The Vampire People were still there, gathered out on the street like Christmas Carolers dressed in Halloween costume. Morrison stood at the edge of the property, with Miss Minty at his side. They were staring up at the guest bedroom window, their eyes locked onto the dark outline of Eiji Kojiro’s corpse.
Morrison turned to Miss Minty and whispered something in her ear.
Kojiro figured that his time was almost up.
He took a deep breath. With his left side facing the target, Kojiro held the longbow in his left hand. He nocked the arrow and drew the string back a little. The Yumi felt light in his hands. In his mind, he tried to trace the lessons his father had taught him. Unlike western archers, who rarely drew the bow past the cheekbone, Japanese archers pulled the drawing hand behind the ear.
Kojiro’s mind ran through the meticulous details. Correct posture and preparation. But he didn’t have time for perfection. He only had time to shoot.
He edged out a little further, stepping away from the side of the building. That way he could get a better lock on Morrison.
Now. Do it now.
He was about to shoot when it came out of nowhere. It was something galloping towards him from the road. Not one, but two of them. Dark shapes. Big and fast.
The wolves pounced, landing on Kojiro and forcing the air from his lungs. The bow dropped out of his hands. He fell backwards and cried out in pain. It felt like two cars had landed on his head at once– cars with razor blade teeth and dagger-like claws.
Kojiro brought his hands up to ward off the initial attack. He felt the sharp teeth slicing into the flesh on his hands and arms as he tried to fight them off. With the flat of his boot, he kicked one of the wolves off him. It came again, its tail pointing outwards in perfect symmetry with the shape of its back.
They were fast and powerful. They attacked relentlessly but Kojiro wasn’t about to roll over and die. They came in and he would kick them off, landing desperate blows on the face and body. But the wolves always came back.
On it went. Sometimes he felt a searing pain in his hands and arms as the wolves bit him. Sometimes he felt nothing.
As he fought for his life, the Vampire People laughed in the background.
Kojiro threw punches at the wolves’ stone-like heads with his bleeding fists. When they caught his hands in their teeth it felt like dozens of hot knives piercing his skin all at once. But he didn’t scream. Instead he’d keep fighting – he’d kick them off and then try to wriggle backwards. He just needed a little space to get back to his feet.
The wolves growled at his futile attempts to fight back. They came back with a renewed sense of purpose.
Rivers of blood ran from both of Kojiro’s hands. The blood fell off at the wrists, painting the snow red.
At last he saw his chance. After a barrage of defensive kicks, both wolves backed off at the same time. That little pocket of space was all Kojiro needed to make a run for it. He leapt back to his feet and sprinted towards the rear of the house. He heard the wolves chasing after him.
The Vampire People’s laughter rang in his ears. It was a buzzing and distorted noise that seemed to come from everywhere.
Kojiro leapt over the corpse of the dead man in the back garden. He reached a bloody hand towards the sword at his waist. With the sword drawn, he turned around to face his pursuers. One of the wolves, the bigger of the two, came charging towards him. Its teeth were bared, its ears back and tail pointing up.
Kojiro timed the charge perfectly. The wolf came within range of the xiphos and he sliced the blade through the wolf’s coat. It was a mere slashing blow but it was enough to let the wolf know that the tables had turned.
The wolf yelped and took a step backwards. Kojiro saw the doubt in its amber eyes. He saw the confusion. The second wolf, sensing that something was wrong, stayed close to its companion and didn’t advance any further. They continued to snarl at him but from afar. They were crouched low, their bellies almost touching the grass as they initiated a slow retreat.
Kojiro didn’t want to trigger their hunting instincts by making a run for the house. He walked forward, brandishing the sword with a renewed confidence. He couldn’t feel his wounds but he saw the blood dripping off his hands. The adrenaline would carry him through and the pain would come later. Hopefully that’s all that would come.
The wolves continued their retreat. Kojiro walked them down and a few moments later, both creatures turned and ran back to the front of the house.
