Half Life: A Hana Walker Mystery (The Hana Walker Mysteries Book 1)

by Patrick Sherriff

  I landed on my feet and stumbled past the broken glass and porcelain. I hadn’t thought how to get the belt back. It hung from the window like the closed sign at Aunt Tanaka’s restaurant. Could the belt be traced back to me? Maybe. But it made no difference to Emi, so I stopped worrying about it.

  I picked the bits of glass out of my palms and tried to think. I’d lost Ono. But I’d also lost Mr. Blackmore. I could go looking for him, but so could Ono. I still had an address, Emi’s old home in Abiko.

  What I could do there, I had no idea, but that’s all I had.

  Abiko.

  It was only five minutes by train. Even from here you could hear the loudspeakers blaring from Kashiwa station. A jumble of automatic recordings and new announcements. Lots of talk, but no trains. I let the words flow over me and picked out what mattered. No trains. No replacement buses. No taxis. I was on my own. On my own. That gave me an idea for how to get back without being spotted.

  I clattered along a street jammed with cars until I came to a level crossing. Then I pulled my robes up and stepped onto the train tracks and stumbled from one sleeper to the next, each step jarring my knees as the wood of my geta struck the wood of the sleepers. It was slow, painful but direct, nothing was in my way. Unless the trains started again.

  Sweat ran down my face. The salt of it stung my eyes. But I kept my head down and set my stride to land on every other sleeper.

  In half an hour I was at the empty Abiko station.

  I scrambled up the waist-high platform and caught my breath. And I saw my reflection in the glass door of the empty waiting room on the platform. Sweat still streamed down my face. My clothes were ragged. My feet were killing me. I looked like the tramp I’d seen directing traffic.

  And I was on Platform 5, where Papa died.

  I needed to throw up.

  I collapsed on the platform floor and lay on my back. The iron waves of the platform roof rattled and swayed. Since there was no wind, it must be an aftershock. Or maybe it was me. The lamps hanging over the platform were swaying. It wasn’t me then. Probably. I closed my eyes and gave it another minute until I didn’t think anything was swaying anymore.

  I stood up and climbed the dead escalator to the walkway and out over the tracks to the ticket gates. I had no ticket and no money, so I hopped over the open gate. I hadn’t taken a train, so I didn’t feel bad about not paying.

  I ran down the south exit stairs.

  A Japan Rail guard came out of an unmarked door and looked up at me, brow creased.

  “A rapid from Kashiwa,” I said, pointing over my shoulder, and hurried into the street before he could question me.

  Outside the station, people were milling around, trying to figure out a way to get home. A queue of people snaked around from the taxi stands, but there were no taxis. I typed the address into my phone. Kounoyama was half an hour away on foot. Perhaps less if I took my sandals off.

  So I did.

  The asphalt felt soothing to stand on. I passed the Abiko shrine, turned left before the hill that led back to the library, the lake and Mr. Blackmore’s hotel. If I followed Route 356 it would take me to the hills of Kounoyama and Emi’s old place. There was no traffic, and nobody walking around, but even so, I followed the main road along side-streets two blocks parallel to it. I really didn’t want to bump into Ono. The roads here were narrow, the hills steep. The concrete manshon apartment blocks gave way to wooden famari haitsu apartment buildings, then shacks of rusted iron and scorched wood with gas canisters chained under the front porch.

  No one was around, including Ono.

  I came to four wooden huts standing on an overgrown lot of gravel and weeds. A sign in English with peeling, faded paint hung from a rusty chicken-wire fence: “Chateau Atami”. The first of the huts, according to the faded red postal box, was 4-205 Kounoyama. I stepped past an upturned concrete breeze block that had a rusting umbrella stuffed in one end.

  There was a spy-hole in the door, but no doorbell. So I knocked.

  No answer.

  I knocked again.

  A shadow crossed the spy-hole on the other side of the door.

  “Emi?” I said. “Is that you?”

  No sound.

  “Emi, I’m here to help. I thought you were in Ishinomaki!”

  I looked straight ahead at the spy-hole and waited. The light from it went dark again. There was somebody there.

  The door opened a crack, all that the chain on the other side would allow.

