As I stated previously, I had written out a bit more of this when I posted the previous update, but decided to end the scene at a transitional point rather than letting it go on for another couple thousand words before the next. Thus I had most of this written out previously, and it only took a bit of tweaking and a few extensions to prepare it for publication--along with a brief visit with my editor, who I didn't make use of last time because... well, I don't really know.
Anyway, that's enough soap-boxing--enjoy!
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The Kenji Files:
Dark Garden Part 7
Into The Breach
As Kenji followed, Emi started moving down the slope toward the iridescent light, having to squint as her eyes adjusted from the darkness. Soon they were both underground, and as the air seemed to get warmer, she signaled for another stop. Kneeling with her hip against the wall, she reached down to touch the floor, which seemed to glisten more than granite should.
Warm to the touch, the rocks weren't wet as far as she could tell, and they were strangely sticky—like fly paper—but that wasn't the strangest thing. It took a moment, but she soon realized they weren't rocks at all; it seemed as though they were standing on solid amber. If that wasn't enough, it seemed like the rocks were actually radiating heat rather than just reflecting it, and she wondered if they might be the source of the light as well.
Looking toward Kenji, she saw him investigating the floor similarly and shrugged her shoulders to get his attention. When he looked up, he frowned and matched her shrug—he didn't know what was going on either. Taking a steeling breath, she signaled to move forward again and started walking. The tacky floor made it difficult to move, but the light was the real problem—it was starting to become unbearable.
As they descended, the gentle amber glow had grown more and more intense, so that as they rounded a bend it seemed like they were walking directly into the sun. Strangely, the temperature didn't seem to rise as the light grew more intense, although, according to the sensors on her gun, it was holding steady at thirty degrees Celsius—warm enough to make them sweat.
Kenji seemed less effected by the brightness—it may have even been helping him see better—but he was still shadowing his face, and Emi practically had her eyes closed. Beads of sweat were forming across her brow, and the tacky floor was starting to pull against her prosthetics, but she pressed on; her curiosity was driving her forward harder than the natural instinct to flee, even though the cave definitely had a creepy vibe, and smelled like something had died.
The fact that Kenji was still stone-faced and marching forward added to her gusto. Although he talked a decent game, Kenji wasn't the sort to walk directly into danger unless it was the only way to go. If he could continue along despite his instinct to flee, there was no way Emi would let herself get consumed by fear. Glancing at him as she walked, she smirked and shook her head, and the distraction caused her to bounce into a wall.
“What?” she breathed, trying to open her eyes enough to look at its surface.
Aside her, Kenji matched her confused tone and added, “The fuck is this?”
The cave seemed to continue on beyond, but there was definitely a wall of some kind in the way. The overwhelmingly bright light made peering through it difficult, but the wall seemed to be made of amber like the rocks, and was mostly translucent. Running her hand over wall, she found it warm like the floor, but it wasn't tacky, and Emi recoiled at realizing it wasn't completely solid—it was almost gelatinous. After pulling her hand away, she glanced at Kenji and saw him running his fingers over the translucent material.
“Is this in any of those stories?” she inquired, the situation making his ideas seem less crazy.
“No, but...” he let out a strange, giddy laugh and turned a grin at her, “It's fascinating... my fingers are numb.”
“Numb?” she echoed, extending her hand to touch the wall again. Sure enough, after a couple seconds in contact, her fingers started to feel numb, but it didn't feel wrong for some reason—it felt like the warm numbness one might feel after finding the perfect comfortable spot in bed.
Turning, she saw Kenji sticking his whole hand into the wall, prompting her to scold, “What are you doing?”
“It's fine!” he retorted, retracting the hand, “It's some kind of defense screen, I think.”
“Like, if we step through we'll go numb and-”
“Stasis!” he shouted, then slammed a hand over his own mouth and gasped. “This is how they knocked us out! They put us in this stuff... somehow,” he added, taking a step back to search along the edges of the wall, “that's why we don't remember anything after-”
“Okay, great...” Emi rasped, turning to look back along the amber tunnel. “Now we have some idea of what happened, but now what?" she asked, trying to make sense of all the nonsense. Relying on Kenji for answers left a bad taste in her mouth, but between the two of them he was the only one with a glimmer of understanding. "We can't go through this wall, right?" she remarked, turning to give Kenji a sidelong glance, "So, do we go back?”
Before Kenji could answer, something caught his eye—which Emi thought was strange, but he also had his targeting scanner engaged—drawing his eyes toward the cave ceiling. Following his glance, she saw the bee from earlier making its way along the cave toward them, seemingly unaware of their presence. Instinctively, she raised her rifle toward the tiny insect, but realized how silly that seemed before she could look down the scope.
