by Chris Ward
Someone had been in here and taken what was left of his stash. There was no other explanation. Perhaps it had been a cleaner, but why would they have been looking under his bed? He hadn’t slept in it. It hadn’t needed to be made.
His eyes fixed on something in the middle of the floor, just in front of the door, something that had got caught in the thread of the rug that lay across the end of the bed and was poking up, swaying slightly in a draft coming up through a gap in two of the floorboards. O-Remo didn’t want his eyes to focus but eventually the tiny thin object seemed to ease into clarity of its own accord.
A feather.
He scrabbled at the bed and managed to push himself up. With his legs becoming more and more uncertain underneath him, he stumbled towards the door, slipped and fell to his knees, then scrambled back to his feet again.
He managed to get through the hall and push through the doors to the outside, where he collapsed in the snow, breathing hard. He grabbed a handful of it and shoved it into his face in an attempt to clear his mind, but too much bad stuff was floating through there now.
That bastard thing he had seen out in the snow had taken his stash. That bastard bird thing was following him, tormenting him. Whatever it was, it was sadistic, like a playground bully picking on a handicapped kid.
‘Whatever you are, I’ll kill you,’ he whispered, wishing his hands would stop shaking. All he could think about was smashing a baseball bat into that evil thing’s ugly face. Whatever it was, if it could exist and if it could get into his room and steal his stuff, it could die.
He struggled back to his feet and looked around. First things first. He had to get himself sorted out. Then he would hunt that motherfucker down and kill it. Without a hit though, he could barely walk.
He had dropped his stash outside the building behind the pub. He had seen Karin in there. What if she was there now? He winced, scratching at his neck, feeling something like ants running across his skin. It was just the junk, he knew. It was calling for him. Finding Karin had become a lower priority, but what if she had some stuff? She’d never done any, but she’d taken it off him from time to time when he was trying to quit. She wouldn’t have thrown it away, would she? What if it was in her pocket, or in a drawer in her apartment somewhere?
O-Remo didn’t care that the paranoia in him was taking over his thoughts. He was so desperate that the wildest possibility became a thread of hope to cling to. He staggered off into the snow.
The staff quarters loomed up in front of him. The door had a keypad lock on it, but someone had left it propped open with a snow shovel. O-Remo slipped inside, scanning the mailboxes on the bottom floor for Karin’s name. Ben, Steven, Lizzie, Amanda … neither Karin’s nor Forbes’s name were there, but across the top of the other four boxes was a larger box with tape across it. An unoccupied apartment or one owned by management, who had their post delivered to the front office? O-Remo started up.
Between the second and third floors was a longer set of stairs, with only a single door at the top, as if this part of the building had been made intentionally separate from the rest. O-Remo crept up to the door and leaned an ear against it, but heard nothing from inside. Very carefully he took hold of the handle and turned it, hearing a soft click next to his ear.
Unlocked, he eased the door inwards and peered inside. The room looked like a cluttered office, with a few filing cabinets against the wall, a leather sofa which looked like it had taken a lot of use, and a wide desk topped with all manner of nick-nacks…
…and in front of it, a bloated, blotchy-skinned Englishman with his hands gripping the desk at his sides as his neck arched back, his mouth expelling a little gasp of pleasure, his belt undone and his trousers around his ankles…
…and on her knees in front of him, the woman O-Remo had loved loved loved, who had jilted him at the altar on their wedding day and disappeared into both physical and media obscurity, the woman for whom he would have given up everything and gone running to the ends of the earth—
Her head bobbed up and down, wet juicy sounds coming from her mouth, the same sounds that had made O-Remo rant and rave when the video came up on Bee’s computer tablet that time—
‘Nooooo!’ he screamed, barging into the room, rushing forward and barreling into them, pulling Karin’s head away from something slick and wet, shoving her aside as the fat foreigner squealed like a little pig and his manhood swung through the air like a blunt, floppy sword … O-Remo grabbed the nearest object he could find, a metal pendulum thing—similar to one he had seen on the desk of that sour-faced executive at Dogswill Records, their current record label, as he told the band that their new album would be their last—and he jerked it up off the desk and swung it around in a wide arc towards Forbes’s ugly, flushed face.
‘Security!’ Forbes squealed, punching a fat red button halfway up the wall as the pendulum thing spanked him across the right cheek and he grunted and spun, a podgy roll of fat as he triple-axled to the floor.
‘Get out!’ someone else screamed, and O-Remo turned to see Karin glaring at him, a wet and sticky film around her mouth which she wiped away with a swipe of her sleeve. ‘Get the fuck out of here!’
‘Come with me!’ O-Remo screamed back, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the door as Forbes crawled towards them like a fat sow nosing towards its trough, snuffling and trying to speak through blood dribbling from his nose.
‘Shut up, you idiot!’ Karin shouted, but O-Remo grabbed her around the waist and literally lifted her out through the door. She had never weighed much, and she seemed lighter than usual. No longer able to pay for roadies, the band had taken to lugging their own gear at gigs, something that had paid off across O-Remo’s shoulders and back.
