Chapter 1
Fear and faith feed one another. Mine withered long ago. しかし during seventh period on a dateless afternoon, they rose like skeletons from the dead. Oh Mama how can I describe it to you? Would you believe me? I’m not sure I believe it myself.
Blood dripped from the students’ eyes as they stared. Twenty pairs of blinkless blank daggers pierced me deep enough to send even the most ungodly to their knees. I remained seated, jaw slack, posture stiff, too shocked to bend or stand.
But a sparse light (光) sputtered in my soul. Did I dare walk that road again? “It’s gonna be different this time. I’ll do it better… dunno.”
All I know is something summoned me that day. Whether it was from my buried past –deeply entombed – or the fuzzy future was unclear. But first, someone had to clean up all that blood. And it wasn’t gonna be me.
In the following week everything went by the book. Custodians bathed the desks in bleach. Base Civil Engineers did a full work up. All pipes, pumps, windows, walls, and anything attached to them were inspected, then re-inspected.
Meanwhile, parents raised hell on the Kadena school Facebook page.
“That building needs to be condemned!”
“I’m pulling my son out. We’ll go to Montessori or Kumon. Hell, we might even home school him and our two younger ones. NOT SAFE!”
“I knew that dump was haunted.”
Yumi stood reading the comments on her phone. She shook her head with skepticism.
“Haunted? Everyone knows Kadena High School has probably the lowest tier of ghostly activity on the base. It’s surely below that “murder house” they knocked down behind the CDC a few years back. Can you believe what they’re saying Z?”
We were in my classroom during “grading time.” In other words when normal people were having dinner. The overwhelming chemical smell was gone; it was blown away by the aggressive use of floor fans, window ventilation, and lots of handwaving as if invisible flies buzzed all around. But when the nose-turning stench departed, something else replaced it.
I tried to describe the presence – first to myself, then others – but at every attempt the words wouldn’t come. At the slightest firing of a related neuron cluster, a complementary spark plucked a preying eye open. It was a crocodile orb: slitted, yellowed, burning dull in the dark. Once, fully open hands grew from its formless body. “Open wide,” it would say. Willfully (or unconsciously unwilfully) I complied. Then fingers come to rest in my mouth choking off any would-be vibration of a letter, word, or phrase back down my throat. No mirror reflected my gagging or wretching. But every time it happened my diaphragm convulsed, causing me to dry cough as if a hammer had struck my chest.
I covered my mouth as I let out a sick heavy hack. Yumi patted me on the back.
“You gettin’ sick?”
“Dunno. Must be from all the cleaning stuff in here. It’s like a hundred skunk tails. Feels like they’ll never go away.”
“Do skunks smell as bad as cow shit? Lot’s a that where I live up in Yomitan.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, it’s probably close. Cow shit wins by hair I suppose.”
“Well you won’t have to smell this stink much longer if everything works out with the front office. They told you anything yet?”
“Nothin’. Y’know how close-hold and awkward Principal Kane can be.”
She laughed. “Guy can barely keep his hair on straight.”
“Ain’t it the truth!?” Our laughter closed the monster’s eye for the moment.
“But anyway, I’m crossing my fingers for the job. I think I’m ready for a new challenge.”
Yumi flashed a scolding glance. “Don’t do that. You don’t need any luck at all. Ever since you walked in the door two years ago, I knew you were Vice Principal material.”
“Aw y’think so?”
“Yeah! It’s something about your walk. It’s the perfect speed and stride. Business, but not stuck-up. Plus, you’ve got a great ‘no bullshit stare.’ You need that to make the kids piss themselves every now and then.”
I let out something like a laugh but lower – a shaking vocal strain behind a smile accompanied by a rapid release of air. But the tension remained. Yumi didn’t notice the odd utterance.
She started saying something else about how fun it might be to chew kids out, but my mind wandered back to those bloody eyes. A dark word followed, then I coughed.
“You alright?” There was concern in her voice now.
“Yeah, throat’s just dry from talkin’ all day. Y’know how it goes.”
She nodded understanding.
“Y’know some kids are sayin’ my class was so boring that it literally made the students’ eyes bleed. What the hell is that? Doesn’t anybody care about English anymore?”
“Of course they do... just not in Japan,” she chided.
“Oh you’re no fun! You headed home?”
Yumi swung her short slight frame off the student desk she’d been sitting on, then headed toward the door.
“Eventually… but probably not sober or alone.”
I returned a teasing glare.
“See! There’s that VP-stare. I think I need a new pair of panties now.”
“Ha. Funny… make smart choices, be careful, oh and skip the Daiko, call me if you need a ride.”
She shrugged with nonchalant shoulders. “Smart choices are for every other day of the week.” On her way out she looked back, “Oh and say hi to James for me!”
The door closed with a click. But I wasn’t alone. A sudden acceleration surrounded me. I had to get out of there.
With haste, I wrapped up at my desk, exited my classroom, then proceeded down the darkened halls out through the damp air and shut the door to my red Mira Gino. Something followed me out. I felt it. Eyes forward, don’t look in the back. Turn the key. Drive.
As I drove, the pointed trees, streetlights, and slant of the seat conspired to convince me of a surveillance by spirit. That’s when fresh fear found me again.
