I, Hell

by Ben Stevens

  Then he suddenly gave a big sigh.

  ‘It’s done,’ he declared. ‘I have to die now but – my work has been completed. My film, I mean. Finally, I’ve achieved something.’

  Miyuki didn’t really understand but still she nodded. Nothing mattered anymore, anyway. There was almost a telepathic understating between the six men and women left on the roof. They joined hands, Henmi at last placing his precious phone in his pocket, and together with the others stepped up onto the low concrete wall.

  ‘Don’t look,’ Miyuki’s mother told her. ‘We just step forward and…’

  ‘I love you, mom,’ said Miyuki, her eyes slightly misted with tears as she stared straight ahead at the city skyline, Mount Fuji there in the blue distance, but her voice surprisingly steady.

  ‘I love you too, Miyuki.’

  Miyuki sensed everyone in the line about to take a step forwards. She began moving her own right leg when –

  Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp…

  The sound came from some distance away but quickly grew nearer. A strong wind was now being created by the mighty whirling blades of the colossal green American military helicopter, which circled in front of the six survivors, almost forcing them to take a step backwards off the low wall.

  ‘All of you lie down, now! On the ground!’ declared a voice (in Japanese), through a loudspeaker.

  ‘Now!’ barked the voice again; and then Miyuki was virtually pushing her mother and the others to the ground, and slapping Henmi’s hand as he again tried to get out his smartphone.

  The living dead were barely two feet behind, snarling and dribbling, about to fall on the seven survivors…

  But then the helicopter’s mighty cannons opened up. The noise was deafening, insane; hot metal whizzed inches above Miyuki and the others, chewing the creatures to pieces. Miyuki felt herself being almost peppered with small body parts, the creatures virtually exploding as they were hit with the awesome firepower.

  Miyuki’s mother again took hold of her daughter’s hand, squeezing it and squeezing it hard as the American army helicopter continued to fire and fire and fire…

  Some months later…

  Gentle piano music played, Miyuki and a few other students stood at the front of the school hall, facing the students seated on lines of chairs. But still – despite a new year having recently started – there were noticeably fewer students than there had been…

  Before…

  The many photos of those who’d died – who’d become the walking dead – from the Aoyama high-school, students and teachers, were displayed on a large white board behind Miyuki and the few others who were today special guests of honor at the high-school’s commemoration assembly.

  ‘…We know now,’ said the new Principal, stood on a lectern and speaking into a microphone, ‘that this virus was unleashed by North Korean agents on the Tokyo subway, with the intention that it would spread all through the city and into the country beyond, and destroy most if not all of Japan’s people.

  ‘As it was, however,’ continued the Principal, ‘a relatively small number of people actually proved susceptible to the virus in its natural state. But those affected then changed into – well, we know what. And, somehow, the virus mutated inside their body so that everyone then bitten found themselves becoming the same…’

  As she listened to the speech, Miyuki (the lipstick, false eyelashes and short skirt now gone) remembered what she’d seen on television, following the American invasion of North Korea, and the consequent overthrow of the Supreme Leader (since diagnosed as being clinically insane) and his regime.

  The country was still under American martial law, with it only being fortunate that the nuclear missile which North Korea had attempted to fire at Japan (once it became obvious that – despite the catastrophic damage and loss of life suffered because of the virus – Japan and its people were not, in fact, going to be completely annihilated) had failed to take off.

  And the Americans had found the video recordings. Of all those wretched souls in the brutal North Korean prison camps, who’d had the virus (now ‘officially’ destroyed) tested on them first of all. Those who’d been affected quickly becoming the snarling, claw-handed creatures, and attacking those still-living – who then also, universally, became the same.

  ‘…We still don’t know the total number of casualties,’ the Principal went on, speaking euphemistically about the number of Tokyoites who’d become the living dead. (Initial reports, concerning the virus spreading outside Tokyo, had largely proved to be false.)

  There were still periodic reports of the undead being found, considered Miyuki. In basements, in the woods around Mount Fuji… Sometimes a human was attacked. All those affected had to be killed. No way of reversing the effects of the virus had been discovered. A Buddhist priest said prayers by the side of the strapped-down, snarling creature – and then it was humanely destroyed with a bullet to the head.

  ‘But, whatever the number, it would have been even higher had it not been for the brave actions of people like Miyuki Yoshida,’ said the Principal. ‘And we begin today’s service by honoring Miyuki for her selfless bravery in undoubtedly saving many of her classmates from the late Ikeda-sensei – and then for all that she did afterwards…’

  A reference to the ‘movie’ taken by Henmi Yamaguchi, which had long since gone viral on Youtube. Especially with its ‘false-ending’, which showed Henmi, the main character and several others apparently about to jump to their deaths from a hospital roof. Something which had since led to accusations that at least some of the recording was staged, although Henmi had managed to film the US army helicopter later winching them all to safety, after its mighty cannons had destroyed the undead that had been about to devour them.

  It was a video that had made Henmi Yamaguchi relatively famous, and had also made his dream of becoming a successful director perhaps just that little bit more possible. But still, Henmi was not nearly as famous as Miyuki. She’d been contacted recently by a company wishing to make a figurine of her, dressed in school uniform, carrying that sword, to be sold in toy-shops throughout Japan. And she’d appeared on a number of talk-shows; had been asked to provide the voice for a manga movie that would be based on her exploits.

  (Not that the movie made by Henmi had shown everything, and Miyuki would never tell of what had taken place up on that mountainside before she’d got the sword left by her late grandfather out of the tomb – a story already almost legend both abroad as well in Japan. ‘Miyuki – the modern-day female samurai’… In any case, so far as Miyuki was aware, the young delinquent who’d been nicknamed ‘Trouble’ was still one of those many, many people who were officially listed as being ‘missing’…)

  …The only way of escaping the madness – that was, the still-sometimes incessant limelight – was for Miyuki to immerse herself in her studies. Gone were the cigarettes, alcohol, glue, speed and such. With diligent effort she’d proved to have a remarkable aptitude for chemistry, so much so that her teacher in this subject informed her that there was a chance she might have a chance of entering into the prestigious Todai – Tokyo University…

  …Her mother watched on, clearly proud, sat at the side of the hall with the other parents. But a number of these parents were dressed in black, silently weeping, carrying framed photographs of their deceased children…

  The father and mother of the small girl named Hitomi, saved by Miyuki as she’d fought her way out of the high-school, nodded to her each time they caught her eye, silently and respectfully conveying their continued gratitude…

  But Miyuki focused now on her mother. She’d dyed her hair, gained some weight, no longer had to work so hard, what with the money Miyuki had earned through her (albeit often unwanted) celebrity status. And Miyuki was now the dutiful, caring daughter, and her mother was clearly happy…

  And that – just in Miyuki’s world – was all that mattered.

  Still, as the Principal continued to sing Miyuki’s praises, a growin
g feeling of embarrassment caused her old, rebellious side to surface just for a moment.

  ‘Shittu-sayku,’ she murmured; although she was careful that she covered her mouth as she spoke, and then forced a small cough – so that no one noticed, or heard.

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