by David Peace
I try to turn from the window, away from Kanuma –
This other world, this other country …
The carriage packed tight with people and their baggage, the people not meeting our eyes, afraid for their baggage –
We are the police. We are the law …
There is no glass in any of the windows but still there’s no air in this carriage, just the stench of soiled babies –
The stench of human shit …
‘This Tōbu Line train will stop next at Momiyama station,’ begins the conductor. ‘Then Niregi, Kanasaki, Ienaka, Kassemba, Shin-Tochigi, Tochigi…’
Suddenly Ishida says, ‘I want to get off at Ienaka.’
‘Leave Minami in Tochigi. Return to HQ…’
I ask him, ‘Why do you want to do that?’
Something cold and metallic …
‘I want to look over the Baba crime scene again,’ he says. ‘We found so much they had missed at the Ishikawa and Nakamura sites that I think we should look again…’
He walks behind me …
I have a bagful of bones, scraps of clothing on my back –
I curse him…
I nod. ‘If you’re sure that’s what you want to do…’
*
The sun is setting now and soon it will be dark in Ienaka –
The shadows of the mountains lengthening …
Ishida and I pass through these ticket gates for a second time in three days and walk out of the station into the town –
No one is here, no one here at all …
The town is deserted again as I lead Ishida up the slope out of town, past the Beautiful Mountain Inn where we stayed –
He walks behind me. He walks behind me …
‘Are you sure this is the right way?’
I do not answer him because he knows it does not matter, because he knows it could be any woods on any mountain and so up and down we go, up and down again we walk until we come to another narrow road, perhaps the same narrow road up which Kodaira Yoshio led Baba Hiroko on the thirtieth of December, last year –
‘Are you sure this is the place?’ he asks again –
Nishi Katamura, Kami Tsuga-gun …
I do not answer him because it does not matter. I put down my old army knapsack. I wipe my face and I wipe my neck –
I turn away from the fields and the ditches –
I stare up into the woods on the slope of the mountainside, up into the shadows of the black trunks of the trees –
Their branches and their leaves …
I point up the slope. ‘It’s that way…’
Detective Ishida follows me now as I climb up off the narrow road and into the woods, waving away the mosquitoes and bugs with my hand as Ishida walks behind me –
He walks behind me…
Between the trunks, beneath the branches and over the leaves, I lead him towards the slight hollow in the side of the mountain –
Between the trunks, beneath the branches and over the leaves, he follows me to this slight hollow surrounded by fallen logs –
Between the trunks, beneath the branches and over the leaves, he walks behind me to this slight hollow in the side of the mountain, this hollow filled with broken branches and dead leaves –
He walks behind me through the trees to here –
He walks behind me, through the trees …
‘This is the place,’ I tell him but I do not turn around –
The cicadas silent now, the mosquitoes sated here …
In this place, in this hollow, I can hear him now –
Between the trees, the black trunks of the trees …
I can hear him behind me. I can feel him –
Beneath the branches and their leaves …
I can hear him raise his army pistol –
I can feel him point it at my back –
I can hear him cock the pistol –
Cold and metallic …
Now I hear him shout, ‘Get down on your knees, detective!’ I do not speak. I do not turn around. I get down on my knees –
On my knees, in these woods, in this hollow, in this place –
I feel the nose of the gun against the back of my skull –
In this place, in this hollow, in these woods –
I close my eyes and now I see her face –
I see her face and all their faces –
Masaki, Banzai! Daddy, Banzai!
Then I hear him pull the trigger. Click. I hear him pull it again. Click. I hear him pull it again –
Click. Click.
And again –
Click –
Now I get up off my knees. Click. Now I turn around. Click. Now I take his pistol by its nose. Click. Click …
Now I have his pistol in my hands –
Bang! Bang! Into his face –
Bang! Bang! And again –
The stench of shit.
*
In this place, in this hollow, between these trees, beneath these branches, Ishida tries to open his eyes now as I bend down over him to wipe away some of the blood and now he tries to speak, to thank me, and I smile, a friendly man with my small acts of kindness, a smiling, friendly man who puts an arm around him and smiles again and laughs as he talks and he talks, talking about this and talking about that, telling me that and telling me this, this about that man and that about this man, and it’s like we’ve known each other all our lives, this crying, bloody man and this smiling, friendly man, like I’m his uncle, this smiling, friendly man, or even the father he lost so very young, but I know he does not feel so safe in this smile on my face, this one smiling, friendly face between these trees and beneath these branches, this desperate, defeated man who stares up at me now with pleas for mercy and pleas for forgiveness in his black and blood-soaked eyes in this place, in this hollow he does not know, this land, this country getting darker and darker, hour after hour, and now the day is gone and the mountain is gone and there is only this place, this hollow now, between these trees, beneath these branches, but still I smile and I smile, a smiling, friendly man between the trees, beneath the branches, in this hollow, in this place, but now my teeth are pointed and my eyes are hungry, my lips wet and tongue long –
Is this when my grip tightens? My words harden…?
