Читать книгу The Shield of Kuromori - Jason Rohan - Страница 6

‘Hurry up!’

The covered lorry rumbled along Honan Dori in low gear, heading east towards central Tokyo. Kenny Blackwood snatched at the outstretched hand and missed. He swore and started running at full pelt after the vehicle.

Kiyomi leaned out over the tailgate and extended her arm further. ‘Not this again!’ she grumbled. ‘Move it!’

Kenny lowered his head, pumped his fists and threw himself forward to catch the departing truck.

‘Oyama, yukkuri shiro!’ a man’s voice ordered from inside the canopy and the lorry stopped immediately. Kenny, caught by surprise, thwacked into the rear bumper and bounced on to the tarmac.

‘Ow. You could’ve warned me,’ he said, rubbing his bruised behind in the red glow of the brake lights.

‘Are you hurt?’ Kiyomi asked, jumping down and hauling him to his feet.

‘Only my pride,’ Kenny said. ‘Where are we going?’

Kiyomi’s father, Harashima, peered out of the truck. ‘Kuromori-san, you’re holding us up. Get in and then talk.’

Kenny climbed into the back and nodded in greeting to the fourteen men who were waiting inside. Their faces were familiar from when they had all fought together to stop a crazed attack against America’s West Coast barely two months ago. They were dressed in black, armed with automatic weapons and wore expressions of grim determination.

The lorry picked up speed and Kenny found a space opposite Kiyomi. She leaned back, her eyes closed.

Watching her, Kenny felt his heart skip. She was still beautiful, but the deep shadows under her eyes and the creases on her forehead worried him. They had met only recently, but so much had happened in such a short time that it felt longer, like they had been friends for years. Only something had changed. Something was wrong. Kenny could sense it, deep in his core, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

He lightly bumped the toe of his trainer against Kiyomi’s leather boot. Her almond eyes flicked open and she scowled at him.

‘What now?’

‘You’re looking really tired,’ he said.

‘Like, duh. Why do you think I’m trying to nap?’

‘No, I mean – Is everything OK with you? You haven’t been the same since . . .’

‘God, why does everyone keep going on about that?’ Kiyomi snapped. ‘Yes, I’m tired. Yes, I’m hacked off. Yes, I’m sick of everyone tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass. Get over it, will you?’

Harashima stood up, gripping a nylon strap for support in the swaying truck. A flash of concern crossed his face as he took in Kiyomi’s rant, but he set his jaw and addressed his men: ‘Not long ago, we fought together in Kashima to stop an atrocity. Akamatsu, fool that he was, sought to tip the balance through his control of the dragon Namazu.’

Heads nodded and feet shuffled. The ripple of discomfort came as no surprise to Kenny. Many of the passengers in the truck had been injured that day, and some had buried friends.

‘But, with the help of Kuromori-san, champion of Inari, we succeeded.’ Harashima nodded towards Kenny, who smiled sheepishly. ‘However, before we set off for Kashima, we were exploring the sewers beneath Tokyo, hunting for the dragon’s lair.’

‘Yeah, that was your bright idea,’ Kiyomi muttered to Kenny. ‘Genius move.’

‘We know now that we were searching in the wrong place, but we did find something before we left,’ Harashima said. ‘Here.’ He handed out a thin dossier which each man flicked through and passed down the line.

When the folder came to Kenny, Kiyomi leaned over to observe. It took a moment for Kenny to register what he was seeing – and then he fought the urge to be sick.

‘The first picture was taken back in July,’ Harashima said. ‘The others are more recent.’

‘Let me see that,’ Kiyomi said, taking the folder from Kenny’s limp fingers.

‘As far as we can tell, those are the remains of three men,’ Harashima continued. ‘Probably homeless, taking shelter in the outflow tunnels.’

‘But, sir,’ Kenny said, struggling with the words. ‘One of them . . . it looked like . . . he was bitten in half?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What could do that?’

Harashima softened, seeing the revulsion on Kenny’s face. ‘There are many things, Kuromori-san, that live in darkness and feast on human flesh. You have met some of them already.’

‘And we’re going . . .?’

‘North to Kasukabe, to the Shutoken Gaigaku Hosuiro, the world’s largest drainage system, also known as the G-Cans Project.’

Kenny knew he was going to regret the answer, but he had to ask. ‘Why are we going there?’

‘Because tonight the hunter becomes the hunted. A yokai has crossed the line and it is our sworn duty to stop it.’

Kenny’s gaze swept round the back of the lorry. ‘No offence, sir, but do you have enough men for this?’

Harashima smiled. ‘Of course, Kuromori-san. We have you.’

Ninety minutes later, Kenny’s footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell leading into the depths of the earth.

The truck had pulled up at the entrance to the G-Cans Project and the chief engineer had greeted them. Harashima made the introductions and, while Kenny could only understand a few words of Japanese, he heard the name Sato mentioned. Kiyomi’s uncle was with the Japanese Secret Service; if anyone could get a group of armed men into a government facility with no questions asked, it would be him.

