The Maid

by Yasutaka Tsutsui

  Once more Nanase’s antennae picked up this weak signal. Nanase spread out her feelers as she looked around her, but she couldn’t find anyone who seemed to hate Sachie.

  The coffin was placed inside the hearse. Eight limousines were on hand to take the relatives to the crematorium, but no one wanted to ride with Shintaro. Nanase and Sachie had to take charge of him, supporting the hysterical man on both sides.

  Shintaro cried for almost the entire half-hour ride.

  Inside the car, Nanase went over the faces of all the guests, and also searched Sachie’s mind, looking for the person who was emitting those faint signals of anger. But she couldn’t figure anything out.

  She felt the signal for a third time when she stood in line with the relatives to watch the coffin go into the furnace. She stared terror-stricken at the coffin.

  How could I not have noticed before, she chided herself. Shintaro’s wailing was now even louder than ever, but she no longer heard it. All she could do was stare at the coffin, unable to move. She should have known right away that the consciousness was too weak to belong to a healthy person. No, even a sick person would have clearer thoughts than this. Was this the tenacious spirit of the dead then? Were these the remnants of a dying person’s wrath left to float through the atmosphere? No, that wasn’t it.

  On the contrary, these thoughts, as intermittent as they were, seemed to be getting stronger and clearer all the time, gradually asserting their existence. Nanase stared, bewildered, at the sealed iron door of the furnace. In spite of the iron barrier, the thought patterns were more distinct than ever. It was a consciousness Nanase knew only too well. It was Tsuneko!

  Had Tsuneko risen from the dead then? Had she come back to life inside the coffin? Was that possible? Nanase felt as if she had been hit over the head with a hammer. But even as she got over the shock, she was searching for some logical explanation for it all.

  Sachie. Sachie’s trying to kill me. She’s plotting with the doctor. And the maid.

  Shintaro. Shintaro. Open the lid. Get me out of here. I’m suffocating. It’s dark.

  Sachie. I’ll get you.

  The pain had turned Tsuneko’s venom into a violent churning anger. The intensity of the thoughts emanating from the furnace was making Nanase shake in horror.

  Nanase had read about incidents of premature burial. There was even a book claiming that people have little interest in the topic only because such cases are so rarely discovered, but in fact, resuscitation inside the coffin is far more common than anyone realized. The book showed how the posture of corpses dug up from graveyards proved that this horrible accident occurred one out of three times. Nanase had felt that instances of the dead coming back to life probably did happen before the advent of medical science, but they couldn’t happen in this modern age where death can be precisely determined and cremation has become the norm.

  Yet, in actuality, from inside her coffin, from inside the sealed furnace, Tsuneko was emanating a consciousness burning too strongly with anger and resentment to be considered that of the dead. And Nanase was the only one who knew that she had returned to life.

  Only me.

  Nanase flinched and, with head bowed, discreetly looked to her left and right. Neither the sobbing Shintaro nor the dozen relatives with their lowered heads had any inkling that Tsuneko had returned to life inside the soon-to-be-raging furnace. If Nanase didn’t say anything, Tsuneko would be burnt alive without anyone ever realizing it.

  If I don’t say anything.

  Nanase was in a quandary. A person’s life or death depended on her. She wondered if deliberately shutting her eyes could be considered an act of murder. But how could she possibly tell them? Should she scream out, begging them to remove the coffin from the furnace? Should she tell them that Tsuneko had come back to life inside the coffin?

  When she thought that far, Nanase was forced to shake her head weakly. No one would believe her, of course. She’d be dismissed as a sensitive young girl gone temporarily off the deep end.

  Even if they did remove the coffin and rescue the fully conscious Tsuneko, how could Nanase explain how she knew that Tsuneko had returned to life? No half-baked explanation would suffice. The event would be so out of the ordinary that newspapers might get wind of it. In which case, some people might guess her power. In the worst scenario, it might become public knowledge. No, never, never, never, thought Nanase. She wrung her hands. For what purpose have I hidden my telepathic power up until now?

  I don’t know anything, I’m not telepathic, I can’t hear anything, Nanase tried convincing herself. However, Tsuneko’s screams and cries from her blazing hell-on-earth had turned into roaring shock waves that came surging non-stop into Nanase’s mind.

  It’s hot. Hot. The smoke. My throat. Sachie. Sachie’s killing me. I’m being murdered.

  An image of Sachie’s distorted face, looking like a demon, came to Nanase.

  Sachie’s plotted to have me killed.

  Inside the fire, Tsuneko let loose her death cry. Consumed by the roaring inferno, her hair burst into writhing flames; she moaned like an animal facing death, paws clutching at air.

  Help! Help! Shin… Shintaro. Shintaro. Shinta… Help! It’s hot. Hot. Ohhhhhhhh…

  Sachie. You’ve plotted with the maid. The maid…

  When a deformed vision of Nanase’s own face appeared in Tsuneko’s thoughts, Nanase had to suppress a scream. She tried closing her latch and shutting out Tsuneko’s consciousness at the moment of death. But the frightening intensity of the dying woman’s virulence would not let Nanase have her way. Defenceless, rooted to the spot, Nanase could only tremble in fear.

  Because of the cremation, there’d be no proof that a body had regained life, so there were probably many instances of people cremated alive. This was just one example among many. Nanase kept making excuses to herself, but no matter what, she could not rid herself of the guilt she felt at so brazenly letting somebody die in order to protect herself. Nanase didn’t believe in God, but she had learnt that she could not take the place of God.

  Please forgive me. Die. Hurry up and die. Please die. You loved your son. As long as you’re alive, your son will never amount to anything. Die for him. For your son’s sake. Die for him.

  Ohhhh. I’m dying. I’m dying. Dying.

  I’m burning. Ashes. Ashes. Help. Help. I’m burning up. My whole body’s in flames. Burning. Burn… Ohhhhhh…

  Nanase clenched her teeth as these violent death cries reverberated inside her head. She joined her hands together in prayer, shut her eyes tightly and kept on chanting hoarsely.