But he obviously realized that I had no intention at all of changing my mind. A sardonic half-smile came over his face as he continued. “All right, let’s do it, then! After all, it’ll be a rare experience, won’t it, flying in a plane like this in a raging typhoon!”
“Cut the sarcasm, will you? You’re getting on my nerves,” I said, turning away from him. Actually, I was only pretending to be strong. I needed him to get on that plane with me. But deep down, I was quivering with fear.
Sticky Eye had been talking to Gorohachi’s wife and occasionally glancing back at us. Then he nodded and called over to us with a laugh. “Hey, travellers! You’re in luck! She says she’ll take you!”
“Really?” I approached Gorohachi’s wife with a suitably grateful demeanour. We were entrusting our lives to her care, after all. We could do worse than ingratiate ourselves. “Thank you. Thank you very much!”
“It’ll cost you though,” she said. “Two thousand yen each.”
Sticky Eye intervened from the side, rather hurriedly.
“Actually, Yoné, I just told ’em it were fifteen hundred, one way.”
“Oh. All right, fifteen hundred then,” she said casually, without any sign of discomfort. “Well, come on then. Up you get.”
“Gorohachi’s wife seems like a good person,” I said to Hatayama as we walked across from the hut with our baggage.
He was shivering with fright. “That doesn’t mean she can fly a plane, does it,” he replied.
I pulled a face. But he just carried on, with his waterproof camera case slung over his shoulder. “Just now, they said this Gorohachi had a proper pilot’s licence. I heard them. But they haven’t said anything about the wife. Then again, we’re in no position to go round asking questions, are we.”
“Exactly,” I answered in exaggerated agreement. “So don’t.”
“Yes, well, we’re sure to get back to Shiokawa in one piece, aren’t we. Yes.” Hatayama laughed nervously, nodding to himself several times. “After all, she’s had some experience as a pilot, hasn’t she. Even if she doesn’t have a licence. And even if it is a long time since she last flew. Yes. And those two farmers aren’t at all nervous about flying with her, are they. Even if they are ignorant and totally insensitive to danger. That’s all OK, isn’t it.”
I said nothing. Otherwise, he might have started screaming his head off.
We climbed the ladder into the aircraft. Inside, there were ten half-dilapidated seats, five on either side of an aisle covered with straw matting. There was no partition between the passengers and the pilot; the controls were in full view. Hatayama and I sat in the front two seats, on either side of the aisle.
As soon as we’d sat down, Hatayama started up again. His hawklike eyes had spotted something in the roof of the cockpit, above the front window.
“Look at that!” he exclaimed. “It’s a miniature shrine.”
“So it is.”
“That’s for luck, I suppose.”
“So it is.”
“So that’s why this plane has stayed in one piece so far. Sheer luck!”
“Just shut up.” I glared at him again through narrowed eyes.
Hatayama ducked his head apologetically. “Do you have to get so angry at everything I say? Give me a break, will you?!”
The two farmers finished loading their baskets of beans and farming tools onto the plane. Then Gorohachi’s wife hoisted up the ladder and closed the door.
“Right then, let’s be off!”
She pushed back some loose strands of hair, then parked her sizeable rear on the pilot’s seat – all the while trying to calm the wriggling baby on her back. Once in position, she started fiddling with the switches, throttle lever and other controls, displaying a clumsy, heavy-handed touch. Hatayama and I held our breath as we stared in disbelief. The two farmers behind us, meanwhile, were calmly discussing the price of beans.
The aeroplane slowly started to move. It turned until its tail faced the hut, then started to travel along the runway. The plane shook and creaked noisily, making us jump up in our seats.
“We should have sat further back,” moaned Hatayama.
Not only were there no seat belts, but because we were sitting at the front, there was nothing for us to hold on to either.
“Be quiet! Or I’ll rip your bloody tongue out!” I shouted.
The plane bounced once, then picked up speed. The fuselage shook so violently that it seemed likely to fall apart at any moment. But still it continued to taxi along the runway.
“We can’t get off the ground,” said Hatayama, cowering in terror. “Oh no! We’re not going to make it!”
