It was a factory located along the road. A highway could be seen in the distance. She proceeded to move the car into the parking lot. Many automobiles were parked in the facility. It seemed to me that half of them were clunkers. They were unlikely to be operational. The factory building was placed at the far end. As we got closer to it, I realized that the building did not have much depth. It was not that big in scale. If three cars were put in it, then it would be full.
She got out of the vehicle, and I followed her. On the way here, she had kept on looking behind our car to make sure that we were not tailed. Is she the one who is being pursued? Or, am I the one who is targeted? Either way, who might be on the track of us? They are not likely to be the police. As for the police, they came to her cabin last night. She herself is free of charge. So, I am the one who is being shadowed? But, I cannot think of any reason for the police to be after me. So, the likely cause of the pursuit, if there is any, is my company. Of course, I cannot recall the company name. To begin with, I know nothing about the organization of the company. I had been in the air force since the day I joined the company. The air force was not the only asset of the company. But, I did not know what type of military forces our company had. Are there such things as armed forces of other companies? If that is the case, do they cooperate with each other to fight alongside? I knew nothing about these matters. Probably, they did not give me the information. It was what I did not have to know.
Sagara might know such things, I thought. I also thought I should ask her to explain them to me. But, I would fail to get them straight in my mind. If I knew that, what the hell was I supposed to do? What would be the point of learning of the information?
Who is fighting with whom, and for what reason? Can we understand war just by remembering it in words? Absolutely not. That much I can understand. I know that with intuition.
That’s not the point. How shall I put it? It is heavier metal and more sludgy black oil. There is a willingness to fight like that kind of metal and oil, and touching them directly with the hands is closer to the concept of understanding them. If that is not the case, then I am sure that one day we will all be entangled in the mess. In the end, we’ll learn that we hate war. Everyone hates war. They are piling up the phrase “hate, hate, hate” like clunkers in this facility.
But we need a place to put the scrap metal.
They are covered in heavy metal and black oil.
It’s the same with any mechanism. They just put on beautiful bodies and render them invisible. All cars are like that. They shine with metallic paint jobs. The silver molds are shiny. The seats are just as fluffy as sofas. The wood-grain dashboards are smooth as picture frames. Fun music comes from the speakers. The fun and cleanliness hide the weightiness and blackness of the chassis. The key mechanism is hidden from view.
This rule does not apply to airplanes.
It is because aircrafts cannot afford to carry excessive weight in order to fly.
When an airplane is scrapped, a tombstone will be built at the location. The gravestone will read: I have flown to the maximum. Then, I shall return.
I sensed a smell of gasoline. Not bad.
I held back from smoking.
She started talking with a man in front of the factory building. He was a fat man in a blue work garment. He glanced at me several times. The man was smiling all the time. He was holding a monkey wrench, with which he could beat her to death. His arms were thick. The wrinkles on his hands must have soaked up oil and were stained. No matter how many times he washed his hands, they would give off the oil stench. When he holds a fork, his grip will be the same as that for a spanner. He bared his teeth and laughed aloud. Even if there was a wire in a sausage, his teeth would be able to chew and rip it. Impressive. He’s terrific like a machine.
The two of them were walking toward me.
“Yo. How ya doing, young man?” He said to me. He raised his hand that was not holding the wrench.
I bowed to him slightly.
“Are you really okay about that?” The man asked Sagara. “Obviously, your car is nicer than mine.”
“Can that car not go up a hill?”
“Yes, it can. I promise. If you shift gears properly, that car will climb any uphill slope.”
The man approached a white truck and tapped the front tire with the monkey wrench. Then, he moved to the rear wheel to tap it. He walked around the truck and came back toward us.
“You may wanna refill the gas tank.”
“Thank you.”
She handed the car key to the man. Then, she walked to the driver’s seat of the truck, and climbed into it as if she were going up to the jungle gym. She beckoned me from inside. I opened the door of the passenger’s seat.
“I’ve decided to replace my car with this one.” She said.
“Where are we going?”
“We will go back to my home once. I have something I really want to take with me.”
“And then?”
“To the place of that man, Hayase.”
“You mean the hospital?”
“No, there is a place that can shelter you. It is in a neighboring town.”
On her third attempt, the starter succeeded in getting the engine running. The truck swayed its body to the right and left, and then got out into the street.
She seemed to be having trouble shifting gears, but the truck ran anyway. By the time we passed under a highway, her driving had gotten steadier.
“I am accustomed to driving a truck. I used to drive it in the past.” She explained. “I like it because the driver’s seat has a great view.”
We pulled into a gas station. She stopped the engine and got out of the vehicle.
“Err, where is it ...?”