Road to London: City of the Dead

XII – July 11th
There was no question where Hiya-kō was going. As soon as she heard Conrad’s relayed orders she had gotten up and begun walking towards the door. She had resisted reclaiming her closest companion until now. Before, wielding it in public could have caused panic or started disputes but there was no doubt in her mind now that Bunkatsu needed to be at her side. She did not know the meaning or significance of the events she had beheld mere minutes before. Violence the likes of which she had only seen in her wildest nightmares.

Normally when faced with a situation that troubled or confused her, Hiya-kō would have retreated to a quiet and secluded place that was familiar to her and here she would have meditated upon the subject until it was no longer a mystery to her. There had been no such opportunity in the hall where she now stood. Surrounded by terror and hysteria none of her perfectly reasonable criteria were filled. Still she took solace in the hope that soon she would be able to effectively reflect upon the afternoon’s proceedings. As mind-shatteringly horrific as they had been Hiya-kō would most certainly be able to make sense of them given time and proper atmosphere.

Now however was not the time. Hiya-kō, like everyone else at St. James’ had been given instruction to, within the allowed time of two hours, acquire instruments with which to defend themselves. For the Japanese girl, Bunkatsu was the only choice. As she reached the door she paused, remembering the American’s command that nobody should go anywhere unaccompanied at any time whatsoever. Never one to disobey a direct order she doubled back into the chaotic mess of teenagers, who were all still simply trying to get their heads around the last few hours.

Hiya-kō spotted the tall, dark one, who had used the small knife to fight by her side with the American. She tapped him on the shoulder. This one was shaking, but not from fear. Enthusiasm rather. The kind of excitement, she sensed, that came with finally breaking free from the monotony of everyday life. This one was foolish perhaps but she suspected could prove himself useful. When he turned to face her she signalled for him to follow. It was then that she noticed he was holding the hand of the tall, African girl. The champion. She would also do.

Not caring to wait for a response Hiya-kō began walking towards her boarding house. Lavender House was not far from here but she kept her pace high. Though it would take her only a few minutes to procure Bunkatsu, she guessed that the other two in her party were not so concerned with being punctual and that it may take quite some time for them to locate suitable armaments.

She was grateful that the couple who followed in her wake made no attempt to harass her with pointless questions regarding their destination. To say that Hiya-kō was not one for small talk would be akin to proclaiming that milk makes for a rather ineffective ink substitute. These two were but temporary assets for ensuring her life were in as relatively low danger as possible between now and the time in the very near future when she would be appropriately equipped for such bizarre circumstances as today’s.

It was now that Hiya-kō noticed that the headache she had been afflicted by for the last few weeks had finally begun to recede. It had been an aggravatingly annoying sensation just behind her eyes that had tempted her to blind herself with a red hot poker, just to be rid of the feeling. The releif was probably due to the adrenaline she had experienced earlier.
Pushing the pain away, perhaps for it to return in only a few hours. She hoped not.

Hiya-kō heard a grunt as Israel stumbled over the limestone steps that led up to Lavender. The peculiar Sun had not even set and this thug’s clumsiness had already become apparent. She delicately danced up the flight of stairs, not making a sound as she did so.
Upon reaching the old, wooden door she took great caution while turning the handle and peering inside. Whatever they were, there could quite possibly be more of those things around and Hiya-kō was certainly not an individual partial to taking unnecessary chances.

As her eyes scanned the darkened, empty corridor she heard the lumbering brute approach from behind. He may as well have been a herd of stampeding buffalo for the noise he made. Hiya-kō hissed at him angrily until he stopped still and held his hands in the air like an imbecile to signify that he hadn’t done anything wrong. As infuriated as she was by Israel’s incompetence it appeared that the House was safe. She slowly entered; followed by Latiwa who she was pleased to see was making more of an effort to maintain subtlety.