The stairs seemed to escalate around him as he found himself on the ground floor and carrying her out into the snow, even as she screamed and protested in his arms.
‘I’ll never let you go again!’ he cried, shoving his face into her hair as she struggled to get out of his grip. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! We should have been together!’
‘Get off me, you drugged-up asshole!’ she shouted, kicking out at him, but a blue mist had descended over his eyes and he could no longer feel anything other than the gentle wrap of the cool, dry winter air.
He had to get her away somewhere where he could talk to her, but nowhere in the complex was safe, not now that Forbes had called for security. It didn’t matter that O-Remo had seen no more than a skeleton staff and that unless the security were hidden away somewhere then the blaring of an alarm would be filling an empty room. He dragged her out into the snow behind the staff quarters, manhandling her over the low rope on to the nature trail like a wrestler attempting a slam through.
The lookout. It was the only place that was suitable. It was romantic with its nice view. She would forget her anger and melt into his arms. Then he could ask her if she had any stuff and they would both be all right.
‘Let me go! Remo, let me go back!’
‘No, no, Karin! I need to talk to you.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t even know why you’re here!’
‘We got lost—’
‘I don’t care!’
‘Just listen to me. I need your help.’
She stopped struggling. O-Remo relaxed his grip, but still kept hold of her arms as he pulled her along through the snow, both of them stumbling and knocking into low branches that flicked snow all over them.
‘What? What do you need? Are you using again? You know that’s why, don’t you?’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not why. You loved me.’
‘I tried to love you,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t.’
‘You’re a liar!’
Karin sighed. ‘I got paid to fake it, Remo,’ she said. ‘I got paid very well and I got good at it. My whole life has been a lie, so you’re on the mark there.’
‘Don’t be stupid. We could have been happy.’
‘We
could never have been happy!’
He reached the foot of the lookout cabin and pulled her up the steps into the shadowy interior. ‘What we had was special, Karin. Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you show up that day?’
She took hold of his arms and looked up into his eyes. ‘Because I couldn’t live with myself for what I’d done to you. What I’d done behind your back with other men.’
O-Remo stared. ‘What do you mean? Who?’
Karin reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him towards her. ‘The woman you wanted me to be never existed!’ she shouted. ‘I tried to be her, I really did, but I couldn’t be anyone other than myself. All I’ve ever cared about was being famous, and that meant doing whatever I needed to do. Why the hell do you think I’m here?’
O-Remo felt a white bolt of heat flash through his brain. Everything seemed to haze over and he pushed her away from him, wanting to get away. ‘You liar!’ he screamed, twisting around, trying to turn his back to her and run, but suddenly he was staring out at empty space and then he was tumbling forward, slipping through the open window of the lookout and falling forward into the snow. As it buried him upside down to his waist he heard an icy slewing sound and then he felt himself moving forward, slipping down the slope. The sky appeared for a moment and trees flashed by on either side, little more than a fuzzy brown blur.
Caught in some kind of mini-avalanche, he could do nothing other than let the snow take him. He flapped his arms like a drowning man fighting for the surface, but the snow was too heavy and moving too fast. As the avalanche tumbled him over and over, he felt his leg collide with a tree, hold its own for a moment and then give way, but the searing pain was hidden behind the terror until he suddenly came to an abrupt stop.
It took a few moments for his spinning mind to catch up and his vision to clear. When the world came to a complete halt he found the snowy forest to be rather serene, utterly silent and still.
Then he shifted his position, and pain exploded in his leg.
He could only expel a weak gasp, the pain taking his breath away. He twisted his head and saw the top of his knee poking out of the snow. There was no sign of the rest of his leg, but a red crescent had bloomed out around it like the petals of an ice flower.
The slightest movement caused lances of pain to shoot up his thigh. He twisted his head and saw a messy gash in the otherwise pristine snow of the steep hillside above him. He couldn’t see the lookout, but it had to be somewhere up there. It was a long way up, but he could already feel the snow beginning to chill his skin through his clothes. Looking up between the snow-covered trees, there was no sign of the sun. Even at this relatively early time of the day, this valley had already fallen into shadow and the temperature would continue to drop.
Karin was still up there, wasn’t she? Or had she fallen too? No, she’d been behind him, back in the lookout. She’d go for help, wouldn’t she?
O-Remo clenched his fingers over snow and flung it away from him. How long would help take? With his knee and the cold he wouldn’t last long.
He could still feel the draw of the junk. His arms and hands were shaking from the onset of the withdrawals, and his throat felt parched and dry. He wanted to shut his eyes and die, but the urge wouldn’t let him. Karin was up there too, and their conversation wasn’t finished.
The task facing him was near impossible, but he had no choice. Somehow he had to get back up the hillside to the lookout.
27
Confrontations and rescue plans
From behind a steamed-up window on the second floor, Ogiwara and Mishima watched as Jun, Akane, and the others got to work digging out the courtyard below.
‘We’ll get him,’ Ogiwara said. ‘As soon as he’s alone. God, did you see that?’
‘What?’
‘The way he touched Akane’s arm. Thinks he has a chance there with my girlfriend. I’ll show him. You just watch me.’
