Yaizu (novel)

The lamp was flickering, glowing patches of the dark room. Strange shadows appeared from the sway of the curtain and vanished. He reached and felt for his watch on the floor.

      01:04.

      Must have fallen asleep. He stared at the green crystal numerals until they changed again and another minute was lost forever. The last thing he remembered it was 19:23 and he was going to heat what was left of the miso ramen in the microwave at exactly 19:30. Just planned to lie down for those seven minutes. Bones ached, eyes gluey with sleep and the taste of blood in the back of his mouth. Hoped he still had cold water left in the fridge.

      The futon squelched when he pressed a hand into it. Sweat running from his forehead nipped the left eye. He wiped the beads with a damp arm and blinked several times. Something wasn't right. Within five heartbeats he realised the air con was off. He sprang off the bed and tapped the sides; it whirred, blowing one last warm breath, and died once more. A fat cockroach scurried out of the yellowed plastic cover and disappeared into a pile of dirty clothes.

      He unplugged the machine, re-connected and switched it back on again. Tapped the sides and still nothing happened. Turned it off, held his breath and turned it on once more. Thumped it with a fist.

      "Come on."

      Beads of sweat were running down the arc of his back, pooling into his underwear. The old electric fan had broken the week before, and there was no money for a new one. No money for a new anything. There wasn't any place left that sold fans in any case. Hair soaking and smelled like a floor towel that hadn't dried. He pulled back the curtain, threw open the window and stuck his head out. Warm air. No wind. He gazed at the moon and the few visable stars. Crickets droned somewhere out in the darkeness. Another perfect night in Yaizu; exactly how he pictured his Saturday nights at 29 to be like.

      Jun ran a bath and slumped into the lukewarm water. He felt slightly colder, but not by much. He guzzled every drop out of a can from the last pack of out-of-date CC Lemon and threw it beside the others in the corner. Would clear that mess soon. Took a breath and could taste the heat; the summer humidity was unbearable, especially at night. No wonder the fish town's population had dwindled. Should have headed north, right up to Hokkaido, when he had the chance. Too late for pointless regret.

      He scrubbed long strands of hair with the last of the body soap, pinched his nose and dunked three times. He pushed the hair from his forehead and stared into the mirror. Red eyes. Blotchy skin. Pink ribbon scars across his chest. Another patch of white nestled in his receding hairline. Look like shit and felt that way too.

      He climbed out of the bath and wrapped an already damp towel around his waist. His insides were dying, especially his mind. He wished he was numb to the misery of what life had become. The world may as well have been empty of other people as he couldn't even remember the last decent conversation he had; maybe last winter he exchanged a few pleasant words at the supermarket, but wasn't sure if that was from a dream. He had read once that in order to control lucid dreams, he had to write down the dream as soon as he awoke and before long it would happen. But all that caused was a slight distortion in his ability to distinguish dreams from reality, with no control in either. And even his recent dreams took him no further than Yaizu.

      He stood in silence. The dream of a decent life had burned away. The ashes had fallen from his eyes more years ago than he cared to remember.

      Jun wandered, slumping into the kitchen. After a few wipes from the towel it was mostly sweat he was drying. Lines ran down the side of his head and over his cheeks. He thought he could somehow get used to the loneliness, that swamp of misery that flowed deeper with every heartbeat, but he hadn't in the last five years and there was nowhere else to go. It would get better; had to. The world he remembered felt so far away.

      He drank stale water from the tap. Dishes congealing in the sink. Clothes all over the floor. Would clean later. Too tired.

      He sat on the bedroom floor and picked a worn paperback from a pile. Robinson Crusoe; read a thousand times. He tossed it aside and fished out another. The Magic Mountain. He sighed and opened it a few pages in. After reading the same paragraph for the forth, maybe fifth time, he threw it into the corner and rubbed his eyes. He reached to turn on the TV, and after a few seconds the screen glowed. A vintage game show with two men in yellow suits dancing; full of fake laughter. Flicked. That old Tokyo drama again showing an angry man standing over a crying woman. Seen it a hundred times. Flicked. Static. Flicked again. Another station of static. Flicked back to the game show channel, but it too was static. He sighed and threw the remote control against the wall. The batteries flew out. After three heartbeats, as he turned to collect them, the TV picture blinked and the static cleared. A shaky camera revealled a black and white view of a fishing port. Dying fish flapped beside a long rod. Jun moved closer towards the TV. He recognised that port and that water.

      It was his current town. It was Yaizu.

      The camera focused on a wild-looking fisherman who seemed to be shouting. Couldn't hear what he was saying. Turned up the volume but that didn't make a difference. A silent documentary it seemed, and it looked to have been made over a hundred years ago. The camera moved to show a tall ship anchored in the water - it had Miyako 44 painted on the side. Men dressed in bolier suits waved from the ship deck before disappearing. The picture went fuzzy and the fisherman appeared again. He didn't speak - just stared into the camera. A whisper of a smile on his face. The camera zoomed to a small boat, hovering over dark water. Day changed into night in a choppy few seconds. The only light was shining out from a lantern, hanging above a loudspeaker in the middle of the boat. Nothing seeemed to be happening - just the boat swaying over a ripple of waves.

      Jun struggled to keep his eyes open. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a damp towel. Felt sleep drag him into the dark. Blinks became longer. A glance to the watchface said 01:48. Would nap until 02:00 then eat the rest of that miso ramen - it would be no good tomorrow as it was already on the turn. Thoughts drifted to if he turned off the water in the bath or not. Must have but wasn't sure. Might not have pulled out the plug - needed to check that before sleeping. Couldn't hear any dripping - would check that at 02:00. The cooker was off though; that was a certainty.

      He closed his eyes and pulled the thin bedsheet to his chin.

                                                                    *

Jun awoke to the feeling of knives being stabbed into his eardrums. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. Could hardly breathe. He pressed fingers into both ears but that changed nothing. A sound vibrated around the inside of his skull - it was pain beyond anything he had experienced before.

      One-twothreefour. One-twothreefour. One-twothreefour. One-twothreefour...

      Four disturbing chimes that sounded like a kettle drum kept repeating over and over and over and over and... he rolled over, mouth wide open in a gaping silent scream, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

      The TV - it was the TV!     

      The fishing show was on again, and the loudspeaker was lit like an ominous sun. He dived over and ripped the plug out of the wall. Nothing happened. Nothing fucking happened. Just as he leaned back to sink a boot into the TV, the picture vanished and so did the chimes.

      He fell to his knees, bent over, gasping through sobs. His right ear was ringing and the left carried the echo. The watch displayed 03:51.

      03:52.

      03:53.

      He regained his breath and collapsed face first on the floor.