Long Face shuddered with fear. “Yes, Double Metaphors lurking in the darkness. The most vile and dangerous of creatures.”
“It’s all the same to me,” I said. “I’m already mixed up in a whole lot of craziness. So it’s no skin off my nose if the craziness grows or shrinks. I killed the Commendatore with my own hands. I don’t want his death to be in vain.”
“I see I have no choice. So let me offer you a word of warning before you set out.”
“What kind of warning?”
“Take a light of some kind with you. You will pass through many dark places on your way. You will come across a river. It is a metaphorical river, but the water is very real. It is cold and deep, and the current is strong. You cannot cross without a boat. You will find a boat at the ferrying spot.”
“How about after I cross the river—what should I do then?”
Long Face rolled his bulging eyes. “The world that awaits you on the other side, like this one, is subject to the principle of connectivity. You will have to see for yourself.”
I checked Tomohiko Amada’s bedside table. Sure enough, a flashlight was there. A facility like this one was sure to store one in each room in case of fire or earthquake. I flicked it on. The light was strong. The batteries weren’t dead. I slipped on my leather jacket, which I had draped over a chair, and started for the hole in the corner, flashlight in hand.
“Please, sir,” Long Face begged. “Will you not loosen my bonds? I fear what may transpire should I be left in this state.”
“If you’re a true Metaphor, untying yourself should be easy. Aren’t Concepts and Ideas and others like you able to move through space and time?”
“No, you overrate me. I am blessed with no such marvelous powers. Concepts and Ideas are Metaphors of a much higher order.”
“Like those with orange cone hats?”
Long Face looked stricken. “Please do not mock me, sir. My feelings can be hurt too, you know.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to untie his hands and feet. I had bound them so tightly they took time to undo. Now that we had talked, he didn’t appear to be such a bad fellow. True, he didn’t know where Mariye was, but he had volunteered other information. I doubted that he would interfere or cause me any harm if I untied him. And I certainly couldn’t leave him bound and trussed where he was. Should anyone find him like that, it would only make things worse. When I finished, he sat there for a moment, rubbing his chafed wrists with his tiny hands. Then he felt his forehead. It appeared a lump had already sprouted.
“Thank you, sir. Now I can return to my world.”
“Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the hole in the corner. “I’ll follow later.”
“I shall now make my departure. Please ensure that the lid is securely closed when you follow. Otherwise, someone might trip and fall in. Or grow curious and climb down. Then I would be held responsible.”
“Understood. I will make sure it’s closed.”
Long Face trotted to the hole and climbed inside. Then his head and shoulders popped up again. His saucer eyes had an eerie glow. As they did in Killing Commendatore.
“I wish you a safe journey,” Long Face said to me. “I hope you can find What’s-her-name. Was it Komichi?”
“No, her name isn’t Komichi,” I said. A chill ran down my spine. My throat turned to sandpaper. I couldn’t speak for a moment. “The name was Mariye Akikawa. Do you know something about Komichi?”
“No, I know nothing at all.” Long Face seemed to realize that he’d let drop something he shouldn’t. “The name just slipped into my clumsy metaphorical brain. A simple mistake. Forgive me, please, sir.”
Long Face vanished down the hole. Like smoke in the wind.
I stood there for a moment, plastic flashlight in hand. Komichi? How could my sister’s name come up here, of all places? Could she be connected to this strangeness? But I had no time to ponder that question. I switched the flashlight on and entered the hole, feetfirst. It was dark below, and there seemed to be a long path sloping downward. That was odd, too, come to think of it. The room was on the third floor, so the second floor should be directly beneath. I trained the flashlight on the path, but couldn’t make out where it led. I lowered the rest of my body inside and closed the lid tight behind me. Now everything was black.
The darkness was so complete that my five senses were useless. As if the links between my body and my mind had been severed, and no information was passing between them. It was the strangest feeling. As if I were no longer myself. Nevertheless, I had to go on.
“If my friends wish to save Mariye Akikawa, then do the deed.”
Those had been the Commendatore’s words. He had made the sacrifice. Now it was my turn to face the ordeal. I had to push forward. With the flashlight my only ally, I stepped down into the inky blackness of the Path of Metaphor.
53
MAYBE A FIREPLACE POKER
The blackness enfolding me was so thick, so complete, it seemed to have a will of its own. It felt like walking on the ocean floor, where not even a particle of light could penetrate. Only the yellow beam of my flashlight connected me to the world, and barely, at that. The passageway descended at a steady angle. The surface beneath my feet was hard and smooth—it felt like walking down a tunnel bored into solid rock. The ceiling was so low I had to stoop to keep from hitting my head. The air was chilly and odorless, and the total lack of smell disturbed me. Perhaps even the air was different here than above ground.
How long would my flashlight hold out? Its beam was strong and steady for now, but when the batteries failed (as they would eventually) I would be stranded in the dark. And if I were to believe Long Face, dangerous Double Metaphors were lurking out there, ready to pounce.
The palm of my hand that held the flashlight was sweaty from the tension. My heartbeat was a dull, hard thump. It sounded threatening, like a drumbeat would to someone lost in the jungle. Long Face had warned me: “Take a light of some kind with you. You will pass through many dark places on your way.” So not everything in this passageway was pitch black. I wished it would brighten soon. I wished too that the ceiling would rise. I had always felt panicky in dark, constricted spaces. If this continued for much longer, I would soon have trouble breathing.
To calm myself, I tried to focus on other things. I needed to find something, anything, to occupy my mind. What popped into my head was an open-faced grilled cheese sandwich. Why a grilled cheese sandwich? Go figure. That’s what came up first, for whatever reason. Perfectly melted cheese on a square of beautifully browned toast. Sitting on a pure white plate. So real I could reach out and touch it. And beside it a cup of piping-hot coffee. Coffee as black as a moonless night. A window opening onto a tall willow, on whose supple branches a small flock of chirping birds perched precariously, like a troupe of tightrope walkers. Everything at an immeasurable distance from where I was now.