by Chris Ward
‘It’s awesome.’ Janine grinned. ‘There’s a hotel in town where we’ve booked some rooms. We’ll split the costs between us, then get the minibus shuttle back up in the morning.’ She gave him a nudge in the ribs. ‘So who knows what might happen after karaoke?’
Ron gave her a weak grin. After all the beautiful, slim Japanese women he’d seen around since he arrived in the country, the thought of sleeping with an overweight, spotty Australian didn’t really appeal to him. Perhaps if he got drunk enough it wouldn’t be so bad…
‘There’s the bus,’ Janine said, as the sound of an engine came from outside. ‘Sucks for all the people who have to work tonight.’
‘Are there many?’ Ron asked.
‘There’s only one school group in, plus a handful of private guests, so I think just one on reception and a couple in the pub. Sucks for them, but they might be able to drink a couple of sneaky vodkas while they work.’
‘Do the Japanese do that?’
‘Who fucking cares? It’s time to party!’
10
Bad things begin to happen
Some of the boys had gone up to the gymnasium to play badminton. A few of the girls were taking a dip in the pool, and the rest were either in the common room upstairs or messing around out in the snow. Jun sat in the recreation room on the first floor, a British lifestyle magazine open on one knee, his iPhone on the sofa beside him, but with no signal display. At a table on the other side of the room, Kirahara-sensei sat with one knee folded over the other, flicking through a book on old British furniture.
‘Don’t you want to go off and play with your friends?’ Kirahara-sensei asked after a few minutes.
‘No. They aren’t my friends.’
‘Come on, Matsumoto, I don’t know why you think everyone hates you. I think it’s more a case of them not really caring either way. Kids don’t have the patience to make friends like adults do. You’re either outgoing and put yourself out there, or you get ignored.’
‘I never said that everyone hates me. For the most part they don’t want to hang around with me, but that’s different.’
‘And why’s that? Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘I did. We broke up.’
‘Oh, how awful. When was that? Haven’t you got over it by now?’
‘About ten minutes ago.’
‘Oh.’
‘She was a skank anyway.’
Kirahara-sensei raised an eyebrow. ‘You shouldn’t describe someone that way, Jun. Especially not to a teacher. The academically correct term is “misunderstood”.’
Jun smiled. Kirahara-sensei’s lip lifted in a slight smirk, then he turned back to his book.
‘Sensei,’ Jun said, ‘do you like music?’
Kirahara-sensei looked up again. ‘What kind of question is that, Jun? Of course I like music.’
Jun grimaced. ‘Do you like … rock?’
Kirahara-sensei closed the book and put it back on a rack next to his chair. He folded his arms and cocked his head. ‘You mean, do I like black metal, like your band plays, and like that band that’s staying here plays—what is it, Plastic Black Butterfly?’
Jun felt himself blushing. ‘Um, yes. But I guess you’re not interested.’
Kirahara-sensei smiled. ‘Keep it a secret, eh? I have their first four CDs. I have the first album on limited edition picture vinyl. It’s numbered.’
Jun leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘What number do you have?’
Kirahara-sensei also leaned forward, matching Jun’s gaze, unblinking. ‘667. They were all numbered the same. It was kind of like a joke, that they were one better than the devil or something.’
Jun grinned. ‘Sir, you’re actually cool.’
‘Don’t tell anyone, eh. Believe me, I could tell you a thing or two about black metal. When I was eighteen I went to Scandinavia for a month. I spent practically every night at either a gig or a rock club. By the end my ears were fucked.’
As Kirahara-sensei sat back, laughing, Jun gaped. ‘Sir…’
‘I even got laid with this Finnish goth skank—I mean, this misunderstood girl.’ He smiled. ‘Keep it to yourself, eh. You can tell the other kids I listen to enka and all that other grandma shit. Appearances, and all that.’
Jun nodded. ‘Sure.’
Kirahara-sensei stood up. ‘Well, I’d better go and check on the rest of them.’
