The thread about Armageddon continued on Voice of Heaven, and my post was still scrolling down as more were added. When it finally disappeared below the bottom of the page, I felt myself relax a little and got a little more into my Yoji fantasy. But just then the doorbell rang. I put the fantasy on hold and went to answer it. “Coming, coming!” I called, just like some old lady—which was totally not what I wanted to sound like for Yoji. But when I pulled open the door, it wasn’t Yoji standing there, or even my brother back from the wars. It was Maki, her bandage gone and her face as beautiful as ever.
She’d seen the post and was here already. That was fast.
Or not.
Maki lived in Edogawa Ward on the other side of the city.
But she’d heard about Armageddon and had come to take advantage of the confusion.
Scary.
And that would explain the hammer.
The Cliffs
I’m sprawled out on the sofa in our living room, listening. The sound of Armageddon keeps getting closer. At first I think I’m imagining things, but then I’m sure that those assholes from Chofu are headed this way, getting near our house. But then I hear something even worse: the screech of tires and a dull thud, like a bad car vs. pedestrian accident. But the tires squeal again and again, like the car is trying to get away. A hit-and-run? Then I hear it again: gyrikikikikikigya! Dooooon! Like another accident. But then I realize it’s not an accident at all but just a car whacking into people one after the other. Hit-and-run, without the run. Vehicular middling? Middling homicide? Or maybe the counterattack had started—maybe this was the Revenge of the Middle School Kids. If it was, then I’m on it, hoppin’ in the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, grabbing the wheel, and smashing into the first God or Angel I see. DOOON! Gyurugyuru DOOON! Gigiggkyu DOOON! But as I imagined myself mowing down one person after another, the real car seemed to be getting closer. I could feel the air from outside, heavy with panic, slipping under the door. I could hear screams. “Whaaaaaaa!” DOOOOON! “Whoaaa! I’m serious! Cut it out!” DOOOON! “Gross! Stop!” DOOOON! More screams, footsteps running by outside. “Over there! Over there! Not there, look out!” “Kill him!” Gyarigyarigyagyagyagya DOOON! Then, right in front of my house, tires squealed, scattering gravel everywhere, and I could hear a crunching, like someone else being hit and thrown through the air. Then the shouts and screams and footsteps seemed to fade, as if everyone ran off. But just when I thought maybe the scary car had gone too, I heard the door creak open just outside and then slam shut. Someone had climbed out of the demonmobile and was standing right in front of my house. Scary. I was still lying there on the sofa, but I felt my body stiffen. What the what the what the? Then I could hear the driver’s footsteps as he ran toward our door. Who could it be? I knew I should get up and run around turning out all the lights, pretend nobody was home, but I also knew it was already too late. The doorbell was ringing. Chin-ton! I froze. What the FUCK? But then I heard somebody calling my name. “Aiko!” What? It was my dad’s voice! I jumped off the couch and ran to the hall. But when I opened the door, it turned out to be that weird old singer, Yuzo Gucci. But that was okay, I guess. A relief, really. “Are you okay, Aiko?” Yuzo Gucci said. Fine! Daddy? It was scary all alone. And my brother running off like that. What an idiot…I launched into the whole thing, standing there in the door talking to Gucci. But when I finally asked him to come on in, he told me it was dangerous to stay here and that I should come with him. Really? They weren’t kidding about Armageddon.
But then Gucci had come in his car, and it looked like his bumper had taken care of a whole lot of those V of H guys on the way. Somehow, the sight of Yuzo Gucci’s cute round face had a calming effect on my jangly nerves. He was tanned and relaxed and smiling, just like he was on TV. I told him to wait a minute and ran back to the dining room for a sweater I’d left hanging on a chair. Then I went back to the door, slipped into my shoes, and joined Gucci. Then I remembered the patio doors and told him I needed to go back and make sure they were locked. “Don’t worry,” he told me. “Nobody’s going to try to get in if you’re not in there to get.” What? Did that mean they would have tried if I’d stayed there? I’m not sure I got it. But I knew it wasn’t good. Gucci looked around as we left the house. It was cold outside. And dark. And suspiciously quiet, considering that it had sounded like a war was going on out here a minute ago. I felt like eyes were watching us from all different places around the house, and not friendly ones, eyes of people who would hurt us given half a chance. It looked like a million miles from our front door to anything that could be Gucci’s car. From inside, it had sounded as though he had pulled right up on the front lawn, but now that we were out, I wasn’t even sure which car was his.
