By Abigail Falanga
Haruo Settlement of the Last Survivors of Japan, 2094
Translated from Japanese
Morning
The lottery has drawn my name, Mizushima Akihito.
It was only a matter of time. I am fortunate I have been spared from it this long.
But it is necessary. I go gladly, knowing that it serves my town and that the supplies of herbs and plants for medicine and food which we gather allow life to continue.
I find myself missing my wife Asuka as if she had died last week rather than five years ago. She flew away like the birds she was named for. She loved birds—the only animals in the settlement.
I gather supplies and prepare to go down to the longboat on the canal. My dear Riku and Hana help me, though they are just children. Children mature so fast now, since the Disaster destroyed all cities and most human life. Riku assures me he will care for his younger sister. He is strong enough to look after her even if… No matter what happens.
I hold them close one last time, tears streaming. I promise to return. I do not know if it is a promise I can keep, but I make it anyway.
Our settlement is built on piers over the lake, canals running between houses like streets in the old days to allow for fishing and transportation. I go by narrow wooden walkways and ladders to the main canal and three large boats, provisioned and supplied with tools. Other men already fill them, their names likewise drawn in the lottery. I do not know them all, but we are now brothers.
Those lining the canals cheer and bow to us as we move through the gates. It is the first expedition in two years, and we have waited too long. Our medicinal supplies are all but expended.
Beyond, we row across the lake to the vague shoreline visible through the mist. Murmurs grow, for we know we might not return, though we have only rumors of why.
“We have all heard the stories,” one man says.
“Have you seen it?” another asks.
“No one has,” a third replies. “See it, and you will not live to tell the tale. But I got close once, close enough to feel it…”
Our unspoken question has no answer, since none know where the danger—the monster—lurks. It could be anywhere.
“It devours men whole.”
“It could kill droves.”
My friend Noa says, “One touch is enough to drive a man to madness and then death. It is useless to bring the infected back for treatment—they rave and fight to escape.”
“But what is the monster?” whispers a youth near me.
No one can answer him. These are only rumors, half-remembered truths we have long forgotten.
Afternoon
We reach a clearing where the plants we seek grow and fish are numerous. We spread out, quick, cautious, fishing and foraging. It is swampy. We wade through feet of water, tromp over muddy patches of earth.
I am near the boats, securing my load, when the screaming and shouting starts.
The worst has come.
At the edge of the deep forest, men fight something tan and massive. Struggling, yelling, falling. Disappearing in the mist and confusion.
I want to plunge forward to help them, but the others hold me back, shouting that there is nothing we can do.
We begin boarding the boats to retreat, to save ourselves and what we have gathered.
But Noa, near me among the farthest of those fleeing, cries out and stops, tears streaming down his face, then reels around.
The others lock the oars, but I hesitate before clambering in beside them.
Noa staggers back toward the few still fighting. His shoulders shake with sobs as he weeps—not of pain or terror. Tears of grief. Tears of a broken heart.
“Take me!” he cries to it. “Take me!”
Hands grab me and drag me into a boat. “Too late, Akihito. He is mad, infected. He will worsen from heart-madness to violence, then die.”
I yield. How can I not? We row back to the settlement as fast as we can.
It is too late. We know it, though we cannot say it.
The monster has our scent.
Evening
Should we stay away? Should we keep everyone in the settlement safe by not leading the monster back?
No. The village needs supplies.
It is worth the risk, we tell ourselves as we take refuge inside the settlement’s wooden walls, reinforce the gates, sound the alarm. All within come to take up arms and man the battlements, determined to keep the monster back.
Riku and Hana find me, and I cling to them, trembling. I only barely returned, but I might be infected… What else could I have done but come back to them? What can I do now?
The settlement seems empty, deprived of animals. I wonder why I have never felt this emptiness before as I do now…
We are prepared to fight. We cannot hope to win.
“It is coming!”
The cry shivers through the people.
Dread and curiosity fill me. I wave back Hana, warn her to stay back from the danger.
The weeping starts at the front of the crowd nearest the spiked battlements and spreads backward all around me. We are resolved to keep it back. But they wail, shaken by heartbroken, yearning, incapacitating tears.
Then I see why.
It emerges from the mist, standing in the lake.
I have seen pictures. I know what it is.
A dog. Forty feet tall, large-eared, with short, tan hair. Wagging its huge tail as it watches us with such sadness that clearly it longs for us as much as we long for it.
Animals were banned long ago. No one remembers why. Was it for the same reason this dog grew so huge?
It does not matter. For at last I understand our mistake.
Man lost his best friend.
Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The pacing of this story was great–it kept me engrossed from beginning to end. Nicely done, Abigail!
I wonder if the story is based off of “Hound Dog” by Elvis Presley.
Interesting story. I like the world you create in a few sentences.
I love how much depth there is to this story, and the writing style of it is absolutely gorgeous! Brilliant job! <3
Love the story, Abigail!
Great job keeping up the tension through the story. I especially liked the subtle foreshadowing with the comment that birds were the only animals in the settlement. Well done!
Perhaps another Elvis (first sung by Red Foley) song: Old Shep
Thanks, everyone, for reading and commenting! And such wonderful comments, too.
This was such an interesting story to write, and unique in its plotline—a huge departure for me from my usual happy coherence. Much thanks to the Havok editors for helping me pull it all together!
As to the song: Can I give a tiny hint? Just a little one??
I wanted to use a song appropriate to the Japanese setting. The one I chose is perfect, haunting, really earwormy, and unusual in that I actually was familiar with it, unlike many retro or foreign songs. And now I have it in my head again! Have fun, anyone who wants to try guessing from those parameters!
That was touching, it actually brought a few tears to my eyes. Based on your hint below I’m going to guess the Japanese song “My Best Friend”. Two other songs come to mind “Puff the Magic Dragon” and “I Will Always Be With You” but those are from the wrong time period. Can’t wait to find out what the song was that inspired this story.
I love this story! I’m bummed you didn’t submit it to Mystery Monday. I loved the dystopian tone of the piece and the reveal at the end.