Mishima nodded. ‘Cool,’ he said.
‘Do you have any idea how much I like it,’ Jun said, standing his spade up in the snow and turning to Akane, ‘when you look at me like you’ve been looking at me this morning?’
She raised an eyebrow as she heaved a load of snow on to the pile by the edge of the courtyard that they had been making together. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘Don’t say it like that.’
‘I was joking.’
‘I know, but every time I see you look up I worry that you might start looking at me like you used to.’
‘Don’t talk about it.’
Jun turned away and hefted another spadeful of snow. ‘Sorry, but—’
‘Jun!’
They lapsed into silence. As he shoveled the snow, Jun looked back up at the Grand Mansion. They had managed to clear a path a couple of metres wide from the main entrance all the way down to the courtyard gates. Dai and Ken were working on making a circle in the centre wide enough for a helicopter to land, while Kaede was at the bottom of the steps, stabbing irritably at the snow with her spade as if hoping it would shift of its own accord.
‘It would help if they had a snow-clearing machine or something,’ Akane said at last. ‘There must be one somewhere.’
‘I reckon so,’ Jun said. ‘I’m pretty convinced they’ve only got us doing this to stop us complaining.’
‘And we’ll be so starving by the time they serve up yesterday’s leftovers again for lunch that we won’t care.’
‘Be nice if Kaede helped a bit more,’ Jun said. ‘We might finish before it gets dark.’
Akane’s eyes were like daggers. ‘Getting bored of my company?’
‘No, nothing like that—’
The main entrance of the Grand Mansion burst open and the young man from the pub came running down the steps. He dashed along the path they had cleared and then veered left across the snow towards the staff accommodations behind the pub, pushing through the door and running up the stairs.
‘What was that all about?’ Akane said.
Jun jabbed his spade down into the snow. ‘I don’t know, but let’s go and find out.
Akane trailed along behind him as they headed after the young man. Glancing back, Jun saw Dai and Ken following too. Kaede had retreated to the warmth of the reception area.
As he reached the entrance to the staff quarters, Jun saw the door had clicked shut, leaving no way in. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, wondering what to do, then through a foggy window saw the young man helping Rutherford Forbes down the stairs. As the young man pushed open the door, Jun held it for them to come out.
Forbes looked disheveled and unkempt, his clothing creased and his shirt untucked. A large gash on one cheek had dribbled blood down onto his shirt collar. He flapped his hands as the young man helped him out the door.
‘You!’ he shouted at Ken and Dai. ‘Get out of my resort!’
‘What’s going on?’
‘That bastard singer of yours attacked me. He’s kidnapped my girlfriend. Find him, find her, and get out!’
Ken looked confused, glancing at his bandmate then at Jun and Akane, but Dai stepped forward, his fist clenched. ‘Shut your mouth, old man, or I’ll shut it for you.’
‘You bastards, you’ll do time for this.’
Dai took another step forward. The young man didn’t seem keen to put himself between the burly drummer and his boss, while Ken had a look on his face that suggested he wished he was elsewhere. To Jun’s surprise, it was Akane who stepped forward, getting between Dai and Forbes.
‘Shut the hell up, the lot of you!’
‘Don’t you speak to me like that—’
Akane slapped Forbes across the face, her palm landing with a meaty crack. She wiped the blood off her hand without looking down, her eyes fixed on the owner of British Heights.
‘Which way did they go?’ Jun said.
Akane rolled her eyes. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious from the tracks, don’t you?’ She pointed at the scuffed, damaged snow leading towards the natural
trail. ‘Let’s go find them.’
Akane took the lead with Jun and the band just behind him. At the rear, Forbes hung back with the young man from the pub, muttering and complaining about his wet shoes. Akane set a sharp pace, marching through the snow like a hunter trailing wounded prey, and Jun had to hurry to keep up. They had barely gone a hundred yards when Jun saw a woman staggering towards them. She was inappropriately dressed in just a light top and jeans, and her hair was a mess of twigs and snow. When she saw them she stopped and waved her hands over her head.
‘Help me! He fell!’
Before Jun could react, Ken and Dai were pushing past him, striding through the snow towards the woman.
‘Where is he?’ Ken shouted.
‘The lookout,’ she gasped. ‘We argued … he slipped, and the snow—oh god, the snow…’
Ken shoved past her, Dai close on his heels. As Jun reached the woman he thought she looked familiar from somewhere, a washed-up TV celebrity from his childhood, perhaps. She had one of those faces that was too pretty, that looked like it had been cut out of a magazine, yet at the same time there was a weariness in her eyes that suggested her life was a rollercoaster that had taken one last turn into an unstoppable freefall.
‘Jun, did you see her?’ Akane said as the woman passed them. ‘That was Karin Kobayashi.’
‘Who? That name … I’ve heard that name…’
‘Girls Chorus, Jun. My cousin has all their CDs.’
‘O-Remo’s ex-girlfriend,’ Jun said, remembering. ‘I never really cared much about their personal lives, but I remember something about her running out on him. I read about it on Wikipedia.’