by Kōbō Abe
“It’s him, right?”
An officer turned on a flashlight—one that was wrapped in cloth—and shone it at his feet. A man appeared, hands tied behind his back, painfully exhaling white plumes of breath as he was forced to kneel. His rubber raincoat looked familiar.
“Look up!”
A soldier pushed the man’s chin up with the base of his gun. There was blood sticking around his swollen mouth. It was the young man who drove the wagon! His frightened features made him look extremely childlike. He might be around the same age as me, thought Kyūzō. Kō approached and suddenly kicked the youth in the shoulder. The young man looked down, clenching his teeth.
“I see. This is interesting,” Kō said to Kyūzō before switching to Chinese and shouting at the young man. “Well then, do you understand now? Which soldiers did you think I’d prefer? You arrogant shithead!”
General Bai made some remark to Kō. Kō translated. It seemed that they couldn’t find where the young man had hidden the bag and blanket.
“The soldiers took them. Not me!” The young man murmured weakly and mechanically. He surely had repeated these same words many times now. With each murmur, blood oozed from the corner of his lips.
Lowering his voice, Bai said something that appeared to be a joke, chuckling as he began walking toward the truck. Kō also laughed. While laughing, he again kicked the young man squarely in the face before staggering a bit. With a cry, the youth began spitting blood, and together with that blood a white tooth appeared dangling from the end of a red cord.
“You want a shot at him too?” Panting, Kō urged on Kyūzō. One of the soldiers kindly stepped on the young man’s fingers to prevent him from moving. Quickly shaking his head, Kyūzō backed away.
General Bai called out to Kyūzō and Kō as the engine started. The young man began crying. The soldiers helped push the two men aboard the truck. In between the tightly packed baggage, near the driver’s seat, lay bedding that had been prepared for the two men.
Bai occupied the driver’s seat while an officer and four orderlies and soldiers secured positions by the back entrance. Preparations were finally completed with the packing of a light machine gun. The cloth-covered headlights were switched on and the gate door opened. Handing a canteen to the two men, an orderly whispered proudly, “Most of this baggage is the general’s personal property.”
The young man continued crying. As they pushed him around with their boot tips, the remaining soldiers turned toward the departing truck and simultaneously raised their hands in salute.
Chapter 4
Doors
XXV
The broken fountain was located in the center of the dried-up pond, which was approximately sixty meters wide, and from a distance appeared to be shaped like the gun turret of a battleship. The bulging part at the bottom had become hollow, and, apart from the inconvenience of having to keep one’s head lowered, seemed to be a rather comfortable place to stay. The concrete walls were inlaid with many pieces of thick colored glass—long ago, no doubt, lightbulbs were placed on the inside so that the falling water would turn five different colors—and now functioned as a window. With the shifting sun, these colors would blend together as they announced the time by shining one after the other. The first color was blue, followed by red, green, and yellow before then changing to purple at dusk. The fountain was about five meters wide; and the floor, which was made of sand mixed with mud, was nonetheless quite dry.
Even more convenient was the fact that the entrance was indirect and so not easily visible from the outside. Also, the tower part served as both vent and a good lookout. In order to enter this den, one had to first climb up the platform before going down the manhole-like cavity and then pass from that compartment through the space between the platform and tower. Originally the passage was half submerged in water, which explained its structure. If one used stones to block up this space between the platform and tower, there would be no fear of discovery.
“Well, just go take a look,” boasted Kō, using a pebble to draw a map on the ground as he told Kyūzō of the hiding place. General Bai had dropped them off a bit before town, and they were now resting at the first crossroads. “Right after the war ended, I got into some trouble and was forced to run. I found this hiding place by accident and used it for nearly two months without once being disturbed. When I finally left, I tightly sealed it up and dropped some shit into the hole. Well, it should be fine. Peacetime aside, people generally steer clear of parks at moments like this. But if you’re worried, just throw a rock in to be sure. If someone is already occupying the area, go around to the other side where there used to be traces of kept animals. In any case, you just need to hold out for a day. I’m counting on you.”
