Hiroshima, Golden Messenger

by E. Mendell

  ~ Four ~

  The small girl sat huddled in the corner of the dark parking garage, sobbing into her hands. She was too weak to walk so the men in black suits had no reason to tie her up. Her long blond hair was in a braid and she wore blue and white spotted pajamas that the hospital had given her. She lifted her head when one of the armed men turned and moved a few steps forward. There were five of them standing in a ring around her, wearing bullet proof vests and covered with different types of pistols and rifles. Some had facemasks over their mouths and noses while one wore a hood low over his head. He stood away from the others and was the one of whom the masked man approached.

  “He won’t come,” said the man in the mask. The hooded man chuckled softly.

  “If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “But I know him too well. He won’t stay away.”

  “How do you even know he’ll come save the girl?” The masked man looked over his shoulder at the girl who was watching them. Her silver eyes were ringed with red from tears and her nose was runny. She had to have been nearly fifteen, but her illness made her as feeble as a child. The hooded man turned his head and the girl shied back. She was scared of him, not because of his voice, but because of the metal jaw he had. Thin metal wired wrapped around the steel plated that came to a point at his chin. It was decorative, looking more like a work of art than, say, the rubble of a junkyard. The screws that attached it to his face were shinny and glinted when they caught the dim flicker of the dying florescent lights. The man grinned at the girl who was trembling in fear. When he grinned it showed half his teeth replaced by metal fangs that were also attached by thin metal wires.

  “She has been passing him notes,” explained the man. “When he realizes she’s missing he will come and save her. When he does…” The man shifted the rifle in his hand twirling it easily and then cocking it with one hand. “He’ll be dead.” He walked away, lowering his hood with the smile still on his face.

  The girl placed her hands over her face with more tears sliding down her cheeks. There was no way she could have known that writing messages to the stranger on the bench would lead to her being kidnapped from her hospital room and thrown in a dark corner. She had no idea how the men had found her. She had been in the hospital four days before the door was suddenly smashed open and masked men entered. They shot any doctors or nurses that tried to intervene. Then the hooded man entered. The room had gone cold and he had stood across the room from the girl, watching her with the evil grin.

  “Take her down to the abandoned parking lot,” he had said, placing his rifle over his shoulder. “I’ll signal Hiroshima.” The girl had then been seized. They tore the wires from her skin, and carried down hallways, the girl screaming whenever someone was shot in attempt to save her. It was the most terrifying thing she had ever witnessed. And here she had thought her illness was scary, but this took the cake. Now she was afraid that the stranger, Hiro, whom she had written letters too would be shot also.

  The lights suddenly began to flicker again and the girl looked up, but when she did she caught sight of something dark entering the parking lot. She looked swiftly towards it. The lights went out. The men shouted in surprise, but then fell silent. All the girl could hear was the shuffling of feet.

  From the right came a heavy thud with a grunt of pain. The clatter of a rifle tipped-off the girl that someone had been knocked out. She heard someone chuckle and the rattle of a rifle made the girl scream. She suddenly felt something touch her shoulder. It wasn’t a rough grip. She turned her head, catching a whiff of what smelled like metal and oil. She blinked and felt the person take her hand. From across the room she heard someone shout the name of Hiroshima. Beside her she heard the person sigh.

  “Keep this safe,” he said, placing a solid, round item in her hand. The girl closed her fingers around it, recognizing the weight and lumps of the golden kitty statue she had left on the bench.

  Hiro left her side. She could hear him as he walked away. The girl lifted her head, but suddenly all she could hear were the men shouting and thundering of fists and rifles smashing against bodies. A rifle went off. One man screamed in pain, but his scream was cut short. The lights flickered on and the girl stared with held breath.

  In front of her the four masked men were laying unconscious with their weapons scattered across the pavement. Standing a few yards away was Hiro, but he did not look how she remembered him. There was some kind of metal plated visor over his eyes; it was attached above his ears and from behind his ears it stuck out like spikes He stood with his back to her, but the girl saw that his black jacket open and his jeans torn at the knees. A few paces ahead of him stood the hooded man, his hood still covered his face, but his gun was gone.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” said the hooded man, his arms at his sides.

