Reiko

by James Avonleigh

  This was going too far and I put my head in my hands. ‘Ghosts don’t exist, Sarah. If they existed, then maybe I could give you a scientific answer. But they don’t. Crazy people see ghosts. People on the brink of insanity see ghosts. Ghosts aren’t real.’

  She held up her hands in apology. ‘Sorry, I’m being provocative. Just one more thing and then I’ll shut up. Japanese ghosts are supposedly hell-bent on revenge. That thing you saw, whatever it was, did it look annoyed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not particularly vengeful?’

  ‘No. Why would it be vengeful towards me anyway? I haven’t done anything to offend it.’

  This seemed to satisfy her and she smiled. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking things through. I’d never really thought about it before.’

  ‘Nor me,’ I muttered.

  I got up, feeling the need to stretch my legs after sitting for so long on the tatami mat floor. I also needed to get away from any more of Sarah’s questions. ‘I’m going to the toilet. I’ll be right back.’

  She started to laugh. ‘You’re not meant to say that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Haven’t you seen the movie Scream? It’s one of the cardinal rules of horror films. If you say “I’ll be right back”, it’s like signing your own death warrant. You’re a dead cert for the meat truck.’

  She was on a roll. I had no idea what I’d started by giving her Charlie’s file to read. ‘Sarah, I know this is a weird place. But we’re not in a horror film.’

  I left her chuckling to herself and made my way to the bathroom. With my mind frayed and my stomach still unsettled, I lent over the sink and splashed cold water onto my face. This had an immediate restorative effect and I continued splashing for half a minute. I breathed in deep and watched the water disappear down the plughole. I thought again about how far I’d come in such a short space of time, how many new psychological challenges I’d faced. It was something to be proud of. Then I thought about my parents sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Sunday supplements, wondering how I was faring so far from home. I determined to pull myself together, to defy whatever fate threw at me and to come out the other end a better and stronger person. I would return to England more experienced, more confident and more equipped to deal with the emotional and spiritual challenges ahead.

  But even as I made these resolves, staring down the plughole in Sarah’s bathroom, fate had me in her sights.

  It was just as sudden and just as horrible as before.

  The door to the cabinet above the sink was slightly ajar and I peered in, curious to see if there was anything in there to treat my indigestion. I scanned the row of creams, ointments and other products, but could see nothing for indigestion.

  I flipped the door closed and the reflection of the wall behind me swung into view.

  She was there.

  Standing against the wall, hanging her head in the same manner, but only a few feet away from me. I saw her clearly – saw the dark shadows under her eyes, the high cheekbones, the pale lips slightly parted. And I saw the crimson ribbon tied around her neck.

  I stood frozen to the spot, staring past my pale, frightened face at this apparition.

  Slowly, very slowly, I raised my hands to my face and covered my eyes, praying to the god I’d abandoned in my youth. And when I lowered my hands, she was gone.

  I turned, gripping the sink for support, and surveyed the empty bathroom. In the place where she’d been standing only a towel hung limp on a hook. She was gone.

  I was taken by a sudden wave of nausea and turned to the sink to be sick. I retched painfully for a moment, but nothing came up. I then stood there, stooped over the sink, trying to compose my mind. What was happening to me? Was I so emotionally frail that I was seeing things that weren’t there? Was my mind so fixated on this high school tragedy that the ghostly protagonists were haunting my waking hours?

  Maybe I really was sick. Maybe I was living in denial. Maybe all these uneventful years of study and relaxation were only distracting me from the fact that I was ill, that I needed help. And I had come all the way to Japan to finally face this truth.

  It took Sarah the best part of an hour to convince me that I wasn’t a basket-case. She made me a cup of hot cocoa, laid out her futon to act as a couch, then listened to me as I poured my heart out all over again.

