Haruki Murakami - The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

What was May Kasahara doing? Why didn't she come? She hadn't shown up here for a very long time. The thought struck me that something terrible might have happened to her-a traffic accident, say. In which case, there was no longer anyone in the world who knew I was down here. And I really would die a slow death in the bottom of the well. I decided to look at things differently. May Kasahara was not such a careless person. She was not about to let herself get run over so easily. She was probably in her room now, scanning this yard every once in a while with her binoculars and imagining me down here in the well. She was doing this on purpose: letting a lot of time go by to give me a scare, to make me feel abandoned. That was my guess. And if she was purposely letting a lot of time go by, then her plan was succeeding admirably. I really was scared. I did feel abandoned. Whenever the thought struck me that I might very well just rot down here in the dark over a long period of time, I could hardly breathe with the fear that gripped me. The more time that went by, the more I would weaken, until my hunger pangs became violent enough to kill me. Before that happened, though, I might lose the ability to move my body at will. Even if someone were to lower the rope ladder to me, I might not be able to climb it. All my hair and teeth might fall out.

Then it occurred to me to worry about the air. I had been down in the bottom of this deep, narrow concrete tube over two days now, and to make matters worse, the top had been sealed. There was no circulation to speak of. The air around me suddenly began to feel heavy and oppressive. I couldn't tell whether this was my imagination playing tricks on me or the air really was heavier because of the lack of oxygen. To find out, I made several large inhalations and exhalations, but the more I breathed, the worse it felt. Fear made the sweat gush out of me. Once I started thinking about the air, death invaded my mind as something real and imminent. It rose like black, silent water, seeping into every corner of my consciousness. Until now, I had been thinking about the possibility of starvation, for which there was still plenty of time. Things would happen much more quickly if the oxygen gave out.

What would it feel like to die of asphyxiation? How long would it take? Would it be a slow, agonizing process, or would I gradually lose consciousness and die as if falling asleep? I imagined May Kasahara coming to the well and finding me dead. She would call out to me several times, and when there was no answer she would drop a few pebbles into the well, thinking I was asleep. But I would not wake up. Then she would realize that I was dead.

I wanted to shout for someone. I wanted to scream that I was shut up inside here. That I was hungry. That the air was going bad. I felt as if I had reverted to being a helpless little child. I had run away on a whim and would never be able to find my home again. I had forgotten the way. It was a dream I had had any number of times. It was the nightmare of my youth-going astray, losing the way home. I had forgotten all about those nightmares years ago. But now, in the bottom of this deep well, they came to life again with terrible vividness. Time moved backward in the dark, to be swallowed by a different kind of time.

I took the canteen from my knapsack, unscrewed the top, and, with the greatest care, so as not to spill a single drop, let a small amount of water find its way into my mouth. I kept it there for a long time, savoring the moisture, then swallowed it as slowly as possible. A loud sound came from my throat as the water passed through, as if some hard, heavy object had fallen to the floor, but it was just the sound I made by swallowing a few drops of water.

Mr. Okada!

Someone was calling me. I heard the voice in my sleep. Mr. Okada! Mr. Okada! Please wake up!

It sounded like Creta Kano. I managed to open my eyes, but that changed nothing. I was still surrounded by darkness and couldn't see a thing. There was no clear border between sleep and wakefulness. I tried to raise myself, but there was not enough strength in my fingers. My body felt cold and shriveled and dull, like a cucumber long forgotten in the back of the refrigerator. My mind was wrapped tight in exhaustion and weakness. I don't care, do what you want, I'll get a hard-on in my mind again and come in reality. Go ahead, if thats what you want. In my clouded consciousness, I waited for her hands to loosen my belt. But Creta Kano's voice was coming from somewhere far overhead. Mr. Okada! Mr. Okada! it called. I looked up, to find half the well cover open and above it a beautiful, starry sky, a sky shaped like a half-moon.

I'm here! I raised myself and managed to stand. Looking up, I shouted again, I'm here! Mr. Okada! said the real Creta Kano. Are you down there? Yes, I'm here! How did that happen? Its a long story. I'm sorry, I cant hear you very well. Can you speak a little louder? Its a long story! I shouted. I'll tell you about it after I get out of here. Right now, I cant speak very loudly. Is this your rope ladder up here? Yes, it is. How did you manage to raise it from there? Did you throw it? Of course not! Why would I have done such a thing? How could I have done such a thing? Of course not! Somebody pulled it up without telling me. But that would just make it impossible for you to get out of there. Of course it would, I said, as patiently as I could manage. That's what happened. I cant get out of here. So can you do me a favor and let the ladder down? That way, I can get out.

Yes, of course. I'll do it now.

Wait a minute! Before you let it down, can you make sure its anchored to the base of the tree? Otherwise- But she was not responding. It seemed there was no one there anymore. I focused as hard as I could on the well mouth, but I couldn't see anyone. I took the flashlight from my sack and aimed its beam aloft, but the light caught no human form. What it did reveal was the rope ladder, hanging where it belonged, as if it had been there all the time. I released a deep sigh, and as it left me, I felt a hard knot at the core of my body relax and melt away.

Hey, there! Creta Kano! I shouted, but there was still no answer.

The hands on my watch showed one-oh-seven. One-oh-seven at night, of course. The stars twinkling overhead told me that much. I slipped my knapsack on my back, took one deep breath, and started up. The unstable rope ladder was difficult to climb. With each exertion, every muscle, every bone and joint in my body, creaked and cried out. I took one careful step at a time, and soon there was a growing hint of warmth in the surrounding air, and then a distinct smell of grass. The cries of insects reached me now. I got my hands on the edge of the well curb and with one last effort pulled myself over, all but rolling onto the soft surface of the earth. That was it: I was aboveground again. For a while, I simply lay there on my back, thinking of nothing. I looked up at the sky and sucked the air deep into my lungs over and over-the thick, warmish air of a summer night, filled with the fresh smell of life. I could smell the earth, smell the grass. The smell alone was enough to give my palms the soft sensation of touching the earth and the grass. I wanted to take them both in my hands and devour them.

There were no longer any stars to be seen in the sky: not one. The stars up there were visible only from the bottom of a well. All that hung in the sky was a nearly full, corpulent moon.

How long I went on lying there I had no idea. For a long time, all I did was listen to the beating of my heart. I felt that I could go on living forever, doing only that-listening to the beating of my heart. Eventually, though, I raised myself from the ground and surveyed my surroundings. No one was there. The garden stretched out into the night, with the statue of the bird staring off at the sky, as always. No lights shone inside May Kasahara's house. There was only one mercury lamp burning in her yard, casting its pale, expressionless light as far as the deserted alley. Where could Creta Kano have disappeared to?