“What's it doing here?” she breathed, but Kenji had no answer.
Unheeded, the bee ambled along near the ceiling until it was mere inches from the gelatinous wall. For a moment, Emi thought it would turn back at seeing the dead end, but instead it continued onward, straight into the wall, pushing its whole body through by beating its wings furiously. For a few moments she kept her eyes pinned on the sight, watching it move through the material until it suddenly vanished—faded into nothingness right before her eyes.
The whole experience felt like a dream—like it was just too ridiculous to have actually happened—and she blinked a few times to try and decipher whether she might be hallucinating. Meanwhile, Kenji stepped right up to the wall, apparently trying to find the bee on the other side, but it was gone. After a few silent moments, he turned to her, but the look on his face was anything but encouraging.
“We should follow it,” he suggested with a disturbingly giddy grin, holstering his Beretta and taking another step toward the wall. “It couldn't have gone far...”
“No!” she barked, stopping him in his tracks, “Are you out of your mind?”
“I think I was wrong,” he retorted, looking toward her and grinning, “I've been wrong before.”
Usually Kenji didn't admit to being wrong, so him doing so blatantly was probably a sign he might be right, but Emi was never easily convinced. “So, now what? A second ago this is a stasis field, and now-”
“Transportation,” he interjected, pontificating sharply, “It makes so much more sense!”
“But-”
“Just trust me?”
“Why would I ever-”
“Emi, please, just go with it for once,” he said, plastering a cherubic grin on his typically stern visage.
None of it made sense, but the worst case scenario involved a secluded trip up north where there wouldn't be any witnesses to Kenji's untimely murder. Granted, there was a chance they might be tempting fate by following a glowing bee through a numbing wall, but there were probably worse ways she could have spent her evening—a little numbness might be just what she needed. With a resigned shrug, she groaned and nodded, but held up her hand before he could dive through the wall.
“I'll go first,” she bargained, but Kenji wasn't in any mood to negotiate.
“We go together, or not at all,” he balked, “There's no way I'm letting you see what's on the other side first.”
Whether because she was tired of arguing, or because deep down she thought he was right, she gave another nod and holstered her rifle. The numbing sensation when her fingers ran over the wall seemed strange, but not unpleasant—quite the opposite of unpleasant, really—so she thought that might be a good sign. After one last shared nod, she lifted one of her metal spikes up and pushed it into the wall.
“Remember this is your fault,” she chided, rolling her eyes as he flashed another childish grin.
When her leg was completely inside, and the numbing started to move along her thigh, she almost recoiled, but Kenji was already half way through, so she narrowed her eyes and forced herself forward. Keeping her head out, she drove through the strange material rather quickly, and the weird tingling made her crack a smile. Finally, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes before pulling her head forward.
Almost instantly, the tingling stopped and the material around her seemed to vanish. Too overwhelmed to open her eyes, she stumbled forward and fell to her knees, landing with a clatter—and apparently on dry land. After a few moments, she bolted upright and opened her eyes, immediately looking for the partner she thought had been right next to her, but they weren't anywhere to be seen. Not only that, but the cave seemed to have vanished, or, rather, grown a lot bigger, and the dizzying sight nearly made her fall back again.
“Hello...?” she said, turning up to peer into the vast darkness and listen to her own voice echo off the distant rocks. The view, or something else, made her feel lightheaded, so she turned her eyes back down at the ground. “Is anybody there?” she whispered, “Where... am I?”
She didn't expect an answer, considering how empty the place felt, but there should have been someone with her—someone with glasses. That memory felt like it happened a hundred years ago, though, and she couldn't even remember their name, or face. All she could really remember was the strange amber-colored wall she had stepped through, which seemed to have vanished along with her memory. That wasn't troubling so much as inconvenient, as it seemed she had found herself in someplace totally devoid of life.
That seemed like a bigger problem than forgetting where she came from—or who she was.
Above her there appeared to be a network of platforms crossing in every direction, lit in dim amber light from a strange glowing ball hovering in the distance, and all seeming to go on forever. The only sound came as an incessant, low frequency buzzing—like a bee hive—but it wasn't irritating so much as confusing. Its source was the glowing ball, or so it seemed, but it also moved around her, passed through her, and filled her with a sense of dream-like wonder.
The whole place felt unreal, like a vivid dream, except it wasn't disjointed or confusing as a dream might feel. Even though none of it made any sense, the ground was solid, the air was thick, and every sense told her she was still in reality. The fact that she could no longer remember where she came from, what her name was, or why she was there only seemed to make it seem more real—and terrifying. Although she felt like she was used to strange encounters, the whole situation felt alien and frightening, and she wanted it to be over.
