Reek, page 6
Scared of the island, Sis. As you will be.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, hoping to shake the voice out of her; out into the sea. Down into the hidden depths.
“We'll film pickups later on the way back,” Kojima said, flipping through the script. “Mr. Sato, if you'd please stand over there by Yui, to her right.”
Sato moved over to her, his steps timed with the boat. Mai focused on the job, making a mental note, remembering to ask him later on exactly how to pull that trick off.
“It's Ms. Watanabe, is it?” Sato asked. She did not respond immediately, letting him wait; a mirror check taking priority.
“Yui, just Yui. I think the viewers will respond better if I use my first name only.” Sato bowed to her, while she did a mild attempt of her own. “Is this your first time on camera?”
Her voice was high, every sentence sculpted; cute and childlike. Popularized on TV by actors and variety show talent, it had become the go-to way for young women to speak. Men found it charming, older women found it non-threatening. Win win. Mai herself had seen it in action. At university her girlfriends would converse normally, the usual girl talk but when a boy ventured over everything changed. Out came the high pitched voices, the cute expressions to cap sentences. Another reason Mai fell out of favor, though in this case, it was a battle she had been willing to lose.
“Uh, well, no. I've done a few of these kinds of things before,” he said, no longer moving in harmony with the boat, but knocking lightly against Yui whenever the boat swelled just right.
“Really? You mean documentaries? Anything I would have seen? Something on Fuji TV, or NHK?”
“Not those channels. Local stations, uh, Saitama, I believe. Myth against reality, that kind of thing. Maybe you've heard of me?”
“No,” she said, her frown and pouting lip worthy of a Looney Tunes cartoon.
“Everyone, enough time wasting. Yui, are you ready? Camera, ready?”
“Ready,” Okada replied, thumbs up.
“OK, like we rehearsed. Start from the top, Yui.”
Mai stepped over Anno–a second away from puking on the deck–and jutted out the clapperboard, ready to start.
“Mai!” Kojima said, anger lacing her name. “The numbers?”
Mai looked at the board, certain she had wiped it clean and added the new take numbers. The board was empty.
“S-sorry Mr. Kojima.”
She didn't have to hear any scoffing or see any exasperated glances. She felt them, their experience and expectations. Judging. Her first big mistake. Next it would be to anger Jin, who was absent from shooting and it would be all over.
This is why you shouldn't have left home, Sis. Some birds need to stay in their cages.
Something tapped her right thigh. Anno held up a piece of chalk, as white as the object he was offering. Mai scribbled the numbers on the board and held it up to the camera. Kojima looked at her; bubbling anger, then it was gone.
“OK, count us down,” he said. Anno managed a smile and a thumbs up at her.
“Rea-d-y-y-y-y, and three, two, one...”
Yui sucked in a large breath, smiled, and turned to Sato.
“Mr. Sato, what can you tell us about the island we're heading to. Are the rumors true? Could such terrible things have taken place here? Is the island haunted?”
Sato laughed, quick and false. “Excellent questions, Yui. This particular island has a reputation, this is true. However, if we look at facts, not fic-”
“Damn it, my hair!” she said, throwing an exaggerated groan to the wind. “How can I interview anyone if my hair keeps blowing in my face?”
“Cutting it usually does the trick,” Okada said in a low voice reserved only for Anno. Mai tried not to smile. She had participated in enough university productions to see the wrath of a diva in full force.
“Mai,” Kojima said, his voice strained, “go back and find something to block the wind.”
The boat bobbed and jerked against the ocean, a tiny leaf in a big pond. She passed the bridge, a small box no bigger than a closet. She couldn't help but let free a little yelp as water slid across the deck, soaking her feet.
“Uh, i-is that normal?” she said, gesturing to the water sloshing around them. The skipper, a large man with curled gray hair sprouting out from the tip of his nose, looked at her with derision.
“What'd yrsspct yrnabt?”
