A LORD of the river, a broad-beamed ferry, whistled as the small boat crossed her bow. Nakazono spun the wheel to avoid a collision. The fireboat hit the ferry’s wake and bounced out of the water. Her twin screws shrieked as they tore the air under the keel.
Nakazono braced himself and kept the boat headed up river toward Minami-Senju. Again, he felt his brain flop over in his skull. Keep going, keep going, they’ll never catch you. Promises, promises, hot and lewd—get the witch back to the apartment—rip and rend.
Grainy snapshots in black and white. The dark canal, one of dozens, leading off the river. A big man drags a woman off a boat. An invulnerable man scuttles a boat, sinks it in the river. The bedroom of an apartment two blocks away. Hot and humid—handcuffs, breasts and blood—the righteous, vengeful man.
A delicate flower, a pink rose, illuminated the sky. Nakazono glanced over his shoulder. There she was, face down on the deck. He touched himself through his trousers. Spray wet his face, the boat rocked under his feet. He shouted in the darkness; he wept with joy under the rocket-bright sky. We’re so clever, so very clever.
Helen drifted, fell. She slammed into the ground and opened her eyes. She saw something black and wet under her cheek. Blood, she decided and remembered. She lifted her head. It hurt as she turned it side to side. Her vision was limited. Left and right—the sides of the boat. Dead ahead, a dark shape, Nakazono, leaning over the wheel. She pulled herself to her knees. Water splashed her face, helped clear her head. The boat pitched forward, back; it rolled to port, to starboard. Helen looked back, past the glowing wake, down the black river. Many lights on the water—green, red, blue and white—but nothing near. She heard no sirens, felt no urgency. No rescue.
A fresh salvo of fireworks lit the boat. She scanned the deck. Sailors’ tools—yellow braided line, a galvanized shackle, a rusting turnbuckle—nothing useful. And firemen’s tools—a fire extinguisher, coiled canvas hoses—a fire ax clipped to the port gunwale.
Quietly, quietly, Helen freed the ax from its clips. She tried to stand, slipped on the wet deck and nearly fell. She steadied herself, got to her feet and raised the ax. It was heavy in her hands. One step forward, two—send him straight to hell.
Nakazono spun the wheel to port to follow a bend in the river. Helen yelled as the deck tilted under her feet. The ax slammed into his shoulder, hit bone and bounced. It jumped out of her hands and hit the deck. Nakazono fell away from the wheel, roaring in pain. Flailing, turning, reaching for the wound, trying to stop the blood.
The fireboat circled, helm unattended, and headed back down river. Helen dived, grabbing for the ax. Nakazono kicked her in the side. She rolled away, trying to protect her face from his feet and fists. He lifted her up, tossed her against the side of the boat. His hands were covered with blood. They painted Helen’s neck red as they closed around her throat.
Activity on the barges was frenzied, a crescendo of running feet, curses and commands. Across the river wall, two million were on their feet. They stood on tiptoes, craning their necks, oohing and aahing. Black smoke billowed from the barges and lay inert, dead on the water.
The boat slipped, bounced over a heavy chop. Sam blinked through the spray. Nakazono was turning, heading back down river. He spun the wheel, plotting a new course. Not much of a sailor, his calculations were approximate at best.
The wizards battled on. One sent a silver whale swimming across the sky. Another unleashed a whale-eating green dragon. The crowd cheered and pointed, knowing the best was yet to come.
The boats raced side by side. Sam shouted. No one at the wheel. Dark figures, obscured by smoke, tangled on the stern. The sky flashed. Nakazono bending over Helen, her blonde hair trailing in the water. Sam wrenched the wheel to starboard. The boats collided. He leaped, aiming for the center of the boat but landed on the bow, his head missing the blade of an anchor by half an inch. He bounced into the windscreen, shattered his left wrist, and bounced again.
He came to rest in the bottom of the boat. No pain, not from the wrist, not from a dozen cuts. He grabbed Nakazono and dragged him off Helen. The boat rolled and her body slid quietly over the side.
Pinned under Nakazono, Sam watched helplessly as she disappeared under the water. He roared and smashed a forearm into the cop’s throat. Nakazono fell away fighting to breathe. Sam scrabbled desperately across the stern deck, searching for Helen.
“You bastard,” he screamed, turning. The cop was sitting on his ass in the bottom of the boat, blood leaking out. He laughed. “Fuck you, gaijin. I finally got your bitch.” He leveled a pistol at Sam’s heart. “And now I'm gonna get you.” Sam took a step forward. A bullet brushed his cheek.