“Did you see Papa? Mama is here.” Is what I wanted to say, what I wanted to think. But that hopeful light sank with the sun, along with my island innocence.
Chapter 2
For James Marlowe the mission was a monster - a 化け物. But it didn’t scare him. It was those moments in between he found most troublesome. Restlessness gave rise to doubting misdirection. But as long as there was a dragon to slay – no matter how toothless – he was the best husband you could ask for.
“I don’t want to say you look like shit, but… I guess that has nothing to do with dinner. What do you wanna eat?”
His words as soon as I walked in the door. That boyish brilliant smile followed. In his flightsuit, he still looked just as studly as the day we got hitched five years ago, but he didn’t have it on. In house clothes, there was nothing to hide the rise in his belly that seemed to swell like the grassy bunkers guarding the gas off of highway 58. A poor attempt at concealment on both counts. “Nothin’. I’m not very hungry.” I pressed a brief kiss on his lips, then set my bag down. When it hit the floor, my internal auto-pilot switched on. Nightly routine – engage. There was an extended trip to the bathroom, shower, and a show or two in my near future. I unbuttoned my pants and unstrapped my bra ready to relax. But James’s eyes were on me. He had more to say.
“Okaay, you’re not hungry for food. How about something a little… longer, meatier?” He came over, wrapped me by the waist and pulled me against him. The heat of his body made my spine tingle. Soon there was a lump lengthening against my upper thigh. Lust-filled fire heated my blood; rushing to
surround the area like firefighters following a 9-1-1 call. That part of me was ready to go.
But then I saw it. There in the far corner of the living room behind a wilting potted plant. That gaze of grief; the one that sneaks up and might be watching you as you read this now – you know the one. Don’t look! I warn myself, but I’ve alreadylet it have my eyes. Retention needs attention, intention frees detention. Yet, still I’m its 囚人. A prisoner. Even ascetic mindwork won’t aid my escape. Why is it here, too?
The sight of the shadow made my heart pound a cold cadence – not a song to screw to, that’s for sure.
“Aww, uh not tonight baby. I’m wiped out.” When his enthusiasm drooped, guilt gripped me. “This weekend for sure, okay?” I escaped his embrace before he could feel my internal panic pulsing against him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll… keep it warm for you.” He thrust the bulge in his shorts in my direction. The movement filled me with familiar levity. In the corner, our miserable plant stood alone under the lamp light. I stared over there a second longer than normal.
“Z, something wrong? You seem a little out of it. How’d it go at school today?”
I sighed. “Eh, y’know, just the whole school and base thinks my class is co-managed by evil spirits.”
He filled a glass of water at the sink, took a few gulps then said, “Still with that? Didn’t the Med Group clear all the kids? That should’ve been enough to shut them up.”
“They did. Even put out a spot on AFN by their commander saying the school was safe and none of the kids were hurt. But y’know, nobody cares about the truth. Only the story that sounds like it could be the next Halloween movie. That’s what they want.” I sat on the couch, head low.
James joined me. “But there’s already so many terrible Halloween movies. Can’t they just rewatch something like Saw to get fake screams and cheap scares?”
“Hey! I liked that one back in high school. My friends and I watched it every year, well up till’ the fifth one. They really jumped the shark with that one.”
He shook his head. “That first one was way too predictable. As soon as I saw the body in the middle of the room, I knew he’d get up somehow.”
A smile slid on my face as I rubbed his back, “Thanks for the throwback. Really got my mind off things. How was your day?”
“Oh so, uh they want to send me TDY again…”
My face flashed red. “Again!?”
“Well, yeah.” His eyes went to the carpet.
“Dammit James, that’s the third time this month! Can’t they get Decker to go? Or anyone else?”
“You know ol’ “Nailbat” won’t go for it. C’mon Z, this is my job—”
“I get it. But it doesn’t make it any easier. It sure as hell doesn’t make me wanna have kids any sooner. You’re hardly here.” Why did I say that?
His facial lines inverted. All humor collapsed into hurt.
What was I thinking?
He got up slow, then headed toward the stairs.
“James wait!”
“Z, what is it?” When he turned our shadows met on the floor. The lamp and ceiling lights shone at our backs just so to create the merged image. A snap of white-beaded eyes rose between us at my feet. They studied me, then James. I felt something behind me – I whipped my head around, unsure what I would find. There was only the usual wall of photos.
“Z, what were you looking at just now, behind you?”
“It was… nothing.”
His posture hardened. “Look Z, I don’t know what’s happening with you. But when you’re ready to talk about it, just tell me. Without the kick in the balls would be nice.” Following the comment, he stormed upstairs.
Stupid! Why did I say that? As a surge of fresh regret hit me like waves at Cape Zanpa, another dry cough shook my core. James and I didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
Chapter 3
沖縄 is a helter-skelter blend of history. It’s always poking through here somehow. Though it’s Japanese by geography and politics, the influences of several societies run deep in the DNA. In these last few years, (somehow) our genetics have fused. As if the island shot into my Southern skin to transform me into… well, I don’t know. But each day leaves clues to some foggy future. Maybe I should go back to church to figure it out (Mama would like that). Haven’t been since… everything got all screwed up back then. I think about it a lot. It’s late, I can’t sleep. This is when previous eras come out to play in my head.
