Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"This has nothing to do with the stone," Colonel Sanders said flatly. "You're a real dunce sometimes. Forget the stone. The police don't know anything about it, and wouldn't give a damn if they did. They're not going to be up at the crack of dawn beating down doors over some stone. We're talking about something much more serious."

"What do you mean?"

"The police are after Mr. Nakata because of it."

"I don't get it. He's the last person you'd ever imagine committing a crime. What kind of crime? And how could he be involved?"

"No time to go into that now. You have to get him out of there. Everything depends on you. Are we clear here?"

"I don't get it," Hoshino repeated, shaking his head. "It just doesn't make any sense. So they're gonna tag me as an accomplice?"

"No, but I'm sure they'll question you. Time's a-wasting. Don't bother your head over it now, just do as I say."

"Listen, you gotta understand one thing about me. I hate cops. They're worse than the yakuza-worse than the SDF. They're awful, the things they do. They strut around and love nothing better than tormenting the weak. I had plenty of run-ins with cops when I was in high school, even after I started driving trucks, so the last thing I need is to get into a fight with them. There's no way you can win, plus you can't shake 'em off afterward. You know what I mean? God, how'd I get mixed up in all this? You see, what I-"

The phone went dead.

"Jeez," Hoshino said. He sighed deeply and tossed the cell phone into his bag, then tried to wake Nakata up.

"Hey, Mr. Nakata. Gramps. Fire! Flood! Earthquake! Revolution! Godzilla's on the loose! Get up, already!"

It was some time before Nakata woke up. "I finished the beveling," he said. "The rest I used as kindling. No, cats don't take baths. I'm the one who took the bath." Obviously in his own little world.

Hoshino shook the old man's shoulder, pinched his nose, tugged at his ears, and finally roused him to the land of the living.

"Is that you, Mr. Hoshino?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's me," Hoshino replied. "Sorry to wake you up."

"No problem. Nakata was going to get up soon anyway. Don't worry about it. I finished with the kindling."

"Good. But something's come up-something not so good-and we have to get out of here right now."

"Is it about Johnnie Walker?"

"That I don't know. I've got my sources, and they told me we better make ourselves scarce. The cops are after us."

"Is that right?"

"That's what he said. But what happened with you and this Johnnie Walker guy?"

"Didn't Nakata already tell you?"

"No, you didn't."

"I feel like I did, though."

"No, you never told me the most important part."

"Well, what happened was-Nakata killed him."

"You gotta be kidding!"

"No, I'm not."

"Jeez Louise," Hoshino muttered.

Hoshino threw his belongings into his bag and wrapped the stone back up in its cloth. It was the same weight as it had been originally. Not light, but at least he could carry it. Nakata put his things in his canvas bag. Hoshino went to the front desk and told them something had come up suddenly and they had to check out. Since he'd paid in advance, it didn't take long. Nakata was still a bit unsteady on his feet but could walk. "How long did I sleep?" he asked.

"Let me see," Hoshino said, doing the math. "About forty hours, give or take."

"I feel like I slept well."

"No wonder. If you don't feel refreshed after that kind of record-breaking sleep, then sleep's kind of pointless, isn't it. Hey, you hungry?"

"Yes, I am. Very hungry."

"Can you hold off a while? First we have to get out of here, as soon as we can. Then we'll eat."

"That's all right. I can wait."

Hoshino helped him out onto the main street and flagged down a cab. He told the driver the address, and the driver nodded and sped off. The cab left the city, drove down a main thoroughfare, and entered a suburb. The neighborhood was upscale and quiet, quite a contrast from the noisy area near the station where they'd been staying. The ride took about twenty-five minutes.

They stopped in front of a typical five-story neat-as-a-pin apartment building. Takamatsu Park Heights, the sign said, though it was on a level expanse with no park in sight. They rode the elevator up to the third floor, where Hoshino found the key, sure enough, under the umbrella stand. The apartment was a standard two-bedroom place, with a dinette kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The place was brand new, by the looks of it, the furniture barely used. The living room contained a widescreen TV, a small stereo, a sofa and a love seat, and each bedroom had a bed already made up. The kitchen had the usual utensils, the shelves stocked with a passable set of plates, cups, and bowls. There were smart-looking framed prints on the walls, and the whole place looked like some model apartment a developer might come up with to show new clients.

"Not bad at all," Hoshino remarked. "Not much character, but at least it's clean."

"It's very pretty," Nakata added.

The large, off-white fridge was packed with food. Muttering to himself, Nakata checked out everything, finally taking out some eggs, a green pepper, and butter. He rinsed off the pepper, sliced it into thin strips, and sautéed it. Next he broke the eggs into a bowl and whipped them up with chopsticks. He pulled out a frying pan and proceeded to make two green-pepper omelettes with a practiced touch. He topped this off with toast and took the whole meal over to the dining table, along with hot tea.

"You're quite the cook," Hoshino said. "I'm impressed."

"I've always lived alone, so I'm used to it."

"I live alone too, but don't ask me to cook anything, 'cause I stink at it."

"Nakata has a lot of free time and nothing else to do."

The two of them ate their toast and omelettes. They were still hungry, so Nakata went back to the kitchen and sautéed some bacon and spinach, which they had with two more slices of toast each. Starting to feel human again, they sank back on the sofa and had a second cup of tea.

"So," Hoshino said, "you killed somebody, huh?"

"Yes, I did," Nakata answered, and gave a detailed account of how he stabbed Johnnie Walker to death.

"Man alive," Hoshino said when he'd finished. "What a freaky story. The police would never believe that, no matter how honest you are about it. I mean, I believe you, but if you'd told me that a week ago I would have sent you packing."

"I don't understand it myself."

"At any rate, somebody's been murdered, and murder's not something you just shrug off. The police aren't fooling around on this one, not if they've trailed you out here to Shikoku."

"Nakata's sorry you had to get involved."

"Aren't you gonna give yourself up?"

"No, I'm not," Nakata said with uncharacteristic firmness. "I already tried to, but right now I don't feel like doing that. There are some other things Nakata has to do. Otherwise it's pointless for me to have come all this way."

"You have to close that entrance again."

"That's right. Things that are open have to be shut. Then I will be normal again. But there are some things Nakata has to take care of first."

"Colonel Sanders, the guy who told me where the stone is," Hoshino said, "is helping us lie low. But why's he doing this? Is there some connection between him and Johnnie Walker?"

The more Hoshino tried to unravel it, though, the more confused he got. Better not to try to make sense, he decided, of what basically doesn't make any. "Pointless thinking is worse than no thinking at all," he concluded out loud, his arms crossed.

"Mr. Hoshino?" Nakata said.

"What's up?"

"I smell the sea."

Hoshino went to the window, opened it, went out on the narrow veranda, and breathed in deeply. No sea smells that he could detect. Off in the distance, white summer clouds floated above a pine forest. "I don't smell anything," he said.