Ink and Ashes (30 page)

I JOLTED AWAKE
when Arakaki slapped my face. My skin was near frozen before, and now the shivers were uncontrollable. Hypothermia was setting in. Outside, snow had started to fall against the black night.

I mustered enough energy to lift my head. “Please don’t do this. You have a choice.”

He stared at me with sharp eyes, ignoring my pleas. “I did not choose for Kimiko to die. Dat choice taken from me.” Greasy strands of black-and-gray hair fell in his face.

In the faint light of his cigarette, I could see red lightning-like lines streaking the whites of his tired eyes.

“I’m sorry for what my father did,” I said. “For what he put you through. If you think it will make you feel better, you can kill me, but there’s no honor in retaliation. Please let Nicholas go. You can’t respect the life she led by taking the life of another.”

“You.” He pounced at me until his face was right in mine. “You are shame to our people. You have no idea what honor means. Things I have been through are things you cannot understand.”

His shouts hurt my ears, but I had no way of escaping. I shut my eyes. “How are we different?” I cried. “Both of us are suffering because of decisions my father made. We had no choice regarding the consequences of his actions, but we have a choice now. I refuse to believe his poor judgment defines the kind of people we become.”

He lunged and wrapped his hands around my throat, squeezing as I struggled for breath. Blackness closed in. Just when I thought I would pass out, he let me go. I choked and gasped for air.

But he wasn’t done yet. He stepped back and delivered a flying kick to my side. The chair crashed to the ground, its metal legs screeching across the floor. My cheek slid along the concrete like sandpaper. When I finally came to a stop, blood pooled around my ear.

The side of my face flared with pain. “I’m sorry he did this to you,” I said. My voice was weak, and I couldn’t stop shivering. “But Nicholas and I are innocent. Like Kimiko. If you kill us, you only take more innocent lives. For the past several months, you have tortured me, recreating all the events that happened to your daughter. This has nothing to do with honor.”

He threw back his head. “You don’t understand! She is gone.”

“I do understand. He did this to all of us, not just Kimiko. I’m sorry he did this to you,” I whispered. I couldn’t help but resent my father in this moment, resent how his past still haunted us. I wished I’d never seen that letter.

But now wasn’t the time for regrets. I slid my wrists back and forth, over and over again, cutting my skin against the rope to loosen it. “I’m so sorry.”

He yelled what sounded like Japanese profanities. In complete madness, he spun around and around, his eyes possessed. He stomped across the floor, picked up a small metal pipe, and swung at a barrel. The booming, hollow sound filled the empty space. He flung the pipe at a window. Shattered glass rained everywhere.

I tugged at the rope harder. My wrists were raw and bleeding, but the rope had started to loosen.

Arakaki-san stormed to a large shelf full of machine parts and shoved it to the ground. Gears, nuts, bolts, cylinders, and small pipes toppled in all directions, deafening me as metal clanged against the concrete floor.

He picked the gun back up and waved it in the air, firing a couple of shots. Part of the ceiling crashed to the floor, narrowly missing my head. He stretched both arms high and spun in slow circles. Without warning, he recklessly aimed it at Nicholas.

And then he pulled the trigger.

Nicholas’s body jumped and slammed back down against the cart.

“Nicholas!” I screamed. “Nicholas!” I jerked side to side and tried to fling myself toward him.

Nicholas thrashed in agony. Blood streamed above his heart and blanketed his shirt in a bath of red. I moaned pangs of anguish, still shivering uncontrollably.

“Please don’t let him die!” I cried. “Don’t become my father. Just kill me now, but don’t let him die. Let me go. Please. I need to get to him. You wanted revenge on my family, not his.”

The Japanese man froze. “Revenge? This much more than revenge. If I want revenge, I would have killed your whole family and all your friends. Dis,” he said, gesturing with the gun, “is about bringing back my family honor. Dis is for the months your father shamed me. And when he kill my daughter, he send message dat I am weak and cannot protect her.”

He shifted his eyes to the ground.

“Look at me!” I screamed. “Is this what you wanted? Please don’t let him die! Don’t become the kind of man my father used to be. Please.”

I pulled against the rope as hard as I could. My hands broke free, but I kept them behind my back as if still bound. A fiery pain burned my wrists where they’d been tied, but I readied myself.

Arakaki-san collapsed to his knees and began to sob. Large tears splashed to the ground.
“Gomen nasai . . . Gomen nasai, Kimiko!”
he howled. “Please forgive me, my Kimiko. I could not save you. Please forgive me.” He lifted the gun and pointed it at my head with a trembling hand.

