Doralei was a military brat who led a nomadic life following her father from South Korea, where she was born, to Germany, Texas, North Carolina, Fort Bragg, back to South Korea, and finally Hawai'i.
The one thing that Doralie did that worked in her favor was that she was good at getting people to like her. It was an inherent skill she developed so she wouldn't have to deal with bullies and the stupid questions that other people asked."What are you? Like, what is your extraction?"
The word extraction made her feel like someone was trying to extract blood from her, give it to someone else, or keep it for themselves. Or with what her father did as part of his job in the army, extracting teams out of hostile enemy territory. It was disconcerting for Doralei to hear the word as it applied to her ethnicity. It raised the hackles on the back of her neck. So, she developed a way for people to like her in a very heartfelt way. So much so that the last thing they would be concerned about is her skin color. Her first day on the job at Gibson's was successful. Many people were so lovely and welcoming that she didn't have to do much. Blaine Shibuya was the only person she felt she had to work a bit harder on. He was painfully shy and very awkward. Almost as if he didn't know what to do with himself in front of her. Something there needed to be drawn out; he would have to be her first friend in Hawai'i until she could work on the others. Her father, Master Sergeant Fred Jones, and her mother, Seo-Jun Jones, were pleased that Doralei made friends so quickly this time. "It was pretty easy," she shrugged her shoulders. "These Hawai'i people are good people,"
"At their core, people are people with the same traits as every other person," Master Sergeant Jones said in his Master Sergeant voice.
"It's different here," Doralei countered. "If you'd just get off base and meet the people who live here, you'd see."
The only nuts Doralei couldn't crack were the old Nissei women, but she didn't begrudge them that. They were very similar to the elderly Korean women who lived through and survived the war. They deserved their bubble, and they didn't owe anyone anything. One morning, while Doralei was half asleep and half awake, she heard the phone ring in the living room. She listened to her mother pick up,
"Annyeonghaseyo? Ok, wait-tu," she heard the pitter-patter of her mother's feet coming to her bedroom door. "Geeuleun ttal! Wake-u up! Haendeupon!"
Half awake and bleary-eyed, she opened the door to her mother, pushing the phone into her chest, "So mean!" She droned. Creighton Higa explained over the phone that he needed her to work the overnight inventory shift because the old Nissei women were superstitious and didn't want to work on the night of no moon. Gracious as ever, Doralei accepted especially since it would be marked as time and a half. She was pleasantly surprised when she saw she'd be working with Blaine. "The best thing to do would be to start at opposite ends of the warehouse and work our way to the middle. What do you think?" She asked Blaine.
"We should do that," he nodded and immediately took off to the opposite side of the warehouse. The inventory count was going smoothly. Click the clicker, and write down the number. It didn't get stuffy until Doralei got to the part of the warehouse where the crates created a pile so dense that it became stuffy. Luckily, she'd brought an extra shirt and decided to change into it. No one was around, so she removed her top and put on the lighter green one. Utterly unaware that Blaine was watching the whole time. That is when the deafening sound of conch shells and drums filled the entire warehouse. The sound of Hawaiian chants seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Then, the wretched stench of sulfurous death burned her nostrils. It was too much to take. Screaming now, she ran to find Blaine, but he didn't appear to be in the warehouse. That is until she regained her composure and walked toward the clock, where everyone punched in. It took a couple of seconds for Doralei to comprehend what she saw, but when it registered, she had no time to be grossed out because that reaction was pure and utter horror. Blaine stood there with his shorts down to his knees holding onto his erection and stroking it. His eyes were shut tight, and he was obviously near the end.
At the same time, a cadre of ancient Hawaiian warriors stood behind Blaine. This is what the old Nissei women talked about, the thing that came through the warehouse and went into an opening in the floor in the middle of the electronics department. The Night Marchers. The warrior who stood directly behind Blaine held on to a large worn root from a Koa tree with a gnarled knot of a lump at the end. With one brutal swing, the ghostly Hawaiian warrior caved in the right side of Blaine's head. The sickening popping sound was something Doralei would never forget for as long as she lived, but now, she had to run and run fast. The entire procession was coming, and even as Blaine's body went down in a heap, the ghostly procession stepped on Blaine, crushing him beneath their feet. So much for the corporeal form of Blaine Shibuya. However, his spirit remained attached to the warehouse where he died and the store where he worked. No one would have guessed it except a little Hawaiian boy who was extra sensitive enough to know that Blaine's spirit was there but would not acknowledge him at all.
Doralei Jones was never quite the same person after that day. She ceased trying to get people to like her; in fact, it didn't matter if they did or not. She quit Gibson's and found something easy on base at the commissary where she didn't have to worry about the ghosts or spirits of Hawaiian warriors. As far as she knew, Fort Shafter had none.
....The End
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