Dragon Island

by Berryhill, Shane

  “So you are a priestess of Gryphina, then?”

  Kitsune’s face darkens.

  “No. My twin sister perished before we could complete our training. Without her, I was unable to continue my instruction and take up the mantle of a shobijin.”

  I struggle for a response. “I...I’m sorry.”

  Kitsune clasps my hand in hers. There’s a heartbreaking sadness in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. It’s terrible to look upon. Doing so makes my own eyes water.

  “The—” Kitsune’s words catch in her throat, threatening to turn into sobs. “The wound of her passing still hurts, even after so long.”

  Kitsune releases my hand.

  “In some ways, I believe my sister’s passing was when this all truly began, Raymond-sai.”

  “When what began, Kitsune?”

  “The long, slow death of my people.”

  Chapter 12

  Chiroptophobia (ki’rop’toe’fo’bee’ah) n. – the excessive and uncontrollable fear of bats.

  - Webber’s Dictionary (2009)

  “You were not kidding when you said the labyrinth was deep!”

  Kitsune and I stand above a giant hole in the earth.

  “Yes,” she says. “This place is called Doragon’s Mouth. It marks the beginning of the deep labyrinth on this side of the island.”

  “Dor-ah-gon’s Mouth,” I say, sounding out the word. “As in the dragon’s mouth?”

  Kitsune nods.

  The name is a good one. The hole swallows up the evening’s fading twilight so that nothing but darkness is visible in the farthest reaches of its creeper-covered throat.

  It’s an ominous place. Even the cicadas know it. They’ve gone silent out of respect.

  Kitsune grabs one of the vines running into the cave’s vertical entrance and motions for me to join her.

  “Come, Raymond-sai. We must hurry.”

  She wants me to climb down into that black pit!

  Dread presses down on my chest like a lead weight. Once again, my legs adhere themselves to the ground and refuse to move.

  Why does everything have to be so hard here on KaijuIsland? Since the plane-crash, I’ve had to endure one horrible experience after another.

  I desperately want to go home to Mom and Bear.

  “I—” I stutter, “I can’t.”

  “Now is not the time for silliness, Raymond-sai. “The sun will soon set. We need to get under—”

  At that moment, a single loud screech sounds from the darkness below.

  “Oh, spit!” I say, verging on hysterics. “Oh, crap! It’s Ryuu! He’s heard us!”

  The screech is joined by thousands of others. The combined shrieks create a din of noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s like a chorus from hell.

  I sink to my knees and press the palms of my hands over my ears, but it doesn’t block out the noise. I scream, trying to replace the horrifying sound with that of my own frightened voice.

  Then all falls silent.

  Kitsune and I look at each other. We lean over the hole’s edge and peer down its throat.

  For a moment, I see nothing. Just the bottomless, black pit. Then I notice the darkness begin to move and flutter. My heart jackhammers as fear presses against my bladder, threatening to empty it.

  I grab Kitsune’s free hand. She’s trembling. Not as badly as I am, but her shakes are there, making her fear as undeniable as my own.

  The cacophony of screeching returns, louder than ever.

  “Get down!” Kitsune says. We both dive face-first to the ground just as hundreds of bat-creatures burst from Doragon’s Mouth in a mad flight for the blood-red sky.

  As we lay here, our hands covering our heads, I dare a quick glance at the monsters. What I see is right out of Bram Stroker’s Dracula.

  The bat kaiju are as large as a man. They have wingspans that would fill up my living room back in the States. They are furless, and their skin glistens like slick, black oil in the setting sun’s light. A filmy glaze covers their eyes and twin yellow fangs protrude from their upper palate.

  But what’s worse—even worse than their screeching—is the malevolent intelligence I see in their snub-nosed faces. It’s the look of a cold, calculating predator on the hunt.

  I jerk my head back down. Tears leak from my eyes as I offer up silent prayers for our safety.

  I miss Bear sooooo much.

  Then the bat kaiju are gone as quickly as they came.

  I feel Kitsune’s hand on my shoulder.

  “Raymond-sai, we must go.”

  I don’t move.

