Radioactive (Hisao) - part 2

I pick my way through the rest of the town, heading towards the hill that leads to the place I used to call home. The straight, open road would be a death sentence however, so I step off the beaten path and begin moving through the wooded area. I come across a body not too far in. At first it looks like some dogs have gotten to him, but after rolling him over, his mouth is all cut up. And by cut up, I mean cut out.

Nasty stuff. Some decent gear and a little bit of food, though. Gray hair, I don't even remember this guy's name. Probably the only one from my class that I never talked to once.

Good taste in ammunition, if nothing else. Since he had enough, his gun might have jammed. It happens. I take what I need and keep moving, eventually coming across another body. This one's smaller, might have been a first year. What's left of its mouth is open, the tongue has been cut out. Maybe it was postmortem, though.

Yeah, maybe.

Not much to scavenge here, and I need to make it to the school before sundown, so I continue on. A sound begins to drifts through the trees as if following the wind, deep, hearty tones that resonate in the distance. Music was never really my thing, and all the song really says to me is “trap”, but I'm headed that direction anyway.

The music gets louder as I walk into a small clearing. A figure is sitting in the center, hands moving back and forth across an old looking instrument. It's a violin. Even if I couldn't see the dark skin and black braids emerging from the gas mask, I would know who it is.

“Go away.” Molly calls over her playing, but she doesn't stop.

“But I just got here.”

“Hisao, is that you? I mean it, leave!”

I take in my surroundings. “Where is he, Molly?”

She stops for only a heartbeat before frantically resuming her playing.

“Hisao, please. You need to get out of here.”

All the racket coming from her violin is keeping me from hearing much else. I glance around, left and right, check behind me. I remember to look up, but the trees are clear too. What are the odds of--

A hand bursts from the ground at my feet, wrapping around my ankle. It's followed by an arm and then a face, blotted, discolored and wearing an expression of pure rage. I can make out the tattered remains of his stupid artist hat clinging to his filthy blonde hair.

“There you are.” I reach to unsling my gun, but Takashi pulls my leg with surprising strength, the next thing I know I'm on my back and he's digging himself out of the earth. Molly's playing is frantic now, the notes are fast and shrill.

“You should really let the girl go, Takashi.” I roll sideways with a grunt as tries to slam his fist into the spot I was just occupying. The impact shakes the ground beneath me, shit.

“Shut up. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.” His eyes are completely bloodshot, his skin is dyed a deep, veiny purple. Someone got an unhealthy dose of radiation following the incident, it seems.

“AND DON'T YOU STOP PLAYING!” He screeches to the girl sitting not far away. She flinches heavily, but continues the song.

I get to my feet, take the safety off my gun. Stupid for not doing it before I even walked in here. I raise the barrel, but Takashi is already in front of me, I pitch to the side to avoid another strike. It's so fast that I can both hear and feel the displaced air.

“What's the matter, Takashi? Can't take a little noise?” I scramble for cover, making my way back towards the treeline as I continue to dodge his blows.

“You shut the FUCK UP!” He doesn't slow down, wide eyed and staggering. I wonder if he's even been eating, does he live underground or is it the best way to get away from the sounds? I knew he and Molly spent a lot of time together, but for her playing to become the only thing he can sta--

With a snarl, Takashi swipes at me, finding purchase on the edge of my jacket and throwing me to the ground. Shit. In an instant he's on me, holding me down with his knee while his hand is on my chin, squeezing painfully. I guess I know what happened to those other guys.

“Thanks for stopping by.” He wheezes, his vocal chords are probably in about as good of shape as the rest of him. “I was starting to run out of red paint.”

“My pleasure.” I mutter, pulling my combat knife from the sheath on my belt. Takashi opens his mouth to say something else, for wanting peace and quiet so much he seems to have a soft spot for speeches. Let's see if he's soft anywhere else.

My knife makes a thunking noise as it enters the side of his head. Takashi's mouth splits into a grin, he tightens his grip around my chin while wrapping his other hand around my throat as if to tear it out. Shit, shit shit--oh, right. I'm an idiot.

The blood is starting to pound in my ears as pain screams through my face, but I grit my teeth and pull the knife back out, switching it to my other hand and jamming it back into Takashi's head, but entering through his right ear this time. There we go, the reaction is immediate. He freezes, eyes wide and face a mask of shock. Blood, among other things, gushes from the wound in a spray, I pull the knife back out and the spatter only intensifies. Takashi collapses on top of me, thanks for that, asshole.

I throw him off, wiping as much of the dark gunk as I can off my jacket and onto the grass. Takashi is on his back now, staring up at the sky, his chest heaving up and down. Fluids are still seeping from the hole in his head, but overall it looks like an improvement. In the distance, the violin has finally come to a stop.

“Damn it. God damn it. Fuck.” Takashi gasps, his arms and limbs beginning to spasm. “I can't die, I just... I just got an idea for a new painting.”

I shrug. Maybe he should ask the people who he's already silenced permanently if they care. “I never really liked your artwork anyway.”

“Fuck you, Nakai...”

“Yeah, yeah.” I know this conversation is finished. I turn and walk over to Molly, she's just sitting there in the grass, staring down at her still hands.

“Hey.”

She doesn't look up. She's just the kind to blame herself for the people Takashi killed, who knows how long he's been forcing her to sit and play like this. I tap her shoulder.

“Molly. He's gone. You can go now.”

“Why are you here, Hisao?” She asks softly, her gaze still downcast. I can't see her eyes around the lenses of the gas mask.

“Just passing through. I need to get something from Yamaku.” I didn't come for you. Would I, if I had known? Maybe. Maybe not. She doesn't respond.

“Did he have a stash anywhere? There's a camp about three clicks west of here. Good people, even a few teachers there. You can make it.”

“I'm not going.” She replies. Damn it.

I think she and Takashi might have been dating, back before it all happened. But don't tell me she still cared enough about that jerk to want to stay here, even after what he did.

“Takashi's dead. You don't need to stick around.”

“It's not that.” Her voice trembles. She finally looks up at me, and--oh, goddammit. For the first time, I take a moment to fully look her over. I open my mouth to say something, but can't think of the right words.

“Just go.” She looks past me, over towards where Takashi's body lies. She picks up her violin again and resumes playing, some slow, quiet song.

“Sorry, Molly.” I had it wrong. She doesn't say anything else.

I do as she asks, but I promise myself that I'll swing by and check on her on my way back to the Council. I trudge through the grass and enter the treeline, taking one last look back at the girl who sits, the stubs of her once amputated legs now completely fused with the earth of the clearing. The requiem she plays for her crazed, murderous and now still protector lingers in my ears as I get further away.