by D. J. McCune
Adam said nothing. He watched Spike’s head slide sideways along the back of his seat, until gentle snores could be heard. Dan returned soon afterwards but Adam pointedly put his headphones on and tried to watch an idiotic film on the little screen in front of him.
Eventually, as darkness fell outside, he must have fallen asleep.
The flight passed surprisingly quickly, in a blur of dozing and eating. There was one exciting interlude when Archie tried to impress the girls beside him by eating his entire portion of wasabi and almost died in the process. Miss Lumpton was summoned to stand over his red-faced, eye-streaming, wheezing form, whereupon she pronounced him an idiot and left him to make a gasping recovery. His gloom was only compounded by the fact that the girls beside him remained singularly unimpressed.
Through the plane window Adam could see land beneath them. A video appeared on the mini-screens and the air stewards led the Japanese passengers through some gentle stretches, getting their muscles ready to get off the plane. Adam could have done with some stretches himself. He felt cramped and desperate for the loo. He had spent the entire flight huddled beside a sleeping Spike, not wanting to wake him and get subjected to any further interrogation.
Still, they were nearly there. He pushed past his drooling ‘friend’ and joined the queue for the toilet. Inside the tiny cubicle he breathed through his mouth and stared at his reflection in the mirror. In the ghastly light he looked pale and gaunt and exhausted. It turned out that as well as being an engineering miracle, flying got boring pretty quickly. He would never slag off swooping again.
When he got back to his seat, Spike was rubbing bleary eyes and wiping the side of his mouth. ‘Just landing to get through,’ he said, voice a harsh croak. ‘As long as I get to see the supercomputers I can die happy.’ He gave no sign at all of remembering what he’d said earlier.
Adam didn’t answer. He felt the plane fall and watched the ground move gently towards them, looked forward to the moment when he could get off and never have to sit beside a drugged-up Spike again.
The next few hours passed in a blur of security, passports, bag collection and herding from one place to another. The mysterious Murai had sent one of his assistants to help them, a quietly spoken man called Kenai. There was a fraught train ride with various teachers flapping and Kenai guiding them off one packed train and onto two coaches. The boys were put on one coach and the girls on another. It turned out they would be staying at separate guest houses, much to Archie’s horror. Dan was more prosaic. ‘So even if Melissa had been here, you wouldn’t have been able to hook up with her.’ It was cold comfort for Adam.
Still, just being in Japan was amazing. They passed from busy streets to narrow ones, fat electrical cables dangling overhead as they headed further out into the suburbs. Tokyo was huge, the scale of it hard to fathom. There were people everywhere and the shop fronts were plastered with bright signs in unintelligible kanji. It was impossible to know what they were, apart from the cafes and bars. They at least had windows full of bright pictures of sushi and bowls of soup.
At last they pulled up outside a flat-fronted building, larger than most of the others. ‘Out,’ barked Mr Fenton, too tired to rant at them beyond one mouth-frothing exhortation to bring their passports and all their bags.
‘What is this place?’ Dan was eyeing the door with consternation.
‘It’s just a hostel. Hope it’s got Western toilets and showers.’ Spike looked grumpy and hung-over.
Inside the corridors were bland and clean. Adam and his friends were on the second floor close to the stairs. The four of them were directed into a tiny room with four bunk beds and a cubbyhole apiece for their belongings. There was a brief but frenzied scramble for the top bunks and to his delight Adam won. It helped having bigger, stronger brothers at home. His friends were no competition. Aron could have taken them all down with one hand tied behind his back.
They were summoned back to the communal lounge downstairs, where The Bulb was waiting. His eyes were bulging out of his bald head with a potent mixture of exhaustion and nervous energy. He made a series of toe-curling threats and advised them to spend a few hours resting and contemplating what they wanted to get out of the trip. Then he outlined their itinerary for the next few days and reminded them that they would be leaving Tokyo to visit a fish-processing factory along the eastern seaboard.