The two men parted. Kō turned east toward the old part of town while Kyūzō remained for a while walking around the fields before eventually arriving at the deserted factory district. There was hardly anyone about. Yet the area was part of the city. The streets were paved with asphalt. Like a Sunday morning, everything appeared to be glittering in fresh light. The hard echo of his footsteps seemed to make a show of human strength in having driven away nature. Kyūzō felt deeply proud that he was human. Passing over a girder bridge and entering the town, he felt a sense of hope and joy bubbling up inside him all the more intensely. It was wonderful to be alive! He wanted to quickly return to Japan to share this wonderful quality with other people. However, the fact that right at this moment he had no one with whom to speak also induced in him a lonely sadness. If the heavy, dangerous vest he wore were not restraining him from the inside, he would have smiled at anyone passing by. Yet the vest kept his exuberance in check, urging him forward.
Both the water tower and the antennae of the weather measurement station were landmarks. Kyūzō quickly recognized these, as the park was large with many trees. As instructed, he made a detour before entering at the south entrance, where there were hardly any people walking about.
It was precisely as Kō had described. The feces in the manhole were frozen black, while the space between the platform and tower was packed tightly with rocks. Although the park was in the middle of town, it was in any case quite large and there seemed to be no fear of disturbance. Moreover, the pond was located slightly to the north of the park’s center at the bottom of a lowland area that was hollowed out in the shape of a mortar, thereby forming another world that was even further isolated from its surroundings. If it was only for a day, Kyūzō supposed, he should be able to get by.
Looking around, however, he spotted something odd. On the southern slope of the mortar there were scattered about the head and bones of some animal. Judging by the shape of the legs, it appeared to be a dog. And there were not just one or two dogs but rather quite a lot. At a glance, Kyūzō noticed that there was a trap right next to the fountain. A disgusting device had been set up there.
It might be where they killed the dogs after catching them. He had come to a terrible place. Deciding to change his location, he went off in search of the animal pen. The fallen leaves mixed together with snow gave off a watery sound, and the cuffs of Kyūzō’s pants were soaked. Compared with the cold that had continued until yesterday, it was hard to believe. He had a premonition that something wonderful was going to happen.
He soon found the animal pen. It was on the slope of a small hill. Although called an animal pen, it was really just a simple, low tunnel-like structure made of stacked bricks. It was probably used as a place for deer to sleep. The town could be seen through the grove of trees atop the hill. Many similar red roofs were lined up alongside one another; this appeared to be the Japanese residential district from long ago. On the right soared a huge water tank.
Kyūzō looked around for a while when suddenly a Chinese boy appeared from inside the pen. Unhealthy looking, he seemed to be an urchin. The two stared intensely at one another for a moment. Feeling apprehensive, Kyūzō nevertheless feigned an innocent look, turned around, and passed on.
; He felt troubled. It was probably best to return to the fountain. He deeply resented having to bear this burden of the vest with which Kō had entrusted him. If not for the vest, he could head straight off to town. He had merely passed through the town, but it was wonderful. Shops were on display, stagecoaches were running, and people busily walked about. After all, Shenyang was the largest city that Kyūzō had ever seen. It would have been fun just to look at the covered wagons with their rubber wheels or the crowd of rickshaws peddling by. If he wanted, he could find even more enjoyable things to do. He could even sell the Dania spoon and buy freshly steamed meat buns.
The vest, however, thrust its blades into him from the inside. At any rate, he should flee, for this was dangerous. It was less courage than fear that helped make up his mind.
It was just at the moment when the color of the glass was about to change from yellow to purple. Lining up alongside the wall the food and water-filled beer bottle that General Bai had shared with them upon parting, Kyūzō took out the pistol that Kō had left him just in case and placed it at his side. Of course it had no bullets. Still, it might come in handy to scare off that urchin.