He was alone again. The laughter had stopped out front after the wolves ran off.
Breathing heavy, Kojiro turned and staggered towards the house. He went inside and slammed the door shut. Now his hands and arms were on fire. Crying out in agony, he stumbled into the kitchen and like a drunk running on empty, dropped to the floor like a stone.
He lay on his back staring up at the white ceiling. It was an ocean of decaying plaster that stretched on infinitely. He closed his eyes. Strange black and white floating objects appeared. These visions went up and down like microscopic sea creatures drifting in the crystal blue water. Thousands and thousands of them.
His chest heaved up and down. Blood dripped off his hands and fell onto the floor. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was drift off into a deep…
Zander?
Kojiro pried his heavy eyelids open.
Zander, what happened son?
The world was spinning like a fairground ride. But his mother’s voice cut through the dizziness, like only a mother’s voice could.
You need to tend to those wounds. You can’t just lie there on the floor.
“I know,” Kojiro said. But he didn’t move. Lying on the floor was the only good thing he had left.
Now please.
Kojiro groaned. She’d never shut up if he didn’t do it.
His bloody hands probed the rest of his body, searching for other wounds. There were a few strands of loose wool on the tattered black sweater. His jeans were torn in several places underneath which were a few long but mostly superficial cuts.
His hands and forearms had taken the brunt of the damage.
Get up Zander. Go to the sink. There’s a bar of soap there.
Kojiro propped himself up on his elbows. Somehow he managed to climb back to his feet.
“What about alcohol?” he said, turning back to his mother. “Shouldn’t I use that?”
This isn’t a movie Zander. You can harm the tissue by doing that. Are the wounds bad?
“I don’t think so. They just hurt like hell. And I don’t even want to think about the possibility of rabies.”
Don’t worry, you’ll be fine son. Run the tap now. Cool running water.
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
Rinse the wounds for at least five minutes.
Kojiro rolled up his sleeves and did what he was told. He picked up the soap, turned on the tap and shrieked as the cold water gushed over his wounds. The wolves hadn’t sunk their teeth in as far as he’d thought. There was no sign of any bone sticking out but the pain was intense and his body convulsed as the icy water flowed over cracks of broken skin, flushing out the dirt, debris and bacteria. Kojiro stubbornly kept his tender flesh under the water, alternating each arm until about ten minutes had passed.
After that, he drank some water from the tap. Then he dropped back down onto the floor, sitting with his back pressed up against the counter. He grabbed a kitchen towel and gently dabbed at the wounds.
Looking up, he stared at the remains of his mother.
We were happy once Zander. Weren’t we?
Kojiro shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he said. His voice was weak and sounded far away.
I remember. As a little boy you were always smiling. You had such a vivid imagination.
“No thanks to Eiji,” Kojiro said.
What do you mean?
“You know what I mean,” Kojiro said, glaring at his mother. “He was disappointed in me. My God, the way he’d react when as a teenager I’d
conjure up the courage to talk about the theatre, about wanting to act for a living. He belittled my dream and told me to become a businessman. It was as if trying to be happy was a crime. What’s even more unforgivable is that I went along with it, just for the sake of pleasing him.”
Your father only wanted the best for you.
“Not true,” Kojiro said, dabbing ferociously at his wounds. “He’s the worst person I ever knew.”
He looked over at his mother.
“You shouldn’t have interfered that day Mum,” he said. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
You were so angry. I couldn’t believe that was my little boy.
Kojiro tossed the kitchen cloth across the floor. He pushed his back up against the counter, his wounded arms hanging limp at his side.
“It’s disappointing?” he said.
What?
“Life. What else?”
So is death Zander. Wait till you see that one.
Before Kojiro could say anything else, music exploded out of the ghetto blaster on the street outside.
Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’ was next on the vampire jukebox.
“Bastards,” he said. They were taunting him.
Soon afterwards, they were banging on the house again.
