Saturday, December 19, 2020

The Mysteries of the Community Service Club (Chapter Eight)

*****
Yuna
*****

It's dark. Everywhere is dark. I can't see anything. Where is everyone? I have to find them. I have to find her.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this! It's so dark. It's so dark. It's so dark! Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

As I ran down the road, I called out for her. But the only response I got was my own words coming back to me as an echo.

Judging by my footsteps, I was in a place made of stone. And the echoes my footsteps made gave away that I'm inside someplace cavernous. It's a tunnel. I'm sure of it. But it wasn't anything natural. The ground was smooth beneath my feet, which meant that the stone I'm stepping on is pavement. The tunnel was manmade. 

Well, of course it was, I thought to myself. We were in the middle of a short road trip from one town to another when we found ourselves here, a tunnel at the base of a mountain that we needed to take to our destination.

It's no good. I can't run anymore.

Out of breath, heart pounding, and feet hurting, I stopped. I was completely soaked in sweat, and it was already severely stuffy in here. But I didn't wait long to catch my breath. As soon as my heart eased up a little I resumed my run.

However, after just a few paces forward, I accidentally stepped on something soft and lost my footing. I managed to catch myself, but my hands got scraped on the pavement, making them sting a lot. Even though I couldn't see, I was certain that they must be bleeding. My knees also hurt as I had landed on all fours.

I sat down to wait for the stinging to subside, and when it did, albeit a little, I moved to get back on my feet. That was when my hand touched something on the ground. The feeling was unmistakable. It was a smartphone. 

Excited, I picked the smartphone up while praying with all my heart that it still worked. My prayers were answered and I could turn on the phone. Better yet, it wasn't password protected. I don't know what happened to my own phone. I must have dropped it in the confusion earlier, and after coming so far when I realized that, there was no way I could just turn around and go back to look for it.

I immediately searched for the phone's flashlight function and turned it on. It was an incredible relief to have light again. But my relief was short-lived.

While taking a look at my surroundings, I turned around to the spot where I had tripped. I was curious as to what that soft thing I stepped on was. But when I saw it, I froze. My heart drummed fast. Something unpleasant rose up from my stomach, and strength abandoned my fingers that I ended up dropping the phone.

The tunnel plunged into darkness again, but what I saw was seared into my memories.

It was a hand, a genuine, human hand.

And then my eyes flew open and I was no longer in the tunnel.

Was that a dream? I wondered as I blinked my eyes. I was staring at a white ceiling, right at the panel of built-in lighting. No, that wasn't a dream, I told myself. That was a memory, a memory I wished was only a dream.

Where am I? I wondered as I slowly turned my head to look around. This room . . . I spent quite a lot of time in a room like this, so there was no mistaking where I was. I was in a hospital. But why am I here again? The last thing I remember, I was . . . That's right. I was picking up trash with the others down by the river. Not what I considered a fun activity, but I thought if I did something like that Auntie would stop worrying about me. But I suppose that wasn't going to happen anytime soon now that I was back here.

Slowly, I sat up. That was when I noticed my cousin, Hisao, sitting beside me on a chair while staring at his phone. He heard the rustling I made with my bedsheets and looked up.

"You're awake!" he cried out. "How're you feeling?"

I opened my mouth, but then stopped and looked around some more.

"If it's your phone, I have it right here," Hisao said. He took another phone out of his pocket and handed it to me.

I quickly took it and typed my reply into it before showing him.

"I see," he said. "That's . . . good to know."

His face was stony as he spoke, which made it hard to really gauge what he's thinking, but I already figured out that he was one of those withdrawn types who have a hard time expressing themselves in person. Even now, I believe that he was trying to be nice in his own way.

*****
Hisao
***** 

After Yuna had fainted, me and Mirai quickly took her over by the first aid station. We let her lie on a mat until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics didn't see anything wrong and that she had just fainted due to shock. But just in case, they decided to take her to the hospital to have her checked out. I had called Mom, explained what had happened and got her permission to have Yuna looked after. As her relative, I went with her and left the others behind.

After Yuna woke up, police detectives in plain clothes showed up to take our statements. But there really wasn't much we could tell them, so the interview lasted just a few minutes at most with me explaining what we did and what we saw, which was really unpleasant to recollect.