Jun watched him head out of the relaxation room and wander down the long, straight corridor, past the reception area and out of a door at the end. It led to the pub. Jun smiled. He picked up his phone again, wanting to do anything other than read the stupid magazine on his lap, but it still wasn’t picking up any signal.
Snow was piling up on the window panes outside. At least two feet of it had fallen in the last couple of hours, and it was showing no signs of abating. Jun couldn’t understand why some of the boys were out making snowmen: they’d be buried as soon as they were finished. Still, kids did what kids did.
He glowered at his phone for a few seconds, wishing for a single bar of reception. His band, Shock Tact Ticks, which he had formed with three kids from another school, had recorded and released a single on the Internet a couple of weeks ago. Checking for sales had become an obsession ever since Jun had seen the first one pop up an hour after the song had gone live. Since then they’d sold thirty-five, and Jun clung to the chance of a viral hit like a one-armed man hanging on to a rope dangling beneath a helicopter. His band wasn’t the best in the world—not even in their part of town—but interest from someone in the business was the only thing that might keep him out of packing lunchboxes for office workers for the rest of his life.
But the signal remained dead.
Might as well go get some sleep. Breakfast is at seven.
He stood up, shoved his phone into his pocket, and put the magazine back into the rack beside the window.
As he turned back towards the entrance to the recreation room, the door that led through to the gym and swimming pool changing rooms burst open. Akane’s friend Natsumi staggered out, soaking wet, dressed only in a skimpy swimsuit that left nothing to the imagination. Jun started to look away out of politeness, then Natsumi jerked forward and vomited all over the recreation room carpet.
Jun saw bits of mushroom, carrot, and even half an undigested potato floating in the soup that began to soak into the floor. As she doubled over again, he took a step back to avoid a fine spray of bile that splattered across his shoes.
‘Jun, help her!’ Akane screamed, barging through the door and grabbing Natsumi by the shoulders. ‘She just threw up in the pool. Mika and Yoshimi are also sick. I’ve got to go back in and help them.’
She levered Natsumi down onto a couch, then turned and dashed back through the changing room doors. Jun took a tentative step closer, only for Natsumi to lean forward and start choking up more bile. Akane’s friend was on the cheerleading team, and had the kind of body that would grace any pop singer. Jun felt repulsed though as she retched and coughed, strings of saliva dangling from her mouth.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and she gave a barely perceptible shake of the head. ‘Water,’ she croaked.
The command stirred Jun into action. There was a water dispenser on one side of the recreation room, so he ran over and filled a paper cup for her. She nodded without looking up, gulped it back, then promptly threw it up all over his chest.
‘Oh, Jesus.’
‘Sorry…’
‘Jun!’ Akane screamed as the door burst open again. Akane staggered through with another girl huddled against her. ‘Take her!’
Akane shoved the girl forward, and she stumbled into Jun’s arms. Akane turned and headed back through the changing room doors.
The seriousness of the situation seemed to finally kick in like the first bass drum beat after a bridge section. Jun helped the girl down on to the couch beside Natsumi. He recognised her now as she leaned back, the wet strands of hair falling away from her vomit-covered face.
Rena, another cheerleader, a bad girl, but not in Kaede’s league. He couldn’t say he’d spoken to her more than twice. He remembered picking up a book for her in the corridor once. The only thanks he had got was a roll of the eyes as if he’d been trying to hit on her, then she had stalked off to class.
‘Sit still. I’ll get you both some towels.’
He hurried off to the equipment rental booth. There were no staff members around so he went into a stockroom in the back and returned with a stack of towels. He was just draping them around the girls’ shoulders when Akane pushed through the door again.
‘Jun! Help me!’
She was dragging the third girl by the arms. Jun ran to help her, taking hold of the girl’s legs and helping Akane carry her to an empty sofa. The girl’s swimsuit was stained with vomit, and her head was lolling from side to side. Her eyes were closed, and she was mumbling something incomprehensible under her breath.
‘Jun, they’re all sick! Get help!’
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere! Kirahara! The staff!’