  I hear Kitsune sigh.

  “Raymond-sai, I cannot lie to you. The deep labyrinth is far from safe. But if we are still out here in the open once night falls, we will surely die.”

  Minutes pass.

  The sun sinks lower.

  “For goodness sake, Raymond-sai! You are supposed to be the heir of Kintaro. Start acting like it!”

  Despite Kitsune’s words, I don’t want to move. Not another step. Not another inch. I’ve had my fill of the island. Death would almost be preferable at this point.

  Almost.

  Slowly, I rise to my hands and knees. I wipe my face and nod at Kitsune. She nods in return.

  Kitsune walks to the edge of Doragon’s Mouth and takes a tangle of creepers in hand. Then she edges out over the cave like a spelunker and starts to lower herself down.

  I rise to my feet, adjust Kusanagi on my back, and do the same.

  We climb down, the twilight dissipating with every foot we drop. Then it vanishes completely, the sound of the cicadas disappearing along with it.

  Icy panic races up the length of my spine. A film of sweat blankets my skin.

  “Kitsune!” I shout. “I can’t see! I—!”

  I feel her steadying hand on my arm.

  “I can see for both of us, Raymond-sai. Do not worry. Keep going.”

  I obey.

  The farther we drop, the cooler the air around us becomes. By contrast, I feel Kusanagi growing warmer and warmer on my back. I know it’s impossible for an inert piece of metal to give off heat. But unless my senses have somehow gone haywire—which I fully admit is very likely under the present circumstances—the sword is actually radiating warmth.

  It’s not an uncomfortable sensation. Actually, it’s just the opposite, so I put it out of my mind for the time being and concentrate on the task at hand: reaching the bottom of this cave without dying.

  I’m thinking I’m making great headway in that regard when I hear several snaps sound from above me.

  For a second, I don’t realize what the noise is. When I do, it’s too late!

  I scream as I abruptly drop. The vines I’m clinging to have snapped beneath my weight! I jerk to a halt a few feet farther down when my left arm entangles within a mass of creepers. But their hold is less than secure and I feel myself begin to slide again, the perspiration on my arm acting like a slick grease speeding me on my way.

  “Kitsune! Help!”

  The echoes of my cry sound all around me, reverberating off what must be the far sides of the cave walls. I’ve no way of knowing for sure with the complete darkness enshrouding me.

  “Raymond-sai!” Kitsune calls from somewhere below me.

  “Kitsune!” I answer. I gasp as my arm slips through the creepers. My wrist catches at the last second, and I cry out in mingled despair and relief.

  One more slip and I’m a goner!

  “It is okay, Raymond-sai!” Kitsune says. “You are going to be all right—!”

  But her words are eclipsed by my scream as I slide out of the creepers to plummet through open air.

  Chapter 13

  Some theorize that UFOs are not, in fact, of extraterrestrial origin. Rather, they postulate that these mysterious craft come from an alternate dimension of space and time.

  —Excerpt from Foo Fighters: Fact, Fiction, or Folly?, by Diane Shadden

  “Umph!” I grunt as I land flat on my b
ack. The sound is more one of surprise than pain.

  “Raymond-sai, are you okay?” Kitsune asks.

  I don’t know.

  I sit up and pat myself down, overjoyed to find everything intact and in its proper place. When I lost my hold on the creeper vines, I’d been certain that I was going to fall hundreds of stories to my doom. In truth, I’d been dangling mere feet above the cavern floor.

  It’s been like that since I crash-landed on Kaiju Island—one surprise after the next!

  “I’m alive!” I shout. “Alive!”

  Kitsune quickly shushes me.

  “We must be quiet, Raymond-sai,” she whispers. “We have survived entering the deep labyrinth, but we will not make it much farther if you continue to yell at the top of your lungs!”

  “I’m sorry, Kitsune,” I whisper to the two luminous eyes gazing at me in the darkness. Apparently, my imagination was not playing tricks on me the other night. Kitsune will not have any trouble navigating down here, after all. “I’m just glad to be alive.”