She blanked, the English so quick, strung together like a song with no pauses to determine the words. English had not been her best subject back in high school–all grammar and no actual conversation–but she thought she would be able to fare better than this; no idea what had been said, nor how to respond.
“Excuse me,” she replied in Japanese.
Moving starboard, she hoped to catch a glimpse of the island, anything to take her mind off her language failure. A fog thicker than she had ever seen back in Tokyo blanketed everything, a wall of mist rippling upwards from the ocean to the sky above. She squinted, hoping her eyes had a yet undiscovered power, straining to see through the mist, a headache in return for her efforts. The boat listed to the left; an abrupt movement that caused Mai's feet to slip out from under her, not helped by the cheap sneakers she had bought at the airport.
Oh crap, not the water, please not in the water, she thought.
“I've got you,” a male voice said.
Jin had her, letting her go once she gave a firm nod. He lit a smoke, the brief flash of light from the lighter the only warm color around them.
“Excuse me,” she said, “I'm always bumping into you, sorry. I'm not used to boats.”
“You're a Tokyo girl, huh?”
“Nakano prefecture, born and raised.”
He nodded, blowing out smoke in O shapes, seemingly happy to let the conversation die there.
“What about you?”
“You can't tell by the pull on the end of my sentences?” Jin said as he braced himself against a rail. The waves were getting larger now, almost as high as the boat itself or so it seemed to her.
“Pull on the end of your sentences? You're from Osaka, right?” Mai said in her best imitation of the Kansai dialect.
He laughed, coughing from her sudden attempt. “Originally. Haven't been back in years.”
“Is that why you speak English so well?”
“Went overseas a couple of years back. Some guys helped me out, taught me some.”
“I'm jealous. The captain said something to me just now but I couldn't understand him at all.”
He took another drag on his cigarette as the wind whisked around them carrying a sharp smell that disappeared before her nose could recognize it.
“Why aren't you with the crew?” Mai asked. “I'm sure they'll want to get some footage of you before we arrive.”
“Sure, when Kojima wants me I'll go up. Better rehearse my lines first, yeah? Oh my God! Look over there,” Jin said, a show of mock terror. “A ghost. Jesus, it's coming right for us!”
“If you're psychic you won't have to fake it, no?”
“You believe in ghosts? It's OK if you don't,” he said. “Ghosts, psychics, God. It's a bunch of bullshit to a lot of people.”
His question was baited, she could feel it. Much like him, in a way. All show, hiding the real guy underneath.
“I never thought about it, to be honest,” she said.
Her family had no interest in the supernatural, her friends never talked about it, she herself avoided all horror movies. Mai often felt her life had many holes; simple things like buying your first bra, deciding on what ice cream tastes best. All of these things had passed by with no fanfare, no milestones to mark off her journey. Ever since the accident, Mai had spent a lifetime looking behind.
“I guess with the rush to get here and Kojima's secrecy I never had a moment to stop and ask myself if I believe in such things. Ghosts?” Mai said, a silence growing despite the blare of the boat engine behind them. “I don't. No, I don't believe.”
“Good for you,” he said, throwing his cigarette butt overboard. “I like that you took a moment to think about it. Other people just shit all over it outright.”
“But wouldn't it be amazing though if we did it, caught a ghost on film? Real proof for the world to see?”
“What makes you think people'll believe the footage is real?”
A wave slapped against the side, spilling over, small bubbles in the foam. The sea seemed to be alive to her; always moving, always making noises. A roiling, constant thing so huge, so forever, that it scared her. The sea was an ancient beast that would outlast everyone. It had seen the rise of the dinosaurs, it would surely see the fall of humanity. To Mai, a girl born in the center of Tokyo where the nearest beach was a two-hour train ride away, the ocean was a thing to respect and fear. Underneath the boat creatures swam and fed in darkness, the only common element in a world utterly alien to life on land. In such a world like that she did not belong, no human did.