Past makes present as day makes night. But the order doesn’t matter much. It feels that way in Oki. First, this was the Kingdom of the Ryukyus. Small, isolated and – as far as I
nderstand – relatively safe for centuries. Then China came to do what it does best: conquer through commerce (then cannon if necessary). That lasted a few hundred years until the Japanese government sailed in and claimed it for their own… well kinda. They were like a modern day US government contractor – pay taxes, show up to meetings, provide a few services but for the most part remain invisible and keep hustling on the side.
China remained the number one sugar mama in those days. One hand out, one behind the back – they played it smart. All while dealing with increasingly strict Japanese regulations. A big one, as far as I heard, was no weapons allowed (couldn’t have the locals rising in revolt, could they?)
しょうがない。(It was no big deal.) Locals learned other ways to defend themselves. Farm tools became ferocious killing implements (sai, tonfa, nunchaku, and my favorite, the slashing kama). All got popular around that time.
Those must’ve been good times – clean undisturbed beaches, Chinese and Japanese cash coming across the waves, sugar cane, Eisa – all that stuff. But good times never last. Eventually the Japanese 政府government - rolled en masse. I believe that was around the end of the 19th century. Okinawa was forced to wear the Japanese clothing. They haven’t taken it off since.
Things got bad from there. Confused islanders were forced to adapt – then foreign – Japanese customs, traditions, and language overnight. Any resistance was swiftly (and sometimes ruthlessly) put down like a disobedient dog. This was the first modern deathwave to hit the island. The second arrived some half a century later during World War II.
From March 1945 to June 1945, the island was razed into a sub-tropical hellscape. A “Typhoon of Steel” (I heard it was called) ripped through the land as bloody and brutal as a bear tearing into the flesh of a doe. There was no escape for many of the civilians. Forced to fight, hide, or die: many resorted to mass suicide. Fathers drowned sons. Mothers bashed babies – this ugly face of human slaughter gave us many ghosts – good and bad that haunt the forested hills and caves. (One could be following you or I right now. A chilling thought. Of the over 250,000 souls lost, many still search for peace.
That catastrophe changed Okinawa forever. It paved the way for our heavy footprint here. It wasn’t just an imprint in the sand. The heart and the body of Okinawa are not solely Ryukyuan, Chinese, Japanese, or American. It’s an unidentified fusion of ideas, identity, and culture crossbred by fate.
But you know what I think? All that hurt didn’t just disappear. Spirits and screams congealed in the air, tombs, うたき, and ruins surrounding us. Every breath you and I take draws them in and gives them life. That’s how they live.
I apologize if my telling of the above was off. I’m dead tired. Back stiff, vision night-fogged – yet somehow my mind and fingers are flying. I’ve trained myself to not look at the corner – no more corners. Nothing to see there anyway. Maybe that’s why I keep writing. If I stop, I’ll be tempted to do it. Don’t break now! I’ve got a two hour no-look streak going. All I hear is James’s gentle snoozing and the night bugs chirping outside the window.
At the end of the day, I’m no history teacher. I’m just a country girl who listened to days’ worth of podcasts on the subject. For what? Because things started coming back to me here. The soil shot up my sneakers straight into my veins. I figured I’d start investigating why. Here’s my attempt.
I didn’t know any of this before I arrived, by the way. Like most I flew in on the rotator. Crammed between a sweaty young Marine busy making mean faces at his Nintendo Switch and a shrieking child, I flew alone. James had gone ahead to check into his unit, the base Air Refueling Squadron because they were critically manned. He started work before signing in. Things often went that way. Him in the air, me in the rear. That trip wasn’t fun or easy.
Even though I was uncomfortable as hell, I’ll never forget the view from the plane that first time – blues from the sky brushed white waves which blended into turquoise reefs while smacking on sighing beaches; everything was a resplendent キラキラ reflecting the sunstruck shine in my eyes as I gazed down at the closest thing to paradise in my 36 years on this planet.
(And by the way, I don’t speak a lick of Japanese. I’m way too White and American for that. But I saw that word on a green bottle in the cleaning aisle at Aeon. Wanted to test it out here.)
Okinawa is a mother; sheltering secrets, secreting shelters as she provides a panoply of protection for her people. Now I’m one of them, even if only for a few years. Her touch guides all souls – living or beyond – that call her home. But I can’t help but feel like an unwanted stepchild at times. Another day gone in a flash. The last one before James’s surprise TDY.
***
This morning I woke up with the island お母さん’s energy burning through my blood. The evil eyes in the corner (if they really were there) were my guilt staring down the source of that careless comment I made last night. How could I say such things to the man who’s been nothing be good to me? It wasn’t right. So after lying next to his sleeping form, early dawn blues replacing the dark of the night, I rolled toward him to make it up to him.
A wildfire of want burst in my belly; heat spread to hands. Fingers slid up his coarse leg hair until I found the smooth softness of his “little man.” A few squeezes, spits, and strokes got him to grow up in a hurry. About then, James realized what was happening. His hips began to bob rhythmically while he released throaty moans into the air. That made me drip and dip faster on his throbbing piece. Mid pump, his steady grip raised me up. For several breathless seconds, we locked eyes ready to tap into that bottomless wellspring of familiar intimacy. Our tongues invaded each others’ mouths – I gasped as he pushed up into me – pleasant surprise. He rocked me hard, grabbed my breasts, then pumped, pumped, and pumped until I was sure my heart would pop out of my chest to beat next to his. My back arched as I screamed. With strong hands he slid me off. I got a glimpse of his twitching belly button just before he erupted with a great groan. I leaned down to take in his shooting streams. When that gooey warmth traveled down to my stomach, I was satisfied. So was he.
