Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  Fry watched as the dragon reared her head and bit the man in half.

  The taller man kept shooting, but a moment later, he noticed he couldn’t hear his partner firing and glanced behind him. The man spit out colorful curses in Japanese and backpedaled, taking aim at the dragon. Blood dripped from her jaws as she roared and charged him. One of her massive clawed feet slammed him into the ground. Fry heard the man’s bones crunch under the force. A sickening wheeze escaped the man as the dragon shifted her weight. Fry swallowed hard as Baba Yaga lowered her head and tore the thin man in half, gulping down his upper torso. Gore splattered to the cave floor as the dragon fed and then finished off the remains of the other man.

  Then she turned her glowing hellfire eyes in their direction.

  Fry quickly hit the ground and mimed for Kamala to stay quiet.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Cold sweat poured down Fry’s bald head as he heard the air to their right stirring as the dragon inhaled and hissed out an exhale. Both of them held their breaths. Fry’s finger lowered over the trigger of the assault rifle as the silence stretched. Kamala edged one hand across the trigger of her cold gun, but Fry shook his head, mouthing, “Nowhere to run. Wait.”

  After several terrifying seconds, the great dragon snorted and turned around, her tail sweeping over their heads by mere inches. She crawled down the passageway and disappeared around the bend. Neither Fry nor Kamala breathed until the tip of her tail vanished from sight.

  “Bloody hell,” Kamala gasped. “I don’t understand. How did she not smell us?”

  “Thank whatever god you worship,” Fry said, pushing onto his knees and gesturing towards their surroundings. “Baba Yaga just torched this place. We’re covered in ash and dirt, which might’ve blocked her sense of smell. Half the room is still smoldering, too, so that might’ve contributed to her missing us after she…” He licked his lips. “…fed.”

  He kept an eye on the way the dragon had gone and then stood. “We’re going to tail her until she gets topside and then strike. We’ll give her a huge lead and go slow. We don’t want to be in these tunnels if she attacks.”

  “No,” Kamala said, swallowing hard at the wide puddle of blood and the discarded assault rifles; the only things left of the mercenaries who had attacked them. “We don’t.”

  Escape artistry was not on the list of things Jack had learned as a scientist, but he was damned sure giving it a go.

  His shoulders burned with effort as he lurched forward as hard as he could, attempting to pull the thick nylon rope that bound him loose to no avail. He slumped back after a while, panting, and then tried to calm the screaming panic echoing through his head at being bound. His mind flashed on the first time it had ever happened; as a scared thirteen year old boy pinned beneath three larger teenagers in the boys’ bathroom, their cruel cackles bouncing off the walls as they took shots at him. He pushed the horrible memory aside and slowed his breathing, knowing he’d slip into shock at the rate he was going.

  “Get a grip, Jackson,” he growled under his breath and shut his eyes. “Think. That’s the way out of this. Brains, not brawn.”

  Once the panic attack subsided, Jack opened his eyes and analyzed his situation. She’d taken his cold gun and tank as well as the utility belt. He still had the suit on, at least, but that wouldn’t do him any good until he untied himself. The bonds on his wrists were expertly tight and felt as if they were double-knotted. The gloves on his fingers made it impossible to try to grip them well.

  “Friction,” he muttered, glancing down at his legs. “We need some friction.”

  Jack gathered his knees beneath him and started trying to push himself up from a sitting position. He groaned with the effort; she hadn’t allowed any slack around his chest, so he could barely lean forward. The ropes constricted his lungs until he coughed and he went limp again, catching his breath.

  “C’mon, Jackson. Think Patrick Swayze. Pain don’t hurt.” He tried again, pulling his ankles inward and gaining small steps. He clenched his teeth as the pain in his ribs sharpened to unbearable proportions and sweat slipped down his forehead into his eyes. He shook his damp hair out of his face and finally managed to work his feet beneath himself. He shoved himself upward and felt the ropes rolling lower as he rose inch by inch until he stood, still pinned to the tree. The ropes had slid down to his waist and he could feel some slack, as his chest was broader than his waist. His muscles ached, but he started lifting and dropping his arms so that the rope rubbed against the rough bark of the tree trunk. He kept at it for a while, calculating that he’d done it for close to half an hour, before he could finally feel the bonds getting looser.

