by Kōji Suzuki
“Um …”
“Yes?”
“Mr Asakawa, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea about the Professor and me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You think we were having a relationship … as a man and a woman.”
“No, well, I mean …”
Mai could spot a man who thought they were lovers—the way he looked at them. Asakawa looked at them that way. It bothered Mai.
“The first time I met you, the Professor introduced you as his best friend. That surprised me. I had never heard the Professor talk like that about anyone before. I think you were very special to him. So …” She hesitated before continuing. “So, I wish you could understand him a little better, as his best friend. The Professor … as far as I know he never knew a woman.” She lowered her eyes.
You mean he died a virgin?
Asakawa had nothing to say to that. He remained quiet. The Ryuji that Mai remembered sounded like a completely different person from the one he knew. Were they talking about the same man?
“But …”
But you don’t know what he did as a junior in high school, was what he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. He had no desire to dredge up a dead man’s crimes, and he didn’t feel like destroying Mai’s cherished image of Ryuji.
Not only that, he found himself with new doubts. Asakawa believed in a woman’s intuition. Mai seemed to have been pretty close to Ryuji, and if she said he was a virgin, he had to consider that a credible theory. In other words, maybe the whole thing about raping a college girl in his neighborhood had been nothing more than fiction.
“The Professor was like a child when he was with me. He told me everything. He didn’t hide anything. I know almost everything there is to know about his youth. His pain.”
“Is that so?” was all Asakawa could say in response.
“When he was with me he was as innocent as a ten-year-old boy. When there was a third person around he was the gentleman, and with you I imagine he probably played the scoundrel. Am I right? If he hadn’t …” Mai softly reached out for her white handbag, took out a handkerchief, and dabbed at her eyes. “If he hadn’t put on an act like that, he would never have been able to get along in the world. Do you see what I’m saying? Can you understand that?”
Asakawa was shocked, more than anything. But then something struck him. For a guy who’d been good at his studies and excelled at sports, Ryuji had been quite a loner. He hadn’t had one close friend.
“He was so pure … Not superficial, like those jerks I go to school with. They couldn’t compare to him.”
Mai’s handkerchief was soaked with tears by now.
Standing in the doorway, Asakawa found that he had too much to think about to be able to come up with any suitable words to leave with Mai. The image of the Ryuji he’d known diverged completely from the one Mai had; his view of the man had become so unfocused now as to be unrecognizable. There was a darkness concealed within Ryuji. No matter how he struggled, Asakawa couldn’t completely grasp his personality. Had he really raped that girl in high school? Asakawa had no way of knowing that, nor whether he’d continued doing things like that, as he’d said he had. And right now, with his family’s deadline coming up tomorrow, Asakawa really didn’t want to worry himself with anything else.
So all he said was, “Ryuji was my best friend, too.”
The words must have pleased Mai. Her adorable face broke into an expression that could have been a smile or could have been more weeping, and she bowed ever so slightly. Asakawa shut the door and hurried down the stairs. As he emerged onto the street and put distance between himself and Ryuji’s apartment, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of this friend who’d thrown everything into this dangerous game, even sacrificing his life. Asakawa didn’t bother to wipe away the tears.
5
October 21—Sunday
Midnight passed, and Sunday finally arrived. Asakawa was making notes on a sheet of paper, trying to get his thoughts in order.
Just before his death, Ryuji had figured out the charm. He telephoned Mai, possibly to summon her. Which means that he needed Mai’s help to work the charm. Okay, the important question here is, why am I still alive? There’s only one possible answer. At some point during the week, without even knowing it, I must have carried out the charm! What other explanation is there? The charm must be something anybody can easily do, with the help of another person.
But that brought up another problem. Why did those four kids run out without performing the charm? If it was so easy, why couldn’t at least one of them have played tough when they were together and then gone and done it in secret later? Think. What did I do this week? What did I do that Ryuji clearly didn’t do?
Asakawa let out a yell. “How the hell am I supposed to know? There must have been a thousand things I did this week that he didn’t do! This isn’t funny!”
He punched Sadako’s photo. “Damn you! How long are you going to keep torturing me?” He hit her in the face over and over. But Sadako’s expression never changed; her beauty never diminished.
He went into the kitchen and splashed some whiskey into a glass. All the blood had rushed to a single point in his head and he needed to disperse it. He went to knock it back at one gulp, but then stopped. He just might come up with the answer tonight and have to drive to Ashikaga in the middle of the night, so maybe he’d better not drink. He was mad at the way he always tried to rely on something outside himself. When he’d had to dig Sadako’s bones out from under the cabin, he had given in to fear and nearly lost himself. It was only because he had Ryuji with him that he’d been able to do what he needed to do.
“Ryuji! Hey, Ryuji! I’m begging you, help me out here!”
