Кобо Абэ - The Ark Sakura

“Get a load of him,” muttered the shill.

“He’s a spy,” said Sengoku, loud enough for the youth to hear. “He was a member of the Wild Boar Stew gang till just a few days ago. Inototsu paid him to keep us informed.” He turned to the youth. “Isn’t that so? Why don’t you say something? You’re the one who dragged junior high school girls into it, aren’t you?”

The youth shot him a wordless glance, his face a mask.

The girl turned around and asked Sengoku, “What’s all this about junior high school girls?”

“Ask Komono,” he said.

“It’s nothing for a woman to be concerned about,” said the youth in a crisp and businesslike tone.

“Watch what you say, kid, or I’ll let you have it,” she warned, crouching with her finger on the trigger.

He was unfazed. “Very impressive. But your panties are showing.”

“You idiot!” yelled the shill. “She means it!” He scooped up the surveying scrapbook from the floor by the toilet and hurled it at the girl. It grazed her shoulder and fell on the sight of the crossbow, knocking the arrow off course so that it glanced loudly against the drum and ricocheted up to the ceiling.

“What did you do that for!” cried the girl, jumping up.

The shill strode past her to the youth, and slapped him in the face. The youth leaped to the floor and raised his broom threateningly. “What’s the big idea?” he snarled.

“I’ll tell you the big idea, pal. You owe me a little gratitude. I just saved your life.”

Slowly the youth relaxed; then he began to fidget in evident embarrassment. “Uh, excuse me.”

“All right. That’s more like it.”

“Horrid little person,” said the girl. She held out her crossbow and the shill took it, drawing the bow to the full.

Sengoku, in apparent shock, pulled away from the wall, stiff with amazement; I, however, could guess what was going on. It had to be some sort of a trick by these two con artists. They had carried it off magnificently; the tables were entirely turned. Now was my chance to ask my question.

“There’s some kind of engine room under here, isn’t there?” I said. “You know about it, don’t you? Tell me how to get there.”

For the first time, the youth looked straight at me. His eyes dropped to the toilet, then rose again to my face. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Never mind,” said the girl, fitting another arrow to the taut bow. “Answer the captain.”

“We’ve had nothing to go on but copies of the sketches.”

“What sketches?”

With his broom handle the youth pointed to my scrapbook, lying on the floor where the shill had thrown it. The girl picked it up, smoothed the pages, and returned it to me.

“How do you know about this?”

“I borrowed it from that shelf and got it copied at a bookstore in town.”

A double blow. First the humiliation of having been hoodwinked by a pup like him, all the while I went on foolishly believing the scrapbook was my private secret. As if that weren’t enough, this destroyed my last hope of escaping by adjusting the mechanism in the pipes from below.

“But you people are holed up at the old tunnel site out by Kabuto Bridge, aren’t you?” I said in desperation. “It’s got to connect out there. Try to remember if there’s a tunnel leading down in. There’s got to be. That’s the only explanation.”

“Leading down under here, you mean?”

“Yes, exactly beneath here.”

“Then maybe that’s where. ”

“Does it ring a bell?”

“Isn’t there someplace you might have overlooked?” he said.

“Come on, tell me,” I begged. “At least give me a hint.”

“Down by the Kabuto Bridge entrance — the cave in the cliff facing Kabuto River, that is, on the east. I suppose you know there was a big cave-in there once.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, that cave comes to a dead end barely ten yards in.”

“That can’t be,” I protested. “Then how do you know there’s a room under here?”

“You just told me there was.”

“But you said I’d overlooked something.”

“How the hell else do you explain it?”

The girl re-aimed her crossbow, planting her feet firmly. “Watch the way you talk.”

“Excuse me.” He went on, his face still devoid of expression. “Actually we’d like to know too.”

Sengoku interrupted in seeming irritation. “That could be true. I know they’re out looking. All fifteen or so of the girls have disappeared.”

“Huh?” The shill swallowed noisily.

“You baited the tangerine grove entrance somehow, and lured them in from there, was that it?” Sengoku said casually.

“We gathered up runaways and brought them here,” the youth declared, speaking for the first time with youthful enthusiasm. “We’re not spying on you. We just wanted to do our own thing without any interference from adults. We were going to make our own village and settle down. So we negotiated with Mr. Inototsu, the head of the Broom Brigade, and paid some money and got a share of the rights to this place. We’ve got a perfect right to be here.”

“I don’t know what to make of this, do you?” said the shill, an eye on Sengoku’s face.

“Quit making excuses,” said Sengoku with a jumpy laugh. “You tricked those girls into coming here, and then you had the Broom Brigade attack — admit it.”

“No. Somebody was waiting for us in ambush,” said the youth.

“Who?”

“The pig here and his men.”

The shill ambled forward. “Now you’ve gone too far. Look here, you—”

“Never mind. Let him finish,” I said. At last I was beginning to see. The Wild Boar Stew gang, having been attacked, must have escaped through the dark maze of tunnels. In the process they had gotten separated and some — including all the junior high school girls — were lost. Their whereabouts were a matter of immediate consequence to me. This was nothing I could close my eyes to.

Addressing the youth, I said, “Until now the only one living here was me. The other three all just came on board today. You can ask Komono. I couldn’t attack you all by myself, now could I?”

“But we were attacked.”

“Yes. By the Broom Brigade.”

“No, they were there to protect us.”

“What an idiot!” shouted Sengoku, swinging his two arms before him, hands clasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve known plenty of liars, but here’s a guy who can’t face the truth. If what you say is true,” he went on, “why did everybody but you run away from them? Don’t talk nonsense. You knew there was only one person here. You knew everything. That’s because you’re a spy. Can you get that into your head?”

Suddenly the youth burst into tears. He pressed his forehead against the broom handle and sobbed, his shoulders heaving.

“Fool.” The girl lowered her crossbow and went back to the stairs.

“Try to remember,” I urged. “Where did you lose sight of the girls?” The maggots in my calf were as large as earthworms. I doubted my ability to remain sane through the next attack, whenever it might come. As soon as the worms sprouted legs and changed into scorpions or centipedes, it would be all over. If it came to that, I’d rather have them cut the damn leg off.

There was the echo of footsteps, their approach heightened by perspective. This time it was the insect dealer, as I could tell from the shadow of a massive round head in the doorway. He halted just before coming into view, and said in a rich, commanding voice:

“Very good. Two men remain here, and the rest of you go join the search squad. That’ll be all.”

Was this really the insect dealer? Of course it was. I breathed easier when he stepped into sight.