by Steve Cash
“She is awake,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Who? Who is awake?” I asked. Sailor looked furious. I had never seen him so angry.
“Susheela the Ninth is awake. She is no longer denbora dantza egin… timedancing.”
“Is that bad?”
Sailor spit out his answer in a bitter, low voice. “Zuriaa is torturing her, Zianno!”
From that moment on, World War II became agony for Sailor. Every day he sank deeper in despair because every night he heard the sighs and screams of Susheela the Ninth. I also began having another series of dreams about Opari. In the dreams, she was always alone, but I couldn’t quite reach her, and she was always standing among bodies, always the broken bodies. I would wake in a sweat, knowing she was on the planet somewhere. I ached inside to know where. News from anywhere other than Japan was unknown. I worried constantly for Arrosa, Koldo, Willie, Caine, and Star, who were probably in Europe and in harm’s way. Many times I wondered where Jack was and what he could be doing. I knew Carolina would be in St. Louis, waiting…waiting for all of us.
Still, we persisted. As Sailor put it, “Our war is with Time, not the Japanese.” The war did make everything we did and everywhere we went a dangerous activity. Strangers, even Ainus, asking strange questions on the home front during a war will only arouse suspicion and make people reluctant to answer. Sak and Shutratek never seemed to lose their resolve and their belief that we would surely find the fortress in the next town, near the next city, over the next hill. And we kept on, despite the war. We traveled to Osaka, Nagoya, Okayama, Kobe, and back to Kyoto. We saw the castles of Hamamatsu-Jo, Matsue-Jo, Odawara-Jo, and dozens of others, some completely intact and some completely in ruins. None had any connection to the Fleur-du-Mal, past or present. The years of 1942 and 1943 became a blur. We had no true idea of how the war was going. The Japanese only spoke of great and glorious victories for the Emperor, never defeats. But by the end of 1944, conditions had spiraled downward rapidly. Food shortages and clothing shortages were critical. There was little or no gasoline and oil. Bicycles and carts hauled most people and things around, and we even heard rumors Japan might be losing.
All this time, we were never once stopped or interrogated. Sak and Shutratek became good and close friends to Sailor and me. Shutratek had tremendous stamina for a woman in her mid-sixties, yet I could see in her face that our constant travel was taking its toll. Sak seemed to only get stronger as time went by. His clear obsession to avenge his father and brother drove him on like fuel.
In May, we learned of Germany’s surrender and Sailor and I believed an invasion of Japan could not be far away. Sailor feared the chaos of an invasion would be worse than existing conditions. Then the fire bombing of Tokyo and other cities increased and intensified and women and children were being evacuated from all the cities to anywhere available. Trains and roads became clogged or shut down, but by August, we were on the island province of Kyushu in the city of Kitakyushu. On the fifth, Sak and Shutratek visited Kokura Castle and met with the family of the staff who served under Mori Ogai at the turn of the twentieth century. Within minutes, we had our break. Not one, but two fortresses in the Nagasaki prefecture had been purchased and restored extensively during that time by the same buyer. One castle was in Nagasaki itself and the other fifteen miles away in the hills above Oomura Bay, northeast of the old Portuguese properties.
“There it is!” Sailor almost shouted. “There is our answer and I should have known it. The Fleur-du-Mal first came to Japanese shores with the Portuguese ships in the sixteenth century. He is familiar with this coast and these ports. This is the place and Susheela the Ninth is in one of those castles.” Sailor paused and looked at me. He was more excited than I’d seen him in four years. “We have found her, Zianno.”
Taking the train south on the morning of the sixth, I asked Sailor if the Fleur-du-Mal was in Japan, where was Zeru-Meq? Sailor said there was no way to know, then he reminded me that the Meq assume survival and Zeru-Meq had seen many wars in many places and always survived.
“This war is different, Sailor.”
“I am aware of that, Zianno, but so is Zeru-Meq.”
Unknown to us, an hour earlier on the island of Shikoku, the city of Hiroshima and a hundred thousand lives had been obliterated in an instant by an atomic bomb nicknamed Little Boy.
Sak and Shutratek had only been given the districts where the castles were sold, not their exact locations. However, they were said to be so distinctive, neither could be missed—massive five-story structures of stone, wood, and tile, surrounded by moats and gardens and stone walls seven feet thick. It was Sailor’s plan to go to Nagasaki, then decide which castle to seek first. We stepped off the train in Nagasaki Station at three o’clock. The station was crowded as usual with soldiers. We walked through quickly and then out into a sprawling port city on a beautiful summer day. Finding a place to stay was difficult, but in an hour or so, Sak had found decent lodgings. It wasn’t until the next morning that the first full reports from Hiroshima began to surface. When we heard the number of estimated dead, we didn’t believe it. It was impossible, too many to imagine. A few reports mentioned a “super-bomb” and a “white light brighter than the sun.” None of us knew what that meant, but Sailor thought it was only the beginning.
