"I've never seen cement this white and fine, Mister Paul," Jeremiah said as he dumped a bag of Molding Cement into the mixer. Dust covered his bare torso, outlined his muscles, clung to his golden hair. A cool breeze blew in off the water.
"It's bleached volcanic rock." Paul's voice buzzed through the paper dust mask.
"This is Eden, good surf, fruit trees, and that sunrise." Isaiah watered the mix and rotated the mixer.
"Kilauea rumbled last night," Jeremiah said. He had grabbed Isaiah like a scared little boy when the ground shook.
"Pele speaks," Paul told him. "It's her celebration tonight. I promised two statues; that's why I flew you here." Isaiah pulled the handle with both hands; sweat ran down his broad back.
"The stewardess said that Pele gets hungry for pork chops. She told us of a man driving home one night from a pig roast who felt the presence of a woman in his car. He almost wrecked the car but nothing was there. When he got home, the leftover pork chops were gone." Jeremiah giggled.
"Pork chops won't satisfy our goddess tonight," Paul said.
"Right, the statues." Chiseled muscles stood out in bold relief as Jeremiah ripped open another bag of cement. Sinews thickened across Isaiah's back as he forced his handle to turn against the added weight. "What are you making? Dogs? Eagles?"
Paul chuckled. "I have something a little more ambitious in mind." He eyed the two young men. Sweat seeped into the thick layer of dust that coated their flesh. Already the quick-dry mortar had begun to harden across their sculpted, Rodin-like bodies. "Surely you don't think I flew you 3000 miles just to mix cement, do you?"
Opening: Dave.....Continuation: Phoenix