Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  Tangerine’s world goes silent.

  Two men piled at the base of the toilet bowl but the weave of flesh doesn’t look human.

  More like some new species of gargantuan insect. A puddle of blood on the floor sloshes around. It looks like piss.

  ‘What happened?’ Behind him, the kid’s voice is shrill.

  ‘Lemon.’ Tangerine says the name softly.

  Sound returns to his ears. The rattling of the Shinkansen penetrates to his very core. He pictures Lemon’s face. Not the face in front of him, eyes closed beneath a bloody hole, but the man who was always chattering away by his side. The gleam in his eyes when he would say, childlike, that he wanted people to think he was a good train. Tangerine feels his chest split open and shatter into small pieces. A cold wind gusts into the hole in his heart. He realises he’s never felt this before, which leaves him even more shaken.

  A line from a book echoes in his mind. We perished, each alone.

  We spent so much time together. But at the end, we’re all alone.

  The Prince

  PEERING INTO THE BATHROOM FROM behind Tangerine, the Prince retreats one step, then another. He makes sure he’s pretending to be scared, all the while watching Tangerine’s face. He doesn’t fail to notice that the man goes momentarily pale and rigid, seemingly about to explode into shards of broken glass. I didn’t think you’d be so fragile. The Prince almost says it aloud.

  Tangerine enters the toilet and closes the door, leaving the Prince alone in the gangway. He’s disappointed; he wants to see what Tangerine will do. This man who seems so cool and collected, would his control slip at the sight of Lemon’s dead body, or would he struggle to keep his emotions in check? – the Prince wishes he could watch.

  After a short while the door opens and Tangerine emerges. His expression is back to normal, which is a bit of a letdown to the Prince. ‘The other one in there, that’s the man you were with, right?’ He jerks his thumb backwards with one hand and closes the toilet door behind him with the other. ‘He’s been shot in the chest, but not in the heart. What do you want to do?’

  ‘What … do I want to do?’

  ‘Lemon’s dead, but your friend is still alive.’

  The Prince can’t quite comprehend what he’s being told. Kimura’s alive? He was certain that the man had been shot dead by Lemon. It’s true that there didn’t seem to be very much blood, but the thought of him surviving the shooting makes the Prince suddenly think that Kimura might never die. He has to check himself from complaining about the man’s tenacity.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s not exactly doing well,’ Tangerine adds. ‘He isn’t dead, but he’s barely breathing. So what do you want to do? Although it’s not like he can get intensive care on the train, so there probably isn’t much you could do for him. You could run crying to the conductor and get them to stop the train and call an ambulance.’

  It only takes the Prince an instant to decide how to respond. He never had any intention of stopping the train and getting the authorities involved.

  ‘He kidnapped me.’

  The Prince explains how Kimura was taking him around against his will, about how he was so frightened. Of course it’s all made up, but that’s his story. He tells Tangerine that finding out Kimura’s on the verge of death is scary and confusing but ultimately a relief. He tries to hint that he’d be happy if Kimura would just give up and die.

  Tangerine doesn’t seem all that interested. His eyes are stony and difficult to read. The Prince would expect an adult to say that they should call the police anyway, but Tangerine must have his own reasons for not wanting the train to stop, and he says nothing.

  He also makes no move to leave the area in front of the bathroom. He just stares down at the Prince. ‘There are two bodies in the toilet. Your friend isn’t dead yet, though he will be soon. But Lemon’s body is on top. Which means that your friend was shot and put there before Lemon died. I’d guess it was Lemon who shot your guy, and then after that Lemon was shot.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘There’s a gun in there too. But only one.’

  ‘Only one gun. So who shot him?’

  ‘First Lemon shoots your friend, then before your friend fully dies he goes berserk and wrestles the gun away. Then he shoots Lemon. I don’t know if that’s actually what happened, but it’s one possibility.’

  It would be wonderful if that’s what you think. Even as he’s on his guard, the Prince feels like laughing out loud. This Tangerine is a smart one. He reasons things out. I love dealing with smart people. The more logically someone thinks, the harder it is for them to escape the chains of self-justification, and the easier it is for the Prince to move them in the direction he wants.