My lips wet and my tongue long, I am not smiling now and I am not friendly now, this man with my pointed teeth and my hungry eyes, my wet lips and my long tongue whispering what I want from him now, in this place, in this hollow, between these trees, beneath these branches, telling him exactly what I want from him and he’s turning away from me now in this place, in this hollow, between these trees, beneath these branches, but I’m pulling him back and I’m slapping his face, punching his face and kicking his legs, and he’s on his hands and on his knees among the branches and the leaves, asking me to stop and begging me to stop and pleading with me to stop, to spare his life, to let him live, to let him get away but I cannot hear him asking, I cannot hear him begging, I cannot hear him pleading because I’m pulling him deeper into this place, into this hollow, this land and this country, putting a hand around his neck and another inside his chest and he knows what I want and he knows what I want and he knows what I want and he’s telling me to take it, begging me to take it, pleading with me to take it, to take it and then leave him alone, please leave him, please leave him alone but I’m squeezing his throat, I’m squeezing his throat, I’m squeezing his throat, snot in his nose and piss down his legs and shit from his backside, as I squeeze his throat tighter and tighter, this place blacker and blacker –
As black as his hair that will never turn grey …
Now you open your eyes and you know you are still living, lying on your back on broken branches and dead leaves in this hollow, in this place, you have survived, you are one of the lucky ones, bleeding and beaten on these branches and leaves, but you have survived, you are lucky and now you raise yourself up from these branches and leaves, but this is when you know you ha
ve not survived, you are not one of the lucky ones, when you see me sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, staring at you and smoking a cigarette, a once smiling, friendly man as I finish my cigarette and get up off the trunk of this fallen tree, walking towards you beneath these branches and over these leaves, putting the bullets back into your gun –
You try to speak but you cannot speak …
Because a once smiling, friendly man has your gun in his hand and now I’m putting it into your mouth –
Bleeding and beaten here …
Here on these branches and leaves in this hollow, here in this place, I pull the trigger of your gun –
Bang!
*
In the night, he shrieks. I walk back down the mountain. Leave Minami in Tochigi. This mountain of lies. Tell me who you are working for! I hear snatches of Ishida’s confession. Not sleeping, not waking. I do not run. Return to HQ. A man could live on this mountain. Tell me! Names and places and dates. In the night, he howls. I walk across the ditches and the fields. Inspector Adachi. A man could hide on this mountain. Tell me who wanted me dead! Ishida’s confession and Ishida’s lies. I can hear him crying. I do not run. Leave Minami in Tochigi. A man could renounce the world. Tell me! Ishida mumbles about Fujita. In the night, he wails. The whistle of a train coming down the line. Return to HQ. A man could forget the world. Tell me who ordered you to kill me! Ishida moans about Senju Akira. In his sleep. Now I run. Inspector Adachi. But I cannot forget this world. Tell me! Now Ishida lies and he lies about Adachi –
The bloody mouth from which the gag has been ripped …
Lies upon lies upon lies upon lies upon lies upon lies –
In the night, the grinding of teeth, the weeping of tears …
It is time to come down from this mountain of lies –
I can hear Ishida crying. I can hear him weeping …
To come down from this mountain of bones –
In the half-light, I can hear them all …
It is time to go home.
*
I struggle but manage to get on board at the couplings between two of the carriages. I struggle but manage to get from the couplings into the freight wagon. The freight wagon full of people packed like cattle –
Human cattle. Human cattle. Human cattle …
There is a woman attacking a rice-ball, another crunching a pickle, little kids crying and old folk snoring, itching and scratching, gari-gari, the reek of human piss, the stench of human shit –
Human shit. Human shit. Human shit …
‘No luck at all,’ someone is saying. ‘Nothing at all…’
‘They’re all so rich now they’ve no need to sell…’
‘They keep the good stuff hidden out of sight…’
‘Or they just ask for whatever they want…’
‘They aren’t satisfied with money…’
‘Some of the older ones want a fuck and if you put some effort into it and promise to come back again, they’ll give you a quart for a hundred and fifty yen, not bad for ten minutes’ fucking…’
‘You could sell it in Tokyo for two hundred yen…’
‘Your rice and your cunt,’ they laugh, ha, ha …
I stare out of the wagon, between the boards –
There is no hindsight. No foresight …
Just blindness, just darkness –
Ha, ha, ha, ha! He, he, he, he! Ho, ho, ho, ho!
13
August 27, 1946
Tokyo, 85°, fine
I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. The bodies rock from side to side with the motion of the train as the dawn begins to pick them out through the holes in the boards and the gaps by the doors. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. There is an old white-haired woman sat across from me, wedged between a younger man and woman. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. The younger man and woman both trying to wake her up now, whispering, ‘Wake up. We’ll soon be in Asakusa. Wake up…’
But there is no movement or answer from the woman –
‘Wake up!’ hisses the other woman. ‘I can’t move my arm.’