  It was the tonic I needed. Lying there wrapped in her bedclothes, warmed by her cocoa, the world began to make some sense again. She told me she was distressed to hear her bathroom was haunted, but that it was most likely the mirror that needed cleaning. To illustrate the point, she’d gone off to the bathroom and come back to tell me she’d seen the exact same thing, right down to the crimson scarf. But a quick once-over with detergent had erased all traces of my ghostly visitation.

  Then she did something I hadn’t expected. She opened Charlie’s file and took out the pictures of the high school students and showed them to me. I told her I didn’t want to look at them and she replied that it was better I faced my fears than build them up into something more than they were.

  For a while we looked at them quietly, Sarah explaining that they were just like the students she taught. There was nothing evil about them. They were just tragic victims, nothing more. Certainly, there was no reason to fear them.

  Then she came and reclined next to me on the bed, supporting herself on her elbow. I didn’t know if I should read anything into this display of intimacy, but I felt an unrelenting desire to lean forward and kiss her. If anything was going to dispel my fears and set my head right, it was a passionate kiss.

  But Sarah seemed preoccupied with the picture of Reiko, continuing to study it with an attention she hadn’t given the others.

  ‘She really was a stunner,’ she said at last, showing me the photo again.

  I glanced at it and looked away quickly. I was only thankful that I hadn’t seen her eyes looking at me in the mirror.

  ‘Was that it?’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Was that what killed her in the end? I don’t think I’d like to be so beautiful that men are driven to despair.’

  ‘You’ve never driven anyone to despair?’

  Sarah laughed bitterly. ‘Not in that way, no. I suppose I’ve had some passing interest. Men with realistic expectations. Steady types, sensitive to my feelings, not too showy. Men who remember my birthday, know that a girl likes a few flowers now and then, or a well-timed compliment. But not men with grand passions.’

  ‘That’s pretty much how my relationships have been. Except I’ve always had the feeling that I like them more than they like me, that somehow I should be grateful for them being with me. I guess it’s a confidence thing. From the first night, I’m just waiting for that conversation – the one where they tell you what a nice considerate guy you are, how you deserve much more than they can give you, how they’re going through a period of self-discovery or some other bollocks, how it’s not you, it’s them.’ I checked myself, realizing I’d gone too far. For a while after my last relationship had broken down, these rants had been more or less continuous. Only in the last year, had I begun to put the past behind me.

  Sarah seemed to take it in her stride. ‘It’s what people say. It’s a way of not telling the truth, which is usually far more hurtful.’

  ‘It still hurts, however they say it.’

  She reached over and gave me a comforting pat on the arm. ‘I guess you’re still recovering then.’

  ‘It was more than two years ago and I’m still brooding over it. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop.’

  She continued to pat me on the arm with motherly concern. ‘You will. You have to have some faith.’

  If only I could. That feeling of complete rejection was still with me. That feeling of being cast adrift from all warmth and love, without any hope of recovering it again.

  ‘You have a lot of good qualities,’ she said, lying down beside me with her hand still touching my arm.

  I appreciated her kind words, but I
didn’t for a moment believe them.

  ‘You just have some things you need to resolve,’ she said. ‘You have a lot of light in you and a lot of darkness.’

  I turned to look at her, her face close to mine, her eyes fixed on me. I wished I could read her mind. I wished I could muster the courage to lean forward and take her in my arms. ‘What do you mean, light and darkness?’

  ‘I know all about it. I read it in Charlie’s notes. Yin and Yang. Light and darkness, active and passive, male and female. It’s the natural order of things.’

  I didn’t know how much of this was serious. ‘So you’re saying it’s the same for everyone?’

  Sarah turned onto her back. ‘Yes, but in you it’s more pronounced.’

  I could see that she was starting to tire. The candles had been burning down and going out one by one, leaving the room in semi-darkness. I was still tucked under her duvet lying at her side, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. Should I slip out and go back to my own futon? Or should I stay and fall asleep next to her? She’d made no move to push me out or send me back to my own quarters. I wanted to stay with her. On my own I felt vulnerable, but lying next to her ensconced in her bedclothes I felt that nothing could hurt me.