Chapter 9
As Kojiro climbed the stairs, he felt like a broken man.
The pain in his hands and arms was excruciating and yet it was nothing compared to the thought of defeat eating away at his pride. They’d beaten him and he couldn’t take it. He was at their mercy – a sitting duck waiting for the end to come. One attack, that’s all it would take to get rid of him and to get their hands on the armoury and everything else they wanted. They had superior numbers. They had two wolves for God’s sake. It wasn’t in Kojiro’s nature to surrender but what was he supposed to do in the face of such overwhelming odds?
He trudged across the hallway and stopped at the bedroom door.
Eiji Kojiro’s corpse sat facing the window – a gruesome spectator to the bizarre goings on in his old stomping ground of Richmond. What would the old man have thought about all this? Civilisation was a memory so blurry that it might have been a dream all along. His money was useless. The respect that he’d worked for his entire life – that meant nothing anymore. What happens to powerful men when the things that made them powerful no longer matter?
Kojiro tiptoed past Eiji and walked towards the balcony doors. He peered through the glass. It was a carnival of madness out there. The Vampire People were dancing to Duran Duran and laughing and joking amongst themselves like they didn’t have a care in the world. Those who weren’t taking part in the victory festival were attacking the house.
A freakishly skinny boy made a dash towards the house. He disappeared from Kojiro’s view for a couple of seconds. When he returned, he was carrying the Yumi and the arrow. He handed both items to Morrison with all the enthusiasm of a dog bringing back a stick. Morrison put a tender hand on the young man’s cheek. Then he dropped it and took the Yumi.
The skinny boy ran back into the crowd, congratulating himself with a gorilla-like chest beating.
Kojiro looked at the Yumi in Morrison’s hands. He felt something tugging at his heart.
How could you boy?
Morrison’s red eyes shone with admiration at the aesthetic qualities of the Yumi. He clumsily tried to nock an arrow and shoot it towards the house. His attempt was pathetic – the arrow slipped out of his grip before he could even release the bowstring. Morrison laughed at his own ineptitude, picked up the arrow and handed it along with the Yumi to Miss Minty.
Miss Minty looked up at Kojiro.
A half-smile formed on her lips. Then, with her eyes still on Kojiro, she clamped both hands on opposite ends of the bow. Emitting a fierce, high-pitched grunt, she snapped the bamboo weapon in two and did so with remarkable ease.
Kojiro winced at the twig-like snapping of the Yumi being taken apart.
Boy. What have you done boy?
He couldn’t look at his father. If ever Eiji Kojiro’s corpse was going to reanimate and come back to life it would have been in that moment. He would have clipped Kojiro around the head, called him a stupid boy and then went after the Vampire People on a revenge mission from Hell.
The body didn’t move. It didn’t speak either.
Miss Minty dropped the Yumi pieces onto the snow and kicked them out of her path like they were inconvenient shards of junk. Her eyes called up to him. It was a challenge – do something about it, that’s what she was saying.
Kojiro opened the balcony door and stepped outside. A gust of cold air snapped at his wounds and pushed the long black hair away from his face.
He stood at the edge, looking down at them.
“Now it’s you I see,” Morrison said, signalling for the assault on the house to stop. It did immediately. “And it is you I see this time stranger. That was a clever trick you played and it almost worked.”
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards where the two wolves were back on their leads again. They were sitting beside their human masters; one of them was licking frantically at the fresh wound in its side. The other was panting softly.
“It’s hard to fool the children,” Morrison said.
Kojiro glanced at the shattered pieces of the Yumi lying on the snow.
“So what now?” he said.
“We must proceed,” Morrison said. “But how? You’ve hurt us and we’ve hurt you. It makes no sense to go on like this, does it?”
“Then go,” Kojiro said in a voice devoid of emotion. “Turn around and go. Plunder the rest of the city for all I care but don’t stay here.”
Morrison ran his long tongue over the tips of his golden canines.
