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The man raises his knife, and the pregnant woman turns on her heel and tries to escape. But, before she can even get one step, the man reaches out his hand and grabs the woman by her chestnut-brown hair, pulling her backward with all his might. The woman’s feet leave the ground and she falls hard on her back.

  “Iyaaa!Iyaaa!”

  Flat on the floor now, the woman screams again. But her scream is not long. The man, still holding her by the hair, slams her head on the linoleum floor, over and over again, until she loses consciousness.

  The man smiles in satisfaction as the woman passes out. He pulls the hem of her maternity dress up, and stares at her swollen belly. Re-gripping his knife, the man cuts her stomach open, from the tip of her sternum to her belly button. A horrendous amount of blood and amniotic fluid spills out of the slit and spreads out on the linoleum floor.

  Can you still watch? Can you still watch as the model-like woman’s arms and legs spasm? Can you still watch, as her stomach, intestines, and liver slowly spill out, steaming, onto the floor? Can you still watch as her open eyelids flutter ever so slightly? Can you still watch?

  The man thrusts his arms deep into the woman’s open torso. He forcibly yanks the unborn fetus from her womb, tearing the umbilical cord in the process. The fetus gives a weak cry.

  Like water spilt from a bucket, the red liquid—blood mixed with amniotic fluid—is all over the floor. The man’s pants are soaked with it, and his knees and feet slip as he tried to move.

  The man stares steadily at the fetus in his arms. He slowly turns around … and looks directly at you. His eyes are completely bloodshot. His face shines with splattered blood and oily sweat… The man stares directly at you and smiles, baring his teeth.

  Nobuyuki Suzuki remained in the hospital, with no improvement in his condition. One day, however, he simply disappeared from his bed. Just before disappearing, a nurse recalled that the boy kept repeating that, “Kayako is coming. Kayako is coming.”

  A few days after Nobuyuki disappeared, his father Tatsuya turned up missing. His employees searched for their boss, and even filed a missing person report with the police, but Tatsuya Suzuki was nowhere to be found.

  No one, even to this day, knows where Nobuyuki and Tatsuya disappeared to.

  But, if you are still so curious, just go to that apartment yourself. But, before you go, you might want to bid your loved ones farewell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cursed places. Cursed things.

  In this world, there are things that have no other explanation. Take, for example, the car in the following story.

  Onfune 28, 1914, the Archduke of the Hapsburg Empire, Franz Ferdinand, arrived in Sarajevo with his wife in a red, open-topped car. When the welcoming crowds surrounded them, a man suddenly ran at their car with a drawn pistol and shot the Archduke and his wife Sophie to death.

  This assassination is well known as the trigger that started World War I. What is not well known is what happened to that red car after the assassination of the Archduke and his wife.

  After the war, the car was refurbished by the government of Yugoslavia, as a transport for high-level government officials. However, the official that the car was assigned to had four accidents with it, losing his right arm in the final accident.

  The next owner of the car was a friend of the official, who was a doctor. The doctor was killed when the car rolled over on him. Later, the car came into the possession of a car racer in Switzerland, who had got-ten it from another doctor. But the racer, driving another car in a race, crashed and broke his neck, dying.

  The next owner of that red car was a wealthy landowner. One day when the landowner and a friend were taking a ride in it, the car stopped

  dead. When they got out to check under the hood, the car started rolling, crushing them to death.

  The final owner of the car was one Tiber Hirschfield, who had the car repainted light blue. One day he and five friends dressed up to attend a wedding and got into the car. They never made it to the wedding. On the way they crashed head on into another car. Hirschfield and three other people were killed in the accident.

  The car was finally put on display at a museum in Vienna. The curator would not let anyone, including his friends, even sit in the seat of that car. He knew of its cursed history.

  The museum was bombed during World War 11, and the accursed automobile was destroyed with the rest of the museum.

  Rika

  The strong early summer sun was reflecting off the new, green leaves on the trees. A bright rainbow could be seen underneath the fountain, as it spurted water high in the air.

