Chapter 13: Show Me the Genkiin!
As always, the road is quiet as the grave as I head towards the camping store. I remember that it was just opposite the station and the idea of going back to where I started seems strangely reassuring to me. However, the quiet is still nerve racking. It makes Umbake Machi seen unsettlingly normal – particularly in the sunlight. But I have also felt my confidence growing, which makes everything seem... less terrifying.
I have been trapped in Wandarando for the better part of a week now. I can't pretend I feel safe here, but the sense of relentless confusion and dread is finally starting to ease off. A lot of that comes from simple understanding how this place operates. For example, I may not understand why the convenience stores are cleaned and restocked every day. But I know that they are, and who is responsible for it.
I also know that the creatures here – whether bucket head, flesh semi, or grasper – may be violent and threatening. But that doesn't mean I can't hold my ground against them. Well, all of them except The God of Festering Fingers – that thing still scares the shit out of me. But as far as I can tell, so long as I don't go into there rice fields there really isn't anything much it can do to me directly.
A memory of my past flashes into my mind. I remember my training on my first day teaching English in Japan. A woman in her mid-thirties with a Canadian accent gave me a very simple piece of advice. "Keep your head down and your eyes forward. Sign in. Do what you gotta do. Then sign out as early as possible. Giving up your personal time is only going to get you noticed. Getting noticed is only going to give you more work. No one here is getting promoted. No one here is getting raises. So don't give them the idea that you are willing to work for free – in fact don't give them a damn thing. No one will value you for any hard work you do."
She must have been my trainer or supervisor of some kind since her face gives me a sense of assurance. But as I try to remember any other details besides her face and those words, I come up blank. Damn it! Who is she? Why can't I remember anything? All I want is a name or a first handshake!
My mind remains blank.
Still, it seems like sound advice – not just for Japan – but for Wandarando too. I only seem to get in real trouble when I go above and beyond. Like sneaking into the information centre, or following the crying in my "not dream". Hopefully after this trip to the camping store I'll be in a good enough position to just keep my head down like my old manager (or whoever she was) said. At least until I can formulate a serious escape plan.
As I pass the intersection that leads to the Seven Eleven, I consider taking a detour to stock up on a little extra food. But then I consider that I just made the decision not to try harder than I have too just a few moments ago so turn my attention forward again.
As I make my way down the street my mind drifts to the night before. To my "not dream". I had joked about this being some kind of isekai scenario. But if the things I'd seen were really meant to be some kind of clue, then could Wandarando really be some kind of purgatory world? Had a kid – one of my kids from the preschool – chased a ball into a road? If so, had I followed after and we had both gotten hit by a lorry truck?
Still, even if that is true it hardly answers all my questions. I mean, who is that woman who keeps appearing in the dreams? The Japanese girl who appeared to drop the ball? And why would I follow the kid? I mean it is a noble gesture and all. But pushing people out of the way of oncoming traffic doesn't work the same way as it does in the Hollywood movies. And I apparently am aware of that. So what the hell was I trying to do?
I shake my head, realizing understanding my motives without understanding my memories is a fools errand. Instead, I focus on the woman. She has seemed familiar both times I have seen her. But a bit like the Canadian woman, I can't seem to recall anything thing about her besides that I know her, and what she looks like.
I am approaching the river now. The bridge is right in front of me. The camping store is just beyond that. I decide to put any thoughts of the past to the back of my mind while I focus on scavenging. As I cross the bridge the ever silent train station comes into view. I glare at it for good measure. All it had to do was bring me a train that would take me out of this shit hole and back to the real world. But no! It just has to remain a non-sentient structure!
I sigh with frustration, then turn away from the station and look towards the door of the camping store.
'Huh...' I comment with a little surprise. My memories were a little hazy when it came to the camping store. But I could remember smashing a window or a door. At least I remember I broke in somehow. But the outside of the structure has the same aging wood board walls and windows caked with a layer of dust and grime as every other shop on the street.
I'm not all that surprised that the glass has been replaced. But that it has been replaced by tarnished materials clearly to make sure nothing loses that "miserable country town chic" look.
'This place is weird...' I mutter, and shuffle over to the door. I try the handle. It's locked – because of course it is.
'Crap...' I say with a sigh. I slide my backpack off so I have better flexibility and roll my shoulders to limber up. I briefly consider smashing the window again – I'm sure there is a rock or a brick or something around here. But with a little more thought I realize that idea is stupid dangerous for a whole number of reasons. Instead I examine the door handle. It's made out of cheap, decaying, metal; and the wood surrounding it is equally tired and old.
'Well, let's see how this goes then...' I say to the empty air. I then wedge my hatchet into the small crack between the door and the doorframe. As I tense my muscles I shimmy the head of the axe in as far as I can get it. The old wood creaks and groans in protest as my axe eventually comes to a stop.