  For a while I lay awake, watching the shadows dance on the ceiling, listening to Sarah’s rhythmic breathing next to me. I thought again about what I’d seen first in the cemetery, then in the bathroom mirror. And then I wondered what Sarah had meant when she described my character as a mixture of light and darkness? Was it the light side that implored me to forget everything I’d seen and heard in Izumi and take flight while I still had the chance? If so, it was as nothing compared to the dark voice which compelled me to stay and find out for myself what horrible secret this picturesque little village held.

  15. NOWHERE TO RUN

  I found myself standing at night in the deserted entrance hall of Izumi high school. A solitary shaft of moonlight crept across the floor from the stairwell.

  I didn’t know how I came to be there, but I did know that I wasn’t alone. Somewhere in the shadows, something was watching me. Something with intent to harm.

  I also knew that the danger was pressing and if I lingered any longer I would die. I turned and fumbled for the main entrance door, but it was locked.

  I turned and hurried down the corridor, through the shaft of moonlight, past the spot where I had seen the pool of blood the night before. I glanced over my shoulder, but all I saw was darkness and shadow.

  I passed the staffroom, the Headmaster’s office, the various administrative offices, all pitch black. I glanced over my shoulder again and this time my fears were confirmed. At the other end of the corridor a dark figure crossed the patch of moonlight with quick, stealthy strides. There could be no mistake this time. Someone was pursuing me.

  I picked up my pace, heading for the double doors at the end of the hall which opened on to the playing fields. I shoved at them, but they were fastened with a padlock. With no time to lose, I turned to the first door on my right and pushed it open.

  It was a storage room, cluttered with stacks of chairs and other junk. At the back there was a window and I headed for it, aware that my pursuer would be gaining on me. I reached for the latch, pulled it towards me and slid the window across. I clambered up and hurdled the window frame.

  I found myself on the gravel pitch at the back of the building. A bright moon cast a ghostly pall over the surface. A high fence surrounded it on all sides, but I spotted a gate and sprinted towards it.

  Even before I reached it, I could see it was no good. It was secured with a heavy chain and I rattled it in vain. There was no way through.

  I looked back to see the figure drop from the window. I didn’t know why they were pursuing me. I knew only that my life depended on my ability to run.

  And run I did.

  Spotting a rupture in the fence in the far corner, I bolted in that direction. As my feet pounded the gravel underfoot, I knew my best hope was to disappear into the woods.

  I reached the hole and, grappling with the wire, managed to twist myself through. This time I didn’t pause to look round.

  I plunged into the woods, knowing I must lose my pursuer in the thicket.

  I ran swiftly, vaulting over tree stumps, ducking low-hanging branches, weaving through the trees. I didn’t know where I was heading. I knew only that I had to keep running.

  The woods were dark and the ground beneath me slippery from the night dew and several times I lost my footing. I had no idea if my pursuer was gaining on me. Once I glanced over my shoulder, but saw only the darkness.

  Maybe it was a mistake to take my eye off the ground. Or maybe it would have made no difference. The next thing I knew, my foot hit something and I plunged to the ground with a sharp pain in my leg. I didn’t need to stir myself to know that I was badly hurt.

  I tried to shuffle along the ground using my arms and one good leg, but I soon realized this was futile. My only chance was to lie still and hope my pursuer would lose my scent. Looking ahead I saw a small clearing in the trees where silvery shafts of moonlight illumined the mossy ground. In the middle of the clearing was a large weather-worn rock, whether there by accident or design I didn’t know. But even in this moment of impending doom, I was moved by its eerie beauty.

  For a while I lay there, gazing at the moonlight on the rock, feeling the moss cool against my cheek. I wondered if it would be my last sight on earth. And suddenly I didn’t care. I felt tired. Tired of life, tired of the cruelty and the pettiness, tired of the endless monotony of hours and days which had brought only disappointment.

