Kojo Suzuki - Spiral

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He raised his voice in an inchoate yell, banged the bathroom door with his knee repeatedly, and even flushed the toilet. All the racket he’d caused finally gave him the courage to creep to his feet. Using his hands to steady himself, he raised himself until he was almost fully upright, and then he stopped to listen behind him. He desperately tried to think of a way to step out of the room without turning around. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end, as if countless tiny spiders were crawling up his back.

He inched backward towards the entrance, making sure that his heel wasn’t touching anything, and then he whirled around, grabbed the doorknob, and stumbled out into the hallway. He banged his shoulder on the wall, but he ignored the pain as he watched the door swing shut.

Gasping for breath, Ando headed for the elevator. The super’s keys jangled in his pocket. Thank God he hadn’t left them in the apartment! He certainly didn’t want to go back in there again. He was sure something was in there, even though he could recall every corner of that room and he couldn’t think of a single place for anything to hide. The futon was folded up neatly. The built-in wardrobe was neither wide nor deep enough. There was no place for any living thing to hide- unless it was pretty small.

An out-of-season mosquito buzzed in his ear. He tried to swat it away, but it kept right on droning about him. Ando coughed weakly and jammed his hands into his pockets. Suddenly he felt cold. The elevator was taking forever to arrive. Finally, frustrated, he looked up, only to see that it was still on the first floor. He’d forgotten to push the button. He pressed it two or three times, just to be sure, and put his hand back in his pocket.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Ando didn’t realize he’d been drifting away until Miyashita spoke to him. The sensations of two hours ago had become a tidal wave, threatening to rip his consciousness out by the roots. He resisted frantically, and got gooseflesh for his efforts. Miyashita’s fervent monologue reached his brain only intermittently.

“Are you even listening to me?” Miyashita sounded annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” Ando replied, but his expression said his mind was elsewhere.

“If there’s something eating at you, maybe you ought to tell me about it.”

Miyashita pulled a stool out from under the table, plopped his feet onto it, and leaned back. He was a visitor in Ando’s office, but he acted as if the place were his own.

Ando and Miyashita were the only ones in the forensic medicine lab at the moment. Despite how dark it was getting outside, it was still not quite six in the evening. After his harrowing experience at Mai’s apartment, Ando had come directly back to the office to meet Miyashita. As a result, he hadn’t had any time to regain his equilibrium. And Miyashita had been telling him about the virus the whole time.

“No, nothing’s bothering me.” He had no intention of telling Miyashita what he’d experienced in Mai’s apartment. He had no words to express it, first of all. He couldn’t think of an appropriate metaphor. Should he compare it to that feeling you sometimes get, standing at the toilet in the middle of the night, that there’s someone behind you? The one where, once you’ve sensed them, the monsters in your imagination just keep growing and growing until you finally turn around and dispel the illusion? But what Ando had experienced was no such run-of-the-mill affair. He was sure there’d been something behind him when he lost his balance in Mai’s bathroom and hit his cheek against the toilet. It wasn’t a product of his imagination. Something had emitted that high-pitched laughter. Something that had made Ando, not normally a coward, too scared even to turn around.

“You look pale, though. Paler than normal, that is,” said Miyashita, wiping his glasses on his lab coat.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie. Recently, he’d been waking up in the middle of the night and having trouble getting back to sleep.

“Well, never mind. Just don’t keep asking me the same questions over and over. No one likes to be interrupted.”

“Sorry.”

“Now. May I go on?”

“Please do.”

“About that virus they discovered in those bodies in Yokohama…”

“The one that’s just like smallpox,” Ando volunteered.

“That’s the one.”

“So it resembles smallpox visually?”

Miyashita slapped the tabletop. He flashed Ando a look of exasperation. “So you really weren’t listening. I just told you: they ran the new virus through a DNA sequencer in order to analyze its bases. Then they ran it through a computer. Turns out it corresponds closely to the library data on smallpox.”

“But they’re not identical?”

“No. We’re talking maybe a seventy percent overlap.”

“What about the other thirty percent?”

“Brace yourself. It’s identical to the basal sequence of an enzyme-encoding gene.”

“Enzymes? Of what species?”

“Homo sapiens.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I understand it’s pretty unbelievable. But it’s true. Another specimen of the same virus contained human protein genes. In other words, this new virus is made of smallpox genes and human genes.”

Smallpox was supposedly a DNA virus. If it were a retrovirus, then it would be no surprise to find it had taken human genes into itself. Such a virus would have reverse transcription enzymes. But since DNA viruses didn’t have them, how did this one pick up human genes and incorporate them into itself? Ando couldn’t think of any process. And with one virus containing enzymes and another proteins, it meant that together they contained human genes, but in separate components. It was as if the human body had been broken down into hundreds of thousands of parts, and those parts apportioned out individual specimens of a virus for safekeeping.

“Is the virus from Ryuji’s body the same?”

“Finally, we come to that. Just the other day, we found a nearly identical virus in a frozen sample of Ryuji’s blood.”

“Another smallpox-human combo?”

“I said ‘nearly’.”

“Okay.”

“It’s almost identical. But in one segment, we found a repetition of the same basal sequence.”

Ando waited for Miyashita to continue, and he did.

“No matter where we cut it, we kept coming up with a repetition of the same forty-odd bases.”

Ando didn’t know what to make of it.

“Are you following me? They didn’t find this in the two bodies in Yokohama.”

“So you’re saying that the virus found in their bodies is subtly different from the one that killed Ryuji?”

“That’s right. They look alike, but they’re slightly different. Of course, we really can’t say much until we get data from the other universities.”

At that moment a phone rang two desks over. Miyashita cursed under his breath. “What now?”

“Excuse me a minute, okay?” Ando leaned over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“I’m Yoshino from the Daily News. I’m calling for a Dr Ando.”

“That’s me.”

Yoshino wasn’t quite satisfied. “Are you Dr Ando the lecturer in forensic medicine?”

“Yes, yes.”

“I understand you performed an autopsy on a Ryuji Takayama at the Tokyo Medical Examiner’s Office on the twentieth last month. Is that correct?”

“That’s right, I was in charge of that one.”

“I see. Well, I’d like to ask you a few questions about that, if I may. Can we meet?”

“Hmm.” While Ando deliberated, Miyashita leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Who is it?”