  “Well, the invitation was just too tempting,” said Hiro, the rifle aimed at the hooded man’s head. “If this girl has to die I’d rather it be of natural causes and not your annoyance at the fact that I didn’t show up.”

  “You know me too well.” The hooded man laughed. “I haven’t seen you in years and now when we finally meet you haven’t changed a bit.”

  Hiro stiffened. “I have changed,” he said darkly.

  “Not through my eyes,” replied the hooded man.

  “I am no longer the creature I once was, Enimito,” growled Hiro coldly.

  Enimito burst into laughter. “You are and forever will be the Crystal Crier, Hiroshima!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the parking lot. “And because of that you will forever be without feelings. Without a real heart!”

  Hiro cringed at Enimito’s words. “I do have a heart!” He yelled with his fists clenched. “It may not beat but it is there!”

  “A chunk of crystal carved into the shape of a heart?” Enimito snorted. “A pathetic attempt to make you feel human.”

  Hiro lifted the gun and fired, but in a jerky glitch-like motion, Enimito vanished from where he had stood and appeared a foot to the left instead. He chuckled and crossed his arms. “You’re trying to kill me?” He asked in amusement. “Why? Are you jealous that I have a heart of flesh and blood? One that beats and functions as all hearts should?”

  “No!” Hiro roared, lifting the rifle and firing at Enimito. Yet no bullet scathed him, for he moved like a digital glitch out of the way every time. Finally, the gun clicked without firing. Hiro looked quickly at it, a flicker of fear seizing him for a moment and was his undoing, for just then a fist of steel slammed into the back of his head. A weak yelp escaped Hiro’s lips unintentionally as he fell to his knees, then forward onto his stomach. His arms were sprawled out before him from trying to catch himself. He winced. His sight, though covered by the steel visor, went dark for an instant.

  “Stop it!” Cried a small voice.

  Hiro lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. The girl had gotten to her feet and ran at Enimito, grabbing his wrist that was made of steel, like his hand and his arm. He looked down at her, his hood sliding slightly to show an eye surrounded by metal that was just as beautifully made as the metal on his jaw. He lifted his arm and the girl clung to it, still in tears as she stared at his eye in terror.

  “Little girl,” said Enimito with a twitch in his smile. “Why are you interfering?”

  “Don’t hurt my friend,” whispered the girl, becoming pale as she clung to him. She broke into a sweat and Hiro could see her temperature was rising.

  “Put her down!” He said, jumping to his feet. A sound like gears wining accompanied the motion and the little girl looked quickly at Hiro as he moved forward and took her beneath the arms, but before he could free her, Enimito punched him across the face.

  Hiro fell sideways, spitting out a mixture of blood and oil. He pushed himself up, coughing and glaring at Enimito. The other man was smirking evilly. “Do you really think I’m just going to let you save her?” He said with a laugh. “How amusing.”


  With a scowl, Hiro suddenly whipped his leg around, swiping Enimito off his feet. As he fell backwards Hiro leapt over him, grabbing the girl and rolling across the ground. He stopped, laying the girl on the ground and staring at her. She was wheezing for air, holding her hand to her chest. Her face was white and though her eyes were wide her sight was not focused.

  “What is with the drama?” Enimito asked hysterically as Hiro stood up, cradling the girl in her arms. “It’s a pathetic human, you blind twit!”

  “Blind twit?” Hiro looked towards Enimito darkly. The visor over his eyes opened in the front and slid back, revealing his golden eyes. “I am not blind!” The visor snapped shut and Hiro turned. He ran to the exit, leaving the empty parking lot and Enimito who stared after him with a cold glare.

  “I hate that heartless fool,” he said coldly, crossing his arms. “He will not listen to reason.” Enimito turned and looked towards his dead men. Then something golden caught his eye. He blinked in surprise and a twisted smile crossed his face. He approached it and picked up the golden kitty that the girl had forgotten.