The train jumps a joint now. The old woman falls forward –
The man on her left, sensing something is not quite right, lifts up her head to the light. The old woman’s eyes are still closed –
There is froth round her mouth and down her chin –
‘What’s the matter with you?’ asks the man. ‘Wake up!’
The train jumps another joint. The old woman rolls over –
‘She’s dead,’ says the woman to the man. ‘She’s dead…’
Now they both try to push the old woman’s body off them, to push her away, but the woman’s body won’t move because it is held in its place by the weight of the bundle strapped to her back –
The weight of the bundle, the supplies on her back …
‘Take it off,’ the man is whispering to the young woman as they struggle with the body. But the young woman has had a better idea as they separate the body of the old woman from the bundle on her back, the younger woman opening the bundle and the man doesn’t need telling and now he joins her picking through the ropes and the knots, each of them glancing this way and that to check that no one else is awake, the ropes and the knots now gone, that way and this to make sure no one is watching as they take the polished rice and the sweet potatoes from out of the bundle on the dead woman’s back and hide it in the bundles on their own backs –
This way and that, that way and this …
I lower my head and I close my eyes –
I turn their shoes to face the door …
But not for long –
The other bodies in the freight wagon begin to stir now. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. The whispers with them. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. The rumours that the police will be waiting at Asakusa to search the passengers and their bundles for any black-market goods –
People thinking about getting off at Kita-Senju station –
People saying Kita-Senju will be just as bad –
People talking about jumping off –
I have heard enough –
I put my knapsack of bones and fragments of clothes on my back and I jump down from the freight wagon at Kita-Senju station –
But I do not go through the ticket gates at Kita-Senju. I walk up the stairs and down another flight to another platform. Then I stand on the roofless platform and I wait for the train to Ueno –
It is the twenty-seventh of August. I think. It is just gone 7 a.m. It is hot and humid and the sky is a dirty grey stain –
I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari …
Gari-gari. Gari-gari …
Gari-gari …
This platform for Ueno and Tokyo is not very busy but across the tracks the platforms for Saitama and Chiba are both crowded –
I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. I itch and I scratch –
Gari-gari. Gari-gari. Gari-gari. Gari-gari …
I hear my train approaching now. I step forward towards the edge of the platform. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. The train pulls in and hundreds of people get off, pushing and shoving. I get on board, the carriage still full of hundreds of people, still pushing and shoving. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. I stand by the door as the train pulls out. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. There is silence inside the carriage. The people are nervous. The people are worried. The people afraid –
I am nervous. I am worried. I am afraid. I am scared …
There are always police at Ueno station, always searches of clothing and baggage. But I will not go through the ticket gates here. I will change to another platform. I will change to another train –
They will not see me. They will not stop me …
I will take the Yamate Line to Kanda –
They will not find me. Not catch me …
The Chūō Line to Shinanomachi –
I will be safe this way …
But there are police at Shinanomachi station. I curse. I am on the platform now. I cur
se. I am walking towards the ticket gate. I curse. They are stopping people. I curse. They are searching people. I curse. I can’t show my notebook. I curse. I can’t tell them my name. I curse. I am stood in the line for the gates. I curse. I am in the queue now. I curse. I hand my ticket to the station staff. I keep walking –
‘You there,’ commands the voice of a policeman. ‘Stop!’
I curse and I curse. I stop. I curse again. I turn around –
There are two uniformed policemen. ‘Come here!’
I curse. I curse. I curse. I curse. I curse …
I bow before them and I ask, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What have you got in your knapsack?’
I curse. I curse. I curse. I curse …
‘Just my clothes and things…’
‘Show us then,’ they tell me.
I curse. I curse. I curse …
‘But it’s just clothes.’
‘Just open it then.’
I curse. I curse …
‘Really, just…’
‘Open it!’
I curse and I curse but I nod. I take off my knapsack and I start to open it up but one of the officers snatches it from out of my hands. He sets it down on the floor and he starts to go through it –
I can feel the gun in the small of my back …
‘What is all this?’ he asks now, dropping the pieces of cloth and the fragments of bones onto the floor and standing back up –
Ishida’s gun tucked in my belt…
The other man bending down to look at the cloth and the bones, now staring back up at me with horror in his eyes –
I have no choice now …
I take out my keisatsu techō, my police notebook, and I hand it to them. I tell them, I’m taking this evidence to the autopsy department at Keiō
No choice …
But the two policemen are both smiling at me now, their caps in their hands, wiping their faces and wiping their necks –
‘Why didn’t you just say you were one of us?’
‘I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.’
‘Just show your techō next time …’
‘I am sorry,’ I say. ‘My mistake.’
‘We’re not looking for policemen,’ they laugh as I walk out of the station with the clothes and the bones in the bag on my back.