The runway ended at the top of a cliff looking out to sea. And the end was approaching fast. The plane bounced again, nearly sending us into the roof.
As it flew off the end of the runway, the plane was buffeted by a gust of wind and tilted to one side. We started to plummet towards the sea, the white crests of the waves rushing towards us through the front window. Hatayama let out a feeble cry. “We’re done for,” he whined. “We’re done for. I knew it.”
“Come on, you bugger!” Gorohachi’s wife cursed as she yanked the control stick upwards. The baby cried loudly.
The nose of the plane lifted, and we gradually returned to a more agreeable angle. Then we started to climb, swaying all the while. Hatayama and I both relaxed our shoulders and let out great sighs of relief at the same time.
“Oy, Yoné,” called Sticky Eye. “Is it just me, or were that a bit dangerous back there?”
“A bit’s not the word!” answered Gorohachi’s wife, cackling hysterically. “Normally, you’d have been saying your prayers!”
“Normally we’d have been saying our prayers,” Hatayama repeated to me.
“But I’ve got willpower, see,” she continued. “Not like Gorohachi. So it’s a good job I’m flying today.”
“She says this plane flies on willpower,” Hatayama called over to me in a tearful voice. “Did you hear? Willpower!”
“They’re just making fun of you because you’re such a baby,” I replied.
We were now surrounded by dark clouds. The aeroplane was creaking and shaking again. Drops of water started to drip down, from a join in the aluminium shell of the roof, onto the straw matting on the floor. Hatayama stared at me. Knowing he was about to start again, I pretended not to notice. So he brought his mouth right up to my ear.
“Er, did you know this plane’s leaking. The rain’s coming in,” he whispered.
“What about it.”
“Oh. Nothing.”
Suddenly, the plane took a huge dive.
“Oh no!” Hatayama wailed.
My tightly clenched palms were clammy with perspiration and cold sweat ran down my back.
Outside, a seagull was flying beside the aeroplane next to my window.
“That must be Jonathan Livingston,” Hatayama said loudly. “He’s the only seagull fast enough to keep up with an aeroplane.”
“Bah. It’s not him that’s fast. It’s us that’s slow,” said Gorohachi’s wife. “We’re flying into the wind, see.”
Hatayama was visibly frightened now. “But if we’re going that slow, we could stall, couldn’t we?!”
She laughed. “Ha! I suppose you mean we could do a nosedive. That hasn’t happened at all, recently.”
“You mean it happened before?!” Hatayama ejected a nasal projectile onto the floor.
“What a fantastic trick!” Sticky Eye was impressed again. “How do you do it?”
“We should be nearly there now,” I said. “Whereabouts are we?”
“Yes, whereabouts are we.” Gorohachi’s wife tilted her head. “We should have arrived long since. But I can’t see the ground for the clouds. I wonder if we’ve gone off course.”
“She wonders if we’ve gone off course,” Hatayama repeated to me with ever-widening eyes.
“Aw, shut your trap,” Gorohachi’s wife shouted as she hoisted the crying baby further up her back.
>
Thinking she meant him, Hatayama ducked his head again.
“Could someone take over for a mo? I need to feed the baby,” said Gorohachi’s wife.
“Right-o,” answered Red Nose, standing up nonchalantly.
Hatayama blew his nose again. “Let me out.” He started to cry. “I want to get out. Where are the parachutes?”
“There aren’t any. But there’s a broken old umbrella over there in the corner,” answered Sticky Eye, laughing heartily.
Gorohachi’s wife handed the controls to Red Nose and squatted down on one of the passenger seats. She opened the front of her overalls, slipped out a breast the size of a softball, and thrust a chocolate-brown nipple into her baby’s mouth.
“You’ll get mad again if I say anything now, won’t you,” Hatayama said to me with tears in his eyes.
“Too right,” I replied, staring him out before he could go on. “So don’t say it.”
“I can say what I like, can’t I?” He squirmed in his seat. “Why do you have to get so angry at everything I say? You’re worried about getting a rollicking from the Chief, aren’t you. You’re trying to forget your fear by thinking about that. Aren’t you.” He looked over at me with bloodshot eyes. “But really, you’re scared too, aren’t you. Just a bit.”