  Rika Nishina headed to the care center where she volunteered, stepping on her shadow on the sidewalk as the went. She looked at her reflection in the clean window of the care center, admiring her freshly cut hair.

  The young man at the beauty salon pressured me into it… but I have to admit, short hair looks good on me. Almost like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday …

  Rika smiled to herself as she thought this.

  She entered the care center through the automatic door. The brightly lit lobby was busy with employees pushing elderly people in their wheelchairs and employees running back and forth, arms full oi thick folders of paperwork.

  -

  “Hello! Oh, hi there! You look good today,” she said cheerfully to the employees, and patients, whose faces she was very familiar with, as she walked through the big lobby.

  “Oh, hi Rika-chan,” smiled Hirohashi, who was standing in the lobby holding his cell phone. “You always look so cheerful.”

  Hirohashi was an employee here, and he had been kind to Rika from the time she first joined as a volunteer at the center.

  “Well, my cheerfulness is all I have going for me,” she smiled back to Hirohashi, who still had his cell phone to his ear.

  Rika Nishina was twenty-two years old. She majored in social welfare at college. When she was in high school, she wanted to study English and become a flight attendant, but when she saw the self-sacrificial social workers coming to take care of her bedridden grandmother, who was living with her family, she changed her mind and decided that she wanted to make a career out of helping people.

  Taking care of elderly people was not a “cool” job like being a flight attendant. She couldn’t wear a lot of makeup or dress up fashionably, or grow her fingernails long. On top of that, the pay was not very good. It was a very physically demanding job, and she had to take care of messes. But, she felt fulfillment at choosing this kind of work every time her charges looked at her happily and said thank you.

  Next year, she would finally graduate from college, and she wanted to enter such a care center as a formal employee, if at all possible. She saw her volunteer activities here as a kind of training for her future career.

  “Rika-chan, wait up!”

  Hirohashi, stuffing his cell phone in his pants pocket, called out to Rika as she was about to go into the back office.

  “What is it, Hirohashi-san?”

  “Actually, I want to ask you a favor.”

  Uh-oh, Rika said to herself.

  Hirohashi was a very kind man, but usually his “favors” were bothersome jobs.

  “A favor? I hope it’s not another of your tiresome tasks.”

  “It’s not, at least I don’t think it is.”

  “What is it?”

  “Urn, there’s one household that we can’t seem to reach for the past few days. It’s the Tokunaga family. Their mother is suffering from senile dementia. But, no matter how many times I call, no one ever answers the phone. I want you to go and check up on them. I was just thinking that right now, actually.”

  “That’s a pretty heavy-duty job, isn’t it?” Rika said, pursing her lips.

  “Come on, please? You’re the only person I can turn to,” Hirohashi said, rubbing his palms together as if praying.

  “But, what about the regular caretaker?”

  “I can’t get hold ot her, since last week, actually. She’s still g
ot the key, and hasn’t been to the office at all. Please, for me?”

  Rika sighed.

  “But, Hirohashi-san, I’m just a volunteer.”

  “That’s all right, no problem. You’re used to the job. You only have to look in on her. Come on, please? I’ll buy you lunch,” said Hirohashi, as he handed Rika the bundle of paperwork he had tucked under his arm.

  “Hey, wait…”

  “Come on, please,” Hirohashi said, before going after another employee who happened by. “Suzuki-san, do you have a minute?”

  Aaaah, I’ve been had, Rika sighed to herself.

  She had no problem finding the Tokunaga house. It was in a newer residential area not too far from the train station. It was not a high-class neighborhood, but it was pretty quiet.

  The two-storied Tokunaga house was surrounded by green trees. It was a rather old house, but it was bigger than the one where she lived with her parents, and its architecture was chic.

  She stopped outside the brick gate and looked up at the house. Most of the windows had their curtains closed, and there was even one that had the storm covers pulled shut. She wondered if they’d all gone on a trip.