‘Oh, wow,’ Kenny said, looking out over the low concrete wall adjoining the stairs. ‘You’ve got to see this.’ He placed his hands on the damp stone and took in the view, while Kiyomi inched her way down. She was taking her time, moving with uncharacteristic reluctance. Kenny sympathised; after all, the last time they had ventured underground, it had cost Kiyomi her life. Anyone would think twice about clambering into the cold, wet darkness, not that Kiyomi would admit to any misgivings.

‘Is that a cloud? Underground? Inside a room?’ she said, standing alongside Kenny.

Stretching out before them was an enormous concrete-walled water tank, as long and as wide as Westminster Abbey and as tall as Buckingham Palace. Immense concrete supports thrust upwards, like columns in a vast cathedral. Water lapped the pillars and vapour swirled in ghostly wreaths.

‘Looks like it,’ Kenny said, continuing downwards. ‘This place is big enough to have its own climate.’ He shivered in the damp. ‘Where are the others?’

‘If your Japanese was better, you’d have heard Papa explain. There are five other water tanks, connected by over six kilometres of pipe, each eleven metres wide. We’re putting two guys in each tank and the rest are checking the tunnels. We’ve all got motion trackers, locator beacons and radios. The plan is to find the thing, summon help and get out fast.’

Kenny pondered this and his eyes grew wide. ‘Whoa. You mean we’re on our own?’ His voice echoed back, sounding no less worried.

‘What? Are you scared? You’re the one with the sword.’

‘Yeah, it’s just . . . You’ve seen The Lord of the Rings, right? This place is just like the dwarven halls, when all the goblins come creeping down from the ceiling.’ Kenny squinted up into the darkness, scanning for any sign of movement.

‘Thanks. Like this isn’t creepy enough already?’ Kiyomi shuddered. ‘I hate being underground.’ She dug out a torch and thumbed the switch, sending a powerful beam into the haze.

Kenny splashed down into the chilled, waist-deep water. ‘Ugh. Wrong day for trainers,’ he groaned.

Powerful spotlights shone down from above, each trained on a giant pillar. The reflections off the pale, rounded stone made it seem like stalactites of light were piercing the low mists.

‘This is all your fault,’ Kiyomi grumbled as they waded into the chamber.

‘What have I done now?’ Kenny said, his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

‘If you hadn’t sent Papa’s men down here, looking for Namazu, then they wouldn’t have found the . . . you know? Leftovers.’

‘How does that make it my fault?’ Kenny protested. ‘It’s not like I knew this was here.’ Annoyed, he changed the subject. ‘What’s the point of this place, anyway? It’s just a drain.’

‘What do you mean, “just a drain”? Do you have any idea how important this facility is?’

Kenny switched on the hand-held motion tracker, which resembled a satnav. ‘Uh, actually, no.’

‘You know what a typhoon is? A hurricane with wind speeds of at least a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour and up to a metre of rain in a day. Tokyo used to flood regularly and thousands drowned, so this was built. The five giant cans take the extra water out of five rivers, like a massive storm drain. This tank we’re in now is the final overflow. From here, the floodwater gets pumped into the Edo River. Without it, parts of Tokyo are underwater, so it does matter.’

‘Fine, OK, I get it,’ Kenny said, stooping to sniff the shimmering surface. ‘So this is basically just rainwater, right? No sewage or floating poo to worry about?’

‘No, not unless you get so scared – YAAAAAHH!’

Kenny jumped so hard, he nearly dropped the motion tracker. Kiyomi’s torch picked out a furry lump disappearing back into the fog.

‘What the heck was that about?’ Kenny gasped.

‘A rat,’ Kiyomi said, shivering in disgust. ‘Ugh. A big one too.’

‘So why didn’t it show up on this thing?’ Kenny held up the tracker. ‘Is it broken?’

‘No, it’s calibrated for large objects only, otherwise every rat and roach would set it off.’

‘Big things? What, like this blue blob here?’

‘Let me see that.’ Kiyomi snatched the tracker from Kenny’s grasp. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! Kenny, we’re out in the open. Get back – fast!’

‘Why? What is it?’

From out of the mist, a shallow surge rippled forward. Behind it came the frantic squeaking of hundreds of rats.

‘Oh my God.’ Kiyomi threw herself into the water and was gone.

Kenny spun on his heel, ducked down and felt tiny feet and claws scramble over his back, shoulders and head as the wave of screeching rodents broke over him. Still cradling the motion tracker, he opened one eye and squinted at it while the rats dispersed and swam away in all directions, leaving a large blue blob closing in on him from behind.

Kenny whirled round as the water exploded before him. With a thunderous roar, a huge white shape launched itself out of the mist, its cavernous jaws edged with long jutting teeth.