Unfortunately, she had no idea how to find her way out, but standing still seemed like a worse idea. The amber light emanating from the globe was dim, but bright enough to show the rocky ground beneath her feet, so she started walking—if only to give her something else to focus on besides the gigantic, insurmountable vastness. She felt like a child trapped in a giant, empty mall after dark, trudging onward in the hopes that somewhere, someone might find her and show her a way out.
As she walked, she tried to remember what she had been doing, but everything came as short flashes, and none of it made sense. The bespectacled figure she recalled seemed important, though she got the sense this might all be his fault—she wasn't sure why, though. If her equipment was any indicator, she was in some kind of special forces, but she couldn't remember her own name, never mind the organization she worked for, or the people she was working with—or how she'd gotten here.
Her thoughts kept traveling in circles, which she hoped didn't effect her forward march.
The strangest realization came when she looked down and found metal spikes in place of her feet, but it didn't seem to hinder her, so she just shrugged and continued walking. Before long she started feeling tired, but, without any indication of how far she had gone, she wasn't sure whether it was because of how far she'd walked or a result of the oppressive feeling from the strange place she'd found herself.
Deciding it probably didn't matter, she sat down for a breather, taking the moment to inspect the strange artillery she was carrying. Lighter than it looked, the rifle strapped to her back felt right in her hands, and she felt accustomed to its weight—she tried not to think about what that probably meant. Somehow she knew how it worked, and that it wasn't a typical firearm, but she had no idea why she knew that—like she was some kind of sleeper-spy from a Bourne novel.
“Ah! Miss, you really are a hard one to follow,” a pleasant-sounding voice split the silence, and she bolted upright.
Spinning around, she took in the sight with some trepidation. Where there hadn't been a sign of anyone passing by for the last few hours, suddenly there was a man standing there, dressed in a blue uniform of some kind with brass buttons and a black visor, smiling broadly through a well-groomed handlebar mustache. White gloves covered his outstretched hands, and he was slouching slightly to appear less threatening, but she wasn't about to let herself be fooled by a kind smile in a place like this.
“Who're you?” she barked, lifting the rifle to aim at the man's forehead.
“The Conductor, of course,” he replied wistfully, his English speaking voice laden with the slightest hint of a British accent. “Ferryman of the otherworld—I've been trying to find you for the past several hours. Please, you needn't aim that dreadful thing at me—I'm a friend!”
“Friend?” she spat, “I don't even know who I am—how can I know you're a friend.”
Nothing about him seemed the slightest bit familiar, or memorable for that matter. In that moment, she wondered whether she might be aiming her gun at a hallucination, but she shoved that thought aside. Whatever he was, his eyes didn't have the quality of someone who would deceive people intentionally—he looked rather unassuming, actually. That could have been a trick, though, so she decided not to let her first impressions command her actions.
“Because I'm not carrying a weapon, and you're lost,” he retorted, holding his empty hands up a little higher, “See? Now, please, Miss Ibarazaki-”
“Who?” she interrupted, squinting suspiciously at the name—it sounded familiar.
“That's your name, Agent—Emi Ibarazaki,” he replied quickly, the tension in his voice making her realize he wasn't accustomed to stern conversation, “Japanese national, and four year veteran of the organization surreptitiously known as the NPC.”
Her brow furrowed as the description sunk in, and she realized some of what he said made sense, but she still didn't trust him. “How do you know all this?” she demanded, “Who are you?”
“As I said: I am The Conductor—my business is knowing,” he responded, offering a seemingly genuine smile, “There's more, and I'm sure you have plenty of questions, but we need to see to your well-being—passing through a gate when you're not properly attuned often results in disorientation, amnesia, and a number of other maladies, so, please...”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Why shouldn't you?” he retorted, waving his hand dismissively, “You're alone and lost in a vast ocean with no end,” he sent a hand waving about at the vast nothingness, “does it make sense refusing the one lifeline available?”
She still had no reason to trust him, but that didn't make him any less right. With a careful nod, she kept the rifle raised and started following him into the darkness. This Conductor may well have been an enemy, but if he really knew her name, where she was from, and how she got there, it was worth going along with him to find out. The name he called her by—Emi Ibarazaki—sounded right for some reason, and if it turned out he wasn't worth the trust, she still had her rifle.
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In my haste to publish, I forgot to add any closing comments, but, as I write this sentence it occurs to me that I don't have much to say. Obviously I'm making use of amnesia, and I realize that's a bit of a tired trope, but it's not taken lightly--there's reason behind it.
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