The cars parked outside the abandoned factory had been smashed, but the beat-up scooter the goons used for going to the stores, which was left lying on the ground, had been spared, probably mistaken for scrap material. Asian got on it and sped away from the factory.
He’d used pretty much all of his funds to get that drug shipment into Japan. As long as he made it out of this alive, though, he could always start again, he was sure.
His current priority was to escape with his life. He wouldn’t stop until he felt absolutely safe.
He made it to the city and left the scooter there. It was safer to use multiple means of transportation. Next, he’d get on the train to some rural town.
The sun had risen, but it was still early morning before rush hour. There were fewer people on the trains going out of the city than to it.
Asian sat down, the entire bench along the side of the train car empty. The gentle rocking of the train had a strangely calming effect on his agitated brain. Fatigue had finally caught up with him.
The train stopped at a station. When Asian heard female voices, he reflexively reached for his gun, a Glock 42. The pistol was so small he could almost hide it in his hand. Despite the size, though, it was perfectly capable of killing people.
A group of girls in school uniforms got on the train. Maybe they were heading to morning sports club practice.
He remembered his goons telling him they were attacked by cute girls. “Cute” was a subjective description, so it didn’t matter. The vital part was that the goon had definitely said “girls.” At a glance, their enemies were described as young girls as opposed to women. Were they children, then? Schoolgirls…?
Asian was suddenly sweating all over. The girls on the train started looking at him curiously. Why? Right… He was staring at them, sweating like a pig, with one hand under his shirt… It’d be a lie to say he didn’t look suspicious.
Asian stood up and walked to the end of the train car. He didn’t want attention. What if the schoolgirls called the cops on him…? Hold on. That was an idea!
Whoever his enemy was, it definitely wasn’t the police. The police didn’t employ underage girls. No, the enemy had to belong to some other criminal organization, like him and Bulldog. Which meant they couldn’t use the N-system or city CCTV cameras to track him.
He should’ve thought of that sooner. He would have if he hadn’t been so panicked and tired. Not being able to think clearly put him at significant risk, given the situation.
Asian told himself to calm down. He was likely safe. Everything was going to be all right. He’d get away from the city and lose the enemy for good.
There was one problem, though—his gun. In the peace-loving country of Japan, a gun made you unstoppable, no matter who you were. But at the same time, guns were considered a big deal, and if anyone spotted him carrying one, things would escalate fast. In Japan, a gun was at once like an ace up your sleeve and a joker that could be your downfall.
Shit. He was already looking suspicious, and those schoolgirls might report him…
He had a fake ID, and his behavior on the train could be explained away by him being drunk, but if he got searched…
The small firearm with a six-round magazine was fine for self-defense, but it wouldn’t save his bacon in a full-on gunfight.
Asian changed train cars, thinking hard about the merits and demerits of holding on to his gun. They seemed pretty evenly balanced.
Then he had an idea.
He walked all the way to the last car, which was quite empty. There were only two sleepy office workers and a timid-looking schoolgirl. Perfect.
Asian sat down in the middle of the car and stealthily removed his gun from the inner pocket of his shirt. He reached behind and stuffed the weapon deep into the gap between the upholstered backrest and seat. If anyone called the cops on him, he’d stand up and pretend the gun wasn’t his. If nobody bothered him, he’d ride to the last station, put the gun back in his pocket, and get off the train. It was the safest course of action.
He could finally breathe easy. At first, he’d been wary of the schoolgirl, but she had been in this train car before him, so she was unlikely to be a pursuer. Besides, she seemed timid and looked too delicate to be able to fight anyone.
The next station might have been a bigger town since that was where everyone else in the car got off, including the schoolgirl. Asian was relieved. There hadn’t been any reason to be on guard against her after all. The train was heading toward a rural area, so he reckoned nobody would be getting on there…but he was wrong. Two uniformed schoolgirls entered his train car.
Asian tensed up, but when the girls started talking about some zombie movie, he relaxed again and closed his eyes. He was too nervous and really needed a rest.
“In older movies, it’s excusable, but when I see newer ones where most of the action takes place in the dark, I feel like they’re just being cheap, you know? I get that sometimes it’s because they don’t have a big budget, but when they do, why not actually let us see what’s going on? I think that’d make it both cooler and scarier.”
“It’s the atmosphere. Darkness triggers an innate, primal fear. I can’t imagine a horror movie without it.”
Asian listened to their exchange, siding with the first girl. Darkness wasn’t usually employed for fear but for an element of surprise. And surprise wasn’t the same as fear. Asian liked horror movies, but jump scares didn’t do much for him.
“I get it about the atmosphere, sure—dark vibes. Great in a book, but I want to see all the details in a movie. Why else—?”
“Right, so it’s not about the production values at all, is it? You’re just greedy. You don’t want anything left for your imagination. You want it all served up on a silver tray.”
No, that’s not it, Asian thought. He had a eureka moment. The girls weren’t talking about the same thing. That was why they had drastically different views. One was talking about action movies, the other about horror. Zombie flicks fit into both categories, and you’d judge them differently depending on whether you saw them as the former or the latter.
“I’m greedy? I don’t really agree with that. And what do you think, Asian?”
What?
Asian’s eyes shot open. He couldn’t see anyone in the train car… No, the girls were there. They were sitting on either side of him with their arms crossed, pointing a gun at his ribs.
His goons’ description of the attackers as cute young girls was justified.
“Hold on, if you shoot me now, the bullets will go through my body and hit you too. You’re planning on committing suicide?”
“Don’t worry, my ammo’s nonlethal. It does hurt pretty bad, though.”
“I’m using full metal jacket bullets, but they’re reserved as a backup in case Chisato makes a mistake. And it doesn’t matter if they pass through you. Our uniforms are bulletproof.”
They spoke to him calmly, in the same casual tone as when talking about zombie movies. That was how Asian knew they were pros—experienced and confident. He wouldn’t have a chance to pull out the Glock 42 he’d stuffed behind the seat cushion.
He smiled with resignation, deciding he might as well talk with the girls about movies until they reached the next station. He told them that to judge a zombie movie fairly, you had to first state whether you were assessing it as an action or horror movie. The girls readily agreed that it made a lot of sense.