  “Emi?”

  @Chosenname

  Tanaka-san not here. Have gone to find her cat. I’m sitting in street. Can’t stand up. Ground shaking. Like being drunk. On cheap shochu.

  2:56 p.m.

  A water mains has burst. Have filled every pot and flask with water.

  2:58 p.m.

  Oh yes, tub filling now should we need it to manually flush toilet.

  3:22 p.m.

  Sitting with my coat on in the front room with the front door wide open, ready to run out if the house starts shaking again.

  3:29 p.m.

  Can still feel tremors in Abiko every five minutes. Ten fires have been confirmed in Tokyo, according to TV Asahi

  3:34 p.m.

  Occasional sirens in the distance. Lots of loudspeaker instructions from city hall

  3:36 p.m.

  Cacophony of sirens now from Highway 6 disappearing to Tokyo. I’m hunkered down with laptop by the door.

  3:41 p.m.

  I lost all my wine glasses, a half-dozen rice bowls, but my free Guinness pint glass survived. Luck of the Irish.

  3:52 p.m.

  Watching the TV now. Fires in Sendai. Flooding in Owarai, 40 min drive from here. Ishinomaki, Kesennuma tsunamis.

  4:36 p.m.

  Explosion at steel refinery in Chiba.

  5:37 p.m.

  Tanaka-san has returned! Cat has returned. She is wearing outside shoes IN MY HOUSE. Must be serious.

  5:39 p.m.

  Tanaka-san is asking after you @WalkDontRun. Where are you?

  5:41 p.m.

  Tanaka-san has just taped shut all the kitchen cabinets to stop all crockery being smashed if a bigger one hits

  5:43 p.m.

  Night is falling here in Abiko. Can hear three sets of sirens. Lots of aftershocks now.

  5:44 p.m.

  I shall sleep with my clothes on tonight.

  5:50 p.m.

  Report in please @WalkDontRun. Where are you?

  5:59 p.m.

  It’s official: biggest earthquake to hit Japan, ever. 9.0 Richter Scale. Can’t believe my 38-year-old house is still standing.

  6:02 p.m.

  NHK radio says death toll at 18, including 6-year-old hit by roof in supermarket.

  6:23 p.m.

  Aftershock. Tanaka-san ran into street with arms outstretched shouting “Stop it!” .

  6:32 p.m.

  Official dead count now at 29, with 37 missing, via Tokyo Broadcasting

  6:37 p.m.

  Walked around neighbourhood. Liquor store is a disaster. Master-san unhappy. Cleaning up broken bottles.

  6.57 p.m.

  RT @HikaruHayashiNews Fukushima No.1 nuclear power plant MAY have radiation leak. Govt issues nuclear state of emergency. First time ever.

  7:05 p.m.

  Tanaka-san ran through house in 60 seconds, grabbed cookies, a bag of rice and pension book.

  7:07 p.m.

  Damn, I need a drink.

  7:10 p.m.

  Water from the tap has slowed to a trickle, no gas, but still have lights. Have 6-pack in fridge that must be drunk if power goes out.

  7:11 p.m.

  CORRECTION: Only 4 cans of beer in fridge, not 6. Regret the error.

  7:31 p.m.

  City hall loudspeakers warning electricity will be cut shortly.

  7:33 p.m.

  Would it be insensitive of me to pop to 7-11 for a bottle of wine at a time like this?

  7:34 p.m.

  Big aftershock the
re. Tanaka-san has removed all picture frames from the walls. TV still working. It’s a Steve Martin film. Sadly, a recent one.

  8:23 p.m.

  President Obama offers condolences to people of Japan; says US stands ready to help in aftermath.

  20:44 p.m.

  Aftershock after aftershock. This is really not fun.

  9:04 p.m.

  Tanaka-san has returned from shopping trip: Box of cereal, gel sports drink and rice crackers were all she could get.

  9:07 p.m.

  Expressways closed, trains stopped. Getting home is going to be tough for Abikans stuck in Tokyo.

  9:11 p.m.

  At least something good has come of this—Tokyo Disney Resort will close the entire park tomorrow to check the facilities.

  9:21 p.m.

  200 to 300 bodies found. Just in on TBS television.