Then a door slammed somewhere in the house. We both froze. A loud metallic bang followed.
Still winded, I asked, “Didn’t you lock the back door?”
“I was sure I did… I’ll go check.” He made himself decent, then exited the room, closing the door behind him. I sat naked on the bed, unsure whether to wash up or wait. I waited. Then waited some more. Nothing. My vision drifted toward the corner where a pile of crumpled laundry lay in disorder. I caught myself at the last second. I looked hard at my knees. They were shaking.
“James?”
Seconds later I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. My breathing shortened. Without thinking, I covered myself with the blanket.
“James, is that you?”
The door opened and James entered with a sullen expression.
I let out the long breath I’d unconsciously inhaled. “Oh James, thank God…” Then I noticed his eyes. They appeared crooked. Not right somehow. I scooted back toward the headboard. “Well, was it the door? Wait… what happened to your eyes?”
“Z, Z, it’s bad…” he said, “it was THE ghost of Okinawa.” He extended his arms and let his hands go limp. He took lumbering steps to the bed.
I pulled my knees toward my chest. “James, are you-?”
“Z, I’m kidding! It was the door, guess I forgot to latch it last night while I was in my funk.”
“And what about the metal sound?”
“A pot fell out of the cupboard. I guess I didn’t push it all the way in last night. My bad.”
“James Anthony Marlowe! You asshole!”
“Y’know what else the ghost told me?”
“What?”
“That if we do what we just did one more time, he’ll never haunt us again.”
A laugh sputtered from my lips. “James, you’re impossible!”
“’Fuck for good luck’, is what he said. Direct quote. What? Why are you lookin’ at me like that? I swear it’s true.”
“Oh come ere’.”
Then we did it again. But it wasn’t like the first time. In fact how it went is the reason I’m up now in the near dark hours before dawn writing this long entry.
Upon contact, James’s usually warm skin turned clammy like he’d been in the sea too long. His flesh deadened a dust gray, peeled, then flaked off in serpentine sheets. The rest of him continued the grotesque metamorphosis. His hair coralized into stabby bones; soft digits dried as if bleached like stone under the sun; teeth serrated as his tongue elongated releasing a dog-breath stench. Worst was the eyes. Those heavenly hazel orbs – normally clear and sharp as a fine diamond – blemished, fading into the jaundiced slits of the corner beast.
Without a word of warning, I pushed out of bed and into the bathroom. I was sure to shut the door and click the lock behind me to hide my terror.
“Z! I-I’m sorry. It was a stupid joke.”
After a few minutes, I took a long blazing shower. It was somewhat helpful, but the shadow of dread remained.
I opened the door to find James, normal and handsome, with pancakes and bacon (my favorite) waiting.
The food tasted fine, but the disturbing memory of his monstrous 顔 face is still making my hand shake now.
Chapter 4
When the first punch flew, it missed. The second one didn’t. A crowd formed. Phones up. Rolling and streaming. Among the Wednesday lunchtime throng, my initiation bout began.
Principal Kane stood beside me. Shoulders calm, but shifting weight from right to left foot every now and then. He viewed the scene with tight lips.
“Think you can handle it?” he asked.
I took a small step forward. “Yeah, sure.”
“Go get em’.” (Don’t screw this up.) – That was the undertone of his voice. I swallowed nerves before I stepped into the fray.
Fight! Fight! Fight! Students stood on chairs, tables, and shoulders to get a clearer view of the worsening brawl. That classic schoolyard chant echoed like a chorus from taut vocal cords.
I pushed my way through. “Move! Make way!” As I approached, I weighed my options for breaking up the battle.
Was it okay to touch them? Yelling was fair game.
Would I get hit? That wouldn’t be good. What if one of the kids got hurt? I could be sued. Maybe. Then I’d be booted off island faster than a castaway on Survivor – fire snuffed out; James would lose his assignment, that would make him resentful then the divorce papers would come in the mail that means hearing his mother – “See, I told you she was no good son” What would I do from there? I was in the circle. Sweaty, undeodorized youth, surrounding and uncouth – 塩を送る. Things got worse. Shoved. Elbowed. Jostled. Did someone touch
my ass? The two combatants postured and flung insults in the center.
Fighter number one was stringy with a long head. The other was a built Black kid. One I immediately recognized. “Ethan!” I called through the noise. He didn’t seem to hear.
One hand balled tight prepared to strike. The other pointed accusatorily at his opponent.
“You put yo hands on my girl!? And you tagged me! You gonna have to answer for that!” Spit flew from Ethan’s lips.
The spindly one didn’t back down despite his size disadvantage. The way he stood – like a car with no gas during a blustering typhoon, ready to flip and fly out of control – made me take caution. He said, “You guys were broken up. She was fair game. You gonna hit me? C’mon do it!”
Ethan raised his fist, “Nothing gave you the right! You gonna get it now!”
“Ethan stop!!” I moved in, but everyone got quiet. In the beat of a fly’s wing, that tall lanky kid was down.