“What if I am?” I screeched. “Is that going to change anything?!”
“I’m more scared of losing my life than what the Chief will say. All right?!” he screeched back. “Because me, I’m just a photographer! See? If it came to that, I could earn my living freelance. What do I care if the Chief gets mad and fires me?! But not you. It’s not that you love your job, mind. You’re just scared of the Chief. You’re scared of him because you don’t want to lose your job.”
“Shut it!” I screamed, standing up. “One more word and I’ll punch your face in!”
Trembling under my fearsome gaze, Hatayama put his hand to his crotch.
“I need a wee,” he whimpered.
“Loo’s at the back,” said Gorohachi’s wife, still feeding her baby. “But it’s full of junk. We use it as a cupboard. So you can’t go in there.”
“Where can I go, then?!”
Sticky Eye stamped on the straw matting in the aisle. “There’s a gap in the floor under here,” he said. “Why not do it through that?”
Red Nose looked round from the pilot’s seat. “Hold on. We might be going over Fox Hill. You’d better wait. It’s bad luck to piss on the Fox.”
“I can’t hold it any longer!” cried Hatayama. He pulled back the straw matting and, lying face down, hastily thrust his member through a hole measuring a couple of inches in the floor. “Bad luck, Fox,” he groaned.
He meant bad luck for you, not the Fox, I thought.
The sound of the engine suddenly dropped. Then the whole plane lurched to one side, making a strange sputtering noise. I looked out of the window. The propeller on the left side had stopped moving.
I pointed to the propeller. “Augh. Augh.” No words would come out.
“Aw, has it stopped again?” asked Gorohachi’s wife. She’d finished her feeding, and hoisted the sleeping baby up onto her back again. Then she heaved herself out of her seat with a “Hey-oop” and returned to the controls. “Move yourself. I’ll take over,” she said to Red Nose.
“Has something happened?” asked Hatayama, still squatting there in the aisle.
“One of the propellers has stopped,” I replied as if it were nothing.
He started to laugh a dark, demonic laugh. “Heheheh. Hahahah. I told you. Didn’t I tell you? I told you.” Then he started to sing. “And now, the end is nigh…”
“Shall I thump the wing with that broom handle again?” asked Red Nose. “It worked last time.”
“You’d be wasting your breath,” answered Gorohachi’s wife. “We’re almost out of fuel.”
Hatayama sang louder. “We’re going to die, not in a shy way…”
“Oh, look,” said Gorohachi’s wife. “The wind’s blown the clouds away. I can see the ground now! Look how far we’ve come!”
South Korea, I wondered.
“Heaven, I hope,” muttered Hatayama through his sobbing.
“I must’ve got me bearings wrong. We’ve come out by the trunk road at Onuma,” said Gorohachi’s wife as she pushed the control stick downwards. “We’ll have to land there. There’s a petrol station down there, anyway.”
I jumped up. “You can’t land on a national highway! You’ll hit the cars!”
“Nah. We’ll be all right there,” said Sticky Eye. “They’re doing road works up at Sejiri, so there won’t be many cars. And seeing as there’s a typhoon today, nobody’ll be on the road anyway.”
“How can you possibly know that?” wailed Hatayama. “There’s a plane flying up here, isn’t there?”
“In any case, we’ve no choice. We’ll have to land here. There’s too many trees in the primary school yard,” said Gorohachi’s wife, turning the plane wildly.
The aeroplane made a loud creaking noise and appeared about to break up. The cabin shook violently. Hatayama cried aloud. The inside of my mouth was parched.
Then the grey asphalt of the highway appeared right beneath us. Just before the plane touched down, a car raced towards us from the opposite direction. It sped under our right wing, missing us by inches. The plane hit the ground, bounced, and bounced again.
Through the front window I could see a dump truck heading straight for us.
“We’re going to crash!” I yelled, bracing myself.
“Oh, he’ll swerve all right,” said Sticky Eye.
The truck driver panicked and careered into a vegetable field next to the road.
The plane came to a halt right in front of the petrol station. Maybe Gorohachi’s wife is actually an expert pilot, I thought for the briefest of moments.