'Okay, here goes,' I say. Then I push down hard on the shaft of the axe – essentially trying to use it like a crowbar. I hear the wood creak and groan, then eventually it buckles and breaks with sharp cracking sounds. The frame shatters, the latch "chonks", and splinters of wood go flying in every direction.
'Fuck yeah!' I say, mentally patting myself on the back as I kick the door and it swings open. I can't stop myself from grining as I grab my back pack by the top handle and step into the camping store. Time to go "shopping".
I quickly grab a few basics. A second sleeping bag, a trowel (like I had been desperate for), a few boxes of the energy bars, some matches and other fire lighting supplies and a first aid kit.
I am honestly shocked by how good my haul is! The only thing that I haven't found that I need is money for the cat. That being said... there is a register on the counter, and quite likely money inside it – knowing how Wandarando seems to be. I decide to take a closer look. Like everything in this town, the register looks old and tired. It's one of those old models, the kind with buttons and a key lock rather than a touch screen that is hooked up to a PC and an eftpos reader. For anyone who isn't familiar with modern Japan, cash is still pretty much the default form of payment here. Particularly if you go outside Tokyo or other major cities. Even during the pandemic the Japanese were reluctant to adopt cashless options. A small shop in a place like this that doesn't expect regular tourists. Visa never had a chance.
I frown at the register. In a lot of ways key locks are simple. All they really use is a bunch of mechanical parts. They don't scan fingerprints, or require photo ID. So long as you have the key, or at least something nearly identical too it, you can get into one no problem. However, I don't have the key. And who the hell knows where it could be? If this were a video game I'm sure it would be hidden in the store somewhere – probably behind some passcode lock that requires me to enter the shopkeepers, eldest daughters birthday or something. But in reality it is most likely it will be in the house of some random person – and by that I mean the owner. Who may or may not exist... I'm still not totally sure if normal people ever lived in Wandaroando...
I quickly decide finding the key is a lost cause. That means getting in will be a problem. However, still not impossible.
I spot a couple of mallets on display nearby. I then eye off the cash register. People have been cracking stuff open for treasure ever since the first Neanderthals realised egg yolks were delicious. A register may be harder to break open than an egg, but how tough can it be? And worst case situation I damage it in a way that means it's impossible to open. So what? It no doubt will be replaced tomorrow anyway.
'Fuck it!' I say, grabbing the mallet and going to town on the cash register. The chunking sound of hard rubber against plastic and metal fills the room. Metal buckles and bends out of shape and the plastic keys are crack and going flying off like confetti.
Unfortunately, despite all the smashing and crashing it all turns out to be basically worthless at actually getting into the cash box. Because it seems to still be sealed shut.
'Crap...' I mutter at the now warped and miss-shaped register. Still, there was something cathartic about just letting myself "trash" something. No guilt about it being alive. Just rage and frustration being let loose. I chew my tongue in thought for a moment. The weight of the oversized hammer feels good in my hand.
'Oh fuck it! One more can't hurt!' I exclaim, and thrust the head of the mallet into the side of the register, sending it falling off the edge of the counter.
The register crashes on the wooden floor with a chunky cracking sound. Then I hear a noise like "choong", followed by the scraping of metal. I can't help but smile.
I peer around the side of the counter to where the register fell. Instantly I feel a grin stretching from ear to ear across my face as I see the now decimated register half buried in a small dent in the floorboards. Coins and notes haphazardly scattered around it like petals from a dying flower.
I drop to the floor and start scooping the money up with a bellowing laugh. 'Yes, yes, yes!' I say in glee at the simple idea of something going so smoothly for me. In fact I am so lost in joy that I don't notice the tell-tale sound of metal crunching against metal from beyond the store. The kind of racket that only comes from large pieces of steel being pulled along by a large motor.
The racket keeps growing in volume however, and eventually it even manages to cut through my euphoria. 'What the fuck...' I murmur as my ears prick up at the sound. I feel my heart drop. I can let myself feel hope. This is to much going my way and I can't trust it... But I also can't ignore it... I stuff the coins I have in my hands into my pockets and drift over to the front window of the store. As I train my eyes across the street a fog-horn like sound bleats out over the town. My heart drops and I sprint outside.
'Holy shit!' I cry, as I spy a silver and blue eight carriage train rolling into the station. The engine and breaks hissing as they start to slow down at the platfrom.
'Holy shit, holy shit!' I say as my eyes grow wide. I then remember how impatient Japanese trains can be, and that I am all the way across the street. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck!' I to stammer out in panic as my heart starts to race. I sprint inside and grab my backpack. I can't waste a second. I had assumed that the only train in or out of here was the one that brought me in. That whatever brought me here was never going to let me leave. But another one is right there! All I have to do is get across this rode and I have my one way ticket out of this hell!