  Tangerine leans over to inspect the protruding length of copper wire. ‘But this right here, this doesn’t sit right.’

  ‘The copper wire – what’s it for?’

  ‘Lemon used it to lock the door from the outside. A little trick he does. Did it all the time.’ Tangerine tugs at the end of the wire. Not emotionally, not with any sadness for his friend. It looks like he’s just testing the feel and strength. ‘I’m wondering who locked it after Lemon died. There had to have been someone else besides the other man in the bathroom.’

  ‘You’re like a detective.’ The Prince isn’t trying to poke at Tangerine, he genuinely means it. He pictures a scene he read in a book once, with a famous inspector who calmly and unemotionally explains the murder while pacing back and forth before the corpse.

  ‘I’m not playing guessing games here. I’m just putting together the most probable scenario based on the facts I can see,’ Tangerine says. ‘I’d guess that Lemon shot your friend, put the body in the toilet, then locked it. That’s when he used the wire.’

  The Prince doesn’t see where Tangerine is going and just nods uncertainly.

  ‘But then after that someone else shot Lemon. Then that person put Lemon in the toilet too. Probably thought it would be safest to hide the two bodies together. Then whoever that was used the wire to lock the door again.’

  ‘I don’t know what –’

  ‘Whoever it was probably saw Lemon use the copper wire. Then they did the same thing to lock the door again. Watched Lemon do it first and then copied him.’

  ‘You think Mr Lemon taught them how?’

  ‘No, he didn’t teach them. Just that whoever did it saw Lemon use the wire to lock the door first.’ Tangerine fingers the end of the wire. Then he takes a few steps further up the gangway. He bends over and examines the floor, leaning in close to search for any clues. He runs his fingers over some dings on the wall. Just like a policeman investigating a crime scene.

  ‘By the way, you and Lemon talked, didn’t you?’ Suddenly Tangerine is right in front of him. He sounds like the question just popped into his head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You talked to him a little, right?’

  ‘When he was alive?’

  ‘I’m not asking if you talked to him after he died. Did he tell you anything?’

  ‘Wh-what would he have told me?’

  Tangerine thinks for a moment. ‘Something about a key.’ He cocks his head and stares.

  ‘A key?’

  ‘I’m looking for a key. Lemon knew something about it. Did he say anything?’

  Actually, the Prince almost says. He recalls the last words he heard out of Lemon’s mouth, when the man was fighting desperately to stay awake and with his last ounce of energy gasped out, The key, it’s in a coin locker in Morioka. Tell Tangerine, he had said. The Prince didn’t know what he meant by a key, which is why it stuck in his head. Now he’s thinking about the key, wondering if telling Tangerine about it might bring something interesting to light.

  It’s on the tip of his tongue. He did mention a key, though I don’t know what he meant – the words are about to spill over.

  But as he’s opening his mouth an alarm goes off in his head. It’s a trap. He has no proof. Just a feeling t
elling him to pull out. ‘No, he didn’t say anything about that,’ answers the Prince.

  ‘Is that so?’ Tangerine is quiet, but he doesn’t sound especially disappointed.

  The Prince watches Tangerine. Should I have told him about the coin locker in Morioka after all? But not saying anything didn’t do me any harm. The situation’s the same as it was before. Or maybe I even gained a little ground.

  ‘But there’s something I still don’t get,’ Tangerine says suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘When your phone rang before, you walked away from us. That was on the gangway between cars five and six.’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘And your seat is in seven.’

  He remembered that? Tangerine had only passed his seat once. That was enough for him to remember?

  Tangerine’s eyes bore into him.

  The Prince tells himself to keep steady. He knows that the man is just trying to rattle him. ‘You see,’ he says timidly, ‘I went back to my seat, and –’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I had to go to the toilet, so I came this way.’

  Good, the Prince nods to himself, perfectly acceptable answer.