As soon as we’d stopped, Hatayama made a bolt for the exit and opened the door. Ignoring the ladder, he jumped straight out onto the asphalt, where he lay face down for several seconds. Just as I was wondering how long he’d stay there, I noticed that he was actually kissing the ground in utter delirium.
I followed Gorohachi’s wife down the ladder. The road skirted the foot of a mountain, which rose abruptly behind the petrol station. On the other side of the road, I could see nothing but vegetable fields.
“We’ve run out of petrol!” Gorohachi’s wife called out laughing to the young pump attendant, who looked at us with eyes agog. “Fill her up, will you? We need to get to Shiokawa.”
“I’ve never filled an aeroplane before,” the attendant said as he pumped petrol into the fuel inlet on the wing, under instructions from Gorohachi’s wife.
Sticky Eye and Red Nose climbed down after us. “Ready for another ride?” asked Red Nose. They laughed contemptuously.
I looked at the map on my timetable. Onuma was about twenty miles east of Shiokawa.
“Not me,” replied Hatayama, glowering at me as he came back out of the plane with his camera case.
“But there isn’t a railway station near here,” I said sinuously. “How else can we get to Shiokawa? Even if someone gives us a lift, we’ll never be there in time for the train.”
Hatayama widened his eyes in disbelief again. “You mean you’re planning to get back in that?” he raged. “You’re out of your mind! You’re just doing it for pride! Well, if you want to die so much, go and die on your own! Leave me out! I’m waiting here till the typhoon passes!” He nodded vigorously in determination. “All right? I’m staying here!”
I gave up trying to persuade him. Actually, I wasn’t that keen on getting back in myself. But considering how things would be if I lost my job, I had to accept a certain amount of risk. “Please yourself. I’ll take the plane. I’ll be back in the office by tomorrow morning.”
“Or maybe you won’t,” said Hatayama with a trace of a smile.
I was on the verge of hitting him.
“I will,” I said. “I’ll get back. You’ll
see.”
“We don’t need that,” Gorohachi’s wife announced to the pump attendant. He’d finished filling the tank and was clambering onto the nose of the plane to wipe the front window. “We’d better be off. I’d be in real trouble if the law found me parked here.”
“I hear the typhoon’s approaching southwest of here,” said the attendant with a look of concern.
Gorohachi’s wife laughed it off. “Don’t worry. We’ll be all right,” she said breezily.
Rain started to pour in torrents. I climbed back into the plane with the farmers, leaving Hatayama standing alone outside.
We started to taxi along the highway. As we did, several cars swerved into the vegetable field to avoid us. Soon we were airborne once more, and turned westwards.
It wasn’t until the following morning, during the Chief ’s tirade on my return to the office, that I heard what had happened. Just after we’d taken off, the side of the mountain had collapsed, burying the petrol station and killing Hatayama along with the pump attendant.
“Why the hell didn’t you get the film off him first?!” bellowed the Chief.
Bear’s Wood Main Line
We were just a few minutes from Boar’s Wood Station.
“Where are you headed?” asked a thickly bearded man sitting opposite me.
“Four Bends,” I replied.
I’d heard they made good buckwheat noodles in the little town of Four Bends. So I planned to go there and eat my fill, then buy as much as I could to take home with me. That’s why I was travelling on the Hairybeast Line. You see, I’m quite mad about buckwheat noodles. If I hear of a place that’s famous for them, I have to go there and try some for myself – no matter how remote it is.
“What, you mean you’re going to stay on this train, all the way round Hairybeast, till you get to Four Bends?”
The bearded man looked at me with eyes agog. With his close-cropped hair and a towel hanging from his belt, he looked like some kind of mountain lumberjack.
“Why, yes,” I replied. “That’s the only way, isn’t it?”
“Ah well, you could get off at Boar’s Wood and change onto a train going to Deer’s Wood from there. That’s only one stop from Four Bends,” said the bearded man. “At Boar’s Wood, you change onto the Bear’s Wood Main Line. It’s only a single track, mind. But it’ll get you to Four Bends four hours quicker than going all the way round Hairybeast.”
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