As soon as The Bulb mentioned the factory, something strange happened. Adam’s head went light. There was an intense roar of sound, like water crashing on rock, and the sound of screaming. But then, a split second later, it was gone.
Adam frowned. He was tired, that was all. He pushed it from his mind and followed his friends back to the room, trying to get ready for the best holiday of his life.
Chapter 20
he next few days passed in a blur of jet lag, excitement and non-stop visiting. The mighty Murai himself came to meet them on their third day. They were visiting an electronics factory he owned and he had cleared an hour in his packed schedule. He was a tiny, dapper man with an expansive smile and endless patience for their questions. His fluent English and cut-glass accent made the British royal family sound like cockneys in comparison.
Murai spoke fondly of his time in England, at Bonehill and Cambridge. He had special regard for his former head teacher (they couldn’t help but notice the rather unguarded and sceptical glance he threw at The Bulb, who was too busy glaring at his pupils to notice). It transpired that Murai’s funding of the trip wasn’t purely altruistic. He had created a scholarship fund for British students to do intensive Japanese courses and study at Japanese universities, specifically in science and engineering. When he mentioned that he co-sponsored the Tokyo Supercomputer Convention even Spike stood up straighter, looking eager.
Dan snorted derisively. ‘Who would go and look at computers when the world RPG Exhibition is on?!’
His answer was lost in the sudden stampede towards the exit. They were going on a sightseeing tour that afternoon – a sushi bar for lunch, followed by a visit to a famous Buddhist temple. No one was really that interested in temples but it had to be more interesting than the electronics factory, or at least the limited bits of it they had been allowed to see.
Adam picked at his lunchtime sushi. He hadn’t been feeling well and that was always a cause for alarm, because Lumen rarely got ill, thanks to their keystones. Adam only ever felt really unwell when he was having a serious premonition – when lots of people were about to die.
He tried to rationalise it away at first, hoping it was just his first brush with jet lag, but all the signs were there. He knew them now: the queasy feeling in his stomach, light-headedness and bizarrely vivid dreams. What he didn’t know yet was exactly what was going to happen. Tokyo was a huge city, bursting at the seams with millions of people. It would be so easy for a train to derail or for dozens of cars to pile into one another.
There was one thing he did know though. He wasn’t going to do anything about it, even if he did figure it out. Darian might have backed off, distracted by his fear of Auntie Jo and Heinrich’s unexpected move – but he wouldn’t take his eye off the ball for long. It would be hard not to intervene but this time Adam knew it would be a suicide mission. Plus, getting involved in an accident in Japan would start an international incident.
He thought his mind was made up until they got back to the hostel that evening. They had an hour of free time before they had to go out for dinner and on to a theatre to see a traditional Japanese dance and music performance. His friends and most of the others settled into the communal lounge, gathering round the TV and watching, fascinated, as a Japanese game show played. The host was a shrieking man with blond tips in his hair, who was chasing some very pretty Japanese girls round a studio. The girls were dressed like porcelain dolls, with ringlet curls, ivory faces and eyelashes like spider legs. They were squealing and trying to hobble to safety on platform shoes.
Archie’s eyes were like saucers. ‘You see! I told you
they dressed up like that!’
Dan was frowning. ‘They’re a bit weird looking.’
Archie scowled. ‘They’re no weirder than your elf people.’
The host had caught up with them and now appeared to be trying to bite one of the girl’s pants off with his teeth. The room full of boys had fallen completely silent. Even Mr Fenton and The Bulb were slack-jawed. It took The Bulb a few seconds to realise that this probably wasn’t wholesome family entertainment. He seized the remote control and changed the channel, landing on a sumo match. There was a subdued chorus of disapproval, swiftly stifled by The Bulb’s murderous glare.