  ‘Is that right?’ Tangerine nods as well. ‘Tell me, have you ever seen this before?’ He produces a small, crumpled sheet of colourful stickers and spreads it open. The Prince recognises the characters as being from Thomas and Friends.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I found it in Lemon’s jacket pocket.’

  ‘He sure liked Thomas.’

  ‘Enough to drive me up the wall.’

  ‘So what about it?’ the Prince asks again, despite himself.

  ‘Some stickers are missing.’ He points to two empty white spaces.

  The Prince remembers when Lemon was down and he pressed a sticker to the ground.

  A picture of a green train that the Prince had then peeled off and thrown away.

  ‘He didn’t give any to you, did he?’

  There’s the sensation of invisible feelers extending from Tangerine’s body, colourless and transparent plant tendrils, brushing the Prince’s face searchingly. Stroking the surface to reveal what’s hidden inside.

  The Prince’s mind is sprinting. He doesn’t know how to answer, whether to feign ignorance or to make up something about the sticker that sounds plausible.

  ‘He gave me one, but I was scared and I threw it in the trash.’

  The Prince is thankful that he’s still so young.

  He knows that Tangerine could very well follow his instinct and become violent, try to interrogate him by force about Lemon’s death. No doubt the man has done it many times before now.

  But he’s not doing it to the Prince. And why not? Because the Prince is still a child. That one fact makes Tangerine hold back. He thinks this person is too young and weak to hurt without solid proof, his better nature wants to find something more concrete before he starts meting out punishment. Even though no one’s better nature ever did them any good.

  Tangerine is smarter than Lemon, with more depth and substance. He has a more developed interior life, which gives him better powers of imagination. This leads to a greater capacity for empathy. Which in the end only makes him weaker. Tangerine will be easier to control than Lemon. Which means I’ll probably beat him.

  ‘Oh, you threw it out, did you? And what character was it?’ Tangerine’s face is serious.

  ‘What?’ The train bucks and the Prince loses his balance. He puts his hand on the wall to catch himself.

  ‘The sticker you got. One of these missing ones. Which character was it? Do you remember the name?’ The sheet of stickers in Tangerine’s hand is flecked with blood.

  The Prince shakes his head. ‘I don’t know the name.’

  ‘Well, that’s strange,’ murmurs Tangerine. The Prince’s stomach drops, like he was walking a tightrope and suddenly stepped out into cold, empty space.

  ‘What’s strange?’

  ‘He always wanted everyone to learn all the names of Thomas’s friends. Any time he gave anyone a sticker or a toy he made sure to say their names. One hundred per cent of the time. He never just gave anyone anything. If he gave you a sticker, then you heard the name. Even if you don’t remember it, you heard it.’

  The Prince weighs his next move. Something tells him not to respond. He concentrates on carefully pulling his foot back from the abyss, regaining his balance on the tightrope.

  ‘I would guess,’ Tangerine says, looking at the outlines of where the two stickers used to be, ‘that he gave you this one over here,’ and points to one space. ‘The green one. Right?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right!’ The sticker he threw away was in fact the green train.

  ‘That’s Percy. Cute little Percy. Lemon loved him.’

  ‘I think that was the name.’ The Prince doesn’t fully commit, waiting to see what happens.

  ‘Hmm.’ Tangerine’s face gives nothing away. ‘And do you know what character was over here?’ He points to the other empty space.

  ‘No, I don’t.’ The Prince shakes his head again. ‘He didn’t give me that one.’

  ‘I know who it was.’

  ‘You know which one used to be there?’

  ‘I know.’ Tangerine swoops in and grabs the Prince by the lapel of his blazer. ‘Because it’s stuck to you right here.’ He lets go just as suddenly.

  The Prince stands rooted to the spot.

  ‘Look. This is the Diesel. The mean old Diesel.’ There on Tangerine’s finger is a black train with a square face.

  The Prince is taken by surprise at the unexpected appearance of the sticker, but he fights desperately not to let it show. He manages to say, ‘You know a lot about Thomas and Friends too, Mr Tangerine.’