“Don’t do this,” I said.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, gun still pointed in my direction.

I leaped up, my feet still tied to the chair, and knocked the gun from his hands, then delivered a punch to his throat. He put his hands to his neck and crumpled over, fighting to catch his breath.

The punch threw me off balance, and I fell over. I reached down and slid the rope and my legs off the chair. The metal feet scraped against my calves. I screamed and wiggled and kicked until my legs were free, then planted the chair over his face.

He raised his head, hands at his throat. My eyes met his. I lunged to reach the gun. He grabbed at my ankles, but I kicked his face.

He rolled onto his back, cradling his nose. Blood streamed through his fingers.

I picked up the gun and forced my tired legs to stand. I aimed the gun at him. “Don’t move,” I said. “Or I
will
shoot.”

The gun trembled in my hands.

He rolled over onto his knees.

“I. Said. Don’t. Move.” I steadied my hand with the other.

He looked up and trained his dark eyes on me.

All the terror he had put me through made anger storm inside me. I pictured Parker’s limp body on the floor at home, and Forrest as he lay broken on the stairs. Nicholas writhed on the ground next to me, still bleeding.

I wanted to hurt this man as much as he had hurt me. I could kill this man right now.

Without guilt.

He stood up slowly. Rage coursed through me. My finger tugged at the trigger, the gun ready and aimed at him, but stopped at the last second.

He hurled himself at me, clasping my hand holding the gun. We crashed to the ground, the gun firing on impact. The bullet hit a metal tank, causing it to explode. Balls of fire lit the air. A rush of heat blew across my face. The force sent us flying across the concrete floor.

When I glanced up, Arakaki-san’s body lay still on the ground ten feet away. The flames started to catch across the room slowly, but moving inexorably nearer.

I ran to Nicholas and ripped the gag from his mouth. He yelled in excruciating pain. I searched through my pockets but couldn’t find my phone anywhere, then remembered it was in the entry at home, lying in pieces.

With as much speed as I could manage, I untied his hands and legs. The rope was unrelenting. The bindings were tight, and his hands and feet had started to swell and turn purple. I bit at it to loosen the knots.

“Nicholas, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” I held his face. “I need a phone.”

“Back pocket,” he said. His voice was feeble.

I fumbled around, wet and cold. But there was nothing in his pocket. Arakaki-san must have taken it from Nicholas when he tied him up.

“No one’s going to find us,” I cried. And then I remembered the disk Fed had given me, sliding along the chain of my necklace. I squeezed it hard and hoped Fed could help the police locate us in time.

IN THE BACKGROUND
, Arakaki-san started to groan. For a second, I caught his face.

“Kimiko! I’m so sorry, Kimiko,” he said. “Forgive me. I bring shame to our family.” He tried to stand, but his left leg collapsed beneath him, blood blooming on his pant leg.

The flames rose to the ceiling along a wooden beam. I had to get Nicholas out of there before the roof caved in on us. I leaned my weight against the cart, but looked back. Arakaki-san would never make it out of here on his own. After all he had done to terrorize my family, I was under no obligation to help him. But if I left him here . . . I would be the one condemning him to die.

I ripped open Nicholas’s shirt with shaking hands and found his chest covered with black powder and reddish-brown splotches, a sight that would forever stain my memory. Arakaki-san’s hoodie lay on the floor. I ran to retrieve and used it to press against Nicholas’s wound. Nicholas shrieked in pain. Blood ran everywhere, even though I applied pressure. I pushed his side, listening to his deafening shrieks as I lifted him enough that I could see blood spill from underneath. The bullet must have gone through.

I raced to the door where I’d seen some airplane passenger seats. Flames lapped up the beams and started to reach the room. One of the seat belts wasn’t connected to the seat, and I tore it off. The others were sewn into the seats or glued. I wasn’t sure.

We were running out of time, and one seat belt wouldn’t be enough for what I had in mind. I found a metal pipe about eighteen inches long and used Arakaki-san’s hoodie as a hot pad. I held one end of the pipe close to a flame by the wall about six feet away, and when it glowed, I placed the hot end of the pipe on the seat belt, close to where the belt was attached. After several quick repetitions, I was able to singe the seat belt enough to remove it.