  There’s a brief pause, then Kitsune speaks. “I am glad you are alive as well, Raymond-sai. I wish to keep it so.

  “Come. Let us be off. One does well not to linger within the deep labyrinth any longer than he or she must.”

  I feel her hand nuzzle its way into mine. She pulls me to my feet and we begin walking quickly through the pitch.

  We trek for hours. Days. An eternity. Time seems to have no meaning here within the deep labyrinth.

  I hear things moving all around us in the dark—things that slither and creep—and I’m selfishly glad that it’s Kitsune who’s able to see our surroundings rather than me.

  It’s cold down here.

  So cold.

  I shudder and Kitsune tightens her hand around mine. Having to constantly depend upon her comfort makes me feel more cowardly and ashamed than ever.

  I begin to hear even stranger sounds ahead of us in the distance. Alien sounds mingled with the zap of electricity and the working of machinery.

  Then there’s light before us. It’s a mere pinprick in the distance, but one that grows larger with our every step.

  “Careful, now,” Kitsune whispers. “They are near.”

  I don’t have to ask who they are.

  The Xenomians.

  The kaiju whose ways are different. Mysterious.

  Frightful.

  Kusanagi has grown red hot at my back. I release Kitsune’s hand for a moment and remove the sword and its harness from my body. I take hold of the ancient weapon’s hilt and begin withdrawing it from its gold-studded sheath. My eyes widen in surprise to see Kusanagi’s blade aglow with crackling white energy. For a moment, our surroundings are illuminated by its brilliant light.

  We are no longer in a cave, but a tunnel. The walls, ceiling and floor are covered by dark metal pipes, digital gauges, and computer circuitry. It’s a far cry from the rocky surfaces I would’ve expected to see.

  “What are you doing?” Kitsune gasps. She seizes my sword hand and shoves it downward, forcing me to sheath Kusanagi. “Are you trying to announce our presence to the Xenomians?”

  “Uh, sorry.”

  The words sound sheepish and pathetic as they leave my mouth.

  I suppose that’s because they are.

  “Keep Kusanagi sheathed,” Kitsune orders through clenched teeth. “Do nothing unless I command it!”

  “Okay! Okay! I said I was sorry!”

  I shove Kusanagi into my belt.

  Kitsune’s luminous gaze studies me. I know what she is thinking. It’s more or less the same type of thing my father ponders every time I visit him.

  She may not be wondering how a spineless coward like me could be her son, but she is considering if she was wrong about me. She is mulling over the possibility that I may not be a warrior from the heavens after all, but just the snot-nosed kid I claim to be.

  Hey, sister, I told you: Raymond Nakajima is no hero. Just ask my Dad. He’ll tell you, real quick!

  Kitsune takes my hand and begins to lead me to the light once again. I don’t know if it’s just me, but this time her touch feels more dutiful than kind.

  It’s not long before we reach the tunnel’s end. The light spilling in from beyond is all around us now, the passageway’s machinery unable to hide in its brilliance.

  Kitsune gets down on her hands and knees and crawls toward the tunnel’s edge, moving like a cat stalking its prey. I get down and crawl clumsily forward to join her.

  What I see lying beyond the tunnel’s edge is more amazing and bizarre than anything I could’ve ever imagined!

  We are perched in one of many tunnels snaking out from an enclosed chamber that’s roughly the size of my neighborhood. The pipes, gauges, and circuitry that blanket our tunnel’s walls spill out to cover the entire area above and below in increasingly complex patterns. These form several blocks of large, futuristic buildings and towers along the chamber floor. A single, domed structure stands at the center, dwarfing all else.

  The entire scene is lit by sizzling arcs of electricity that leap from structure to structure and from chamber floor to ceiling, each totally unpredictable in its course.

  But what really takes my breath away are the flying saucers!

  I don’t know what else to call them. They appear to be spinning, circular constructs of light and metal hovering hundreds of feet in the air above the city.

  Above us!

  And flying saucers or not, they don’t appear friendly.

  Suddenly, I’m gripped with the utter certainty that the saucer-ships have spotted us from their high vantage.