***
“What were you thinking!?” Principal Kane asked. His lip adopted a tremor. Probably as a result of keeping what he really wanted to say in check. He glared at me in disappointed fury. “Well?”
“I, uh… I guess I just freaked out. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Miss Marlowe ‘sorry’ won’t clean the blood off of the cafeteria floor or magically repair that boy’s tooth.”
No words registered. There was a smell though. Faint, oily, very chemical. I wondered where it was coming from.
“Hello! Earth to Zena!” He put his hands on his desk, then on his lap and back again. When I noticed his visible anxiety, he clasped them together with so much force I thought the capillaries in his fingers might leak. Otherwise, he might have swept all the contents of his desk onto the carpet in irritation.
“As VP you need to make the tough calls on the spot. Enforcing our no-fighting policy is a big part of that. What held you back from intervening sooner?”
“I was just afraid to… to touch em’ . Those boys, Sir y’know how sensitive everyone is these days. About sexual harassment and such—”
“I get it. And I applaud you for upholding that policy, but you must think on your feet. The safety of the students is paramount. If one is in danger of physical harm, even if it’s from another student, you do want it takes to maintain safety and security. And yes, that means physical intervention – if necessary. Do you understand?”
When I nodded, the smell hit me again. Pungent, acidic. It was rotten. A roadkilled skunk baking on a hot Texas highway in the Hill Country, doused in bleach, covered in rat droppings that feasted on it following the falcons. O Saint of Smells why do you torture me so?
If held my breath any longer, I might pass out. “Excuse me, but do you smell that?”
When the question registered, his features immediately melted. A flash of surprise swept across his face. The hands stopped straining then disappeared into his lap.
“Miss Marlowe you are dismissed.”
Chapter 5
I have a rule at 学校 school: only believe students fifty percent of the time. Most of the time what they say is unchecked emotion. They’re pachinko machines minus the glass shield: nothing to prevent the pebble-sized balls from spilling onto the floor and causing chaos. But based on everything that happened recently, her believability jumped by at least twenty percent.
Only seven days have passed since those tears of red wet the desks. The empty stares that stirred my gut continued to glower in the glow of lamplight at home or school. James flew off already. So being home alone was sitting in an abandoned parking garage in early morning. Lights out. Dark around. Only murmurs of men on the hunt for easy prey. Shaking sheep to the waiting wolf – that was me.
The only way to evade it was to find the source of insanity. But I had no idea where (or how) to begin until that student walked in. She found me as I returned from lunch. The sun was nearing its zenith, wrapping me in a blanket of humidity as I took quick steps toward the cafeteria entrance (and the air con within). I tongue-swept a piece of wayward wakame seaweed from my teeth when I heard my name.
“Miss Marlowe! Miss… Marlowe!” The voice came out between heavy gasps.
I turned somewhat startled. “Oh Cyan! What’s the rush?”
“I need… to talk to you…”
“Alright, alright. Hold your horses. Just breathe first.”
“Okay sorry… I wanted to find you before lunch was over.” She straightened her posture, calmed down. Even at her tallest she was chest-height in front of me. With two fingers she removed a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead then tucked it behind her ear to situate herself.
“Better?”
“Yeah, now I am.”
“What’s going on?”
Her head darted around in frantic arcs. Other kids passed by near the school’s entrance. They laughed, shared videos on their phones (that they weren’t supposed to have), or did last minute homework before the fast-approaching lunch bell. Cyan’s posture scrunched as she leaned in conspicuously.
“Not here. Can we talk somewhere [whips head around again] more private?”
“Oh… okay sure.” She followed me inside. As we navigated the bustling hallways to my room, I had a “closing-in” sensation. The heat of hundreds of bodies, crammed in claustrophobic corridors made my temperature rise. A shunt of tightness constricted my movement but sped up the flow of my thoughts. Whenever a student wanted to talk in private, it was rarely about how overjoyed they were about receiving straight A’s.
Secure in the classroom, I shut the door. “Okay Cyan, what’s goin’ on?”
“Miss Marlowe, I think there’s something weird going on at this school… something… scary.”
A hard cough wanted to come up. But I clenched my stomach to suppress it. I focused on Cyan.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, some of my friends have been acting kinda off. It’s almost like they’re different people overnight! I got worried, so I thought I’d let you know.”
“Cyan are you sure? This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Ethan’s fight yesterday—”
“But Miss Marlowe, you know he’d never hit another student like that. He looks big and kinda mean, but you know he’s a softy.”
I flashed skepticism. The fifty percent rule was in full effect. “How are you two doin’? A little bird told me they were fighting over you.”
“Really? Wow that’s a smart bird. Was it a parrot? Aren’t those the ones that can talk?”
“Cyan it’s a figure of speech, an idiom. We covered those last year, remember?”
“Oh right! I guess I forgot!”
I shook my head. “Who’s that other boy? The tall one who got hit.”
“Oh that’s Reed,” she said dismissively. “We only made out like once and he thinks we’re together. Stalker!”
“Right.” I laughed but my bullshit meter was active and rising.
“But for real Miss Marlowe, it’s not just Ethan. I was on my way to Cheer and I remember because I was wearing my brand new pink, white, and orange running shoes. The ones that are so soft and comfortable.”
I glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes of lunch left.
“Anyway, that’s when I overheard Principal Kane outside the front office. He was talking to someone I didn’t recognize, a woman, she looked like she could be a Spanish teacher or something but not like the one I had last year. But Miss Marlowe, he said something about “enhancing” student performance. So scary!”
Principal Kane!
Like a magnet flipped to an opposing pole, my gaze drifted toward the corner. It was almost time for the bell.
Cyan read my reaction.
“Yeah I thought it was weird too!”
My pulsed picked up. “Do you remember smellin’ anything? Like a strong chemical smell?”
She put on her most serious face to ponder my question. Meanwhile, I worked with the strength of a bull before a 闘牛 to prevent overeagerness from charging to a response. Students were already lined up in the hallway. A signal of lunch’s end.
“Yes! I do remember smelling some musty rotten egg smell. Although that could have been me. See, I’d left one of those Family Mart egg, mayo, and cheese sandwiches in my bag and forgotten to throw it out. The heat made it disgusting! So… I could be wrong—”
The bell rang right at that moment. My eye flicked toward the door. Students began to pour in. Was Cyan right? When I looked back at her for quick clarification, something in her expression changed. It was a rapid sunset on an overcast evening, threatening thunder before the long night.
“Oh darn! Okay I gotta go! See you in class tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know – to keep your soul pure. To stop the nightmares. To prevent the piercing reds from roasting your psyche, sentencing you to an eternity of damned hellfire, where vultures eviscerate your entrails and drag them through sewer-watered gutters. I told you to save your soul.”
Chapter 6
These are the dealings of 人間 humans. A messy cluster of saline, lined with feelings. Animalistically simple, cosmically complex, they fatten themselves for us waiting to be devoured. But it is not time. You can’t move too swift in the wind of chase. Patience, for your time to feed has not yet come.
Until that day, be as vigilant as the predator bird. Freeze, watch – stay perched in steady vigil above them. Only then will their screams rise like music from the greatest crooners.
おぉ, but you are reluctant to feed? To hound them until they pluck every last hair from unexplained mania? ばか! You are foolish to be so sympathetic. I shall state clearly why.
Briefly – they know not how to administer themselves. Given a ball of gold, they would rust, tarnish, or otherwise squander the precious gift. In relative comfort, their flesh and egos swell; the blood of the past quickly dries into foundations of meaningless progress. That’s what they do.
しかし, you and I are different.
You say you must go? Then be off. Tail on the two that deliver us into the world of men. Take not this mission lightly.
***
Two humans met near dusk on a rainy evening. Location: a popular eatery with a bright yellow sign that read: “Coco’s Curry.” Through pelting rain, a woman: ample stature, red-streaked brown hair, skin the color of a bleached 10 yen piece – walked fast toward the entrance. Before entering, her head
swiveled side to side with casual swings. Is she being pursued? Or surveilled? No one around seemed to notice.
Inside now. There was a man with a similar body aura as her. He wore a pathetically jumbled suit. His face was waxen and sheened, hovering above a plate of steaming pork cutlet curry. Not long after, the woman arrived at his table.
The following is a transcript of what they discussed:
[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]
“Debora, you’re late.”
“Oh Victor do you know nothing of discretion? I had to make sure I wasn’t followed. OSI and its agents has been sniffing around lately.”
“They suspect something!?” [the man appears hot]
“Calm down. And no, they don’t. And they won’t if you cool it.” [she crosses her legs casually] “But we need to be careful. The first experiment was successful, but there were some… complications…”
“Complications? Like what?”
“Many students have been exposed to minor chemical leaks. There was an incident where blood came from their eyes in one teacher’s rooms.”
“Yes, yes, I know about that one.” [man takes a bite of food, but struggles to swallow. coughs. dabs his forehead with a napkin.]
“Have you been in touch with your, eh hem, ‘POC’?”
“Not yet.”
“Debora!”
“Shh! Lower your voice.” [man softens his tone. leans in.]
“Debora, I can’t imagine they’ll be happy about this. Didn’t he or whatever-the-hell-it-is say they wanted no indicators?”
“Yes Victor, I remember well. But these things happen in extraordinary circumstances. After all, we’re dealing with forces beyond our control or understanding. I expected something like this.”
“Well I didn’t. You said all would be taken care of! And I think you’re being too flippant. We’re talking about demons for God’s sake! I-I’m not even sure I can believe it.”
[she leans in toward him. the man’s palms are glossy, his fork falls to the table making a clatter. an elderly Japanese couple in a nearby booth looks over in surprise before returning to their meal.]
[woman gently touches his hand. man’s posture relaxes.]
“Oh Victor it’ll be fine. I will take care of my side. But don’t forget our goal and our deal. You help me make contact, I help you enhance the performance of your school. Get those green dragons down at Foster off your tail for good, right?”
[the man looks resigned, then nods weakly. woman backs off.]
[she continues.]
“Believe or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”
“I-I don’t know what to believe anymore…”
“Then just believe in me. Is that enough?”
“Y-yes, it can be.”
“Good. Because there’s one more test. It’ll happen before the end of the week. Can you have your facility prepped by then?”
[man exhales heavily.] “Yes, I can.”
[woman stands to leave, then smooths the wrinkles from her dress. man’s gaze follows the path of her hands.]