“Of course they'll believe. Why wouldn't they?”
“Since when have people been good at seeing what is right in front of their face?” Jin said, looking out into the fog.
She wondered if he was even engaged in the discussion, his ambivalence grating against her, pushing her to refute, “When people see it they'll know it wasn't faked. People are smart and-”
“People are very good at lying to themselves. Keeps all the hard stuff out and stops the brain from accepting the truth. Especially the scary truth.”
She smelled something, the same brief odor from moments before, then it was gone.
“Mai!” Kojima bellowed from the front of the boat. “Where the hell are you?”
Yui's hair. She had forgotten, wrapped up in Jin's casual disinterest. She searched, scrambling for anything. She couldn't come back empty-handed. Their glares would remain with her after she closed her eyes at night.
“What?” Jin asked.
“Uh, some kind of...something to block the wind. Yui's hair is flying about.”
There was nothing on the deck not bolted down except a lone rope, withered and frayed from years of abuse. Jin walked past, shouting in English to the captain. A pang of jealousy ran through her. It all seemed so easy to quickly walk up to a stranger and engage them in their own language. Her world was a box. Go too far and you would crack your head on a wall. But for people like Jin, they could go anywhere, say whatever they felt. Through a cabin window, she could see him offering the skipper a smoke. The skipper grinned, several teeth long since gone from his mouth. He handed Jin something and with that Jin clapped the guy on the shoulder and walked back to her, a large white rectangle in hand.
“Here,” he said, putting the board in her hands. “It's his noticeboard, never used.”
“But your cigarette, I feel bad.”
He pulled out a lone smoke from his pants. He lit it, giving her a wink. “Wouldn't give my last one. Bunch of idiots looking for ghosts on an island? I'll need all the nicotine I can get.”
Thanking him she moved ahead, taking care not to drop the board over the side. Jin stood alone at the rear of the boat, large gray waves churning around him.
“You had better watch yourself,” she called back. “Those things will kill you.” She cautiously made her way forward to the awaiting crew, disappearing from his view.
Ahead, the island stalked its way out of the mist, large and black on the horizon; a wart on the ocean, bulbous and obscene.
The fog pulled back, never fully withdrawing; wisps of gray clinging to the sides of it, hiding its secrets. The size of the place. It was both huge and small. Jin felt the boat was nothing compared to the island; a mouse approaching a lion even though it was no more than a mile across at most. Clumps of forest here and there, the land rutted and ugly to behold.
The seas became calm; the boat slapping into more placid waters. The air was bitter. He smiled to himself as he inhaled the cigarette smoke, his thoughts on Mai and what the Gift had shown him.
Looking at the island growing closer, a small dock coming into view, a thought came to him.
What makes her think anyone will be getting off this island alive?
06:21:32:11
First out, Anno felt the anxiety slip away as his feet slapped onto the safety of the dock.
The world swayed, images warping as though he stared into a funhouse mirror. Fat clouds, skinny clouds, all that was missing was the cotton candy. His mouth felt sticky; his tongue bloated. A whistle from behind, Anno turned just in time to catch a large rucksack full of equipment.
“Gimme a damned second before you throw shit,” Anno said.
He noticed Okada wasn't paying attention. He followed his stare to find Yui at the back of the boat, teetering on the edge, heels wobbling as she gauged the jump.
“Ten bucks says she falls on her ass,” Okada said, throwing another bag at him. It hit Anno in the stomach; warped images now taking on a series of bright colors.
“Gimme a sec, will you?”
“What, too safe? Alright, fifty says she cracks her head against the dock and falls into the ocean.”
“Idiot,” he said, willing the world to stay put. “If we lose her the production is screwed without a host. What do you think Kojima would do, put you in front of the camera? Your mug would break the lens. Nobody wants to see your face, Gollum.”
“We'd still have Mai.”
