by Jacob Whaler
Miyazawa drops to his knees. “No! You don’t understand. I know the ways of the Kami. They have revealed themselves to me.” A trembling, bloody fist reaches up to his father. “I have become one with them.”
Speaking in a voice devoid of all emotion, his father looks down. “You are unfit, even for the work of a lowly priest. The EUSA will be notified of our decision upon our return to Tokyo. Subsequent to your removal, a suitable successor will be found. In the meantime, all expansion of Shinto is to be put on hold pending further study.”
Arms outstretched, Miyazawa presses his forehead against the tatami floor. “I beg you. Don’t do this. I can prove my claims.” Convulsions rack his body. “If you’ll only suspend judgment and consider what I’m saying.”
His father’s head drops down into a shallow bow. “I am sorry.” He leads the other three old priests from the room.
The only sound Miyazawa hears is the swishing of their starched robes and soft footsteps as they move down the wooden floor of the hallway to the entrance. He remains in a prostrate position, eyes closed, unable to move, until the sliding door shuts crisply behind them.
The sound wakes him up.
With renewed vigor, he jumps to his feet and races down the hallway, leaving behind his sandals and rushing outside with only the white tabi socks on his feet.
One by one, the old priests file back into the heli-transport in the courtyard, their robes looking like canvass stretched over thin, bent twigs.
As the rotors engage, Miyazawa stumbles forward, arms outstretched. The transport lifts off the ground and climbs out of reach. He stares up and sees the face of his father through the transport window, expressionless as granite, gazing straight ahead, making no attempt to look down or acknowledge Miyazawa’s presence.
You don’t understand. I am a Kami.
The transport hovers for a moment, and then turns toward the valley below. The scream of its engines reaches a high pitch. As it moves away, Miyazawa is left with the thump, thump, thump beating a rhythm in his chest.
His gaze goes down to the bloody hand. He studies it with detached curiosity and raises it to eye level. Bright crimson lines run down his wrist and disappear beneath the priest’s robe.
I am a Kami.
The heli-transport is a half kilometer away, flying over mountains covered in a rich carpet of cedar trees.
I have the power.
With eyes now grown cold, Miyazawa turns the palm of his hand to face the transport. His teeth come together in a clenched jaw. He thrusts his arm forward, as if shooting an arc of energy out of his fingertips.
For an instant, he imagines the look on his father’s face.
The transport bursts into flames and plummets into a mountainside.
CHAPTER 21
“Target destroyed.” Diego lifts his finger from the bluescreen. “Residual onboard scans confirm no survivors. The Shinto Council no longer exists. Miyazawa has unfettered control of the Earth United Shinto Alliance.” He leans back in the chair and looks at Ryzaard.
“Have all the EUSA heli-transports been rigged with detonation devices?” Ryzaard leans back with a cigarette between his fingers and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
Diego’s fingers touch the screen again. It fills with profile views of a fleet of transports. “All two hundred of them. As per your orders.”
“Including the one Miyazawa always travels in?”
“The white dragon?” Diego points to it on the screen. “That was the first one we did.”
Ryzaard nods. “Imagine what must be going through Miyazawa’s mind right now. He thinks he’s become a god.” He turns and walks to the central staircase. “Keep an eye on him. I expect to see some erratic behavior. Humor him to the extent you can. Let him use his newly found power. But keep me in the loop on everything. At some point, I suspect he’ll outgrow his usefulness.”
Diego casts his glance at an entire floor of cubicles buzzing with activity. “Don’t worry. I’ve got an army here that will be more than happy to keep an eye on him. I’ll let you know if Miyazawa needs to see another vision anytime soon. We’ll do our best to keep the illusion going as long as necessary.”
“I’ll be with Jerek if you need me.” Ryzaard walks five levels up the staircase. Even through the outer glass, he can see it is a glorious summer day in Manhattan. A flock of pigeons flies on a collision course with the building and skims straight up the wall past him. He pauses and follows them with his eyes as they pump their wings, soaring higher and higher past the roof.
