The Rat Read online

  *

  Urine-loaded bottle securely capped and rolling around beside him, the rat curled up on the floor and napped until twilight. He might have slept until they reached their inn, but as they drew nearer to Kuromichi the Father spotted light ahead, nearer than the town’s outskirts.

  The Father took a final drag on his cigarette, threw it away, then reached down and took the rat’s arm, dragging him up. ‘Put your belt on,’ he instructed as the rat screwed fists into his bleary eyes, yawning. A very dry yawn. His lips had begun to chap in the arid atmosphere.

  ‘I’m fursty,’ the rat realised, whining a little when he remembered his water bottle was full of piss. ‘I’m fursty.’

  ‘Belt on,’ the Father repeated, taking both hands from the wheel and buckling him in.

  Too addled by sleep and too thirsty to wonder why he suddenly had to wear his seat belt, the rat whimpered to himself and watched as flashing lights drew nearer in the front windscreen. The sedan slowed, coming to a complete stop when it drew even with the lights. The interior of the car was washed in turn by pulsing white and blue brightness.

  The rat rubbed his eyes again, hard, the throbbing light half-blinding him. He heard footsteps on bitumen outside, and then the smooth whirr as the Father’s car window lowered.

  ‘Evening,’ came an unfamiliar voice.

  ‘Evening, officer. Terrible heat today, right?’

  ‘You’re not wrong.’

  The rat squinted at the window. The hazy outline was indeed wearing the six-sided, billed cap of a police officer. The golden badge right at its centre dazzled the rat’s eyes almost as much as the lights.

  ‘Your car’s registered in Oshi Daini. Mind if I ask your business here?’

  The officer spoke in a friendly, weary voice. The Father matched it, though focussed more on the friendly aspect, reflecting only a smidgen of the officer’s tiredness.

  ‘Kuromichi’s our first stop for the night—I’m taking my boy on his first road trip. Say hello to the nice officer, Kaiyu.’

  The Father gestured emphatically at the officer, and then prodded the rat very gently. ‘Go on.’

  The rat murmured, hunching low and turning away, hiding his face in his shoulder.

  A gentle laugh sounded somewhere to his right. It must have been the officer. But the rat had never heard a man make such a sound. ‘A shy boy, then.’

  ‘Not usually,’ the Father laughed boomingly, slapping the rat on the back, ‘but we’ve been on the road since breakfast. He’s tired, and he’s thirsty—forgot the extra water bottles back on the kitchen bench. Not the brightest thing we’ve ever done.’

  ‘Extra water’s not something you can’t afford to forget when travelling in Sato,’ the officer said, adopting a stricter tone. ‘There’s a water dispenser set up by my car. Should he have a cup? He’s not dehydrated?’

  ‘No no, he’s fine. I’ll get him a treat in town, a lemon squash, or something. He can hold out until then. Thanks for the offer, though.’

  ‘A road trip, here in Sato,’ the officer observed. ‘Not many would venture that, these days. Particularly not with children.’

  ‘Ahh, well,’ the Father shrugged, smiling. ‘There are criminals at home, too. A mobster here and there’s hardly going to make the whole damn Area dangerous. That’s what the Nanzan news has been saying,’ he informed the officer. ‘That all of Sato should be avoided, even the Sato segment of Oshi Daini.’

  ‘Thought as much,’ the officer sighed heavily. ‘Not that tourism ever boomed here, but we had the canyons, and a few resorts and casinos out near Oshi Daihachi. All that’s gone belly-up, thanks to the syndicates—all but their few favourite spots.’

  ‘Well, we used to road trip here when I was a kid,’ the Father said comfortingly as the officer’s rangy shoulders drooped. ‘I’m not letting any paranoid newscasters keep us away. Plenty of us know Sato’s as safe as it ever was. Safer, what with all the extra security,’ the Father added, indicating the officer—more specifically, the scanner in his hand.

  ‘Right,’ the officer agreed, holding up the little device. ‘Do you mind a prick?’

  ‘Not at all, not at all,’ the Father said amiably, pressing the broad pad of his right thumb against the indentation. ‘Can’t be too careful. Ouch—smarts a bit, though.’

  ‘Naos Tana,’ the officer read the Father’s name from his blood profile before briefly perusing his history. There were no warnings, nothing at all but a few minor offences from his teenage years. ‘Well, you’re the cleanest man I’ve stopped today. Still …’ the officer trailed away, exhaling resignedly.

  The rat felt sorry for him. He must have been right under the sun all day with only his hat for protection. In the illumination, the officer’s entire face was dyed severe pink.

  ‘Are you meant to search the car?’ the Father questioned, head bobbing knowingly at the officer’s weary nod. ‘I thought so—got searched back in Gocho as well. It’s no trouble to us, none at all. You can wait for your lemon squash, can’t you? Can’t you, Kaiyu?’

  The rat shrugged, though his face lit up. He’d forgotten his father’s promise of a treat. ‘Cannai has orange fizz?’

  ‘Sure, sure, whatever you want.’

  The rat grinned and swung his legs happily, toes colliding with the dashboard.

  ‘Well, shall we get out of your way?’ the Father asked the officer, reaching to unclasp his seat belt. ‘Let you get on with it?’

  ‘There’s no real need,’ the officer said, halting the Father with a wave. ‘If you weren’t flagged in Gocho … nothing between here and there, nothing at all.’

  ‘Most barren road in the Areas,’ the Father agreed, nodding again. His head had barely stopped bobbing pleasantly since he’d greeted the poor, tired officer. ‘Still, if you’re meant to …’

  ‘No need,’ the officer repeated, pocketing his scanner and taking off his cap, dabbing his sweaty brow with a polka-dotted hand towel. ‘Thank you, though. Most aren’t nearly so cooperative as you’ve been. Amazing, how indignant people get when they’re asked for a blood sample. They complain about the syndicates, and as soon as we tighten security …’

  The Father nodded and hummed his sympathy. ‘Not at all, not at all. You’ve had a long day, by the look. Ruining the end of it would be one of the nastier things a traveller could do.’

  ‘Do you know the way to your inn? Where are you staying?’

  ‘We booked a room at the Sand Runner. I think it’s the second turn off the main street. Meant to look it up,’ the Father said, brandishing his phone, ‘but reception’s not been the best.’

  The officer confirmed the location of the inn and bid both the Father and the rat a good evening, letting them drive away. The town was only another fifteen minutes down the road. There was nothing surrounding the small collection of houses and little roads but rocks and dust. Kuromichi looked as though it had been plucked up from somewhere far more hospitable and dropped, fences, mailboxes, and all, right in the middle of the eastern desert.

  ‘Orange fizz?’ the rat reminded the Father hopefully, taking off his belt as they turned off the gritty, somewhat neglected main street and approached the dirty neon sign of the Sand Runner Inn.

  ‘You’ll be lucky to get dinner, let alone a soft drink,’ the Father growled. ‘Put that damn belt back on—want someone to see? Belts on in town, how many times to I have to bloody say it …’

  The rat’s disappointment was tangible, a tepid, agonising roll in his stomach, as the happy anticipation inside him faded, and died.