I tasted one of the rice rolls. “It’s good.”
“It’s especially good. Maybe it’s the way it’s cooked, or maybe because they use spring water to cook it in.”
“You don’t think the fact that we’re eating outdoors has anything to do with the way it tastes to you? Eating outdoors usually makes food taste better.”
“Skeptic,” she said. “Just eat your bento and don’t bother me with your doubts. When I tell you it’s delicious, it’s because it’s delicious. We could be eating inside a trailer parked in Kansas, and this rice would still be delicious.”
I smiled and ate another rice roll.
Around us the brush and trees were still a bit lifeless, as if they were anticipating the impending winter, but I could tell that in the spring and early fall this area must be spectacular. I picked up a bit of the grilled fish and tasted it. It was very good. It had a charcoal flavor from being cooked over a hibachi. I picked up a piece of vegetable and looked up the mountainside that was on the other side of the stream as I brought it to my mouth.
I froze. Then I dropped the vegetable into my lap. Seeing the expression on my face, Mariko said, “What’s the matter?”
Using the chopsticks, I pointed up the mountainside. “Look.”
Mariko looked across the stream. On the other side she saw the rising slope of a wooded hill that rapidly turned itself into a mountain. At the top of the hill, sitting like some brooding castle, was an outcropping of rock. Two peaks of dark gray granite, forming the shape of the letter M.
“It’s the pattern on the third blade,” she said.
“That’s right. It’s an outcropping of rock.”
I put the lunchbox down and stood up. Then I started dancing around the clearing. “We found it! We found it!” I grabbed the stunned Mariko by the hand and dragged her to her feet. “I’m sure that’s it. We’re gonna be rich. We’re gonna be rich,” I sang an improvised tune, dancing around Mariko. Okay, the lyrics weren’t exactly Cole Porter, and I admit the tune wasn’t Gershwin, but it sounded pretty damn good to me at the time.
A sharp crack rang out in the meadow and something hit the rock next to Mariko, scattering chips of stone and dirt. I pulled Mariko to the ground. “What was that?” she asked, startled.
I had a flashback to Vietnam. I was there only three weeks, but I knew exactly what was going on. “Somebody’s shooting at us. Come on,” I said. “Get behind the rock and let’s get into the brush.”
Mariko nodded and scuttled around the rock on her hands and knees. I followed. As we made our way into the brush, I heard excited voices from the other side of the clearing. “Get up and run like hell,” I said. “Those guys mean business.”
Mariko nimbly got to her feet and started running through the brush and trees with me crashing around behind her. As we ran I could hear shouts and voices behind us. “I think they’re following us,” I told Mariko.
I could see the forest ahead was getting thicker with brush and I realized that if we kept running in this direction we’d soon get tangled up and caught. “I’ll cut to the left and cross the stream, making a lot of noise,” I said. “You go ahead for a little bit, then cut to the right and double back towards where Junko dropped us off. Get help.”
“No. I’m not going to leave you,” Mariko said.
“Get back to the road and get help. I’m not acting like a hero, I’m just doing what’s sensible. When I cut to the left, you go ahead and then double back. Find someone and get the police. Then bring them back here. If I lose them, I’ll be hiding around the meadow. Okay?” I panted out the last few words. The thin mountain air made me tired, even after the short sprint.
“But Ken…”
“For God’s sake, please do it! We’ve got to work together. We don’t have time to argue.”
“Okay.” Mariko stopped running, turned around, and grabbed me around the neck. With my forward momentum, it almost tumbled us to the ground. She gave me a brief, fierce kiss and said, “I love you. I’ll bring back help, no matter what. Don’t take any risks!”
“Don’t be silly. Just get help. I love you, too.” She let go of my neck and started running to the right, up the slope of a hill. My grand plan was for her to go forward a little before she cut to the right, but the way she darted through the woods like a deer made me think she probably knew more about it than I did. Now my job was to draw off our pursuers. I turned left and started crashing through the brush, shouting to an imaginary companion. I could hear people yelling to each other, so I was sure they could hear me, too.
I came the edge of the stream. It was only four feet wide and I jumped it at a dead run. Now I was running uphill and fatigue started dragging at my legs. Behind me I heard shouting, so I knew I was being followed. I also knew I couldn’t elude my pursuers long enough for Mariko to get help unless I thought of something more imaginative than just staying ahead of them.
As I clambered higher up the hill the slope got steeper and the thick trunks of the trees grew closer together. Below me I could hear men shouting to each other. It sounded like three of them, and they had spread out into a picket line, making inexorable progress up the mountainside. I realized I would soon be trapped.
I looked around for a weapon and, acting on an instinct as old as man, I stooped down and picked up a rock the size of my fist. Then I looked for a place to hide.
Ahead I saw two trees growing so closely together that the trunks of the trees were mated, forming an expanse of wood wide enough for me to hide behind. I scurried up the slope and got to the uphill side of the trees. Then I pressed back against the trunks, pushing my back against the unyielding wood and holding the rock tightly in my hand.
My breath came in ragged gasps and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure the men would be able to hear it long before they came upon the tree. I fought to control my breathing, closing my eyes momentarily and trying to focus my energy.
Around me the woods took on a strange silence and time seemed to pass with excruciating slowness. I was sure they were right behind me, but I stood pressed against the trees so long that I thought they might have given up the chase.
Then I heard the slide of rocks and dirt as someone scrambled up the hillside. The sound came closer and I raised the rock. If the man passed more than a few feet away, I realized I was probably a dead man because there was no way to throw the rock faster than the flight of a bullet. Besides, as a kid, baseball was not my game. I wasn’t sure how good my aim was.
My lungs were burning and I realized I had been holding my breath. I allowed myself the luxury of a slow exhale as I waited for the first sign of my pursuers.
Suddenly, at the edge of the tree, a brown hand grasped the trunk. On instinct, I stepped from behind the tree and brought the rock down with all my weight behind it. The wolfish Yakuza looked up with surprise. In his other hand was a gun, but he was off balance, pulling himself up the hillside, and couldn’t get a shot off.
The rock came crashing down on his cheekbone with a sickening crunch. He crumpled, releasing the gun and letting it skitter down the steep hillside. I fought to regain my balance so I wouldn’t go tumbling down the slope, too.
I grabbed the tree to steady myself and looked down at the man. Fresh blood already covered one side of his face, and he was making a feeble attempt to cover his head with his arms. The smart thing to do would have been to hit him again to finish him off, but I guess I’m not smart. I didn’t feel remorse for hitting him. The bastard had a gun and, for all I knew, he was the one who had shot at Mariko and me. But I just didn’t have the stomach to strike a second blow.
Instead, I looked for the gun that had slipped down the slope. I couldn’t see it, and I was about to start a search for it when I heard another voice shouting to my right. The voice called a couple of times, and I heard the man at my feet moan a kind of response. I figured someone would be coming to investigate why their buddy wasn’t responding to their hail, and it was time to move out again.