  She pushed the interphone button below the Tokunaga nameplate on the gate.

  Ding dong.

  No answer.

  She looked over the gate before pushing it open and headed to the front door. Strangely, the light over the front door was already on.

  “Hello,” she called out as the grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

  It was unlocked.

  Are they home?

  She opened the door cautiously.

  “Ah.”

  In that instant, an odor like a dirty public toilet, no, like a garbage dump in the middle of the summer, wafted from inside the house, making her nauseous.

  It stinks! What on earth is that awful smell, she thought, as she pulled her handkerchief from her purse and covered her nose.

  “Hello! I’m here from the care center! Is anyone home?” she half shouted into the house.

  Evening was still a long time off, but all of the lights on the first floor seemed to be turned on.

  “Hello! Is anyone here?” she called out again, as she went through the door, her handkerchief still to her nose. Then—she heard a scratching sound from somewhere in the back of the house.

  Screech, screech, screech.

  What could that be? she thought, as she took her shoes off at the entrance and walked down the hall, trying to stomach the terrible stench.

  Screech, screech, screech.

  It was coming from somewhere down the hall. It was a terrible, annoying sound, like someone scraping their fingernails down a blackboard.

  What is that? Is someone back there?

  Rika noticed that her legs had begun to tremble slightly. Not only her legs, actually, but her shoulders, her back, her hips, her entire body was shivering.

  I want to leave now, Rika thought. If I don’t get out of here, something terrible is going to happen. Her defensive instincts had picked up on the terror waiting at the end of the hall, and ordered her body to go back where she came from.

  [Go back, Rika. There is something here.]

  I want to get out. . . I want to go …1 want to get out right now …

  [Go back. Dont continue on. There is something here.]

  But, Rika didn’t leave. Her great sense of responsibility as a social worker overcame her strong desire to flee.

  The scratching sound continued.

  Screech, screech, screech.

  She hesitantly entered the combination kitchen/dining room at the end of the hall.

  “Ah!” She gasped reflexively.

  There was a clouded-glass door next to the dish cabinet, and on the other side of that clouded glass, someone’s hand was scratching at the door.

  She had no idea how long she had stood there. Suddenly remembering why she was here, she slid open the glass door. A wrinkled arm fell out from the opening.

  “Iyaa,” she cried, reflexively.

  She saw an old woman in a yukata slumped over on the floor, and a terrible smell wafted from the room.

  Rika covered her face with both hands, out of reflex. She fought the nausea that threatened to make her sick. But, in the next moment, her sense of duty as a social worker came back.

  “Ah … ma’am,” she called out as she helped the old woman to sit up. “Ma’am, hang in there! I’m here!”

  The old lady had probably been left alone for days. The woman’s lower body and the futon where she had presumably been sleeping were smeared with her urine and feces.

  “Ma’am, what happened here? Where did everyone go?”

  Just then, the old woman lifted her head and stared at Rika’s face with dead eyes.

  “Ka … ya … ko … was … here …”

  An overpowering odor spilled out of the woman’s mouth as she spoke.

  “Ka … ya … ko … was … here …”

  But Rika did not show the slightest sign of understanding the words the old woman spoke.

  Desperately fighting the continuing urge to vomit, Rika opened all of the windows to air out the old woman’s room. She carried the foul-smelling futon out to the garden and hung it up on the clothes pole. She got a clean yukata from the dresser and changed the old woman.

  It was hard work, but nothing of a surprise to Rika. She had been working at the center as a volunteer for a year, and had done harder, dirtier jobs than this. If one is bothered by this kind of thing, then one should not become a social worker , she thought.

  Once she had taken care o{ the room, Rika sat on the veranda with the old lady and began talking to her.

  “Urn, you’re Sachie Tokunaga … right? My name is Rika Nishina. I am here in the place of Takahashi.”

  Was she hard of hearing? Or was her dementia that far developed? In either case, the old woman did not react to Rika’s words.