  Jack set his feet against the base of the tree and leaned forward as far as he could go until he felt his hands go numb from the constriction of the rope. Then, the rope snapped free.

  Jack fell flat on his face.

  “Goddammit, Patrick Swayze,” the exhausted scientist mumbled. “You lied to me.”

  He rolled onto his side and waited for the pain in his bruised nose to subside. Once it did, he sat up and wiped what he could get of the mystery substance Aisaka had poured into his mouth off his face.

  “Now for the gross part,” Jack sighed, standing. He leaned over a bush, pulled off one glove, and stuck a finger down his throat. He retched the contents of his stomach and spat until he ran out of saliva for the time being, hoping it would expel the majority of the substance. He didn’t recognize whatever it had been from taste alone, but he doubted it was actual poison, as he would have succumbed by now. The working theory didn’t make him feel any better—perhaps something to dehydrate him so that he couldn’t escape the forest.

  With a sinking feeling, Jack checked the control panel built into the suit. The screen was cracked. He felt a bruise on his forearm and suspected that Aisaka had probably stomped on it. Plus, sections of his suit were still cracked and stiff from the heat damage of Baba Yaga’s fire. He tried several times in different ways to see if he could turn it back on, but no such luck.

  Aisaka’s cold words floated through his mind. Die well.

  Jack shivered and pushed the thought aside. He felt his pockets and discovered the dragon tracker and his cell phone were missing as well. “Great. Just great.”

  Jack walked along the forest until he reached a relatively clear patch and stared up into the sky, locating the sun and estimating how much time had passed since he’d been unconscious. Maybe an hour.

  “Alright,” Jack said. “Dr. Friedman said if we got separated to stay put until they could do a sweep to find me. Wandering gets you lost.”

  He frowned. “Though he gave us that advice before Aisaka and her goons showed up. If one of them finds me, I’m toast. And if the dragon finds me, I’m just as toast, if not more.”

  Jack started pacing and running scenarios through his head. He knew the direction of sunset and sunrise, but he hadn’t thought to check where the front entrance to Aokigahara was in reference to that. He could sit tight and wait for help to arrive, but with fourteen miles of woods to hunt through, odds were good he wouldn’t be found for days at a time. He’d been looking in the direction Aisaka had gone, but she disappeared downhill and he’d have no way of knowing which way she went afterward. The suit had a GPS tracker, but with the magnetism throwing most electronics off, he couldn’t rely on that either.

  Jack shook his head. No, he was thinking too far into the future. The first thing his father taught him about being lost in the woods was locating water. The average person could last around seven days without food, but only three days without water. Plus, water sources often led to civilization one way or another. Still, he didn’t recall hearing that the forest had any bodies of water in it, so he’d have to get clever and find small ponds or work his way back to the cave system. What little wildlife there was here would possibly clue him in for watering holes.

  “She could have at least left me a gun, Jack Sparrow-style,” Jack grumbled, walking to the cres
t of the hill and trying to recall where he’d seen Aisaka go. She hadn’t left much of a trail, but there was one. Unless she’d broken into a sprint, she couldn’t be that far ahead of him. Maybe he could catch up and ambush her, figure out what she’d given him, and figure out how to get back to the hunting party.

  “And maybe Gina Torres will come flying down on angel wings and carry me back to camp Big Damn Heroes-style,” he added morosely as he considered his thoughts. “Should have told Kamala the truth, you asshole. Karma’s a bitch. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Jack tucked the length of rope into his pocket before leaving, hoping it could help in some small way during the journey. He trudged after the slightly disturbed plant life in the direction Aisaka had started. He’d been walking for a while when he felt an unsettling prickling along the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He slowed his pace and began to check his surroundings. The trees were closely packed together; plenty of places for someone to hide, although he’d be able to hear Baba Yaga from a mile away. Nothing betrayed a potential threat. He only heard the crunch-crunch of his boots on the loam and sparse grass or the occasional snap of twigs and fallen branches.