An expression of delight crosses Ryzaard’s face.
Up. A good direction.
CHAPTER 22
“You sure this is close enough?” Tom looks down from the transport cab to the sidewalk. “It’s still ten miles to New York City. I could get you closer. I’ll take you all the way to Times Square if you’d like.”
Matt laughs. “Large transports are pretty rare in that part of town. You might get stopped by the police, something we’d like to avoid.” He motions to an open stairway leading down just a dozen meters away. “The Tube’s right here. We’ll just enjoy a quiet ride in.” Reaching into the back, Matt pulls out the large backpack and drops it on the sidewalk. “I appreciate the ride and the good conversation. Very enlightening. I’m still new to this whole freedom camp movement.”
“You’re him.” Tom slips off his cap and awkwardly bows his head. “The Finder. The one who will lead us to victory over the Abomination.” As his eyes mist up, he looks out the front of the windshield at the houses along the road. “Looks like a tough neighborhood. Be careful. We need you to stay alive and healthy. Same for them.” He turns to the left where Jessica and Yarah are stretching their legs in the park across the street.
“I need your help.”
“Anything.” Tom’s cap goes back onto his head. “Just ask.”
“Keep this all a secret. Don’t tell the Children we’re heading into the City. Pass along the word that The Finder has gone into hiding for a while. When I’m ready, I’ll initiate the contact. Until then, the three of us are going to lie low and try to not attract any attention. I need time to figure out the next steps.”
“The Plan?”
“Right,” Matt says. “The Plan.”
Tom leans forward and extends his hand. “You’ve got a jax, right? And money?”
Matt pats his backpack. “Plenty of both. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to running and hiding. Living off-grid. I’ve been doing it most of my life, and I’m pretty good at it. Learned all the tricks from my dad.” He reaches up into the cab and shakes hands. “Take care, Tom. I hope to see you again. And if I don’t, well . . .” Matt smiles, steps back and shuts the door.
As Tom begins to drive off, Yarah races across the street, waving her arms. Tom waves back and takes a left turn at the next corner.
Jessica jogs up to Matt’s side. “Good guy.”
“One of the best,” Matt says. “Wish we could have talked longer.”
“All night wasn’t long enough?”
Matt nods in the direction of the truck. “He’s a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy. You can learn a lot from someone like that.” Reaching down, he pulls up his backpack and swings it onto one shoulder. Trickles of sweat pour between his shoulder blades under the T-shirt. “Let’s go for a little ride and get out of the sun.” He starts walking to the Tube entrance.
During the ride into the City, they find a private compartment and work on appearances.
Jessica’s hair is cropped short, flaming red. A tattoo of a unicorn jumps out on her right thigh, just below the hem of her purple leather shorts. Matt sports a long braid down his back, a pink goatee and thick sideburns. A knife scar runs from the corner of his left eye down the line of his jawbone and ends at his lower lip, like a large checkmark. He has the air of a Yakuza flunky about him.
Yarah wears black knee socks, black lipstick and a green princess dress that goes down to her shins.
They
emerge at dusk onto the street two blocks away from Times Square, Jessica and Yarah coming out first, followed by Matt. Each has a throwaway jax, just in case they get separated. Matt makes it very clear to Yarah. Under no circumstances is she, or he, to use their Stone. She is to keep her Stone safely hidden inside the cloaking box.
They are on Ryzaard’s home turf now. If Ryzaard knew, it would complicate things. Matt needs time to think, time to plan.
They fit right in with the few people on the street. Yarah cranes her neck back and stares straight up at the buildings above. Her lips form an O as she turns around in circles.
Matt bends down. “I need your help.”
“What can I do?” Yarah says.
“Keep your mind open. Let me know if you notice anyone watching us or following us. But don’t use your Stone. Do the best you can without it.”
“Any ideas on where we’re going to stay?” Jessica stares up at the blazing red outer skin of the hi-rise across the street.