  “Urn, Tokunaga-san … Sachie -san … my name is Nishina. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Again, no reaction. She kept staring at the garden, surrounded by the green trees.

  Rika looked around the room again. The tatami mat where Sachie’s futon had been was stained black with urine and feces, and was halfway to being completely rotted through. It was no good anymore. There was no way this could have happened in the space o{ one or two days. This old woman had probably been left alone here for four or five days at least, perhaps even over a week, with nothing to eat or drink.

  Where on earth could the others have gone, leaving this elderly lady all by herself?

  Rika boiled some water, and wiped down Sachie’s body with a hot, wet towel.

  Taking care to avoid the bedsores, Rika scrubbed the uneven surface of Sachie’s skin.

  “Sachie-san, is there anything you want?” she asked.

  But, of course, the woman did not reply. She was just sitting, staring out into the garden, as if her soul had left her body.

  Man, now what am I supposed to do? Rika sighed.

  She spotted a photograph on the floor o{ the kitchen. Rika bent down and picked it up.

  There, on the crumpled and wrinkled photo, was a young boy, about five or six years old, in the middle; a balding man, presumably his father, on the left; and a longhaired woman, probably his mother, on the right. The boy, whose bangs hung down to his eyebrows, was holding a black cat. The three of them were leaning close to each other, smiling, with a cherry blossom tree in full bloom behind them.

  It looked exactly like any other picture of a happy family.

  Are they the ones who live here?

  After smoothing out the wrinkles, Rika left the photo on the kitchen table.

  Evening darkness began to fall outside the window.

  Is there really no one else here?

  At a loss, Rika decided to check the rest of the house. She opened door after door, but found no one on the first floor. The lights that had been left on only shone in deserted rooms.

  Just in
case, she decided to check the second floor, and headed up the stairs. As she was ascending those steep stairs, with the ninety-degree angle halfway up, Rika suddenly felt very uneasy.

  Uneasy? No, not uneasy, but sure. Yes, she felt sure.

  Although Rika had never had such an experience before, she imagined it was much like jumping into an ocean where sharks were lurking just below the surface, or walking among the corpses of people who had fallen victim to a contagious disease.

  Not uneasy, but sure. Sure that something was there, on the second floor. It was not her reasoning, but her defensive instincts that told Rika this.

  [Don’t go up. You can not go to the second floor.]

  Rika’s defensive mechanism was screaming at her.

  Her heart rate increased and her knees trembled. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

  [Don’t go. You can NOT go up there.]

  What’s wrong? Rika asked herself. What are you scared of? Do you think something’s up there? Rika, you’re acting like a fool. There’s nothing up there.

  Rika swept her fears aside and continued up, steadily, one step at a time.

  There were many rooms on the first floor, but it looked like there were only two on the second. She opened the first door she came to at the top of the staircase. It was a Japanese-style room that was stacked with items as if it were a storage shed. This room probably wasn’t being used at the moment. There were a few pieces of furniture, and some cardboard boxes and magazines stacked neatly in the corner.

  Doesn’t seem like they’re using this room for much, thought Rika.

  But, strangely enough, the light was on.

  She went back into the hall, and walked to the room at the back of the hall. She opened the door, and was immediately accosted by a terrible odor and cold air.

  Is that the smell of a dead body … ? No way.

  Rika tried to laugh off her first impression. But, the muscles of her face were taut and she could barely even smile.

  But, she was not wrong. It was indeed the smell of decaying flesh, the smell of the flesh of a dead mammal being decomposed by bacteria. But to Rika, who had just finished cleaning the old woman’s mess downstairs, it was not an unbearable smell.

  This room was slightly bigger and in the western style, and seemed to be the Tokunaga family’s master bedroom. A stylish light hung from the ceiling, and on the white wall was a framed Lautrec poster. There was a double bed near the window, and on both sides were chic side-tables with matching white-porcelain-shaded lamps on top. Those lamps, too, were on.