While the detective, an old man with graying hair and a blue suit, read through Yuna's testimony on her phone, there was something in it that made his eyes lit up a little, and he muttered, "Unpleasant memories? What does this mean, exactly?"

"Huh?" His partner, a younger man in a faded brown jacket took a look at the phone and then at the girl. "Hey, aren't you . . . ?"

"What's this? You know her?" the older gentleman asked.

"Yeah, I do, actually," the younger detective said. "She's from a case I handled a while back before I moved here. You must have heard about it. She's . . . you know . . . the one from that tunnel accident."

"Oh . . ." The old man fell quiet and quickly returned Yuna her phone. "Ahem! Never mind, then. Sorry about that."

I wondered what tunnel they could be talking about, but thought better not to ask.

When the detectives were done with their interview with us, Mom came in and took us home. The doctors didn't find anything wrong with Yuna so they discharged her from the hospital almost immediately.

Mom made a huge fuss about what happened today the whole night through. Her demands of us from now on were simple: no more weekends out for club activities, and to be back at home before sundown. There was not much I could say other than, "Okay," and "Got it." I learned a long time ago that there was no use arguing her. And for the most part, I didn't mind the demands.

**********

As expected, the school was abuzz with gossip as news had spread that a body had been found floating in the river. It was all our classmates would talk about. They spoke to each other in hushed whispers, some excited while others fearful. A few people joked around, feeling that this sort of stuff was so far away from their lives.

From what the news reporters said on TV, I learned that the man we saw was a college freshman who lived in the next town over, where police believed he had also died. When he passed away, he ended up in the river and taken downstream where we had found him. The reporters declared clearly that he was murdered and that the culprit was likely the infamous Piper.

Thankfully, the reporters didn't say where at the river the man was found, or when. So, although people knew me, Yuna and the rest of the CSC were by the river on the weekend, no one figured out that we had anything to do with it. Thus, our school day ran like any other, perfectly normal as if what had happened was just a dream. It was both relieving and slightly disturbing. But when me and Yuna got to the clubroom after school, reality sunk in again.

When we got to the clubroom, I was surprised to see that Mirai was not in his usual ridiculous costume. It looked like he opted to keep his normal, school day look for this meeting. 

"Hey, you guys," Omoyo said. "How're you doing, Yuna? Are you okay?"

She had a look of concern in her eyes. She had been really worried about Yuna after Yuna's fainting by the river, and would sometimes text both her and me for updates on her condition.

Yuna flashed a shaky smile and nodded before sitting down. I sat down next to her.

Once we were seated, Mirai began his meeting. While wearing what was supposed to be a grave scowl, he leaned forward and propped his chin on his hands as he rested his elbows on the table.

"Comrades," he started, "thank you all for coming. I have gathered you here today in this Demon Lord's war council to discuss the future of our campaign of conquest."

Even with his costume discarded, he was still acting his delusional self in the clubroom.

Omoyo got up and walked over to Mirai. Once she was by his side, she raised her hand and then sharply whapped him in the back of his head.

"Take this seriously, Toshiro," she snapped. "You want to talk about what happened at the river, isn't that right?"

"Ow! That hurt!" Mirai bemoaned. "You didn't have to do that, Homura. I was just trying to lighten up the mood."

"Well, you're doing a terrible job of it," Omoyo said.

"Fine!" Mirai said. "Then how about if I do this?"

He went over to a box at the corner of the room and dug out that pink elephant head. 

"Da da-da daah!" He sang and then put the plushie costume over his own.

Omoyo sighed and shook her head. "Now you're just being stupid," she said.

It was like they were doing a comedy skit. But no one else seemed to mind, especially Yuna who I caught smiling a little. I wasn't about to ruin that, so I said nothing. 

But Isaneko was a different story. Growing tired of the comedy skit, she interrupted Omoyo and Mirai and said, "Can we get on with this? What is it that you wanted to tell us?"

Mirai was about to speak, but then the door opened with a really loud bang that made me jump out of my seat. 

A rather tough-looking guy with an aggressive glare barged in, flanked by two others who appeared to be lackeys. The image they created was not unlike a yakuza boss and his henchmen making a visit for "business".

"Yo, Mirai," the leader said. The very way he spoke, all oily and low, was like something out of a TV show. And he had his nose pointed up to give the impression he was looking down on everyone in the room. "You got something I want. Hand it over."


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