  9:35 p.m.

  Dangerous mission: creep through house without waking Tanaka-san, get along creaky floor, retrieve can of Suntory Malts.

  9:36 p.m.

  Reuters: Utility workers in Fukushima, Japan are racing to avoid a core meltdown, radiation nightmare after deadly earthquakes, tidal waves.

  9:39 p.m.

  Americans within 10 km of Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant should evacuate

  9:45 p.m.

  400+ confirmed dead, 650+ missing, 1,000+ injured. Expect deaths to hit 4 digits, injuries 5 at least

  9:46 p.m.

  Nuclear safety agency says meltdown suspected in reactor at Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant.

  9:49 p.m.

  Overseas sensationalised reports of a giant nuclear disaster at Fukushima… calmer heads on Nihon Hoso Kyokai.

  9:56 p.m.

  Despite cesium detection, no need to extend the evacuation zone, expert says. #earthquake #japan

  9:57 p.m.

  1400 people now confirmed dead.

  10:05 p.m.

  Starting to read names of the dead for the first time. People in Aomori, Ibaraki, Chiba, Miyagi.

  10:16 p.m.

  NHK: Wall round No1 reactor at Fukushima No1 plant blown away.

  10:26 p.m.

  People outdoors in Fukushima area urged to wear masks and/or hold wet towels over face. Radiation danger.

  10:27 p.m.

  Radiation levels measured outside reactor 1,000 times exposure a person gets in 1 year. That was before the explosion.

  10:29 p.m.

  Now watching NHK press conference on N-disaster. Man in overalls says they cannot see exactly what’s what because of meltdown.

  10:31 p.m.

  Prime Minister’s spokesman in overalls asked if people safe from exposure outside of 10km evacuation area, he answered we are researching.

  10:32 p.m.

  Tanaka-san stormed out of room saying, “he’s lying.”

  10:33 p.m.

  BBC says they won’t let anyone closer than 60km as too dangerous.

  10:41 p.m.

  Blast at Fukushima No.1 plant No.3 reactor—live TV images

  10:51 p.m.

  Two more explosions at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant’s 3rd reactor. A large amount of smoke reported.

  10:53 p.m.

  Beyond 20km radius, radiation levels should be reduced, impact to health “minimal.” —Cabinet Secretary Edano.

  10:54 p.m.

  Tokyo and 4 prefectures have recorded record high radiation levels, except for levels recorded after nuclear bomb tests by other nations—Yomiuri

  10:59 p.m.

  Tanaka-san has gone to look for her cat.

  11:00 p.m.

  In the event radiation level rises, close windows and doors, turn off AC, leave outside things outside.

  11:28 p.m.

  In the event radiation level rises, if you must go outside cover up as much as possible, hoods and masks included.

  11:29 p.m.

  In the event radiation level rises, after returning indoors, immediately strip and seal clothing in plastic bag.

  11:30 p.m.

  The British Embassy is offering evacuation flights to its safe haven in Hong Kong for citizens wishing to leave Japan.

  11:45 p.m.

  I refuse to be a bystander anymore. Goodbye twitter, I’m on my way @WalkDontRun.

  11:59 p.m.

  7:24

  “Emi-chan’s not here. I’m her mother. Who are you?”

  “My name’s Hana.”

  The door slammed shut, but inside the chain rattled and a hand pushed the door open. I stepped into the shack.

  Emi’s Mama stumbled inside and sat with her legs under the heated kotatsu table in front of the TV. The TV was the only light. Wood-veneer linoleum marked the area where the entrance hall should be. I slipped off my geta and followed her through into an eight-mat living room that was the house. My eyes stung from cigarette smoke. The TV showed images from a helicopter covering some kind of car chase along the coast.

  She reached under the table and brought out a packet of thin Pianisimo cigarettes. Menthols. She lit one up and noticed my eyes squint.

  “You think I should quit, right? Because these things,” she said, taking a deep drag, “are supposed to be dangerous.” She stared at the TV as she spat out the smoke.

  I didn’t want to talk about cigarettes. I didn’t want to talk about anything, but I had to know something.

  “Why’d you kidnap Emi?”

  “Kidnap?”

