Koushun Takami - Battle Royale

With its left-side front passenger’s seat and roof facing them, the minivan was honeycombed. It looked more like a strange beehive in the shape of a car.

The sky was orange now. Shuya couldn’t bother to look at it, but judging from the light, he assumed there was a nice sunset in the western sky.

“Did you get him?” Shuya asked. Shogo was about to reply when—

The minivan proceeded to move. It was backing up. It cut across the edge of the field and backed up to the shoulder of the road. Once again, towards the back of their truck.

Shuya was speechless. Not only was the van’s engine still functioning, Kazuo was still alive and operating the vehicle. Shogo had wagered everything by emptying their entire bullet supply and yet… Kazuo was still alive!

Beyond the bullet-ridden vehicle, Kazuo’s upper body sprung up like a jack-in-the-box. With a machine gun. With the rattling sound, the small window above Noriko’s head shattered. Two holes were punctured into the steel board next to it. The truck was a domestic model made of flimsy steel, so Shuya was surprised it had actually remained unscathed this long. This also might have been thanks to the washer and refrigerator lying on the rack. Or maybe, Shogo had loaded them, anticipating this situation.

“Damn it!” Shogo shifted gears and moved the car out. “Shoot, Shuya! Back me up!”

Shuya fired his CZ75 at Kazuo’s minivan. Kazuo fired back, the bullets landing right next to Shuya’s face as sparks flew from the steel frame of the truck.

Shuya immediately emptied his gun. He changed the magazine and fired. Then he realized, once I shoot this round, I’m out of bullets. We’ll only have Noriko’s Browning and her extra magazine. That’s it.

While he hesitated, Kazuo fired. He heard the rattle. A zinging sound. More sparks this time from the refrigerator on the rack. The small door on the freezer swung open and fell out.

“Shogo! I’m out of bullets!”

Shogo calmly steered the wheel. “His machine gun will be useless too. He doesn’t have time to reload it.”

Just as Shogo said, single shots came at them now. BLAM, POP. The seat by Noriko’s shoulder exploded.

“Noriko! Get down!” Shuya yelled, stuck his arm out of the window, pointed at Kazuo, who now held a gun in one hand, and fired. He was out of bullets. He took the Browning from Noriko’s hand. He fired again.

To the left of the pickup, between the houses and the field, was a warehouse burnt to the ground. That must have been what Shogo had been referring to, the building that went up in flames in the late night explosion. Now they had less than two hundred meters before hitting the curve that led to the residential area on the eastern side of the island.

“Hey, Shogo, that’s—”

Shogo replied, “I know,” and swerved the wheel to the left. The left side of the truck under Shuya’s body floated up. But once it regained its balance, the truck leaped onto the unpaved road. It was another road twisting through the fields, heading back up to the northern mountain. Kazuo followed after them in the minivan.

Shuya aimed and fired. Kazuo ducked and fired away. This time the steel board right next to Shogo’s head was punctured.

“Shuya! Just keep on shooting until you’re out! Don’t let him shoot!” Shogo yelled, hunched over the wheel. Shuya noticed the left shoulder of his school coat was torn and bleeding. He’d been hit by Kazuo.

Shuya was about to protest, but he leaned out of the window and fired. Shogo might plan on escaping into the mountain again. If so, then the thing was to make sure Kazuo couldn’t shoot. Or by some stroke of luck, maybe I’ll end up hitting him—

He fired.

And now the Browning was emptied out, the breechblock held open. He was out of bullets.

They were approaching the mountain. A familiar sight. Strangely enough, there was a farmhouse surrounded by a concrete wall. And a field. A tractor.

Shuya realized this was where they first fought against Kazuo. But now they were on the opposite side.

“Shogo, I’m out of bullets! Are we escaping into the mountain!?”

Shuya could make out Shogo’s profile breaking into a slight grin. He replied, “Oh, we still got bullets.” Shuya knit his brows, puzzled.

The truck ran off the entrance road that led to the farmhouse and dashed onto the ridge road. He passed by the side of the tractor. The road ahead became too narrow for the truck.

Shogo didn’t seem to care and drove the truck straight ahead. Kazuo came after them, maintaining the same distance behind—only twenty meters. He fired from the driver’s seat.

The truck dove into the farm and stopped. The side of the front passenger’s seat where Shuya sat now faced Kazuo. Shogo kicked open the door and yelled, “Get out, this way!” He jumped out of the car.

Shuya nudged Noriko, crouched down and followed them. He glanced back. Kazuo’s minivan was coming right at them!

There was a blast.

The left front tire of Kazuo’s minivan was blown off. It was only ten meters in front of them.

The minivan tottered, then slid along the ridge of the elevated field on the left, and its front went up in the air like a surfboard taking on a large wave. The next moment it rolled over on its roof into the field.

Right before or after the minivan came to a complete halt, a black shadow leaped out. By the time it somersaulted and came to a kneeling position, Shuya could see it was Kazuo. Sparks flew out from his hands with a continuous popping noise. Then there was another blast.

Shuya was still inside the truck as he saw it through the window of the passenger’s seat: the sight of Kazuo Kiriyama’s body being blown back like an arrow.

Kazuo landed on the field with a thud. He was completely still.

Shuya suddenly recalled the way Kyoichi Motobuchi had died. His sausage-factory trash-bin stomach. Kazuo was too far away to check the condition of his stomach. Still, given how he was pummeled with shotgun pellets, there was no way he could have been alive.

Then Shuya finally emerged from the truck. He saw Shogo holding that shotgun—the one Shuya had tossed into the field when he was running away from Kazuo—as he rose from behind the truck rack.

“Oh, we still got bullets.” Shogo had picked up the shotgun Shuya tossed away yesterday, loaded the shotgun cartridges he still had (he must have only been able to load two shots in that span of time), and fired away… and shot down Kazuo.

“Right at the beginning,” Shogo said slowly, “he missed us with his surprise attack. So he lost. Because then he had to take on all three of us.”

He took a deep breath, put down the shotgun—which thumped against the refrigerator on the truck rack—and took out a pack of Wild Sevens from his pocket. He took one out and lit it.

“You’re bleeding, Shogo,” Noriko said, pointing at his left shoulder.

“Yeah.” Shogo glanced at his wound and then grinned. “It’s nothing.” He exhaled.

Bang. Shogo’s body bent over. The Wild Seven cigarette fell from his mouth, leaving a trace of smoke in the air. The stubbly face contorted. His eyes gazed down at Shuya’s feet.

Shuya saw Kazuo’s raised torso on the lower field, holding a gun in his right hand. He was still alive! But his stomach had been pummeled by the shotgun blast!

Shogo’s body slowly caved in. Kazuo quickly pointed his gun at Shuya. Shuya realized that he was, along with Shogo, no longer behind the truck. He had no gun in his hand. No, he had no bullets. It was too late for him to reload the shotgun on the truck rack. It was way too late.

The small muzzle of Kazuo’s gun a good ten meters away looked like a giant tunnel. A black hole engulfing everything.