I’ll take a sip of water and then go to sleep. Kō should finish up his work in Shenyang by tomorrow and then come and get me with good news to report. Although I mostly slept in the truck, it wasn’t a deep sleep. Hopefully tonight won’t be so cold.
Kyūzō had felt that he could go to sleep immediately, but now discovered that he somehow could not. The final color of the glass faded, and now only the light from above the tower shone dimly. (“There was something worrying. What was it?”) As time passed, he merely felt increasingly on edge. He heard the strange sound of a bugle from somewhere. A dog was barking in the distance. Was the work of catching and then killing the dogs done at night, or during the day? Someone with creaking footsteps was walking outside the fountain! No, that was the sound of the ground starting to freeze over. (“There was something worrying. What was it?”) There appeared from the young wagon driver’s mouth a dangling tooth with a red cord. “If I’m a man, then you’re also a man.” The mouse’s burnt, swollen belly. Suddenly recalling the scene of the horrible lead ocean, Kyūzō experienced the acute sense that he was alive now, that he had lived to make it all the way here, and he felt so treasured that he wished to embrace himself. Alas, halfway there, all of us, here. He began to feel spasms of pain in his armpits and lower back. (“But what could possibly be so worrying?”) Relax! Kō will bring good news tomorrow. (“Why sure! ‘I won’t harm you,’ he had said. ‘Let me handle things.’ ”)
Kyūzō recalled something that one of the officers had told Kō in the truck while they were eating. Japanese smugglers, he said, often came to the port of Shacheng to buy saccharin and cooking oil. If that were true, then it was not at all impossible that Kō would have good news.
However, even this rationalization in no way reduced Kyūzō’s anxiety. The light from above the tower had already disappeared. The cold was growing and he felt increasingly awake. Of course he had some idea about how to determine the true nature of his anxiety. Were he to act upon that, however, his suspicions would surely grow even stronger and his fixation all the more intense. That would be frightening.
Removing a small paper package from his pocket, he placed it in the palm of his hand and made as if to gauge its weight. There shouldn’t be any weight. “You can’t fall asleep if you’re too tired. At such times, just a small taste of this will help. Just a bit, a tiny bit, about how much one could pick up with a match tip,” Kō had said, handing him a bag of heroin when he left. But even this might be another one of his tricks, Kyūzō reflected.
He just couldn’t understand what kind of work Kō was doing in Shenyang. What work involved entrusting to a complete stranger goods that were worth the equivalent of fifty foreign cars? Kō was a wanted man. Considered at its most basic level, the obvious answer was that Kyūzō was being used as a kind of hiding place for the goods. Of course he didn’t care about that. It was all too clear. The problem was what came later, when his role came to an end when Kō’s pursuers confirmed that Kō was not carrying the goods. Kyūzō would no longer be of any use to Kō then. Would Kō still recognize the need to provide him with helpful information as well as his share of the money?
No chance, Kyūzō thought. It was far crazier to think that Kō considered him anything but a hiding place. Using him was not a means; it was doubtless the goal itself. Kō’s attitude was entirely consistent here. Even Kō’s mysterious ambiguity was in truth no ambiguity at all. Rather, everything was just a calculation based on his shrewd grasp of the psychological weaknesses of the person being used.
Maybe Kō had even predicted and taken into account that I’d be haunted by these doubts and constantly dwell on them tonight. And maybe this heroin is the result of his calculations. Maybe his plan was based on knowing that I’d worry, get anxious, and be unable to sleep, forcing me to take the drug. And then … and then he’ll simply do what he must. He’ll sneak in when I’m fast asleep, tear off the vest, take it, and leave. Then I’ll become the butt of his jokes. “There was this idiot,” he’ll say.