I brought the hoodie and the seat belts back to Nicholas, coughing from the smoke. To connect the straps together, I used the seat-belt buckles, and then wove the strap underneath Nicholas, lifting one side and shoving the strap as far under as it would go, then running to the other side, lifting him, and pulling the strap through. Sounds of fire crackled loud in my ears. I wrapped the hoodie around Nicholas’s body on the side of the wound, top and bottom the best I could, and used the straps to hold the hoodie against his body, pulling the belts as tight as possible. Each movement caused Nicholas to wail.

Once I had taken care of Nicholas, I rushed over to Arakaki-san, beads of sweat streaming down my face.

I bent down, lifting and tugging at his arm until it was around my shoulder.

He moaned. “Leave me.”

“I can help you out. Here we go.” I pushed off the ground with my legs, screaming as his weight pulled at my shoulders. He forced himself to stand, and we were able to hobble and limp to the cart.

“Hang on to the handlebar for support,” I said.

Slowly we pushed the cart to the door. Nicholas’s long legs dangled off the end and scraped the floor as we moved, but we reached the door and pushed. I was right—this had been a hangar of some sort. The door went directly outside. A trail of blood snaked behind us in two trails—one from Nicholas and one from Arakaki. Using me as a crutch, Arakaki helped me push Nicholas, and we fought our way out.

The air outside was even colder. A gust of wind cut through me. As it blew, the flames devoured the warehouse, spiking higher in the snowy air. I followed the silhouette of the mountains. We had to be somewhere west of Salt Lake City.

Nicholas moaned. For a brief moment, he stared at me, but his deep-set brown eyes had a hollowness behind them.

The icy wind whipped across my face. The heat of the fire had only dried my shirt a little, and the wetness turned to frost against my skin.

The old man lifted his head, terror in his eyes.
“Gomen nasai,”
he said. “I’m sorry. I will repay my debt.” His tears turned to sobs. He bowed his head.
“Gomen nasai. Gomen nasai.
I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Using my elbow, I delivered a blow to his temple.

He dropped to the ground.

Little rivers of blood forged through the fresh snow around the cart where Nicholas lay. His face had lost all color. I pressed down, applying as much direct pressure as my weak body would allow.

“Nicholas, don’t leave me,” I said. My words sounded clumsy. “I love you. We’re family. Stay with me.”

He moved his lips to speak, but was only able to utter my name before he began to lose consciousness.

I clutched his cheeks tighter between my hands, but my fingers were numb. “Nicholas! Please! You can’t leave me.”

Nicholas tried to focus, but his eyes fluttered and closed. He didn’t open them again. His head lolled away as if surrendering. His body fell limp on the cart. I pressed my head to his chest and held his hand, the memory of my father’s heart attack beating down on me. Stubbornly, I kept pushing on his wound to stop the blood flow. I was no longer shivering, but my fingers stopped working. Everything stopped working. “Don’t die. Don’t die,” I wanted to say.

I heard faint sounds all around me. The weight of my body was too much. And it was so cold. I climbed on the cart and curled up next to Nicholas with my head on his chest and the weight of my shoulder pressing down on his wound.

Thick, heavy clouds settled in my head. Different experiences danced in front of me—past occurrences, flashes of what could have been. Mom. Dad. Parker scoring the winning goal on the soccer field, and Avery slaying someone with a one-line quip. Fed. Nicholas. How could Nicholas be in front of me, when he was right next to me?

“Look, Nicholas,” I whispered. “Everyone’s here. Even you. And it’s not cold anymore.”

Forrest approached me, dressed in his dark suit and tie. His sandy-blond hair reflected the light of the full moon in the clear sky, and he lifted me from the ground until we rose to the ceiling of the warehouse. A stream babbled, and the pitter-patter of quaking aspen leaves rippled in the air. In the far distance, sirens sounded. He smoothed my hair with his hand, closed his ocean-blue eyes, and then he kissed me.

His lips sculpted softly around mine. “I would see only you,” he said.

When he let go, I floated in the halls of the courthouse. The statue of Lady Justice pointed her double-edged sword at me—not in a threatening way—but as if she was beckoning me to follow her.

Her white robe swished and waved, caught in a gentle wind, but before I could take a step in her direction, I saw my father—my real father—standing underneath the blue-domed ceiling, smiling, arms outstretched to receive me. The tattoo of a Japanese carp, a koi, representing perseverance, bled through his sheer shirt.

He opened his mouth to speak. “Look Claire. The rings. They’re gone.”

But I only caught a glimpse, and before I could express how happy I was for him, before I could say anything, he disappeared.

Only five black rings remained in the place where he stood.