The Future of London Box Set

by Mark Gillespie

  Kojiro turned and ran towards the house. He felt their cold, grasping hands clawing at his back.

  “Kill that Nip!”

  He flung himself up the steps and pulled the front door open. Once inside, he slammed it shut, pushed the catch and locked it.

  Chapter 11

  The house shook under the violent assault.

  The Vampire People punched and kicked at the front door. They hit it with sticks and bats and poles but still it held. Kojiro stood behind the door, his entire body pressed up against it as if his life depended on holding that thing in place.

  And of course it did.

  But he couldn’t stand there holding the door for the rest of the night. With sheer numbers alone they would overpower both him and the hinges sooner or later. Something had to give. Kojiro’s mind raced back and forth as he tried to figure out what that something was. Deep down however, he already knew. He’d known before he even slammed the door shut what he had to do next. It was just a matter of admitting it to himself.

  The ship was sinking. It was time to abandon the doomed vessel and take his chances in the lifeboat.

  He looked at the garage door to his left. What if the car didn’t run? Of course it would. He’d driven it every time he’d come back to the house. He’d even used his father’s old maintenance charger at one point specifically to prevent the battery from dying. Such preparations were part of his tactical nature. Kojiro had always suspected the time would come when he might need a car.

  Today, that time had come.

  He pulled the garage door open. It was pitch black inside. His bloodstained fingers fumbled along the wall, searching for the light switch.

  “Where is it?” Kojiro said, running a hand along the smooth stone surface.

  He felt a trickle of sweat running down his back. His throat was tight and dry.

  At last, he found the metal box and flipped the switch. The ceiling blinked before the garage lit up under a pale yellow glow.

  His father’s car was sitting underneath a large tarpaulin sheet in the middle of the garage. The tarp was held in place by several short stacks of bricks, neatly piled up on all sides of the car. It was a minor miracle that nobody had taken the car yet or at least tried to siphon off petrol still sitting inside the Bentley’s tank. Had the Kojiros’ house been located in a more thriving region of the Hole, both the house and car would have been ravaged a long time ago.

  Everything else in the garage was the same. The white walls, the chocolate brown tiles on the floor and the fluorescent lights overhead with that dull, soothing glow.

  Kojiro lifted the bricks off the tarp and pulled the sheet away. The silver Bentley Continental GT underneath looked brand new. There wasn’t a scratch or blemish on the surface of the elegant, stylish vehicle. The windows were spotless too.

  Looking inside, Kojiro saw that the cream leather seats and matching steering wheel were in perfect condition. Everything else was good. He could have been standing in a showroom looking at this car. Leaning in closer, he checked the ignition and saw that it was empty.

  He racked his brain for a second. Then he remembered that the key was sitting on the garage workbench behind him. Kojiro turned around to make sure. The key was there but something else caught his eye. There was a plastic jerry can sitting on the workbench. Two others were scattered on the floor underneath the bench. Kojiro’s father had kept the spare fuel containers in the garage and there was one in the boot of the car too. Kojiro hadn’t paid much attention to them before because the prospect of running out of fuel hadn’t occurred to him.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  His heart was racing. Another idea had occurred to him and this one was preferable to running away.

  He glanced towards the rest of the house. The Vampire People were still hammering at the front door and sooner or later it was going to cave in and they’d run wild through his childhood home, obliterating everything in their path. He had to decide now if he was going to go through with this alternate plan. It was either that or get in the car and drive away. Give up everything and don’t look back. That was the safe option. It was the smart option.

  Maintaining his honour was neither safe or smart. In light of this new idea however, it was once again necessary.

  Kojiro ran over to the counter and picked up the large jerry can. There was a thick sloshing sound as he grabbed the plastic handle. It was heavy with liquid.

  “You want the armoury?” he said, looking towards the street. “Come and get it.”

  Kojiro ran out of the garage and back into the house. He grimaced at the volume of noise. It sounded like Godzilla and King Kong were working alongside his besiegers. The front door was on the brink of being overwhelmed. Why were they focusing solely on the door now? They could have broken the windows and come through that way, but it seemed like the old man wanted the house as intact as possible. Kojiro had a feeling he knew why. If there were weapons and lots of them, the house would immediately become a potential base.

  The old bastard was clever, if despicable.

  Kojiro hurried down the hallway. He pulled the armoury key out of his pocket and shoving the key into the steel door, unlocked it.

  He stepped onto the ramp. Unscrewing the cap on the jerry can, he poured petrol onto the carpeted floor. He walked down the ramp, tipping the fuel out on either side and allowing a dry channel in the middle where he could navigate his way back without getting the flammable liquid on his shoes.

  He didn’t look at any of his father’s exhibitions as he went about his work.

  Kojiro dropped the can on the floor when it was done. As he turned to go back up the ramp, he noticed the wardrobe he’d discovered earlier. He walked over, skipping past the damp patches on the carpet. Quickly he opened the wardrobe and pulled out the bag with the electric blue suit inside.

  “I can’t leave you in here,” he said.

  Clutching the suit bag in hand, he hurried back up the ramp.