“You’re a skilled warrior and I underestimated you,” he said. “But you’re hurt and outnumbered. And quite frankly, we’re wasting time.”
“Then why don’t you come in?” Kojiro said.
Morrison tossed a strand of dark curly hair away from his face.
“Here’s the situation,” he said. “We want your weapons and your house. You want us to go so that you can keep your weapons and your house. Right so far? Now if we storm the house, we’re going to take it. We both know that. We have the numbers and no matter how good you might be with that sword, you’ll die sooner or later. But in storming the house, I risk losing more people. And I don’t have more people to spare to your sword. So we both lose. But I’m willing to suggest an alternative. Are you willing to listen?”
Kojiro was indeed willing.
“What I propose is this,” Morrison said. “A duel. A fair fight – you versus our best warrior. Duels are very much back in fashion these days, don’t you think? And I can see why – it’s a civilised resolution to a messy situation. Outcomes are decisive and losses are minimal.”
“I’m listening,” Kojiro said.
Morrison grinned. “You’re handy with that sword,” he said. “One fight and it ends. If you win, we go and although this will remain our territory, you have my word that we won’t come back to this house again. You keep the weapons, you keep your life. That’s the best deal you’re going to get.”
“And if I lose?” Kojiro said.
“When you lose,” Morrison said, “you’ll be dead. So don’t concern yourself with such things.”
Morrison put an arm around the Miss Minty. She looked back at him with adoring eyes.
“You’re good stranger,” he said. “But Miss Minty is the best. I’m not a man who’s prone to exaggeration but to speak the truth about her skills…well it always sounds like I’m exaggerating.”
Morrison slipped a hand into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the revolver and stroked the tan handle.
“The world is full of dangerous weapons,” he said, looking at Kojiro. “This is one. You’re one. But Miss Minty is something else.”
Morrison clicked his fingers.
A teenage girl with long purple hair ran out of the crowd. Sh
e was carrying something in her hand. The girl handed the object to Miss Minty and scuttled back into the grungy looking crowd.
Miss Minty held the rolled up object in her hand. With a quick snap of the wrist, she unrolled a flexible, whip-like steel blade.
Kojiro watched in fascination from the balcony. “It’s an urumi,” he said.
The urumi was a unique type of sword that originated in India. The two-metre whip blade was attached to a handle with a thumb and knuckle guard at the base. It wasn’t a stabbing weapon – its purpose was to slash and cut its victims and peel them apart slowly and painfully. It was a difficult weapon to master but in the right hands it was deadly.
Kojiro looked on as Miss Minty went about her warm up on the driveway. She moved back and forth, spinning and jumping like a cross between a ninja and a cat. The slippery surface didn’t bother her or tip her off balance. It was like she was floating above the ground, impervious to worldly distraction. She struck at an invisible target and the urumi sounded like a prolonged, sharp crack of thunder.
When the warm up ended, Morrison looked at Kojiro.
“Well,” he said. His was a face that knew it couldn’t lose. “Do you accept?”
Kojiro ran a finger over the wounds on his right hand – his sword hand. He felt an excruciating jolt of pain shoot through his body from head to toe and he trembled. So what now? He was in no condition to duel, especially against a calibre of fighter such as Miss Minty.
He buried his hands behind the railings. Then he returned a confident smile to the man below, which betrayed his true feelings.
“I accept,” he said.
Chapter 10
Kojiro went to the servant’s kitchen on his way outside. He stood at the door, looking into the closed, rotten eyelids of his mother. He wanted to say something to her but struggled to find the words.
“Don’t try and talk me out of it,” he said.
Silence.
“I’m coming back,” he said.
The foul odour was particularly strong. Kojiro didn’t want to feel queasy before going outside so he opened the cupboard under the sink and picked out a tiny can of air freshener. He shook the can and sprayed it gently around the room knowing that he was breaking the rules. The chemicals would hasten the decomposition of his mother.
The Future of London Box Set Page 76