“Thought we could start out at the YMCA on 53rd Street.” He opens his palm and glances down at the holo map above his jax. “Looks like there’s room. Lots of young people coming and going. Their ID verification system is still archaic. We should be able to fool it without too much trouble. And it’s not too far from the new MX Global corporate headquarters. My guess is that’s where we’ll find Ryzaard.”
“I’m hungry,” Yarah says.
Matt nods. “So am I. Chinese or Japanese?”
Yarah giggles. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just what I was thinking.” Matt shoulders the pack and starts to walk. “Follow me. I smell sushi just around the corner.”
CHAPTER 23
Alexa stares in disbelief at the slate. Jessica and Matt are less than two blocks away, eating in a restaurant that Alexa frequents herself. For some unknown reason, they have come to the heart of Manhattan. She can’t fathom why they would do that.
If Ryzaard knew Matt was so close, he’d be going crazy.
It presents both an opportunity and a challenge. The opportunity is clear. With Matt as a visitor in the city, on unfamiliar ground, it shouldn’t be too hard to construct a trap to catch him, Jessica and Yarah.
But it could all spin out of control if Alexa isn’t careful. And lucky.
Ryzaard’s plans are reaching a critical stage.
Perhaps Matt senses it. Of all of Ryzaard’s enemies, Matt is the most antagonistic, the one with the most to fight for. And the one with the most likelihood of success.
Matt must have come back to the city for precisely that purpose.
It’s up to Alexa to create the perfect trap.
At times like this, when faced with complex choices, it does more harm than good to over-think the situation. Acting on instinct has certain advantages, and Alexa’s instincts tell her to go out to meet Matt.
Grabbing her jax, she brushes her finger along its length.
A male voice rises out of it.
“Sakura Restaurant. Take-out or eat-in?”
“Hey, Hiroki,” Alexa says. “Thought I’d swing by for some pescado. Anything good on the menu?”
“Fresh hamachi and toro,” Hiroki says. “Best fish we’ve had in weeks. Got an open seat at the counter for you right now.”
“Be there in three minutes.” She opens a drawer in the desk and pulls out a purple pack of thin film squares. Stripping one off, she pulls up the back of her shirt and lays it against the small of her back, flush with the skin. She starts counting backwards from ten. When she gets to five, the rush hits like a piston shooting up her spine.
The tingling sensation of peppermint crème under the skin spreads from the base of her neck, out to the shoulders and down her torso. Tight muscles relax into pools of warm saltwater. Her bones are loosely bound together by flexible cords of wet rubber. A lacy curtain of yellow light drops down over her eyes. Sounds are dampened as if she’s enveloped in a clear liquid. The world becomes an inviting, protective womb.
Hope this works. The little girl’s pretty good, even without her Stone. Only one way to find out.
Alexa walks to the door, unaware of whether her feet are actually touching the ground or not.
When she emerges outside, the drug makes the hot night air melt against her skin like cotton candy. By the time she’s halfway to the Sakura, Ryzaard is a distant memory. Everyone she meets on the sidewalk is a long-lost friend. The cold chrome light posts are worthy of a warm embrace. She looks forward to seeing Matt and Jessica, even little Yarah, and catching up with her companions from an almost forgotten past.
The open door of the restaurant pulls her into its golden interior.
“Alexa.” Hiroki’s voice calls from somewhere deep inside. “Right here by the counter. Your usual spot.”
She drifts past seated patrons, letting her head bob from side to side, looking for Matt and Jessica. She can’t find them. Strange. Her glance drops down to the jax in her hand. The green line on the side means they are only a few meters away. She smiles and lets the current pull her to a seat at the counter. Seconds after landing in the high backed chair, a bright orange plate appears in front. Four pieces of glistening sushi float on its surface, slowly swaying from side to side. Another grin flows across her cheeks.
Hiroki’s voice comes again. “Just a little appetizer, on the house.”
“Can’t wait” Alexa skips the chopsticks and reaches for a piece, not bothering to dip it in the tiny pool of blue soy sauce next to the plate. The buttery taste of yellowtail spreads out in her mouth like liquid sunshine. “Black market?”