“Victor, we’ve got this, but don’t screw it up. Everything we’ve worked for depends on it.”
[END TRANSCRIPT]
Chapter 7
Being a 軍人 military spouse is a lot of waiting.
Waiting to come. Waiting to go. Waiting for the kids we’d sacrificed for his career. Delayed vacations and celebrations, extended moments of emptiness spun the clock. Check the phone, dinner, and the wash – no changes.
Distract with books, food, friends (when you had them) and gym; sleep alone until they creep in soundfully in the night again.
Patience to put him first, while squeezing small joys among the noise, only to have it strained, lost, then found to do it again. No one knows your name. You can’t remember theirs. Memories die by the multitude in this life. Days pass in seasons in the house.
That’s the life of a military spouse.
Blind belief in periods of jubilee punctuate the pain. Stillness is the enemy. Yumi knew that. But still, the “life” wasn’t for her. I don’t blame her for getting out early. There’d be no early dismissal for me. I was trapped. Pride, tradition, duty, God-love held me in. It wouldn’t let me leave. Much like the ghosts that swirled somewhere around me, I was a prisoner of the place. Doomed to stay until the gates flew free for release.
“Hey are you alright?” Yumi asked.
We were in her room in the back wing. Outside the windows a windless day warped air above the blazing sidewalks. I’d gone to eat lunch with her, just to get away from my desk for a bit. But I wasn’t hungry. Instead, I ended up staring out the
window while my minded drifted. That’s when Yumi floated back in. Only when she spoke up did I realize she was there.
“Yeah… I’m fine, just thinkin’ too much y’know?”
“Looks like it. Your eyes looked like the kids after they had Popeye’s for lunch. Yuck!”
Her quip got me to crack a short smile, but it didn’t last.
“Okay, what’s really going on?” She said as she fiddled with her phone.
“It’s about what Cyan told me the other day about them odd smells.”
“Oh that? You know how these students are. They see a monster around every corner. Probably just an exaggeration. Or one of those spoiled Lawson’s sandwiches. That’s why I’m ride or die Family Mart till’ the end.”
Was it an overreaction? Something in my gut told me it wasn’t. It wasn’t just her words that had me worried.
It was how her sweet face had soured when she said those final words to me. She’d become something ominous. The way the light hit her face folded and died as if afflicted by some photon feeder, made me start to doubt the truth in my words.
I didn’t mention any of this to Yumi. She was busy raising her phone to the window, spinning for a signal.
“You know it works best in the parkin’ lot right?” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah I know. But I really wanna know what this guy said. Fuck. I got two students coming in for test retakes in less than five minutes. Looks like no lunch for me today!”
Her classroom was an atlas. Instead of boring textbook photos of various locations, she had enlarged prints of pictures she’d snapped during her (mostly solo) international adventures. Paris, Barcelona, Saigon, Nepal – appeared as still doors for students to imagine themselves there. The most prominent display was a topographic map of Japan. ‘日本’ it read at the head of the poster. She pasted various letters from the complex Japanese writing systems around the room. I found the arrangement dizzying, borderline distracting, but she claimed the students enjoyed it.
“Is this the guy from the other night?”
“Yeah, it’s him.”
I crept over and gently pulled her arm toward her desk.
“Well, spill the tea, how’d it go?”
“He was nice. We fucked. Now I wanna find out if he’s a ‘love motel’ or ‘sweats and Taco Bell’ kinda guy.”
I squealed happiness. Then we exchanged hugs and high fives.
I lowered my voice to a near whisper, “Well… how was he? Cucumber or chapstick?”
Yumi smirked, “Closer to a carrot, but he gave me the stick. His Black side came to play. Ha!”
“Wow, the single life… you go. The way you’re still out there. It’s amazin’. I’m a little jealous.”
“Somebody’s gotta turn these boys to men. You know after my divorce, I told myself I’d never hold myself in like I did for all those years. I was a typical young Japanese bride, sweet and silent. It wasn’t him. It was me. I had to figure out what I wanted. Eventually, I did.” She spun in her chair and viewed the white ceiling. “It has its highs, but it can be terribly lonely at times.”
I stayed silent. The news of James’s next TDY flashed in my mind. He was probably in the air or with the boys or doing whatever pilots did when they were away from their significant others unsupervised. I dropped the thought.
Yumi sighed. “But whenever I think about my first marriage, I think this life is better for me. In fact, I know it. Less drama, less money, and much more meat selection.”
I spit laughter. As I did, the door to Yumi’s classroom opened. We turned expecting her students.
But there was no one in the hallway.
Chapter 8
「誰かがいますか?」“Hello?” I called.
Yumi and I exchanged glances of rising dread. It was one of those moments when fear – focused and shaking – magnifies the mood. Like during middle school sleepovers when we’d chant, “Bloody Mary”, “Bloody Mary”, “Bloody Mary”, in the dark together. The fright heightened our vibrating spirits. A prank that strengthened the bonds of our friendship.
But this wasn’t a game.
I stood. Almost seductively drawn to that gaping portal to the outside, when not one, but two students emerged. One, a girl, draped in black clothing (wasn’t she hot outside in all that)? The other, a boy, wearing a clashing t-shirt and shorts—both garments similarly wrinkled. The duo shared a body type: tall and fleshy, but the girl was slightly shorter.