Reaching out instinctively she flipped on the light switch which she knew sat above the radiator about a metre from the door. There was a dull hum as the cheap lights yawned into life, casting an inconsistant yellowish glow over the corridor. Content with the perceived safety of the house she skipped up the creaking staircase to the first floor, where her dormitory was. When she reached the door to her room she hesitated briefly before flinging it open.

It was just as she had left it. On the right side of the room Alice Carter’s possessions were strewn across the floor and her bed. Her roommate was a loud girl, who didn’t seem to be capable of tidying up after herself. Not an unpleasant person at all but a person whose items Hiya-kō could do without picking up all of the time. On the left side of the room however there wasn’t a single particle of dust out of place. All of her clothes were folded neatly into her wardroabe at the foot of her bed, waiting to be put away. The textbooks she had been planning to use the night before The Deaths were stacked neatly onto her bedside table.

Atop a wall bracket made from beautiful Japanese ash hung Bunkatsu. She walked slowly and carefully over to the weapon. When she reached it she sunk to her knees and bowed her head in respect. She could feel Israel and Latiwa behind her, watching as she rose and then took the katana from its place. At only one and a half kilograms the sword was hardly heavy, but Hiya-kō remembered struggling to swing the weapon as a young girl, under the critical tuition of her father and uncles. She had been told back then that in order to perform any given strike to the standard of perfection it required being practised ten thousand times. By this logic Hiya-kō was a master at all the techniques her mentors had taught her. The fruits of her labour were evident from the way her hands moulded perfectly to the shape of the grip.

She gently pulled the weapon from its sheath, revealing the glistening edge within. The blade was twenty-eight inches long, the handle another eight. Hiya-kō ran her palm along the flat of the cold steel, stopping to rub the family kanji, which was etched there, with her thumb. She closed her eyes for a moment and then put the sword back into its casing. Delving into her wardrobe she removed a long navy blue sash. Tying it around her waist she used it to hold the weapon like a belt.

Hiya-kō then reached down under her bed and dragged out her box of personal belongings. Under where the brown box had been sitting she ripped up the carpeting. Slotting her fingers into the gaps around a wobbly floorboard she tore this up as well and then prized the contents of the floor away. A small, flat container made from blackened steel. Taking a small bronze key from the chain around her neck she opened the strongbox and lifted off the lid. Israel’s eyes lit up and Latiwa gasped when they saw what was inside.

The 8mm Nambu handgun was very old. Carried by her great grandfather in the Pacific War against the Americans it had been forged over seventy years ago. But when her father had asked her to choose a firearm to take to England in order to protect herself, there had been no question. The fancy Colts and Glocks in her father’s armoury may be more powerful and reliable than this ancient device but they lacked any of its soul. Though it had been recovered next to her ancestor’s smouldering corpse, the three tiny lines scratched into the side of the pistol revealed that it had been used to strike down at least a trio of enemies in the name of the Emperor and his magnificent Empire.

There was a magazine in the box as well, next to eight tiny rounds that were perfectly aligned. Eight. That was all she had. That was all she needed. She turned to her companions. The curiosity in their eyes was blatant yet they said nothing. Hiya-kō held a single, slender finger up to mouth. Words were not necessary to explain the problems that could be caused if the other students discovered there was a firearm on the premises. In a country where guns were all but illegal the symbolism would prove much more problematic than the item itself would prove useful.

Latiwa made the action of a zip shutting across her mouth and Israel nodded. These two may have been famous for their brawn and aggression but neither were stupid. Hiya-kō bowed to the pair to show her appreciation for their agreed discretion. She then gestured to the couple and then made a sign of empty hands by holding her palms face up and wiggling her small fingers.

Israel looked at her blankly until she motioned for him to lead on. After letting out a cretinous “ooh” of understanding he left the room and the girls followed. He took them out of Lavender house and across the school site to Rosemary. As the three walked they passed a wide assortment of students who were scouring the school grounds for an armament that would make them feel safe at a time like this. After seeing what had entered the hall earlier Hiya-kō doubted that even the most fearsome of weapons would make most of these children (for children they were) safe. The shadow of a smile curled at the edges Hiya-kō’s lips as smelt the mix of wonder as fear when people noticed the impressive blade that hung from her side.

