kafka-24grammata.com-free-e-book.-pdf

doing? But you don't remember a thing, do you. No wounds on you, though, that's a
relief. No real pain, either--except for that throbbing in your left shoulder. So
the blood's gotta be from somebody else, not you. Somebody else's blood.
Anyway, you can't stay here forever. If a patrol car happens to spot you
here, covered with blood, you're up a creek, my friend. Course going back to the
hotel might not be a good idea. You don't know who might be lying in wait, ready
to jump you. You can't be too careful. Looks like you've been involved in some
crime, something you don't remember. Maybe you were the perp. Who knows?
Lucky thing you got all your stuff with you. You were always careful enough
to lug everything you own around in that heavy backpack. Good choice. You did
what's right, so don't worry. Don't be afraid. Everything's going to work out.
'Cause remember--you're the toughest fifteen-year-old on the planet, right? Get a
hold of yourself! Take some deep breaths and start using your head. Things'll be
fine. But you gotta be very careful. That's real blood we're talking about-somebody
else's blood. And we're not just talking a drop or two. As we speak I'll
bet somebody's trying to track you down.
Better get a move on. There's only one thing to do, one place you gotta go
to. And you know where that is.
I take a couple of deep breaths to calm down, then pick up my pack and get
out of the restroom. I crunch along the gravel, the mercury light beating down on
me, and try to get my brain in gear. Throw the switch, turn the crank, get the old
thought process up and running. But it's no go--not enough juice in the battery to
get the engine to turn over. I need someplace that's safe and warm. That I can
escape to for a while and pull myself together. But where? The only place that
comes to mind is the library. But the Komura Library's shut until tomorrow at
eleven, and I need somewhere to lie low till then.
I come up with an alternative. I sit down where nobody can spot me and take
the cell phone from my backpack. I check to see it's still connected, then take
Sakura's phone number from my wallet and punch in the numbers. My fingers still
aren't working well, and it takes a few times before I get the whole number right.
I don't get her voice mail, thank God. Twelve rings later she answers. I tell her
my name.
"Kafka Tamura," she repeats, not exactly thrilled. "Do you have any idea how
late it is? I've got to get up early tomorrow."
"I know, I'm sorry to call so late," I tell her. My voice sounds tense. "But
I had no choice. I'm sort of in trouble, and you're the only one I could think
of."
No response on the other end. Seems like she's checking my tone of voice,
weighing it in her mind.
"Is it something... serious?" she finally asks.
"I can't tell you right now, but I think so. You've got to help me. Just
this once. I promise I won't be a bother."
She gives it some thought. Not like she's confused or anything, just
thinking it over. "So where are you?"
I tell her the name of the shrine.
"Is that in Takamatsu City?"
"I'm not totally sure, but I think so."
"You don't even know where you are?" she says, dumbfounded.
"It's a long story."
She lets out a sigh. "Grab a cab and come to the Lawson's convenience store
on the corner near my apartment. They have a big sign and you can't miss it." She
gives me the directions. "Do you have money for a cab?"
"I'm good," I say.
"All right," she says and hangs up.
I go out the torii gate at the entrance to the shrine and head for the main
road to flag down a cab. It doesn't take long. I ask the driver if he knows the
Lawson's on that corner, and he says he does. When I ask if it's far, he says no,
about a ten-dollar ride.