“And insanely expensive.” Hiroki smiles to reveal a row of piranha teeth finely filed to sharp points. “Flown in fresh from Discovery Bay. Antarctica’s the only fishery left where the fish don’t glow.”
“You’re the best.”
“Patched into Nirvana?” Hiroki says.
Alexa slowly looks up. “You know it. Sweet Cuban derms.”
“Best way to eat sushi.” Hiroki drops another plate down. “Here’s a little surprise. Enjoy.” The shadow starts to move away.
“Hiroki,” Alexa says. “I’m here to meet friends. Have you seen them?”
“Anyone in particular?”
“An Asian-looking guy and his wife. Long brown hair.” Another piece of heaven drops into her mouth. “And they have a little girl, dark hair, brown eyes. Probably dressed to travel. They’ve come a long way today.”
Hiroki’s face scans the clientele. “Don’t see anyone that fits the description. I’ll let you know if they walk in.”
Alexa nods and swallows, feeling the fish and rice work its way down. A deep purple mound of flesh on the plate to the right screams out at her. This time, she picks up a single chopstick to investigate. With surgical precision, she touches the tip to the gelatinous mass and pushes through the surface. A tiny appendage with four reptilian fingers reaches up and grabs the chopstick. She lifts, and a snake-like creature with two front legs emerges. Its body bends into an arc, and the tail swings wildly from side to side.
“Peruvian dragon eel. Best to swallow it alive and whole.” Hiroki looks up from the counter, a thin knife in his left hand. “Came up with it last month doing some genmod in the lab. Finally got it ready for debut tonight. Tastes like sea urchin. Your favorite, right?”
Alexa nods. “You know I love uni.” She dangles it in the air, tilts her head back and slips it into her mouth, feeling the tail swipe her lips and tongue as it goes down. Warm fingers tickle her stomach from the inside. “You’re a genius, Hiroki.”
A male waiter with heavy eyeliner and thin strips of white hair hanging down over his eyes stops by the counter and whispers to Hiroki in Japanese. He listens and nods. Turning his attention back to Alexa, he drops another plate down in front of her.
“Your friends are here.” He looks up, eyes narrowing. “A little different from the last time you saw them. Against the wall, just below the bluescreen. They’ve invited you to join them. Zim
will guide you over if you’d like.”
Alexa turns to see a woman with neon red hair next to a man sporting a pink goatee. The little girl in a green dress gives it away. It’s them.
“I can manage on my own.” Alexa waves, picks up her plates and swims through the crowd to the wall.
Yarah scoots over, making room.
Alexa drops down and stares at Jessica and Matt across the table. A laugh starts to rise in her throat. She tries to stifle it, but it surfaces as a forced exhale.
“You look great,” Alexa whispers. “All three of you. I didn’t know you were coming to the city. You should have told me.”
“It was a spur of the moment decision.” Matt stabs a gyoza with black metallic chopsticks. “Left the mountains yesterday. Caught a ride. Here we are.” The gyoza takes a bath in a pool of red sauce and goes into his mouth. “What about you? What brought you here?”
A waiter slides bowls of miso soup in front of the four of them. “Compliments of Hiroki,” he says.
Alexa hopes the haze induced by the Cuban derm will keep Yarah away. “Same reason you came.” She brings the bowl up to her lips, sucking on the salty broth and savoring the floating chunks of pork and tofu. “Trying to figure out how to stop Ryzaard. Did you know he has new digs?”
“Thought so,” Matt says. “Five blocks from here. The building with the obsidian skin.”
Alexa nods. “That’s the one. Whole thing’s constructed of carbonized chromatophoric glass. Inside and out. Stronger than steel and the color is completely programmable.”
“Only the best for Ryzaard.” Jessica looks down at a neatly arranged row of fatty tuna slices resting on perfectly round balls of purple rice. She picks one up and pops it into her mouth. “So how are you staying under his radar while you’re here?”