No way! Where was the fool who understood so much and yet could still be so completely taken in? Where was the guard who tamely stood watch even as he knew that the man who entrusted him with something was also a thief who’d later come and take it? If it’s clear that I’m going to be betrayed, then of course I’ll betray him first! I’ll just take the vest and disappear. That’s not a bad idea at all! If the heroin is worth fifty foreign cars, then it definitely has to be good stuff. In any case, there’s no need to feel guilty because Kō probably just stole it from somewhere. After all, he might not even be alive now if it weren’t for me. No, he’d definitely be dead …
And yet Kyūzō also knew that he could not possibly escape. There was still a long journey to the coast, and then an even longer journey beyond that. He absolutely needed help. Besides, he had once heard a rumor about a nurse who had been killed—someone had gouged out her eyeballs with his fingers—simply because she was carrying ten grams of morphine. An amateur carrying drugs was as good as dead. But even more fundamental was the fact that, for all the workings of his imagination, this was all just hypothetical. He was fretting about things, but there was nothing he could do. No doubt Kō, aware of all his turmoil, had hired him as his guard dog for precisely this reason.
Stop it! Just going around in circles! I’m going crazy! Should I just go ahead and taste the stuff? But it’s powerful, and I might die if I’m careless. When you take drugs, it’s easy to freeze to death. I bet he’d be happy if I died. Right, that might be his aim. No way!
But what if I were to hold out until morning? I’d relax, become exhausted, and then drop off to sleep. Then Kō would sneak in. So it would be the same result! Even if I were able to hold out longer, it would still be easy for him to just take the vest from me if he wanted. He could use a loaded pistol or maybe just bring one of those dog-catching thugs, and the problem would be over at once.
So one falls into a trap in the very attempt to escape from it! There’s no use even thinking about things. All that’s left is for Kō to tell me frankly to leave the goods here and physically get out. So I’m still forced to give up the heroin money and any information and leave everything to him. Damn it, he’s a sly bastard! He knows how to make use of guard dogs.
This stuff is really bitter! I wonder if I took too much.
XXVI
Kyūzō awoke to the sound of a dog yelping. He tried to drink some water but his body had grown numb, making it impossible to move freely. No matter how much the temperature had risen, it was still too much to sleep outdoors without a fire. Flapping his arms about like wings, he sought to restore some of his body warmth. The dog’s yelping was horrible—had they already started to catch and kill the animals? Blue was just beginning to appear from the window. Yet the light from above was already quite bright.
He got up slo
wly, vigorously rubbing the area above his knees. Climbing up the tower, he peered out through the hole. This hole was part of the remains of the dismantled spout. The trap was choking the dog as it hung suspended in midair. The animal was filthy, with red fur and a thick neck. It stood on its hind legs as its forelegs flailed in the air, painfully licking its lips and barking. Its bark trailed off into a thin whine.
It’s cold—I should eat. There are some flimsy pieces of floury dry bread, salted beans, and something I can’t identify that seems like a kind of oily, sour candy. In order to save the food, he took a long time chewing slowly. I have to make sure that it lasts until tonight. I feel a bit sick. I wonder if it’s because of the drug from last night. It didn’t make me feel better at all. How could anyone get addicted to that stuff? Still, it worked. I went right to sleep.
The light from the window gradually changed from blue to red.
The dog stopped yelping. It was now making a low growl. Then it began barking wildly. There was a brief whistling sound mixed together with a menacing bark. Then Kyūzō heard a sound like sand being thrown, after which everything became quiet.
Climbing the tower and peering out, he saw that the dog had already been taken down from the trap and that blood was being pumped out of its slit throat. The animal’s body had been placed on its side along a slope with its head facing down. Someone was pressing down upon the corpse with his knees, and red, creamy blood bubbled forth. It was the urchin from the animal pen whom he had seen yesterday!
Kyūzō felt sick as if he were almost smelling the stink, but he was relieved to know that the dogcatcher whom he had been so worried about was just a boy. The youth cut off the animal’s tail and inserted the blade into its belly by its neck and legs, and proceeded to quickly skin it as if removing a shirt. Kyūzō was utterly impressed by the boy’s skill and no longer regarded the act as particularly dirty. As the work progressed, the dog gradually began to look like meat, and Kyūzō even found himself wanting to taste it. However, this may have been less real appetite on his part than an indirect sign of his warm feelings for the urchin.