hours. Cyrus had cautiously pursued the three men through the raging sirocco. At one point Cyrus was within 200 yards of making contact with the three men, when without warning a small herd of wild eyed camels breached the top of the ridge at the time he had prepared to descend it, stampeding upon him in an absolute flight of panic. Cyrus reacted without thinking and threw himself to his right, rolling down headlong into the swirling and blinding sand. The look of fear had gripped the animals as they appeared just as surprised to see a man standing alone. The train of camels cut to their right at the last moment, partially trampling his rucksack. Cyrus looked to the sky above the storm. The black eagle appeared as a nubian dot in his eyes, as it continued to circle counter clockwise above the thunderous winds. As he edged closer to these surreal and deafening walls of sound and sand; he realized the germans had decided to play a high stakes game of poker.
The darkened winds obscured his vision in this choking combination of heavy dust and swirling sand. Cyrus had seen various pairings of bird fox and lizard traveling as one group. Cyrus even spotted several snakes making haste together out of the impact zone. From the vantage point of the black eagle the storm echoed and shook as it rose up hundreds of feet in the sky. Cyrus knew he was in for the challenge of his life. He stumbled forth staying low as he continued searching for his friend in this unsustainable environment. It began to dawn on Cyrus that even he himself returning home alive – was now most certainly in question. Nonetheless, Cyrus believed it to be his kuleana, his present responsibility to overtake and kill his enemies. This would conclude his contractual obligations with the U.S. Army. After that he planned to return to Waipi’o Valley and leave the killing behind. Cyrus came upon a formation of goethite rock at the bottom of the ridge. He recalled his friend Badr in Morroco had once advised him if he ever was in need of an emergency shelter he was to search for an opening at the base of any rock formation that he might happen upon. These goethite rock formations had often been used as a cave like shelter by travelers caught in an unexpected sandstorm. As he crawled he barely was able to see more than a foot or two in front of him. Cyrus kept his left hand on the rocks as he circled slowly counterclockwise. The wind was life changing fierce, threatening to transform him into a human kite if he attempted to stand in any form or fashion. The sudden discovery of a three foot space between rocks at the base of the goethite formation stopped him in his kneeled tracks. While he was hopeful he also knew the small opening was not nearly wide enough for his large frame to fit through. He remained kneeling as he unloaded his rucksack from his weary shoulders. He began to use his large powerful hands to dig the sand away from this small port of entry. Cyrus cautiously sniffed the air at the entrance of the opening. Smelling neither man nor beast he slowly stuck his hand in the darkness of the entryway. After widening the diameter of the opening, he cautiously entered into the pitch black of the uncertain. He briefly went down as he entered the makeshift opening, but quickly ascended upward crawling on his belly into a small but surprisingly comfortable space for the large hawaiian. Fresh air began to mix with the stale as other familiar smells began to awaken. Cyrus placed his rucksack in front of him. He believed he had enough materials to sustain a fire for maybe two hours. He would build his small fire and eat the remaining portion of the snake that he had killed earlier in the day. He was low on water, and figured Notah and the two german soldiers were close to exhausting their water as well. Cyrus would rest for the night and resume his search for his friend Notah at a very early hour. He had only to kill these remaining two german soldiers. Once that was accomplished they would have to find their way off the dark continent and hitch a ride across the water. The black eagle dream continued to caress the soul of Cyrus as he slept near to the fire. Flames danced off the curvature of the dark and rugged goethite ceiling. Cyrus would hunker down for a few hours and rest up a bit. He was happy to be away from the biting winds of sand and dust. After cleaning up the best he could unrolled a small piece of linen cloth and laid it on the dirt floor. He proceeded to disassemble the dead paratroopers pistol. In the morning he would attempt to eliminate his final target, one Colonel Gunther Arnhold. His thoughts shifted to his young friend Notah. “Hang on my friend, I’m coming and they are gonna have to pay.”