“The invasion is upon us,” Sailor said. “This horrendous event means we must find the castles immediately.” The map of the entire Nagasaki prefecture was laid out on the table in front of him. Sailor looked down at the map, then at me. “We should divide into two parties,” he said. “Zianno, you and Shutratek search for the castle in the hills to the northeast of Oomura, while Sak and I search for the one in Nagasaki. Do not try to enter the castle if you find it.” Sailor looked hard at Sak and Shutratek and told them the Fleur-du-Mal was dangerous, extremely dangerous, and should never be taken on alone. “We shall meet back here in two days. If one of us has found the castle, then we return together. Agreed?” No one said a word, but we all agreed.
Shutratek and I left for Nagasaki Station and transferred to Oomura. From Oomura, we walked up sloping, winding streets to the district where the castle might be located. We passed dozens of Western-style buildings and residential areas, asking questions along the way, describing the castle as it was described to us. The day was warm and we walked miles without learning anything. The next day went the same and Shutratek and I both fell into a deep sleep not long after sunset and didn’t wake until after dawn. I had a dream just before waking and the sound I heard in the dream was one of the strangest I’d ever heard. I heard the sound of an entire forest falling.
On the morning of August 9, we dressed and left for a breakfast of rice cakes and miso, then began canvassing higher in the hills of the district. About ten o’clock, we stopped at a newspaper stand to read about Hiroshima. I mentioned the castle to the old vendor at the stand and asked if he knew its location. We got lucky. He told us where the castle was and how to get there. I had one 1906 double eagle American gold piece in my trousers that I’d always kept with me. I gave it to the vendor and Shutratek and I walked farther up into the hills toward the castle. After a long climb of nearly an hour, we rounded a corner and suddenly saw the ancient stone walls rising and the castle beyond the walls. A canopy of trees hung over the castle. There was only one gate and it was in the wall on the south side. It looked as if a drawbridge had been in its place at some time in the past. We crept closer to the gate. Shutratek looked at her watch. She was sweating heavily. The time was eleven o’clock and we were supposed to meet Sailor and Sak in Nagasaki at noon. But we couldn’t leave now. We had to get closer. About twenty feet from the gate, I noticed the gate was open slightly, maybe the width of a hand. I couldn’t resist; I had to look inside. I took a step.
Then it happened. A white light flashed everywhere at once for a split second. It was as if God had taken a snapshot with a flashbulb. Several seconds later, the ground rolled beneath us and we heard the distant blast.
We turned to see something rising over Urakami Valley, a ball rising, changing colors from pink to purple to gold—a balloon! I saw Nova’s awful balloon rising over a city that Shutratek and I knew no longer existed.
Shutratek shouted, “Sak!” then fell at my feet unconscious and dying. She’d had a massive heart attack. I bent to pick her up. I held her head and tried to make her breathe in, but she never did. She never breathed and she never awoke. I closed her eyes with my hand and laid her down. I looked up again at the balloon, climbing ten thousand, twenty thousand feet in the sky and trailing a long tail of white and black smoke.
“Sailor,” I said, “Sailor.”
A moment later, from somewhere above and behind me on top of the stone wall, I heard a voice. I knew the voice well.
“Bonjour, mon petit,” he said.
STEVE CASH lives in Springfield, Missouri, where he was born and raised and educated. After an attempt at gaining a college degree, he lived on the west coast, in Berkeley, California, and elsewhere. He returned to Springfield to become an original member of the band the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. He is the co-author of the seventies pop hits “Jackie Blue” and “If You Wanna Get to Heaven.” For the last thirty-three years he has played harmonica, written songs, perfomed with the band, helped in the raising of his children, and read books. He is writing the final novel in the Meq trilogy.
Time Dancers is a work of historical fiction. Apart from the well-known actual people, events, and locales that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or locales, or to living persons, is entirely coincidental.
A Del Rey Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2006 by Steve Cash
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material:
Princeton University Press: Excerpt from “Ithaka” from C. P. Cavafy: Collected Poems, by C. P. Cavafy, translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, copyright © 1972 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press.
Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group: Excerpt from The Spirit of St. Louis by Charles Lindbergh, copyright © 1953 by Charles Scribner’s Sons, copyright renewed 1981 by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Reprinted by permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group.
eISBN-13: 978-0-345-49340-8
eISBN-10: 0-345-49340-0
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