Adam took advantage of the moment to slip away. In the room, he turned on the ceiling fan and crawled up into his bunk, lying on the cover with his hands behind his head, watching the fan circle. His stomach was churning. He had spent all day trying to convince himself that he’d eaten something unusual – but he knew that his doom sense was waiting to show him something. Blocking the premonition would only make him feel worse. The sooner he saw whatever vision was lying in wait, the sooner he would feel better. He would feel guilty too, knowing he was going to ignore it, but he would worry about that when it happened.
The room was quiet as the ceiling fan whirred around and around and around. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of his body pulling him into the mattress. He let his mind go wandering, listening to the fan hum over and over again …
He was standing at the top of a sloping drive. The wind blew in his face, cold and heavy with an unpleasant fishy, diesel tinge. Ahead of him were long, low buildings where men and women were moving about, dressed in identical grey overalls with matching grey caps. Forklift trucks were zipping across the yard, moving crates of fish and seafood, gleaming grey and silver against their beds of ice.
From his vantage point Adam could peer past the fish-processing plant and see the roofs of more buildings on a street below. The land sloped sharply and in the gaps between the buildings Adam could see something glinting blue. Water, reflecting the sunshine. He couldn’t see far. He needed to get higher.
Behind him a truck roared. He swung round and watched it turn up a steep lane, leading to a tall white building. It was elegant and futuristic, a landmark four storeys high looking down on the buildings below. Curious now, he followed the truck up the sharp slope as fast as he could. He knew that he wasn’t really there; if he had been his breath would have been coming and going in fast gasps.
It took a minute to climb to the top of the lane and stand in front of the white building. Adam stared through glass doors into a light and airy reception area. Two metal staircases rose up far above. He could see an attractive receptionist talking into a headset. Two men in suits were hurrying down one of the stairwells holding briefcases. The whole building conveyed a sense of calm purpose.
Then, without warning, time jolted. Adam found himself standing some distance away, at the edge of a cliff. He fell to his knees with shock, clutching his hands over his ears. A siren was blaring, rising and falling. He was looking down on the processing plant below and the men and women inside were flooding out, running across the yard, towards the steep track he had just climbed. What had happened? It was like time had slipped, moving him forward by seconds or minutes or hours. When he looked over his shoulder at the white building, all the windows had shattered. He could see the glass lying on the ground below. The people inside were screaming. What the hell was going on?
It was the other sound that made him turn back; that fired up nerves in some primitive, animal part of his brain. The people below didn’t seem to notice; they were too busy running up the hill. More people were pouring out of houses and appearing from side streets. The sound was a low roar, still far away, but Adam’s eyes were drawn irresistibly to the sea beyond the factory. He was looking straight out onto the Pacific Ocean, stretching away as far as the eye could see. If he climbed into a boat right now and set off across the water, he would eventually find himself thousands of miles away, landing on the western coast of America.
At first the sea seemed calm but as he looked his eye was caught by a movement; the movement of water, faster than the waves rolling towards the shore. He squinted against the breeze and frowned. What was it about the water that looked different? It was just a slightly bigger wave. Wasn’t there some nursery rhyme about every seventh wave being bigger than the others? He couldn’t see them as they crested and broke, the shore hidden by the buildings.
Adam felt cold. Something was wrong. The sirens were still wailing and the last of the grey-clad workers were leaving the factory when the building behind them exploded. Not with fire but with water – a black, filthy wall of water, surging over the men and women running up the slope, the roar devouring them as they screamed and Adam screamed and …
Adam jolted awake when the bedroom door burst open. He sat up fast, struggling to breathe, hitting his head on the low ceiling. ‘Ouch!’
Dan was standing in the doorway staring at him. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ His voice came out strangled. His chest was still tight and he bent over double, trying to breathe. The vision was all in his head – at least for now – but it had felt so real that his body had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
Spike pushed past Dan and grabbed his coat. ‘You came for a nap?’
Archie’s leering face peered round the door. ‘He wasn’t napping, were you, mate? Just having a little bit of … happy time.’ He sniggered.
