Suicide Forest (37 page)

“You like my English?”

I didn’t reply.

“You English teacher, huh?” He nodded. “Yes,
yes. Why else you come my country? I have many English teacher
friend from my
eikaiwa
. I don’t talk them now. Not anymore.
That long time ago. Sometimes I miss them. Very lonely here. Very
lonely.”

I released his hair. “Tell me about the
children,” I said.

He licked his lips, but didn’t say
anything.

I slapped him across the face.

He scowled at me.

I slapped him harder.

“Ethan—” Mel said.

“Stay out of this!”

I brought my hand up.

“The family leave girl and boy in Jukai,”
Hiroshi said, his voice croaky. “The girl, she die. The boy, he
survive. He catch animals, eat berries. He smart boy. When he
strong again, he leave forest, go his village. He thinks his
parents forget him is accident. He thinks they happy when he comes
home. They not happy. They still no food. They tell him go away.
They don’t want. But he don’t go. He stays near village, in forest.
He steals chickens, vegetables. And he sees girl. Very beautiful
girl. She’s farmer man daughter. One day, she disappears. Nobody
knows what happen—only me.”

“He brought her back here?” I said. “To
Aokigahara?”

“This cabin, it built 19-7-3. I work here.
My job, find the bodies. One time I find man. Maybe thirty. Maybe.
I think he come here to suicide. I try to talk, but he don’t talk.
He run away. I look for him, for his body, for one year. But I
don’t find. He find me. He knows where my cabin. He lives here
twenty year, maybe more. He knows forest very good.”

“What did he want with you?”

“He bring me woman. She’s dying. She made
baby, but something wrong. Baby died, and she…she so much blood. I
help her. Give medicine. Many days I help her. And I talk to man.
His name Akira. He tells me everything. He tells me his parents
leave him here, leave sister here. The woman he brings me, she’s
farmer man daughter. He took her. He stole her. They make many
babies before this one, but babies don’t live. They kill them. They
don’t have food to give them.”

I looked at Mel, who was watching Hiroshi
with disgusted fascination. I turned back. “What happened to his
wife?” I asked. “Did she survive?”

“She die. I can’t help. She bleed so much.
Akira, he go away. I don’t see him ten years. Maybe more. Then he
comes back. He comes winter. Very bad winter. He has
pneu—pneuma.”

“Pneumonia.”

“He has that. I give him medicine. He gets
better. Then, two days later, three days, he comes back. He gives
me so many gifts. Like that.” He nodded to the chest. “Jewelry.
Wallets. But no phones. No phones then.”

“He took them off the bodies of the
suicides.”

“So good idea, huh? I give him rice and
sugar and salt. He’s very happy, very happy, and we continue to
trade. Every month he gives me jewelry, money, I give him food,
clothes. Finally he has good life. So he makes children. He has
eight now. Only boys. No girls. He kills girls.”

“The kids we saw in the forest,” I
stated.

“Yes, you meet already. I know.”

I rose to my feet slowly, shaking my head,
dumbfounded at Hiroshi’s tale. A gypsy and his crew of ragtag
children. That’s who’s been terrorizing us. I turned to Mel, to see
her reaction, and found her frowning.

“You said his wife died,” she said. “So
who—?” The color drained from her face. “Oh no.”

“He catches them before they suicide,” he
told her. “Then he keeps them prisoner. Sometimes you hear them
scream. You hear last night? She scream so loud.”

Hiroshi’s narrative—my longing for
answers—had held me captive until now. But suddenly it was all too
much. I thought of Ben and Tomo and all the shit we had gone
through, and I had to resist the urge to pick up the ax again. I
said, “And our other friends? Why did he kill them?”

“He wants women. He tells me yesterday, when
he gives me phones, he tells me he sees beautiful women. Very
beautiful.” Hiroshi smirked at Mel. “He calls you White Mother. You
should be honor. He’s very excited.”

“So Nina…?” Mel said. “She’s not dead?”

“Don’t you listen? He don’t kill. He wants
baby. He wants her baby, and he wants your baby.”

She blanched.