  Back in the hallway, he ran upstairs to drop the suit off in the bathroom. He felt a sense of relief knowing it was out of harm’s way. When he felt ready, he hurried back downstairs and hid behind the armoury door that now lay wide open.

  Kojiro drew his sword.

  The armoury door was an invitation. All they’d see when they stormed the house was a random door lying wide open at the end of the hallway. They’d come closer. Kojiro would let them see what he’d been protecting all night. Or at least, what they thought he’d been protecting. With any luck, they’d take the bait.

  He took a deep breath and waited.

  A few minutes passed before the Vampire People kicked the door open. There was a crashing noise that rattled Kojiro to the bone. It sounded like somebody had driven a truck into the side of the house. From behind the armoury door, Kojiro heard them charging towards the armoury like a herd of angry buffalo.

  He took a deep breath. Now that it was done, he was convinced the plan would fail. They wouldn’t stop at the armoury door after all – they’d swarm the house until they found him and then rip him into a thousand pieces to avenge the brutal demise of Miss Minty.

  He was about to leap out and attack, to initiate Plan B and fight to the death. He’d meet them head on and take out as many as he could before he was overwhelmed.

  The charge stopped.

  They were on the other side of the armoury door, just inches away from where Kojiro was hiding. He didn’t dare breathe. His heart was pounding in his chest, louder than it had ever done before.

  “Holy shit!” somebody yelled. “Do you see it?

  “Woah!”

  “It’s a fucking weapons factory man! Wait till he sees this. Look at all those swords. Oh my God. Nobody’s ever going to push us out of this territory now man. Ha-ha-ha!”

  Kojiro could hear them edging closer to the doorway. He imagined their lustful eyes taking in all the riches of Eiji’s armoury.

  “So this is what he’s been hiding?”

&nb
sp; “Can you blame him for sticking around?”

  The first set of greedy footsteps touched down on the ramp. A second pair followed and then another. Kojiro’s heart leaped for joy – they were taking the bait.

  He knelt down and peered through the keyhole. A couple of blurry shapes were moving on the other side of the door. It didn’t look like there were a lot of people left in the hallway, which suggested most of them were already in the armoury.

  Behind the blurry shapes, Kojiro saw the front door had closed over again. He smiled. The old man would have to miss out on seeing the next bit.

  Kojiro jumped out from behind the door with the xiphos raised high over his head. There was a wild shriek of terror. He saw wide, frightened eyes staring back at him. About ten or eleven Vampire People – young men and women – were making their way down the ramp into the armoury. They were looking back in horror as Kojiro lashed out at the remaining three who were still in the hallway. His sword hacked at their flailing sticks and bats and he forced them backwards with sheer will and steel. They were just boys trying to fight him off. Kojiro saw the fear in their eyes as they were overwhelmed and forced back onto the ramp. He felt a stab of pity for them. But it was too late to try and help anyone. Too late.

  When he’d pushed them onto the ramp, Kojiro dropped his sword and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out the Zippo lighter, flicked the lid open and struck the flint wheel with the back of his thumb. The orange flame popped up. Kojiro looked into the eyes of every pale face that was trapped on the ramp.

  Could they smell the petrol?

  “Don’t worry,” Kojiro said to them. “It’s over.”

  He dropped the lighter onto the damp carpet. The fire whooshed into life, the flames spurting up tall and fast, spreading everywhere at once. Kojiro heard the screams and his heart ached for them. These were the lost children of London, led astray by the man outside and his dream of having a territory of his own.

  “It’s over,” Kojiro said.

  He slammed the door shut. With trembling hands, he slid the key into the lock and sealed their fate.

  Kojiro let his head fall onto the steel door.

  God help me.

  Chapter 12

  Their child-like screams filled the house.

  Kojiro couldn’t get away from the armoury quick enough. He hurried over to the front door and tried to close it properly but the hinges had been damaged and it wouldn’t click shut. It didn’t matter. As long as he could at least push it over and block the view from the street – that would keep the old man and Morrison guessing for a while longer. They would have heard the screams however, and wouldn’t have to guess for long.

  They were still screaming now. It wasn’t quite as loud.

  He went back into the garage and grabbed a spare jerry can off the floor. Sweat poured from his brow – he could still feel the roaring heat of the flames on his face. He looked down. His hands were painted red with dry blood.

  Kojiro unscrewed the lid of the jerry can and went back into the house. With the exception of the hallway, he proceeded to pour petrol all over the downstairs area. He did it with gusto, like a hungry man splashing vinegar onto a large plate of fish and chips. Once again, he left a narrow channel in the middle – a route that he could walk through without getting petrol on his shoes.

  The screaming had stopped. As he passed by the steel door, Kojiro heard only the fierce crackle and spit of the fire getting stronger.

  He felt sick to the pit of his stomach.

  His last stop was in the servant’s kitchen. He tipped out the last of the petrol onto the bloodstained floor, working his way around his dead mother, and then dropped the can at his feet.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  When it was done, he hurried back to the front of the house.

  “What’s going on?” the old man’s voice called out. “Talk to me someone!”