  Tangerine’s face fixes into a slight scowl. There’s a hint of a smile in there too, whether he intended it or not. ‘That’s all he ever talked about. I’d hope I remember at least a thing or two.’ Then he pulls a small paperback out of his rear pocket. ‘I found this in his jacket too.’ It has a subdued orange cover with nothing on it but the title and the author’s name. Tangerine runs his fingers across it, then opens to the bookmark. ‘He made it this far.’ His voice is even. Then he mutters, ‘Lemon never liked that one. And neither did I. He’s a bad seed.’

  ‘Um.’

  ‘The Diesel is malicious and spiteful. Lemon always told me, never trust the Diesel. He lies and forgets people’s names. And now I find the Diesel sticker on your jacket.’

  ‘It must have just …’ The Prince looks from side to side.

  When Lemon grabbed the Prince, he must have stuck it on, his very last act. The Prince hadn’t noticed at all.

  This is not going well. The thought stabs at him. But there’s still hope. Based on his past experiences, there’s plenty of reason to think things could still go his way.

  Tangerine still doesn’t have his gun out. Maybe because he knows he could have it out and ready any time he wanted, or maybe he has some reason not to pull it out yet. Either way, he doesn’t seem concerned about it.

  Now the man starts talking, composed and serene. ‘There’s a passage in Dostoevsky, in Crime and Punishment.’

  The Prince is disoriented by the sudden change of direction.

  ‘It says, “Science now tells us, love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on self-interest.” Basically, the most important thing is your own happiness. If you take care of that, it helps everyone else to be happy too. Now I’ve never spent much time thinking about other people’s happiness or unhappiness, so I hear that passage and it rings true to me, but what do you think?’

  The Prince responds with his own question, his favourite: ‘Why is it wrong to kill people? If someone asked you that, what would you say?’

  Tangerine doesn’t look at all thrown. ‘Well, here’s what Dostoevsky would say. In Demons. “I find that crime is no longer insanity, but simply common sense, almost a duty; anyway, a gallant protest. Ho
w can we expect a cultured man not to commit a murder, if he is in need of money?” There’s nothing unusual about transgression, he’s saying. It’s completely normal. Which is how I feel too.’

  Tangerine is pulling fancy-sounding quotes from novels, but the Prince doesn’t think they actually answer his question. And while he agrees with the part about crime being common sense, the suggestion that it’s a gallant protest strikes him as narcissism, able to provide surface amusement at best. Once again, he’s disappointed.

  Just another answer based in emotion, even if it is more spirited than the usual answer.

  Just more words. I want a more detached answer to why murder isn’t allowed.

  But at the same time he thinks back to the phone call he took just after passing Sendai Station, the man lurking around the hospital, waiting to move on Kimura’s son. ‘I’m inside,’ said the man. ‘I’m dressed like a nurse. I’m guessing you passed Sendai by now? I didn’t hear from you and was wondering if I need to keep waiting.’ He had sounded restless and eager to do the job.

  ‘Don’t do anything yet,’ the Prince replied. ‘Just remember the rules: if you call me and I don’t pick up after ten rings, then you can go ahead.’

  ‘Okay. Understood.’ The man was breathless with excitement. Here was someone who loved no one but himself, who had no problem murdering a child for money. No doubt he’d been telling himself that it wasn’t even murder, that he’d just fiddle with the medical instruments and destabilise the little boy’s situation a bit. People are so devoted to self-justification.

  ‘You’re in school, right?’ Tangerine asks him. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Fourteen,’ says the Prince.

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Perfect?’

  ‘Are you familiar with article 41 of the criminal code?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Article 41 says that people under fourteen don’t get sentenced for crimes. Did you know that? But once you turn fourteen you can be punished like anyone else.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ Although of course he knows that. The Prince knows all about that sort of thing. But that didn’t stop him from doing what he does even when he turned fourteen. It’s not like he was doing the things he did until now simply because he knew he couldn’t be punished by law. The law is just something to keep in mind when he does the things he wants to do. His crimes exist in a different dimension from the petty details of the law.