  There was movement in the trees behind me and a figure emerged from the shadows. I didn’t move. I no longer had any will to resist. They get you in the end, I thought. They always get you in the end. I didn’t look up at my pursuer. I didn’t care who it was or what grudge they bore me. It didn’t matter. Soon I would return to the earth and all would be forgotten.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the flash of a blade in the moonlight.

  So this is how it would end.

  I looked up at the leaves of the trees silhouetted against the moon and felt a rush of homesickness for the world I was leaving.

  My executioner moved forward and sunk the blade into my back.

  For a while I screamed out in pain and desperation. Then the pain grew less and I found I could no longer scream.

  And soon my sight grew dim and darkness filled the world.

  Someone was shaking me awake.

  For a moment I didn’t understand. I didn’t know where I was or who it was and I cowered at the edge of the bed, clutching my own shoulders, instinctively trying to defend myself against an assailant. I could feel the tears fresh on my cheeks and a sharp pain in my back. Sarah fumbled for the light switch and the room was thrown into stark relief. The contrast with the dark woods and the damp moss was so pronounced that I recoiled from the sight.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ She was looking at me with genuine fear.

  Gradually I adjusted my eyes to the light and the release from my dream. The pain in my back, where the blade had entered, began to ease and I breathed more easily.

  ‘I was dreaming,’ I said at last, embarrassed at the state I was in.

  Her look of fear had become one of concern and she reached over to pat my arm supportively. ‘You screamed out. I didn’t know what was happening.’

  ‘It was so real. I was in the woods. There was a mossy clearing and a stone. Someone wanted to kill me.’

  ‘To kill you? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. He had a knife and he ran it though my back. I can still feel the pain, here.’ I reached round to my back to indicate the spot.

  Sarah winced at the thought, then shuffled over and began to massage my shoulders gently. ‘You’re too tense. You have to relax, otherwise you’re going to keep having these dreams.’

  ‘I wish I could make them stop. I don’t understand why they’re so viv
id. Is it something in the water or the air or the food? I’ve never had dreams like this before.’

  ‘Maybe it’s my company,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I think I have this effect on men. Why else would I be living out here like a hermit?’

  ‘Why were they trying to kill me? What does that mean? Is there some Freudian explanation for that?’ Feeling Sarah’s hands on my back, my balance was returning.

  ‘Well, I’m not trying to kill you, if that’s any consolation. You can cross me off that list. Actually, I think it’s pretty unlikely anyone else is. Unless you have some dark past you’re keeping from me.’

  ‘I’m clean. I’ve never done anything bad. I’m sliced white bread.’

  She continued to massage my back in silence for a few minutes. It was hard to imagine what kind of state I’d have been in had Sarah not been there. Her understanding amazed me, considering I’d been acting like a basket-case from day one: bringing her the garbled jottings of a suicide scholar, seeing the undead in her bathroom mirror, and now dreaming of being murdered in the woods. She deserved some kind of medal.

  ‘Do you want to go back to your futon, or are you happy here?’ she asked, with a final flourish of her hands on my shoulders.

  ‘I’m happy here if you’re happy,’ I said, pleasantly surprised by the question.

  ‘I’m happy,’ she said and reached over to turn off the light. ‘Safety in numbers and all that.’ She stretched herself out on the mattress with a yawn.

  ‘Thank you,’ I was unsure what else to say.

  She yawned again and within minutes I could tell she was asleep. As for myself, I don’t know when or how I slept. No amount of comfort from Sarah could expunge the dream from my mind. The whole sequence replayed itself over and over in my tired brain until the grey fingers of dawn crept in through the slats in the blind. I relived it all: the dark shadows of the school corridor; the moonlit gravel pitch; the hole in the fence at the back where I’d squeezed myself through; the clearing in the woods, with the moonlit rock and the bed of moss. But above all I felt the twist of the blade in my back, the pain to end all pain and the terrible onslaught of darkness.