  I panic and start to get up only for Kitsune to pull me back down. Hard.

  “Be still!” she warns.

  I try, but despite my best efforts, I can’t stop shaking.

  Kitsune throws her hand over my mouth to stifle my scream at what sounds like the world’s biggest jet engine igniting. The noise reverberates through the chamber down into the tunnels, rattling our teeth.

  For a moment, I’m certain the daikaiju that attacked my plane has returned.

  Then what I originally thought was merely a domed structure within the chamber floor begins to slowly spin.

  It gains speed and the sound of the engine I now realize is housed within it grows louder, changing from that of a perpetual explosion to the high-pitched whine of a working turbine.

  Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, the dome’s dull gray surface flares with bright, dancing light, and the entire revolving structure lifts from its cradle among the city streets.

  Meanwhile, Kusanagi has become an oven at my side. I slide the sword out of my belt and hang the harness on my arm so that I’m no longer in direct contact with the weapon. I’m amazed to see the gilded scabbard actually smoking from the sword’s heat!

  Kusanagi now in check, I turn my attention back to the enormous spacecraft. As the vessel rises, Kitsune and I are forced to cling to the tunnel’s bottom edge to keep from being blown backward by the gale-force winds created by the craft’s rotation.

  The construct rises higher and higher, spinning faster and faster until one note of its shrill whine is in indistinguishable from the next.

  The ship joins the other, smaller crafts hovering in the air and I realize that it must be their mothership, figuratively speaking.

  No. Not their mothership. Their great, great, grandmothership.

  Beams of crackling energy discharge from the craft’s surface, zigzagging to zap its smaller counterparts and the chamber walls beyond. The sound is deafening. The ozone created by the discharge makes my skin tingle and my hair stand on end. Just when I feel I can take no more, there’s a flash of blazing light, and the ships vanish, taking their din of noise along with them.

  Kusanagi instantly cools. Air currents wash over Kitsune and me, ruffling our clothes as they race out of the tunnel to fill the void left by the saucer-ships. My ears ring with the silence. My body swells as though something pressing hard aga
inst it from every angle had been suddenly removed.

  “That’s a relief!” I whisper.

  Kitsune perks up and sniffs the air.

  “Kitsune?”

  She turns and jumps at one of the man-shaped shadows now looming over us.

  Before I can move, I feel something bite me and then course through my body. The sensation is like a thousand wasps stinging me at once! It’s a feeling I’ve had before—when I grabbed an electric fence on a dare.

  The shock reaches my head and everything goes black.

  Chapter 14

  The fabled Japanese warrior Kintaro is supposedly based on a real person named Sakata no Kintoki, who allegedly lived during the height of Japan’s classical epoch and served as a retainer for the samurai Minamoto no Yorimitsu. Possessing great strength and fighting skill, he was renowned far and wide for his abilities as a warrior. Like the legends of the “Big Men” of the American West who would follow him, tales of Kintaro’s prowess grew until fact became indistinguishable from fiction...

  —Excerpt from We Are Legend: The Truth Behind Heroes and Demigods of the World, by Carl Davidson (1975)

  As I lie unconscious, my dreams are invaded by nightmares. A pleasant ride home on my school bus becomes a catastrophic plane-crash. My mother’s sweet, smiling face morphs into that of the black man’s before he is devoured by some unseen monster. Kitsune, strong and beautiful, shrivels into a loping forest animal. The earth at my feet opens up and vomits hordes of shrieking bat demons. Then I’m dragged kicking and screaming into a cold, cybernetic netherworld, my father tugging one of my legs, the pale man the other.

  I awake with a start and see the pale man sitting at the foot of the bed I’m lying in, his wicked grin spread across his face. I’m not at all surprised to see him here, in this new, waking nightmare.

  With his hair pulled up in a samurai-style top knot, I see that the tips of his ears are as sharp as Kitsune’s. He has traded in the sunglasses he wore at LAX for some of a more futuristic variety. Their twin lenses look like bulbous spider eyes. The starched, wing-like shoulders of the black mantle draped over his crimson kimono make him appear twice as large as he was at the airport.