  An uncomfortable tingle pervaded through his limbs and up through his scalp. His mouth felt dry, and not from the vomiting he’d done a while ago. His instincts told him he wasn’t alone, despite the fact that his senses couldn’t corroborate the feeling.

  “This forest wants you dead.”

  Jack gritted his teeth and ignored the unsettling warning Dr. Friedman had given him. “This is real life, not Paranormal Activity. No such thing as ghosts.”

  He took another step and heard an unusual crunch beneath his boot. Frowning, Jack glanced down.

  He’d stepped on a human skeleton.

  “Fuck!” He swore, scrambling to one side, his eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. He licked his lips and tried to calm down, but his heart refused to quit imitating one of Mel Taylor’s drum solos. From what he could tell, he’d stepped on a half-buried upper torso. The bones were picked clean and bleached by the sun, though they were crusted with dirt. The hill had almost swallowed it whole, as a result of the rain and perhaps a mudslide. Small green plants had sprung up between the skeleton’s ribs. There were still little scraps of cloth on it—plain blue wool. Maybe the person had been wearing a suit when they died.

  Jack shivered and crossed himself, muttering an apology for having disturbed the corpse. He wasn’t terribly superstitious, but he didn’t want to risk it.

  “Yeah,” he said weakly, happy he’d emptied his stomach beforehand. “That’s not foreshadowing at all.”

  Then a female voice spoke behind him.

  “Sunset.”

  Jack whirled around.

  No one was there.

  “Okay,” he said, staring at the empty forest. “Officially freaking out now.”

  He kept a brisk pace as he continued forward, his shoulders tight with tension, icy sweat trailing its fingers down his spine.

  “Think, Jackson. Use logic. Could be a wireless speaker hidden in the undergrowth. She’s trying to play mind games so you can’t find help.”

  He paused. “Shit. Talking to myself is definitely not a sign of a sane human being. Just walk.”

  After what he calculated to be a mile, he stopped and surveyed his surroundings. Aisaka’s trail had gone cold. The panic in his head turned up the volume. He clenched his fists and focused, suppressing the frustrated animal instinct to indulge in an anxious episode. The deathly quiet of the woods sent a billowing chill through him. He only heard his erratic breaths in his ears. The forest had an eerie silence to it, devoid of life aside from the plants. How many people had wandered into its depths and never found their way home?

  “Stop thinking like that. Shit’ll get you killed.” Jack steeled himself and opened his eyes. This time, he spotted a figure in the distance, dressed in dark clothing. Startled, he threw himself behind the nearest tree, waiting a handful of seconds before peeking around the trunk.

  The figure appeared to be walking away from him…in the direction of sunset.

  Jack narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences. Still, regardless of if it was friend or foe, he might have a chance to either get help or get supplies, so he began to follow them at a respectable distance.

  An hour of daylight left, Jack reminded himself.

  Tick, tock.

  "Sugimoto-san?"

  Dr. Yagami Sugimoto emitted an annoyed sigh, not bothering to look up from his clipboard.

  "Yes?"

  "You have a visitor."

  "I'm busy. Tell them to see my sister."

  "It is your sister."

  Yagami perched his glasses on his forehead and rubbed his sinuses. "Fine."

  He didn't stop writing as the door opened and he heard the sharp clicks of three-inch heels across the linoleum floor. "Yes?"

  "Afternoon to you too, onii-san," Keiko Sugimoto said, an almost-smile on her bright red lips. It wasn’t hard to tell they were related; they had the same nose and cheekbones, though Keiko had inherited her mother’s fuller lips. She wore a custom black suit with a red silk blouse beneath it. She’d always been the type to go for power colors. "I see your work demeanor hasn't gotten any warmer over the years."

  "What do you want, Keiko? I'm not in the mood for chitchat."

  She folded her arms. "I have concerns about Aokigahara."

  He scowled. "Who doesn't, by this point?"

  "The agent I've placed at the campsite said that Aisaka and her men infiltrated the forest, but Aisaka went off mission to go find the doctor." She paused. "Dr. Jackson, I believe? That's a personal vendetta. We didn't make this arrangement with the Inagawa-kai and the Yamaguchi-gumi for them to go off-script."