He knew he’d never be able to go on without his wife and daughter. Never.
“Ryuji! Lend me your strength! Why am I alive? Is it because I was the one to find Sadako’s remains first? If so, then there’s no saving my family. That can’t be right, can it, Ryuji?”
He was devastated. He knew it was no time to be wailing, but he’d lost his cool. After moaning to Ryuji for a while, his calm returned. He started making notes again on the paper. The old woman’s prophecy. Did Sadako really have a baby? Just before her death she had sex with the last smallpox victim in Japan. Does that relate somehow? All of his notes ended with question marks. Nothing was certain. Was this going to lead him to the charm? He couldn’t afford to fail.
Several more hours elapsed. It was beginning to get light outside. Lying on the floor, Asakawa could hear the sound of a man’s breathing. Birds chirped. He didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming. Somehow he’d wound up on the floor, asleep. He squinted against the bright morning light. The figure of a man was slowly fading in the soft light. He wasn’t scared. Asakawa came to himself with a start and stared hard in the direction of the figure.
“Ryuji? Is that you?”
The figure didn’t reply, but suddenly the title of a book came to Asakawa, so vividly that it might have been branded into the wrinkles of his brain.
Epidemics and Man.
The title appeared in white on the back of his eyelids when he closed his eyes, then disappeared; but it still echoed in his head. That book should be in Asakawa’s study. When he’d first started to investigate the case, Asakawa had wondered if it could have been a virus that had caused four people to die simultaneously. He’d bought the book then. He hadn’t read it, but he remembered putting it away on a bookshelf.
Sun was streaming in through the eastern windows, falling on him. He tried to stand up. His head throbbed.
Was it a dream?
He opened the door to his study. He took down the book that whoever-it-was had suggested to him: Epidemics and Man. Of course, Asakawa had a pretty good idea who it was that had made that suggestion. Ryuji. He’d returned just for a brief moment, to teach him the secret of the charm.
So where in this three-hundred-page tome did the answer lie? Asakawa had anothe
r flash of intuition. Page 191! The number was insinuated into his brain, though not quite as searingly as the last time. He opened to that page. A single word jumped out at him, and pulsed bigger and bigger.
Reproduction. Reproduction. Reproduction. Reproduction.
A virus’s instinct is to reproduce. A virus usurps living structures in order to reproduce itself.
“Ooooooohhhhh!” Asakawa groaned. He’d finally grasped the nature of the charm.
It’s obvious what I did this week and Ryuji didn’t. I brought the tape home, made a copy, and showed it to Ryuji. The charm is simple. Anybody can do it. Make a copy and show it to somebody. Help it reproduce by showing it to somebody who hasn’t seen it. Those four kids were happy with their prank and stupidly left the tape in the cabin. Nobody went to the effort of going all the way back for it so they could actually perform the charm.
No matter how he thought about it, that was the only possible interpretation. He picked up the phone and dialed Ashikaga. Shizu answered.
“Listen to me. Listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you. There’s something I need your mother and father to see. Right away. I’m on my way now, so don’t let them go anywhere before I get there. Do you understand? This is incredibly important.”
Ah, am I selling my soul to the devil? In order to save my wife and daughter, I’m willing to put my wife’s parents in danger, even if it’s only temporary. But if it’ll save their daughter and granddaughter, I’m sure they’ll gladly cooperate. All they have to do is make copies and show them to somebody else, and they’ll be out of danger. But after that … what then?
“What’s this all about? I don’t understand.”
“Just do as I say. I’m leaving right now. Oh, right—they have a video deck, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Beta or VHS?”
“VHS.”
“Great, I’m on my way. Don’t, I repeat, don’t go anywhere.”
“Hold on a minute. What you want to show my mom and dad is that video, isn’t it?”
He didn’t know what to say, so he shut up.
“Right?”
“… Right.”
“It’s not dangerous?”
Dangerous? You and your daughter are going to be dead in five hours. Give me a break, damnit! Stop asking so many questions. I don’t have time to explain it all to you from the beginning anymore. Asakawa wanted to shout at her, but he managed to restrain himself.
“Just do as I say!”
It was just before seven. If he raced there on the freeway, provided there were no traffic delays, he should get to his in-laws’ house in Ashikaga by nine-thirty. Factoring in the time it would take to make a copy for his wife and another for his daughter, they should just make the eleven o’clock deadline. He hung up, opened the doors to the entertainment center, and unplugged the video deck. They needed two decks to make copies, so he had to take one of his.
As he left, he took one more look at the photo of Sadako.
You sure gave birth to something nasty.