Anno heard the attraction in Okada's voice. Years of different productions, years of new crews coming and going and still some things were constant. The darling of the production; the unsung beauty, the female crew member that most considered to outshine the female lead. Okada had picked Mai–not many options on this trip–and Anno agreed.
Stepping onto the dock, she held her hands out, Kojima loading each arm with his personal bags. A light wind whisked her hair, a slight smile on her face. Her first big production, she brought vitality and endurance to the crew, which only endeared her more.
“Looks like she has more important things to do,” Anno said, placing his hands on his knees, sucking in slow breaths, ignoring the protests from his wrists. This country wasn't good for his arthritis, worse still, being out on the ocean almost made it unbearable; minuscule shards of broken glass slowly grinding their way to the bone. He kept it to himself, though he suspected Okada knew. Jin walked by, not a single bag on him.
“What does the fortune teller say?” Okada said. “Are the spirits communicating, or do we need a sacrifice? I'm sure we can find a chicken or something around here.”
Anno suppressed a smile with Jin's reply. “Fortune teller says you'd better stop fucking around and start shooting before you die of old age.”
He didn't seem to notice–or care–Okada's red face as he stopped at the end of the dock.
A forest, withered and sick, spread out ahead, starting in rotten patches before gradually infecting the island in an anemic taupe. Jin stood, one foot raised off the ground like he was about to turn and sprint across the water back to the mainland. Anno saw he played with his watch; hand over the face, quick glance, watch hand jammed into his pocket. He did it with the air of a man unaware of his actions, an unconscious, unguarded gesture; face slack, eyes looking but not truly seeing.
Someone screamed, the noise echoing back from the island.
Yui, right foot jutting out, dangling to find purchase with the dock. Her foot began to slip as she let out another squeal.
“Here it comes,” Okada said. For a moment Anno thought it would play out as Okada imagined. Yui would hit the dock, the team launching into a panic at the blood, her non-responsive eyes. Instead, life unfolded as it usually does, the wheel turning in mundane fashion.
From behind, Sato extended his hand, guiding her to safety. Okada let out a disappointed sigh, oblivious to the smile on Sato's face. Kojima slid off the boat, a grin forming equal to Sato's.
“First things first. We've got to get to base camp so we can set up.”
Anno realized he was looking at him. Directors, he had noted, never waited for your consultation. They waited for your acknowledgment.
“Yes,” he answered, “we'll need to get to our location as soon as possible so we can set up our cameras and the rest of the equipment before we run out of light.”
“There should be a building of some kind at the top of the island,” Kojima said. “Although, documents on this place were far and few between.”
“Yes, why is that?” Sato asked. “I couldn't seem to find much information on the internet about this area on the boat ride over.”
“Would have been good to shoot some interviews with the locals,” Okada added, “but the town seemed deserted.
“Except for the bartender and captain,” Anno said. If he spoke any English at all, he could have snatched the interviews and been riding on praise right now.
Always a couple of steps behind, he thought. Every damn time.
Jin opened his mouth to speak, his face dark. “This place is danger-”
“Everyone,” Kojima said, his voice loud, bouncing off the sparse trees that lined the water around the dock. “The longer we talk, the more time we waste. The more time we waste, the further we are from reaching our goal. Do you see where I'm going with this? Okada? Mr. Sato?” The team grew silent, nodding along with him.
“Again, this place is dangerous,” Jin said, his back to the group, staring into the forest.
“Then it's a good thing we have you to help us, Mr. Tanaka,” Kojima said as he moved past him. “Who better to help us on a haunted island than a psychic?”
The team picked up their bags, filing past, the dock creaking under their weight. Anno was the last to walk by Jin; the only to make eye contact. The trip over, even at the bar, he had found Jin to be conceited, a guy that took things in his own time. Okada had hated him outright; bitching incessantly about the worth of the man on the team, his lack of respect. His top-down attitude. Walking by, the look given to Anno was hardly cocksure. He looked worried.