  "Blame your ex-boyfriend for this mess, not me. Again, what do you want?"

  She narrowed her brown eyes at her brother. "Tou-san says not to worry. My gut says otherwise. I want to know if you think we need to course-correct."

  Yagami sighed and finally glanced at her. "In what way?"

  "Pull back. Let the scientists retrieve the dragon and then intercept later. The site is getting too much attention. It took strenuous negotiations to convince the Yamaguchi's oyabun to let the Red Fist move in to retrieve the dragon. If he makes another move, one that is loud, we risk being discovered."

  "You've held them off for this long. I don't see why you can't keep it up."

  "The only way any of this works is misdirection. We can't get the dragon back when we can't procure the yakuza's cooperation."

  "You're never going to get it fully. You know that. They're criminals. Hell, they turn on each other at the drop of a hat. What loyalty should they have to you?"

  "Profit. Influence. What more do they need?"

  "The yakuza may want that, but they care more about honor. The Red Fist fanatics were foaming at the mouth to volunteer once the dragon broke out. I'm still not convinced it wasn't their doing that she got out in the first place. They want to resume the dragon-hunting wars at any cost. As for the Yamaguchi, I am sure the oyabun intends to crack the cloning code himself and start selling dragons off to the highest bidder."

  Yagami snorted. "He'd probably start some kind of dragon Fight Club."

  "Precisely. I want to give the order for them to pull out and use my own men to extract the dragon en route to its holding facility."

  "Do you know where it's going once they have it?"

  "My agent is still trying to find out now. We should have a location soon. Our communication is sporadic, since the forest throws pretty much all electronics into chaos."

  "If you want my advice, consider the consequences. You can order the Red Fist to stand down, but there is an excellent chance that they won't listen to you and stay onsite to capture the dragon anyway. Then you'll have to discipline them and you'll risk putting us right back where we were a month ago. The negotiations only happened at Kazu--" Yagami shut his
eyes for a second, cursing his familial instincts. "--at Okegawa's urging, and he's out of the picture, perhaps for good. That means you'll have to petition Tou-san yourself to get them under control. They won't listen to you."

  Keiko frowned. "And what are the odds if Tou-san gives the order that they will cooperate?"

  "Slim. We have influence and money, but they are still yakuza at heart. They will protect their own interests and they will fight if we leave them no choice."

  She sighed. "This is why I wanted them out of the picture. They make a mess of everything."

  "Well, you get in the bed with snakes and you risk getting bitten. Is that all?"

  She lowered her lids a bit, giving him a cold stare. "I didn't miss that, you know."

  "What?"

  "Kazu."

  Yagami's face thinned in anger. "Don't."

  "You can't fool me, onii-san. I know you. I know you've had your people regularly checking up on him. Seeing if anything can be done to revive him."

  He turned his back on her. "I've done nothing of the sort."

  "Fine. Deny it all you want, but he's still your little brother. You care whether you want to or not. You care about him in a way that you've never cared about me."

  "Keiko--"

  "And I don't care. I've never cared. When mom died, you shut me out just like you shut our father out. It's hopeless. He's not coming back, onii-san. Do yourself a favor and pull the plug. Otherwise, you'll be just as dead as he is."

  He heard her heels click as she walked out of the lab. Her words settled over his skin like a layer of frost, chilling him to the core. Yagami shook his head slightly and pulled his glasses back down onto his nose.

  The door opened a second time. Softer footfalls. "I have the results, Yagami-san."

  He faced a small Japanese woman with fine features and her long hair pulled back in a bun. Like him, she wore a lab coat and scrubs. She handed him a stack of papers.

  "Thank you, Minako-san." He read carefully, flipping pages. "Heard anything back from the forensics at Lab One?"

  "Some," she said, taking the clipboard he offered to her and checking his calculations. "The popular theory is that someone undid the dragon's muzzle, allowing her to start ripping up her cell. Once she breathed fire, it ignited a gas line and caused the explosion."