He took the Oi ramp onto the freeway, deciding to skirt Tokyo Bay and get on the Tohoku Highway heading out of town. There wouldn’t be much traffic on the Tohoku Highway. The problem was how to avoid congestion before that. As he paid the toll on the Oi on-ramp and peered at the traffic-information board, he realized for the first time that it was Sunday morning. As a result, there were hardly any cars in the tunnel under the bay, where they were usually lined up like beads on a rosary. There weren’t even any jams in the big merging areas. At this rate he’d get to Ashikaga right on schedule, with plenty of time to start making copies of the video. Asakawa eased up on the accelerator. Now he was more afraid of going too fast and getting into an accident.
He sped north along the Sumida River. Glancing down, he could see neighborhoods just waking up on a Sunday morning. People were walking around with a different air than on weekday mornings. A peaceful Sunday morning.
He couldn’t help but wonder. What effect is this going to have? With my wife’s copy and my daughter’s copy, this virus is going to be set free in two directions—how’s it going to spread from there? He could imagine people making copies and passing them on to people who’d already seen it before, trying to keep the thing contained within a limited circle so it wouldn’t spread. But that would be going against the virus’s will to reproduce. There was no way of knowing yet how that function was incorporated into the video. That would take some experimenting. And it would probably be impossible to find anybody willing to risk their life to find the truth of it until it had spread pretty far and things had become quite serious. It really wasn’t very difficult to make a copy and show it to someone—so that’s what people would do. As the secret traveled by word of mouth, it would be added to: “You have to show it to someone who hasn’t seen it before.” And as the tape propagated, the week’s lag time would probably be shortened. People who were shown the tape wouldn’t wait a week to make a copy and show it to someone else. How far would this ring expand? People would be driven by an instinctual fear of disease, and this pestilential videotape would no doubt spread throughout society in the blink of an eye. And, driven by fear, people would start to spread crazy rumors. Such as: Once you’ve seen it you have to make at least two copies, and show them to at least two different people. It’d turn into a pyramid scheme, spreading incomparably faster than it would just one tape at a time. In the space of half a year, everybody in Japan would have become a carrier, and the infection would spread overseas. In the process, of course, several people would die, and people would realize that the tape’s warning wasn’t a lie, and they’d start making copies even more desperately. There would be panic. Where would it all end? How many victims would this claim? Two years ago, during the boom in interest in the occult, the newsroom had received ten million submissions. Something had gone haywire. And it would happen again, allowing the new virus to run rampant.
A woman’s resentment toward the masses who had hounded her father and mother to their deaths and the smallpox virus’s resentment toward the human ingenuity that had driven it to the brink of extinction had fused together in the body of a singular person named Sadako Yamamura, and had reappeared in the world in an unexpected, unimagined form.
Asakawa, his family, everybody who had seen the video, had been subconsciously infected with this virus. They were carriers. And viruses burrowed directly into the genes, the core of life. There was no telling yet what would result from this, how it would change human history—human evolution.
In order to protect my family, I am about to let loose on the world a plague which could destroy all mankind.
Asakawa was frightened by the essence of what he was trying to do. A voice was whispering to him.
If I let my wife and daughter die, it’ll end right here. If a virus loses its host, it’ll die. I can save mankind.
But the voice was too quiet.
He entered the Tohoku Highway. No congestion. If he kept going, he’d be there in plenty of time. Asakawa drove with his arms taut and both hands clutching the wheel. “I won’t regret it. My family has no obligation to sacrifice themselves. There are some things you just have to protect when they’re threatened.”
He spoke loud enough to be heard over the engine, to renew his determination. If he were Ryuji, what would he do? He felt sure he knew. Ryuji’s spirit had taught him the secret of the video. It was practically telling him to save his family. This gave him courage. He knew what Ryuji would probably say. Be true to what you’re feeling this instant! All we have in front of us is an uncertain future! The future’ll take care of itself. When humanity gets around to applying its ingenuity, who knows if it won’t find a solution? It’s just another trial for the human species. In every age, the Devil reappears in a different guise. You can stamp it out, and stamp it out, and he’ll keep coming back, over and over.
Asakawa kept his foot steady on the accelerator and the car pointed toward Ashikaga. In his rear-vi
ew mirror he could see the skies over Tokyo, receding into the distance. Black clouds moved eerily across the skies. They slithered like serpents, hinting at the unleashing of some apocalyptic evil.
SPIRAL
KOJI SUZUKI
Translation
Glynne Walley
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Prologue
Part One: Dissecting
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Two: Vanishing
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part Three: Decoding
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part Four: Evolving
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Five: Foreshadowing
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
Mitsuo Ando awoke from a dream in which he was sinking into the sea. The trilling of the telephone insinuated itself into the sound of the surf, and the next minute he was jerked into wakefulness, as though the waves had taken him.
He stretched his arm out over the side of the bed and picked up the receiver.