“Yes, yes, he comes for you,” Hiroshi said,
“he comes for you right now.”

“
Don’t
listen to him, Mel,” I said. “He couldn’t
know that. He’s lying.”

“Lie?” Hiroshi seemed insulted. “His
children already outside cabin. I talk them when I get water. They
send message to father.”

Mel said, “What if he’s telling the
truth?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. This
Akira guy, he’s an old man. Has to be sixty now. I can handle
him.”

“You think?” Hiroshi chuckled
humorlessly.

“I took you out easily enough, didn’t
I?”

“He and children like animal. They kill you
so easy.”

My phone rang, making me start, even though
I had been expecting the call. I answered it immediately.

“We called the police,” Derek said without
preamble. “Apparently they already sent a team out there looking
for you?”

“We called them yesterday with Neil’s phone
before it died, but they never reached us.”

“Well, they said there’s only one ranger
cabin in the forest you’re in, so they know where you are. They’re
going to send the team out again now.”

“Tell Sumiko to call them back and tell them
we need them here as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they’re coming—”

“The people after us, they might be outside
the cabin right now.”

“What? Christ! Okay, yeah, yeah, shit, I’ll
get Sumiko to call them back right now. Stay inside and hold
on.”

We hung up.

“The police know where we are,” I told Mel.
“They’re coming right now.”

“How long will they be?”

“Not long—”

“Ethan!” she yelped, pointing at the front
door.

I spun around, but saw nothing out of the
ordinary.

“What, Mel? What is it?”

“The doorknob! It was moving back and forth.
Someone’s trying to get in!”

I
hefted the ax and
went to the door and double-checked the lock. It was secure. I
peeked out the window and saw a low, dark shape dash between the
trees before moving beyond my field of view.

I swore, pressing my back to the wall.

“You still think me lie?” Hiroshi said.

“Tell them to go away.”

“Why I do that?”

“Because if you let them attack us, you’re
going to be in big trouble.”

“I already big trouble.”

“No, you’re not—”

“You tell your friend about me. Then Sumiko,
she tells police about me.”

“We can work this out.”

“Why you think I explain you Akira? Because
pain? Because you hit me?” He shook his head. “No, I already in big
trouble.”

I stalked over to him and shoved the head of
the ax against his chest. “Tell them to leave us alone, otherwise
I’ll kill you right now.”

“You learn nothing in Jukai?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Suicide! Death! You learn nothing? You
don’t afraid death. Death no problem, death exit. Life, that you
scared. Life is monster. Life, there so much pain. You want kill
me? Do it! I die with honor.”

A loud bang shook the front door.

Mel yelled, stumbling backward into the
wall. She slid down it like Jell-O, wrapped her arms around her
knees.

“It’s okay, Mel,” I said, trying to parlay
an absurd casualness. “They can’t get in—”

Bang!

“Call them off!” I shouted at Hiroshi.

BANG!

“Call them—”

A heavy tree branch crashed through the
window behind me, sending glass everywhere. I spun, swinging the ax
blindly.

The blade whistled through the air and
lodged with a heavy thunk into the empty window frame.

More glass shattered, from another part of
the cabin.
The bedroom!
I’d forgotten about the window in
the bedroom.

As I tried to jig the ax free I sensed
something hurtling toward me. It struck me in the head. I staggered
but remained on my feet. My hand instinctively went to the injury
and came away wet with blood.

I stumbled to the center of the room.

“Stay down, Mel!” I told her.

There was more banging at the door. But the
lock was holding.

I moved past Hiroshi. The bedroom door was
on my right. I shoved it open. A kid was crouched on the
windowsill, half in the room.

He glowered at me from behind long hair that
had fallen in front of his face.

I clenched the haft of the ax with both
hands and rushed him.

He sprang back outside into the night. I
stuck my head through the broken window pane, inhaling the brisk
air. It was all but pitch black, and I couldn’t see where he’d
gone.

I turned around just as another kid with a
long horse face leapt at me from the bed, swinging a dagger. I
parried to the left and smashed the flat of the ax head against the
back of his skull. He landed in a heap at my feet.