The girl spoke first with an unhurried pace. “Hey Miss Marlowe.” “Yo, Miss Marlowe. And Miss Uehara.” The boy gave a bow. His classmate flashed a condescending glare at the gesture.
I exhaled relief. “Hey Jordan. Hi Lily. What’s the deal with openin’ the door and not comin’ in?”
Lily cast another frosty glance at Jordan, then replied, “Well I opened it, but SOMEBODY was late as usual.”
“Okay, guilty. But that wasn’t the only reason.” Jordan’s expression wasn’t rattled at all.
Then they both approached Yumi’s desk. Their wide frames brushed the students’ seats on their way over.
When they were close enough, Lily’s face darkened. “We ran into Cyan, as we were coming in. She told us about the weird smells she’s been sniffing out y’know?”
Cyan the chatterbox. Of course.
“Mhmm and?”
“We smelled it too,” Jordan said.
Lily nodded. “It’s true. But not just on Principal Kane. I think… we found the room where it’s coming from.”
I knew they were waiting for my reaction; approval for sleuthing well done. I didn’t speak for a while. Lily clutched the straps of her backpack as she dug the toe of her shoe into the carpet. Jordan stared out the window.
“I appreciate the information Lily, but I can’t have you involved in this. I’m not exactly sure what’s goin’ on, but I don’t want to be settin’ y’all into any danger.”
Lily was crestfallen. “But Miss Marlowe, what if it’s something that affects not just the school, but something bigger?”
“Yeah, it’s like one of those conspiracies, except it’s real,” Jordan added.
I went over to them. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to hear anymore about this from y’all. Jus’ concentrate on school.”
I nearly nudged them out the door in haste. I didn’t know what else to do.
Jordan strolled in the direction of the door. He said to Yumi, “But what about our makeup test?”
I threw her a desperate look. She glanced at the clock on the back wall.
“Looks like it’ll have to wait. Lunch is almost over now, you’d better hurry to your next class.”
Jordan shrugged. “Got it.”
Lily walked behind him to the door. He left, but she lingered for a second. Something in her gaze was grave.
“What is it, Lily?”
“Alright, we’ll head to class, but watch out for room 122.”
Chapter 9
Humans are sucking 畜生 creatures. That’s what makes them so delightfully fascinating. Unknowingly, they spend their entire lives in search of the next font of sweet, sweet sustenance to line their stomachs. But their hunger is never completely satiated. Endless lust for the teet consumes them. I would give them one ever flowing. Stroking, cooing, encouraging until their lips drip with excess; the gaze grayed with smiling giddiness. Then turn them away to ambitions of the day. All the while whispering incestuously in their ear, flowering that implanted seed with warm words and dewy declarations. “You are clean. You are safe. You are beautiful. You are powerful. You are worthy. You are blessed.” Whatever they want to hear I provide.
When they return, they are mine. Because who would refuse such a mighty resource? Only one so brave – or foolish. Most humans are lambs. Once fed and fattened, easily sheared and slaughtered – that’s how I like them. This young group gathers in secret. Danger makes the mabui shine, blood divine. For now, I watch and wait.
***
Two teens met outside of Room 122, after the school halls were clear and the sun was low.
One was tall, dark-skinned, and deliciously muscular.
The other, a girl, was short with long legs and lashes with healthy endowments. This is what I heard them say:
“Ethan, what took you so long?” she said. Her voice was hurried yet hushed.
“My bad, had to ‘borrow’ the key from Coach. Plus, I’m still supposed to be suspended, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Why’d you have to hit him so hard? You know how fragile he is. He’s like my Mom’s shot glass collection.”
“Anything I do, I go all in.”
“Yeah? Then what happened with us?”
“Aw c’mon Cyan, not this ol’ thing again, that’s different—"
“Oh my God, do you hear that?”
“What? Why you so jumpy all a sudden?”
“Someone’s coming!”
“Shit!”
Two sets of footsteps approached their confused faces. They looked left and right, then darted behind the nearest hiding spot. Crouched close their skin touched. Her face bloomed red. His breath sped up. “Cyan? Ethan? I can still see both of your dumbasses over there.”
“Oh Lily! Thank God it’s you! I thought you were Principal Kane or something. How’d you see us?”
“Uh Cyan, the water fountain’s a pretty shitty hiding spot for two people.”
“Oh… right. I guess not… Anyway, is that Jordan with you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m only here because Lily owes me twenty-five dollars.”
“Hey shit-for-brains, that phone case was only twenty dollars.”
“Ever heard of inflation? My folks complain about it all the time. But it’s good when you’re the one collectin’ the cash.”
“Ugh, you’re such an asshole.”
“Alright, alright can we just get this over wit? I cannot get caught here on suspension.”
“Okay then tough guy, you go first then.”
The four paused while the air cooled around them. Part of me wondered if they could sense my presence on their backs. Some ancient animal part did (probably). The one all modern humans are enlightened to ignore; too savagely wise, tamed by the constraints of science – their unconscious is deep space to the terrestrially limited mind. They can only catch winks of it in dream or drugged states of euphoria. But never enough to know or acknowledge it. Ignorance (especially of youth) has a blissful aroma.
Ethan said, “Okay let’s do this.”
The jock twisted the knob then entered the room.
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