I tear across the street and up the stairs to the station. I reach the ticket gate and sprint through it – after all there is no one here to buy a ticket from even if I wanted to wait. I don't know how much a fare from Satan's arsehole to Tokyo would be these days but I got a pocket full of cash and I would happily pay any fine so long as it gets me to Shibuya.
As I stand on the platform I am momentarily stunned to silence. Salvation is pulling up right in front of me. I may still have countless questions about this Wandarando. And I can't help sparing a thought to how I'm abandoning Tire Iron. But at the same time, who fucking cares there is a train at the station!
The train stops and I immediately dash to the closest doorway. I all but smash the "door open" button in my excitement. It slides open and feel giddy with excitement as I dash on board.
At first the whole carriage seems empty. So I throw off my backpack and fall into one of the long bench seats. The ugly feeling of my butt against cheap polyester has never felt so wonderful. I find myself giving into temptation and starting to genuinely relax. I am even considering stretching out and just napping my way out of here.
I let my head roll back in the chair and stretch out my legs. The souls of my feet are all but throbbing. But there is a tingle of hopefulness that starts in my core and leads all the way down to my toes. I let a long and stress reliving sigh escape my lips. Then stop dead. My hole body tenses up again and I feel that all too familiar tightness in my chest as I start to remember... nothing in Wandarando can be god damn simple... This train is no exception as I just something in the corner of my right eye. Something that might be good, or might be bad. It's really hard to tell...
There is someone else on this train.
And I don't mean some kind of weird monster covered in writhing fingers. Neither do I mean any of the bucket head people. No. I mean there is an actual human woman less than a dozen meters away from me.
She's lying down – possibly asleep. I can see that much without turning my head. Her short black hair is flopped over her face like a mop. I let myself hesitate for a brief moment. I mean I must look a mess. I haven't shaved or really bathed for days now. My clothes are stained with blood, dirt and all manner of other grime. Yet she looks pretty normal. If I start staring she sees me she might freak out and scream bloody murder – which would be kinda fair...
But at the same time if she is a "real" person then this is an opportunity I can't afford to miss. Can I?
Fuck it I can't help myself! I turn my head around as naturally as possible to look at her properly. She looks like a fairly typical "Shibuya Meltdown" (a slang phrase for people stuck working for abusive companies that are so overworked they often pass out on trains or around stations – mainly Shibuya).
I can hardly say that she looks "okay". People in good health rarely pass out on trains after all. Her suit and skirt are crumpled, and her hair has the kind of matted look that comes with to much time outside in Japan's summer humidity. But she doesn't look "been pushed to the brink of insanity for days on end" bad. Just, "end of another 70 hour week" bad.
I'm glad she seems more or less okay. But I better not get caught staring. After all she's clearly... new... here... Fuck!
It suddenly hits me, she has been brought to Ombake Machi passed out on a train... Just like I was...
Fuck! Fucking fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck! This train isn't here to save me from this miserable place! It's just here to drop off it's next victim!
I naturally find myself getting up and walking over to the woman's unconscious body as I think. Okay... What to do? What to do? I need to think of my options.
I could stay right here and wait. Obviously the train cannot leave with out me if I am physically on the train. Not to mention if the woman wakes up I'll be there to explain the situation to her. I glance down at her again. Or at least I can try too... Most of her face is covered by her hair right now. But I can tell that she is Asian. Which likely means she's Japanese considering were I came from to get here.
Even if she was Korean or Chinese it's not like I speak anything besides English. Which even if she has fluent English language skills; how the hell would I explain Wandarando in a way that doesn't end with her running away screaming? I mean anyone thinking rationally would assume I'm a crazy person if I tried to explain this place? Okay... Sitting and waiting isn't a great idea...
Option two, I could throw her off? I know it's morbid. But if the train is here to abandon her, then maybe it will leave when she does and let me stay on board? And sure I may have said "throw off". But I would be careful not to hurt her in reality. I grimace at the thought. If I couldn't leave Tire Iron to his fate then how the hell am I going to talk myself into abandoning some perfectly normal person?
Okay, another swing and a miss... What about... I be a passive bitch? I run down a few train cars. I hide. And I just wait...
I wouldn't have to hurt anyone. And I might still be able to ride the rails out of here... As for the woman... I pause. Then I sigh. I know I can't bring myself to completely abandon her. I just don't have it in me to be that kind of arsehole.
I consider my options quickly before settling on trying to give her at least some kind of advice.
I turn around to face the opposite wall from the woman and pull out my hatchet. Then I scratch "DONT GET OFF" into the wall in big letters. I know it's in English. I know that there is every chance she won't be able to read it. But it's all I can do.
Afterwards, I turn and walk away.
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