***
I left Taka, Koji and Jun this morning after a breakfast of dry cereal from my car and drinks we had taken from a broken-open vending machine. I tried my best to be friendly as I warned them to stay away from Tokyo Tower and Nakano Broadway and they thanked me, telling me to steer clear of the National Diet building, and especially Bunkyo ward. I didn't bother telling them that I planned on going back to my neighborhood later.
As I drove, I thought about the story they had told me. They had started out with six people in their group, one more man and two women. The man disappeared the first night while all six of them were sleeping. They hadn't seen any of the Uncles yet, nor any of the wire-cheeks, so at first they just assumed he had left in the night. Later in the day they found both of his arms, still in the jacket sleeves on the pavement out in front of the sidewalk away from the kiosk. That was enough to unnerve every one of them. To make themselves feel safer, the three men made a barricade out of the cars even though they had a feeling it wouldn't do much good. The second night passed without anything happening, and Jun, the stocky construction worker, could attest to that since he had sat awake all night watching. He had dozed off for a few minutes just around dawn, then woke up the others. When they tried to shake one of the women awake, her head rolled off into a corner of the kiosk, leaving no blood. Completely unnerved, the last woman, sat unmoving and silent for the next twenty four hours. The three men sat with her, hoping she'd get better, only to fall asleep and find her missing when they woke up the next day. Jun was an intelligent guy; it was obvious in the way he spoke, and it seemed beneath him to admit it that the Uncle Deadlies were toying with them. They still hadn't seen them at that point, but a day later they saw the dark shadowy creatures come out of a building. He had used the English word “shadow”.
Just as we had said our goodbyes, Jun mentioned that he thought it might be unconnected, but before they had been taken away, one of the women had told them she was with a group of survivors before joining up with the four men, and there had been a woman looking for her foreign husband. The woman described her husband as large and dark haired, and had shown a picture of him to the woman who disappeared. If she had been alive she'd have been able to describe the picture or maybe identify whether or not that person was me. The woman had left the group and went off on her own looking for her husband. That was three days ago near the west exit of Shinjuku station. It was impossible not to get my hopes up, and I choked up when he mentioned the woman searching for her husband. I'm sure Jun saw the tears well up in my eyes, but he politely looked through his bag while I got myself together. To have a thread of hope, no matter how small after all this time was an overwhelming burst of strength, and also pushed me to the edge of crushing disappointment. I wanted to sprint to my car and drive as fast as I could. I forgot about going to the house of Airi's friend and immediately got in the car, driving the only way I knew, back through Aoyama and Shibuya. I drove without thinking, panicking that I wouldn't get there in time, something I always did when it came to Airi. I rushed, and now I regret it.