“Shut up and don’t move,” Nakazono ordered. “I gotta think.” He sat motionless, his eyes a universe away. Sam glanced over the side. The boat was running parallel to the river bank. Too close, getting closer.
“You know I did your mother, don’t you?” the cop said, his voice just audible over the engines. “Not that it was my fault. It was an accident and anyway, she asked for it.”
He grinned. “Guess what I’m gonna do after I kill you? What, no ideas? Come on, give it a shot. Oh, all right, I’ll tell you. I’m gonna pay your sister a visit.”
Sam charged. A bullet tore through his shoulder, in and out. He kept going, driving forward, slamming Nakazono onto his back. The gun skittered across the deck. Sam rolled away, reaching. Nakazono clutched at his leg, missed and sprawled face down.
Sam pressed the muzzle to his head. “Stand up asshole.”
Nakazono stood, hands raised over his head. He backed into the wheel and stopped. “You gonna shoot me?”
Sam hesitated.
“Shit, I knew you didn’t have the balls. Come on, hand it
over. I’ll make it quick.” He smiled and held out his hand for the gun.
Sam rocked back the hammer. Something huge loomed up out of the spray and smoke. He had the balls but not the time. He leaped over the side.
The apprentices, always a step ahead of disaster, abandoned ship with alacrity. Their stubborn masters held their ground and were consequently sent to join their ancestors. Nakazono exploded with the barge and became a lost soul, an expanding point of light.
The concussion broke windows and bent trees in Sumida park. The crowd cheered and slapped each other on the back. The best ever, they shouted. The best, the best, they exclaimed. Japanese fireworks are the very best!
Helen was thinking no such thing. She’d watched the earth rear up and touch the sky. She’d watched him die. She rolled over on her back and let the current carry her. The salt water burned her eyes; she cried. To float away, to fall into the darkness and never rise again. She thought of May and began to swim to shore. She reached the bank and pulled herself up. She forced herself to walk, head up, bones like smoke.
Helen sat on a stone bench atop the river wall. She shivered and hesitating hands placed a jacket over her shoulders. She lifted her head and saw a shadow slipping away. Above, the stars had reclaimed the sky and shone with perpetual grace. Below, lights were spinning red through the trees of Sumida Park. Police and firefighters ran and stumbled. Orders were given and countermanded.
A helicopter passed low over the river, its spotlight searching the water. A TV chopper dived toward the park and hovered. A spotlight punched through the trees, illuminating fire trucks and rescue crews. The light passed over Helen. She wished she could be alone for a few more minutes.
The light returned. It caught her, a small pale figure high on the wall. People in the park looked up and pointed. A blast of wind pinned her to the bench and she closed her eyes. The chopper eased lower; she listened to the whump-whump of its rotor’s panicked beating.
The first to reach her was a cop. He bent over and opened his mouth to speak. All that came out was a startled yelp as small hands pushed him aside.
Helen looked up into May’s face. She reached out, pulled the girl toward her, held her. “I’m sorry,” Helen cried, over and over. Her words were lost in the roar of the chopper.
May pulled free. She reached out and stroked Helen’s bruised face, tried to shout over the noise. Helen was having trouble breathing—can’t hear, can’t understand. She tried to take May in her arms to comfort her. May would have none of it; she grabbed Helen’s hand and dragged her off the bench.
Down the stairs, to the park. Through the park, to the street. May held Helen’s hand so tight it hurt. She followed as May fought her way through the crowd and scrambled over a yellow police barricade.
Helen stopped, freed herself. No, no, she couldn’t go any further. She saw police cruisers and rescue crews; she saw doctors and nurses and bodies in a row under white sheets lying on the ground.
May was unstoppable. She raced behind Helen and pushed her in the back. “Hurry up,” she shouted. “Hurry up. What are you waiting for?” Another impatient shove sent Helen spinning into a crowd near the curb. She scowled at strangers’ faces; she blinked at familiar faces.
Sam’s face was blackened by smoke, his shoulder bandaged. He tried to rise from the curb, thought better of it and held out his arms.
Helen shouted and her heart leaped across the divide. She was only half a second behind, falling into his arms laughing and crying.
May’s legs could hold her no longer. She sat herself down on the curb and wiped away a tear. “Hey,” she grumped, staring up at Manny and Kiyomi. “What are you two looking at?”
The End
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