  “Why did you take Emi from her father. Isn’t that kidnapping?”

  Now she turned her attention fully toward me. Her tone was icy. “Did he send you?”

  She looked over my shoulder. Her eyes darted around the room. She was a thin woman in her late 30s. She was barefoot, and lowered her face when her eyes met mine. Her eyes were puffy. She looked like the Abiko city bird, the black coot, with spindly, inward-pointing feet.

  “Is he here? Did you bring him here? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some specimen to be dissected. I’ve been judged by far worse than the likes of you. Emi’s father for example. Did he send you?”

  I was silent, wasn’t sure what I should say. But I nodded. She brought out a glass and a bottle of sake from under the table. It was half empty.

  “I’ve been waiting for the moment he would try. So he chooses this of all days. And sends a hafu to do his bidding. It makes sense. Has he done his honest cowboy routine?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You know what? He’s too late. He’s way too late. You tell him he can hurt me all he wants, but he’s too late. It’s over for me and it’s over for Emi.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. He’s not here. I’m not sure where he is since the earthquake. I’m not sure of anything, except I’m here to help Emi. Right now nothing else makes sense. But I don’t really know anything about her.

  “All you needed to know about my daughter was her blood type, type O.”

  I looked at her blankly.

  “O means a generous and natural leader, who can get on with anyone. She could take anyone’s blood.”

  “I don’t know about blood. But is Mr. Blackmore a bad man? Did he deserve to lose his daughter? Did she deserve to lose him?”

  “How much you think you know about life for one so young. Did your mother not love you enough that you have to spit venom at someone like me?”

  “I don’t know. She died when I was Emi’s age.”

  We both stopped talking. On the TV a little tin car was speeding along a country road through rice paddies, being chased by a wall of water.

  “You’re blood type B, aren’t you? Outgoing. Not worried about the future, but moody. And you don’t listen. A fun person to know, but not someone to trust.”

  “I don’t know my type.”

  The water swallowed the little car on TV. Emi’s Mama winced, then looked me straight in the eye for the first time. Her hand went limp and she dropped the cigarette to the tatami. She scooped
it off the mat, rubbing at the embers with her bare hand. Then she kept stubbing the cigarette in the overflowing ashtray beside her.

  “I know your type. I’m not the sharpest pair of chopsticks, but I know blood. I’m good with details. I’m meticulous. I hate to make mistakes. I’m tidy. But…but sometimes I make mistakes. Big ones. Like marrying an A/B blood type. They are the worst. Stuck between two worlds, they get the worst of both. Forever fussing about details, but they’re moody and never listen to others. That was my husband.”

  “He seems pretty harmless to me.”

  She lit another cigarette, and leaned in close to me.

  “He’s many things. But not harmless.”

  Her hands were not steady or meticulous. She just sat, staring at the TV screen. Then she dropped her voice to the floor.

  “He’s a Mormon.”

  She leaned back and folded her arms.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You know, love thy neighbour and thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife and all that. Only what it says in the Bible and what people really do behind closed doors are two different things. You are too young to understand, but let me give you some advice: things are not always what they seem.”

  She lunged forward and held my wrist tightly with her right hand.

  “You’ve seen those clean-cut American boys about your age riding round on mountain bikes in pairs? They are not here to teach you English or give you a taste of a better life, some kind of fairy-tale happy ending. They want your body, they want your soul. But even that’s not enough for them. They’ll take your daughter’s too.”

  I pulled my arm out from her grip. “I don’t get it.”

  “I didn’t kidnap my own daughter. I’m her mother. She wasn’t safe in America. It wasn’t safe to be around Joseph. When he gets angry, he loses all control… And he had plans for Emi-chan, marriage plans. But Emi-chan was just 14. She didn’t have time to start her own life. I couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t leave her here. I knew he would find me eventually, so I sent her up to my mother’s in Ishinomaki to be safe. Hah. Safe? I thought Japan was a safe country.

  “But I was wrong about her being safe. Stupid, stupid. Look at the TV. That’s Ishinomaki. The tsunami hit an hour after the earthquake. She was at school. Minato Junior High School. Everyone is gone. Everything.”

  “What about Emi?”