Yakudoshi: Age of Calamity by Chris McKinney

Author:Chris McKinney [McKinney, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Mutual Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

9

The next morning, I grab the hand cannon out of the gun safe just in case, and we head out before dawn. It’s Friday, October 30th, the day before Halloween. Not many peeps out this time of day, but the chickens, they’re all busy getting their crow on. I let my dad have some clothes of mine, and he trimmed his suicide beard, so he’s looking less beat to his socks. Me, I’m just trying to keep it together, trying to keep my game tight so I don’t flip out after whatever happens. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, but I ain’t tired. My heart is skipping double-dutch, and I feel like I’m climbing up a mountain of endless stairs while wearing the sun as a backpack. I’m sweating my ass off, and it ain’t even hot. I max out the AC and begin to wonder what I’ll see or won’t see. What I’ll do or won’t do. I wonder what I’m gonna feel if he is alive, and if I see him. Will my heart melt like it’s starting to melt now, or will I just see some kid who’s a stranger? I’m wondering what I’ll feel if there ain’t no kid. Will I feel crushed, or will I feel relieved that I was right, that he is gone permanent, this entire time?

“Jeez,” the old man says. “turn down the AC. It’s a cold morning.”

I ignore him. To the right, there’s a chopper shop, tricked out hogs for sale. Up ahead, to the left, we roll past a community college, its red roof draped with solar panels. There’s a bunch of road construction going on. I must’ve driven down this road over a dozen times. Passed this school we’re headed to at least a few times a week.

“Turn right here,” he says.

I turn into the parking lot. The school is just a normal middle school, but newer than most, named after some forgotten Hawaiian chiefess from back in the day. The parking lot is empty. Not even the teachers are here yet. As usual, I have no clue what I’m gonna do next, I have no plan, but I guess sometimes this is how things gotta play out. If you don’t know what you’re gonna find when you’re digging for treasure, how the hell you gonna know what you’re gonna do if you find it? My guess is I’m digging a hole to nothing. But like the moat, I can’t stop myself. I’m Dig-Dug, looking for little red, goggle-wearing motherfuckers to blow up, and somebody else is at the controls.

My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Troy. Probably all caked up. Probably didn’t even sleep yet. Bad timing, but I answer.

“Mr. Blanc,” the voice on the other end of the line says, “I’m going to need you back in Honolulu in the next forty-eight hours.” It’s that lady cop who questioned me at the hospital, the assistant chief or whatever, the one whose voice always sounds like she’s running for President.

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