In a mirror of her own actions many had gone to their own boarding houses or to the sports lockers to retrieve bats, kitchen knives or DIY equipment. Those who were not residents of St. James’ but instead had been taken in off of the streets of Carmyu and given refuge here didn’t enter the houses with the others, but instead raided the Caretakers’ sheds and the Design and Technology block. Their efforts were rewarded with hammers, battery operated power drills and even a few more exotic options such as the razor from the guillotine and surprisingly a pickaxe.

Hiya-kō passed Richard Kang. He was a handsome Korean boy who was part of her social circle and who regularly attended her karate lessons. Though he was more than proficient at Tae Kwon Do he carried a long athletics javelin across his shoulders. He grinned at her when he spotted Bunkatsu as if he knew it wouldn’t have been long before it made an appearance. Of course it wouldn’t have been long. Kang had also tied some white cloth hand wraps around his knuckles as he did during sparring practise.

The threesome reached Rosemary house just as the Sun disappeared behind the hills that surrounded St. James’. The landscape was bathed in incandescent indigo glow which the living had grown to appreciate the beauty of, since it had first appeared only a few weeks ago. The light shone over the sheep and cows, which still grazed, blissfully unaware that their masters were long dead. Or were they? Hiya-kō paused in her tracks. The things that had attacked them today. The Dead. What if it wasn’t just here, some freak incident? What if the farmers in the surrounding country, what if the inhabitants of Carmyu had woken up? The thought was troubling. Why else would Conrad have sent them out to procure weapons?

Why indeed.

Upon reaching Rosemary Israel led the band down the stairs to the basement level. There was a common room here with a small television tucked into one corner and piles of battered board games and tattered books on the shelves. He dragged a tacky plastic chair into the centre of the room and stood on it. From here he pushed up one of the roof tiles and used his arms to feel around inside the roof cavity. From the hole he triumphantly drew a long, faded steel pipe. The pipe was attached to what appeared to be a large tap or some kind of plumbing join. Without waiting for the question that he knew would never come from Hiya-kō, he explained.

“You remember that flood we had a couple of years ago, when half the drainage in the school busted?” Hiya-kō said nothing so Israel continued anyway, “Well the repair blokes ditched this in a skip behind the boarding house. Naturally I nicked it and stashed it up here, fucking knew it’d come in useful one day!” He was beaming with delight.
“Israel you are such a caveman!” piped up Latiwa, who’d been silent for quite a while. The strong Nigerian accent amused Hiya-kō, even though she knew her own English was far from perfect. “If I knew you wanted a club so badly I would’ve brought you a real one back from Africa!”
I
srael punched her affectionately in the shoulder, in response to which Latiwa violently kicked him in the thigh. After yelling and falling to the floor, Israel recovered from the dead leg and lifted Latiwa off the ground in a loving bear hug. The two laughed as swung her around him. Hiya-kō watched on curiously. This certainly was a remarkable display of fondness.
“Your turn love,” said Israel to Latiwa while trying and failing to spin the pipe around his head like Fred Flintstone.
“You clearly do not know me well at all!” was her reply. She pulled her silver, shining knuckle dusters out from the inside of her jeans. “When would I ever leave these babies behind?”
She slipped them on effortlessly, as if they were made of ice. Hiya-kō cocked her head, as if to say “You would arm yourself only with those?” Latiwa picked up on the wordless question and nodded cockily. She was confident, but not beyond her means.

Hiya-kō was pleased with her warriors. The three of them were all deadly far beyond their years. Ready for whatever the world had to throw at them. She had plans also to recruit the American and the long haired Gothic One into her little militia. Whenever Hiya-kō had a feeling she acted upon it. And today she had a very, very bad feeling. When whatever she was dreading came, Hiya-kō would make sure that she was surrounded by allies who wouldn’t run in fear and wouldn’t fall at the first hurdle. Hiya-kō would need an army.