It’s the present day on the island of Hawaii. The local culture, exotic and isolated for centuries, is being eroded by the constant stream of tourists flooding through the airports. All sorts of people rub shoulders at the resorts. Most of them are innocent travellers, but some of them have ulterior motives.
Lokuhai Beach is a small, isolated beach in the loneliest part of Harmony Cove. The beach itself is owned by Harmony Cove Resort, about a half-hour drive through rocky, mountainous countryside. Advertised as the “Last Real Hawaiian Beach”, it’s gorgeous. Birds of Paradise call to each other past the vibrant orchids — you could make your own lei in minutes — and jewel-toned lizards beg for table scraps. The music of the forest harmonizes with a nearby waterfall, cascading down the side of a steep hill through pools and sparkling in the sunset as it runs into the cove.
The luau started badly… the bus broke down on the way to the beach, and everyone had to walk the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s cell phones seem to be unable to reach out of the mountains to the resort (or anywhere else), and the driver has been unable to get the bus running again. One of the guests, Joe Markham, has been trying to help get it started…