‘Okay.’ He ran out of the recreation room and sprinted down the corridor to the reception desk. A Japanese girl with the name card MIKA was sitting behind a computer, a frown on her face. She looked up as Jun skidded to a stop in front of her.
‘Some of the girls are sick,’ he gasped.
Alarm registered across Mika’s face. ‘We have a first aid kit,’ she said. ‘Or some aspirin if they need it.’
‘They’re vomiting! One of them is nearly unconscious!’
‘Oh, right. I’ll call Mr. Forbes.’
‘Quickly!’
Jun hurried on down the corridor, pushed through a door that let to an outdoor covered walkway along the length of the east wing. The snowfall was so thick as to leave the outside world a wall of blindness. Drifts of fluffy powder three feet high pushed across half of the walkway like the froth on a spring tide, and Jun pressed himself against the wall to get around it, his feet slipping and sliding where some of it had turned to slush under the walkway lights.
When he pushed through the door to the pub he found Kirahara-sensei, a Japanese barman, and two members of Plastic Black Butterfly tending to two boys and a girl who were sitting back against the wall, their clothes stained with vomit.
‘There are three sick girls in the recreation room,’ Jun shouted.
Kirahara-sensei looked up. ‘I think we have a problem here,’ he said.
When Jun got back the Grand Mansion, Akane had managed to pull some clothes on to the girls, but two of them now looked barely conscious. Only Natsumi was properly awake, and her eyes darted around with confusion in between fits of retching.
‘It’s happened to some of the others too,’ Jun said. ‘Over in the pub.’
‘What are we going to do?’
Jun looked up at the sound of running footsteps. Rutherford Forbes, esteemed owner of British Heights, was hurrying down the corridor towards them, his belly bouncing up and down as Mika from reception jogged along behind him.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked in Japanese.
‘They’re sick,’ Jun said. ‘It must be something they ate.’
Forbes rounded on him. ‘Then why aren’t you sick, boy? Nothing wrong with the food here. Perhaps it was something you had on the way.’
‘We all brought lunch from home.’
‘Well, something else then!’
‘What do we do with them?’ Akane said. ‘They’re going to die!’
Forbes flapped a hand at her as if swatting her words out of the air. ‘Don’t be stupid, you brainless twit. They’ll be fine. They just need some antibiotics or something. Let’s get them to reception and—’
‘Help!’
Ogiwara came rushing out on to the corridor from the stairs to the second floor. He bounced off the opposite wall, a spray of vomit following him as Nakamura staggered down the steps in his wake. Nakamura groaned, bent double, and vomited again, this time on the plush, antique carpet.
‘Jesus Christ, you idiot, that carpet costs a fortune to clean!’ Forbes shouted. ‘Can’t you use a bag or something?’
‘There are two more passed out upstairs,’ Ogiwara gasped. ‘One of them is definitely going to die. Mishima gave him mouth to mouth and he just got a faceful of puke, the fucking spaz.’
‘Shut up, you dumb prick!’ Akane shouted. ‘This is serious!’
‘Suck my dick, bitch,’ Ogiwara shouted back. ‘Oh, you already did.’
‘Fuck off!’
‘Children!’ Forbes boomed. ‘Can we cooperate here, before the reputation of my fine establishment is ruined by a bunch of idiot misfits like you lot? Let’s get the sick students to the reception area and I’ll arrange for them to be taken down to the hospital in the town.’
‘There’s three feet of snow outside!’ Jun shouted.
‘We have chains on the tyres,’ Forbes said, with the air of a snow ranger talking to someone who’s never seen snow. ‘We just don’t have much space.’
One by one, Jun and Akane helped the girls up the steps to the reception area, where they lined them up on one of the sofas. Mika moved among them, wiping the vomit off their faces with a damp cloth. Jun then rushed off to help Kirahara-sensei while Akane ran upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, the reception area looked like a scene from a zombie movie, as twelve vomit-caked high school students lay around in various states of consciousness. Of the students, only Jun, Akane, Ogiwara, and Mishima were healthy. No one had seen Kaede since dinner.
‘We have to get them down to the hospital,’ Kirahara-sensei said to Forbes.