  Kojiro stared at the front door. Why didn’t they come in and find out? He was still outnumbered after all. They still had two wolves at their disposal. So why didn’t they come in?

  That was easy. He’d taken out about twelve people, not to mention those he’d killed earlier. Miss Minty, their best warrior, was gone. The Vampire People were hovering on the edge of extinction and that was the worst thing that could happen to any gang. The old man and Morrison were scared – that had to be it. The tables were turning. No wonder they weren’t coming in.

  Kojiro went upstairs to the bathroom, ran the tap and threw cold water onto his face. His face felt like it was burning up. He looked in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. His eyes were exhausted. His cheeks were sunken in and colourless. It was obvious at first glance that he was close to running on empty.

  He ran a hand through his long black hair. It was hot and damp.

  “Clean yourself up,” he said.

  If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least freshen up a little. The urge to do so was overwhelming and with a loud groan, he lifted the damp, black sweater off his body. Looking in the mirror, he saw several long raking wounds on his chest and ribs. They would make for good scars later but fortunately these were mostly superficial scratches. The wolves had done a number on him but he’d been lucky in terms of not picking up lasting damage.

  Kojiro noticed the suit bag lying in the bathtub where he’d left it. He felt a sudden desire to put it on. That way he could do away with the raggedy man in the mirror.

  He unfastened his sword belt at the buckle and pulled it off. His dirty jeans, his underwear and socks – he took them all off and tossed them onto the floor.

  He stood naked in the half-light seeping upstairs from the hallway.

  “Hey!” the old man yelled. “Talk to me you little bastards.”

  Kojiro paid little attention to what was going on outside. He ran the tap. White water gushed into the grimy sink at a furious speed. Grabbing an unused packet of hotel soap from the bathroom cupboard, he went to work, building up a lather and washing his body from head to toe. The soapy water ran into his wounds and although it hurt, Kojiro didn’t slow down. The need to wash was too great.

  Downstairs, he heard the armoury going up in flames. Soon the fire would spread.

  When he’d finished washing, Kojiro grabbed the suit bag and went into his parent’s bedroom at the back of the house. He switched on the light. The lace curtains, the silk sheets – everything was neat and tidy. There were a few dead flies on the floor and a massive, thick-bodied spider was lurking in the corner of the ceiling. The furniture was dusty but the room – which Kojiro hadn’t set foot in for a long time – was still recognisable as Eiji and Alison Kojiro’s bedroom.

  Kojiro walked over to the wardrobe and rummaged through his father’s clothes. He was like an impatient shopper in a department store, pushing everything aside until he found what he wanted. What he did find was a white shirt hanging up, creaseless and seemingly untouched. He put it on quickly and it was a perfect fit. In terms of body dimensions, Kojiro was every bit his father’s son. It was only in everything else that they were miles apart.

  He picked out a pair of brown Italian monk strap shoes and wiped a layer of dust off the top with his hand. Then he opened up the suit bag and put the blue trousers on. Already he was starting to feel better. He chose a pale blue tie from the wardrobe and tied it with ease even though it had been years since the last time he did it. Muscle memory.

  Kojiro slid the shoes onto his feet and strapped them tight. Then he stood up and walked over to the mirror. A frown lingered on his face. Something still wasn’t right.

  He ran a hand through his long black hair.

  Dirty.

  Turning around, he walked over to the king-sized bed and picked up one of the silver-handled brushes on his mother’s bedside table. Several strands of blonde hair were still attached to the bristles and Kojiro felt something pinch at his heart.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He brushed his hair in a cold, machine-like rhythm. Then he return
ed to the mirror, took the hair in both hands and tied it into a topknot. His father used to tell him that the topknot was the look of his samurai ancestors. Kojiro had always liked that image and in that moment it felt like the right thing to do.

  Last but not least, he slipped the electric blue jacket around his slim body.

  Kojiro looked in the bedroom mirror. He felt better now. Even the wounds on his body felt like they’d eased off a little.

  “I do like the feel of a good suit,” he said, pulling gently at the crisp sleeves.

  He went back to the bathroom and picked the sword belt up off the floor. Tucking it underneath the suit jacket, he wrapped it around his waist and positioned the scabbard on his left side at a perfect angle for a quick draw.

  Crashing noises filtered up from downstairs. It sounded like the glass cabinets were falling over in the armoury as the fire took hold.

  Kojiro went downstairs and walked back towards the servant’s kitchen. He barely noticed the putrid smell anymore – a sickly combination of rotten corpse, lavender and petrol. He glanced at his mother as he walked over to the scented candles still burning on the counter.

  “I’m going now,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything Mum – nobody is ever going to take you out of here. You or Dad. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He paused, as if waiting for her to reply.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. The words spilled out, clumsy and not enough.

  He picked up the two scented candles and left the kitchen. When he reached the hallway at the front, he turned around and tossed the candles back into the lounge.

  Fire shot up out of the ground. The dark house lit up with an angry, hellish glow and Kojiro felt an explosion of heat surrounding him. It was like he was standing in a dragon’s mouth, watching his world fall to pieces down below.