Adam stared at him stupidly. What were they all doing here? What was he doing here? He didn’t even know which bit of what he was seeing was real. He sat up, almost hitting his head all over again. ‘What do you want?’
‘We have to go,’ Dan said. ‘That dance thing. And the screechy singing.’ He launched into a demonstration, sounding like a cat being disembowelled and strangled with its own intestines.
Adam rolled onto his side and swung down from the bunk, still dazed. He staggered, feeling groggy and sick but trying to hide it. ‘I’m ready.’ He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed a hoodie, following them downstairs and out into the cool night air. Light drizzle was falling and moisture hazed his face as they stepped onto the waiting coach. He licked his lips, dreading the taste of salt water.
He sat quietly, watching the buildings roll by as they made their way to the theatre. Seeing the same architecture made his stomach clench with the familiarity of the vision, even though there was no ocean here. He knew already that his premonition hadn’t been about Tokyo and there was only one place they would be visiting outside Tokyo. He turned to Archie. ‘What’s the name of that place we’re going to again? The place with the fish factory?’
‘Hachimana.’ Archie yawned.
‘How far away is it?’
‘Couple of hours on the train. We get the really fast one.’ Archie rolled his eyes and looked longingly out of the bus window. ‘See over there? That’s Shibuya. We could be hanging out there with cute cos girls and instead we’re going to go and watch Japanese opera.’
Adam stayed silent. He wasn’t going to be watching anything. He had places to be.
His opportunity came when the performance was just about to start. He had deliberately held back until everyone else was seated and made sure he sat beside the aisle, away from his friends, pleading a dodgy stomach. The teachers were sitting several rows in front, although he knew Fenton was out in the foyer, keeping watch. Hopefully no one would notice his absence. He waited for the lights to go down, then eased out of his seat and scurried up the few rows of steps.
It was simple enough to get past Fenton; he was sitting on the stairs, his head against the wall, dozing. Adam moved silently across the carpeted floor, searching until he recognised the symbol for the men’s toilet. The last few stragglers were leaving and heading into the performance. Within moments he was in an empty cubicle ready to go.
He closed his eyes and reached for his keystone, then stepped forward in
to the Hinterland. Once he was there it was easier to feel the particular vibration and resonance of the Mortson Keystone, especially when he visualised it, cradled in the stone Buddha’s hands, the mountains rising all around them. He knew he could do this. He felt the snag at the back of his throat and swooped.
Last time he had been here it had been early morning. Tonight it was amazingly dark and frost glinted on the ground, even here near the foot of the mountains. The only visible lights were the lamps glowing in the house beyond the garden and the thousands of stars pinpointed above. Adam couldn’t help staring up for a minute, just enjoying the sight. They were the only human beings for miles around. His breath billowed out in front of him as he walked towards the house, using the light on his phone to help him.
As he got closer the glass window slid open and a man’s silhouette stood framed in what had become a doorway. Hikaru greeted him. Adam mirrored the man’s bow, holding it a fraction longer than Hikaru, then shook his hand. He eased his boots off before stepping inside onto the tatami matting. They were in the same room as last time.
Hikaru knelt before the low table. ‘Rita will bring us tea.’
Now that he was here, without his father’s guidance, Adam felt uncomfortably aware of all the things he could say and do wrong. ‘Thank you.’ That was probably a safe-enough start.
Maybe Hikaru realised this. He smiled suddenly, his face softening and becoming less implacable. ‘You are welcome here, Adam. Please be at ease. I am happy you have come.’
‘I would have come sooner but … I couldn’t get away. Without people noticing.’
‘I understand.’ The screen door slid open and Rita came in, beaming a welcome. She set a tray on the table and embraced Adam warmly. There were a few obligatory questions about health, family and his visit so far and then, with one last smile, she murmured goodbye and padded across the floor, sliding the door behind her.