The owner of British Heights nodded reluctantly. ‘One of my staff has gone to get our winter snowmobile. It has caterpillar treads, so the snow should be no issue. It’s limited for space, though. The students not displaying any symptoms should stay here.’
Kirahara-sensei kicked out at a wooden hat stand, knocking it to the ground.
‘What if they get sick in an hour or two? It’s food poisoning! It might not kick in until later.’
Forbes puffed out fat red cheeks. ‘Do you mind? That’s expensive.’ He turned to Jun and the others who weren’t sick. ‘What did or didn’t you eat that might have caused this to happen to them? I refuse to believe it was our food here, it is prepared with the highest—’
‘The turkey,’ Jun said. ‘I got there too late. So did Akane.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about—’
‘Neither did I,’ Kirahara-sensei said. ‘I was at the back with these two.’
Ogiwara nodded. ‘And I was outside checking out that band’s van with Kaede. So—wherever she is—she must be fine too.’
‘What about you?’ Kirahara-sensei asked Mishima.
‘I was, um, taking a crap.’
Kirahara-sensei nodded. ‘So, something was wrong with the turkey. Mr. Forbes, this is a serious problem. If any one of these students is to die—’
The groan of an engine came from just outside the main entrance. Jun wiped the condensation off a window and peered out to see what looked like a bulldozer, minus the front blade, sitting outside. The snow was so deep it appeared to be sinking.
‘Okay, let’s get them loaded up,’ Forbes said, as the man Jun remembered from the bar came running up through the snowdrifts on the entrance steps.
Kirahara-sensei came over to Jun and the others. ‘I don’t need to tell you we have a serious situation here.’ He looked at each in turn until they all nodded. ‘I don’t want to leave you up here, but as Mr. Forbes said, there’s not enough room in that vehicle to take those who aren’t sick. There’s only just room for myself. I don’t want to leave you, but it’s my duty to go with the sick students and ensure they get proper medical care. What I need from the rest of you in the meantime is some maturity and cooperation.’ Again, he looked from one to the other until each of them nodded. ‘No infighting, no petty squabbles. In fact, as none of you ate that turkey you should be f
ine. As should Kaede, wherever she is. I suggest you go to your rooms, have a shower and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll be perfectly safe here.’
Ogiwara, a frown on his big, sloping brow, leaned forward. ‘Um, Sensei … what about the monster that guy saw in the woods?’
Kirahara-sensei’s face turned red, and for a moment Jun thought his teacher would explode. Then, very quietly, he turned to Ogiwara and said, ‘I suggest you keep your room door shut. Perhaps even put your suitcase up against it. That should deal with the sucker.’
Ogiwara gulped. No one else dared to speak. Kirahara-sensei looked around the faces once more, then nodded to himself. ‘Now, if you could all help get your sick classmates into that snowmobile, it would be much appreciated.’
They worked two people to a student. Between Jun, Akane, Ogiwara, Mishima, and the two members of staff that were still on duty, they managed to get the students down the steps and into the back of the snowmobile within ten minutes. Jun wished the members of Plastic Black Butterfly had come to help, but Kirahara-sensei had said they’d gone off looking for their own bandmates, two of whom had vanished. It didn’t appear that either of them were sick, just missing.
The whole time, Forbes stood by the front door, holding it open for the others with a look of frustration on his face, as if the whole episode were nothing worse than a group of messy builders tramping in and out of his house carrying handfuls of bricks.
Finally, the last student was loaded into the snowmobile, its windows already steamed up with the breath of a dozen sick students. Kirahara-sensei, caked in so much snow he looked like an Arctic explorer, came up to the main entrance, where the others had gathered.
‘We’re heading down now,’ he said. ‘Just remember, you’re representing your school. I hope to be back up here in the morning, and I expect to find all of you attending your classes as expected.’ He glanced around the group again. ‘But … thank you for your help. This is not an ideal situation, but I can assure you, they’ll all be fine once they see a doctor.’
‘Natsumi was puking up blood,’ Akane muttered.