A third kid was already coming around the
bed toward me, dagger raised. He and the one on the floor must have
been concealed behind the door when I entered the room a few
seconds ago.

I pointed the ax at him, keeping him at
bay.

He drew back his lips in a grimace,
revealing several missing teeth, and hurled the dagger. I twisted
sideways, to create the narrowest possible target. The blade sank
into my triceps. I yelled, dropping the ax. The kid barreled into
me, driving me into the wall, trapping my arms to my sides.

I was amazed by his strength. He was a
tightly coiled ball of muscle, and I couldn’t shove him aside no
matter how much I struggled. He was snorting and grunting and
reeked of sour body odor.

From the other room Mel screamed.

I bit the kid’s ear, tugging at it as if it
were a tough piece of beef, tasting blood. He shrieked and loosened
his hold. I broke free and seized him around his throat with both
hands, at the same time driving him toward the window. I shoved his
head through the open space, so his back was on the sill, and
leaned forward with all my weight. His hands scraped at me. I gave
him a final thrust. He dropped the five feet to the ground below
and landed hard. He hollered something savage and guttural at me,
then crab-crawled away.

Mel screamed again.

With fading strength I plucked the dagger
from my arm, seized Horseface by the collar of his yukata, and
dragged him into the main room.

I registered the scene in a split second:
Mel against the wall where I’d left her, her eyes locked on the
largest kid yet, who just now hopped from the front windowsill to
the floor. One hand was pressed against his shoulder. He must have
been the one I’d struck with the dagger earlier. In his other hand
he held a long stick. I noticed he had a black sash tied around his
robes, while Horseface and Toothless had gray ones.

Was this arbitrary? I wondered. Or was he
some sort of black-belt karate expert? That seemed a ridiculous
conclusion, but karate was a Japanese tradition. And what else did
you did with your time growing up in a forest? Martial arts seemed
like a reasonable pursuit.

“Mel,” I grunted, “get over here.”

“Ethan!” she cried, seeing me for the first
time. She dashed past Hiroshi, who was writhing in his chair,
trying to free himself, and ducked behind me.

I hauled semi-unconscious Horseface to his
feet and held him against my chest. I pressed the blade of the
dagger to his throat.

“Get out of here!” I told Blackbelt. “Or
I’ll kill him.”

He stared at me but didn’t move.

“Leave!”

Still, he didn’t move.

Horseface groaned, then wriggled in my hold.
He was coming around.

Blackbelt took a step forward.

“Stop! Now!”

Another step.

I plunged the dagger into Horseface’s thigh.
He howled and thrashed. I shoved the blade back against his
throat.

“I’ll kill him! I’ll slit his throat!”

Blackbelt stopped, then backed up
slowly.

“Keep going,” I said, “keep going—”

Mel shouted a warning.

I reeled around and saw a much older man
with a topknot moving quickly toward us. He tossed Mel against the
wall as if she weighed nothing and in the same movement bashed me
in the head with the pommel of the sword he was holding.

The world bucked, then I was falling,
spinning into darkness.

I
opened my eyes. A
burst of jagged pain ripped through my head. I noticed two people.
They seemed to be swimming, shape-shifting, blending into one
another. Gradually, however, they focused. One was Akira. He was
holding a samurai sword close to his chest, the tip pointed toward
the ceiling. Directly in front of him Hiroshi sat on the floor,
cross-legged, staring at a middle distance. He unbuttoned his
shirt, tugging the tails from his pants, revealing his nearly
hairless chest and stomach. He picked up a dagger from a plate
before him, holding it by a portion of cloth wrapped around the
blade.

He plunged it into his abdomen.

Even as I fought to stay conscious, I tried
to make sense of what I was seeing.
Seppuku
, or
hara-kiri
, was originally practiced by the samurai class in
feudal Japan, an honorable way to die by disembowelment if they’d
shamed themselves or failed their masters or wanted to avoid
falling into enemy hands.

So was this Hiroshi’s punishment for letting
himself get captured by me, his way to avoid prosecution by the
police?

I recalled what he’d said earlier, gibberish
about dying with honor.