Glimpses: The Best Short Stories of Rick Hautala (17 page)

Miko felt compelled to apologize, but her voice was trapped in her throat. Without a word, she stepped aside and watched as the overweight man got onto the moving stairs and glided up toward where the
kamikaze
pilot stood. He still hadn’t moved, and Miko was positive he was waiting for her and that, if she took the escalator up there, something terrible would happen.

The figure remained perfectly motionless except for the scarf that flapped in the strong breeze … a breeze that neither Miko nor anyone else in the terminal was able to feel. Even though his lips weren’t moving, his voice whispered in her ear, telling her that there was no honor in “it” … whatever
it
was.

But I have to go up there
, Miko told herself.
My flight leaves from up there
.

If she delayed, she would miss her plane, and it would be a nightmare to reschedule a later flight. She had already made arrangements for her niece to pick her at the LAX. Although there was plenty of time to call and make different arrangements, Miko knew she was being foolish. She should
never
allow a few disturbing dreams and a bad night’s sleep to affect her like this.

Still, when she looked up at the top of the escalator, the
kamikaze
pilot was standing there, staring down at her with an expression of …
what?

Longing? … Sadness? … Anger? …

Miko was so frightened she had no idea what to think. All she knew was that she didn’t have the courage to go up to the next level.

But she
had
to.

After taking a deep breath and settling the strap of her carryon on her shoulder, she stepped onto the moving stairs. Her hand gripped the moving rail, and the stairs shifted under her feet. The ride up felt like it took forever. Miko couldn’t tear her gaze away from the ghostly figure waiting for her at the top of the stairs. She wished she dared to look away, but the apparition’s dark, dead eyes held her. Her throat constricted as she came closer and closer to the figure.

When she reached the top and was about to step off, the heel of her shoe caught on the edge of the moving stair. She stumbled and, with a high-pitched squeal, lurched forward and then fell to the floor. She lost her grip on her suitcase, and it would have tumbled down the escalator if a young Middle-Eastern-looking man hadn’t caught it. Without a word, he moved the suitcase out of the way before helping Miko to her feet. It was only when she looked into his eyes that she realized that he—like the apparition—had a dark, empty look … a “dead” look deep within his liquid brown eyes.

Miko made a slight bow and was about to say “Thank you,” but when she opened her mouth, she was shocked to hear herself say in Japanese, “No honor in that.”

The man looked at her, confused.

Why did I say that?
Miko wondered as the young man, who was wearing jeans and a freshly pressed blue cotton shirt, stood there staring at her. She doubted he spoke Japanese, but somehow, he seemed to know what she’d said.

Without a word, he strode away. As Miko watched him go, her vision narrowed into a long, dark tunnel with only that young man rapidly receding toward the end.

Still shaken, Miko took a few deep breaths and tried to compose herself, but as her vision cleared and she looked down the line of gates, she knew that she wouldn’t make it. It didn’t matter that she would have to reschedule her flight or that she might ultimately fail in performing her duty as a daughter. Her anxiety was so intense it now bordered on stark terror. It filled her with a cold, numbing pressure, and she knew without doubt that she was never going to get onto that plane.

Looking around, she saw a restroom about a hundred feet down the corridor. Moving stiffly, she started toward it. Even though the
kamikaze
pilot’s apparition was no longer in sight, she could still hear his voice, whispering in her ears.

“…
There is no honor in that
…”

— 4 —

When she entered the restroom and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the row of mirrors over the sink, Miko hardly recognized herself. Her face was drawn and pale—too thin. Her dark eyes were wide and glistening with the panic of a trapped animal. Her lips were thin and bloodless, and for an instant, she saw … not her own face in reflection, but that of the
kamikaze
pilot.

The same eyes … the same mouth … the same nose.

Trembling, she approached the nearest sink and, leaning forward, bracing her hands on the sink, stared at herself in the mirror as she mouthed the words the apparition had spoken so many times. Her face was so close to the mirror her breath fogged the glass, but even through the distortion, she couldn’t deny that she saw the resemblance she bore to the dead pilot.

And then it hit her. Without being told by anyone—
because who would know?
—she understood.

Fortunately, she was the only person in the restroom. Her body trembled like a leaf being tossed by the wind as she turned on the tap and ran the water until it was lukewarm. Then, cupping her hands, she splashed her face several times. When she closed her eyes, the feeling that someone else was in the restroom with her was so strong she let out a low, strangled moan.

The sound echoed in the restroom, sounding like a small animal in pain.

“No … ” she whispered. She quickly wiped the water from her eyes and looked around, but she saw nobody. “I can’t do it … I just can’t go through with this.”

It pained her to consider the money she would lose and the trouble she would cause other people—especially her mother—by not taking her scheduled flight, but the apparition was trying to tell her something, and she was convinced that he—
or it
—was trying to keep her from boarding the plane.

Clutching her carryon, she walked into one of the large toilet stalls. After locking the door behind her, she sat down on the toilet seat and, closing her eyes, leaned her head against the metal dividing wall. She lost all sense of time as wave after wave of powerful emotions swept through her.

She was ashamed of herself for being so cowardly, for not having the courage to face what she had to face. She was being dishonorable. Her mother needed help. Miko would be disgraced if she didn’t do her duty to her only surviving parent. She had never known her father. All her mother had told her was that he had died during the war a few months before she was born. Her mother had never told her how he had died, but because Kyoko had raised her daughter alone, Miko felt a dual responsibility to her.

Miko’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as she reached into her purse for her cell phone. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was already eight-forty-five. She had missed her flight, but she had never even heard any boarding announcements over the intercom. She was ashamed to realize that she had been hiding in the restroom like a coward for over an hour.

How could I have lost time like that?

Did I fall asleep … or pass out?

It was almost six o’clock in the morning out in California. Her mother might still be sleeping, but she dialed the number regardless. On the sixth ring, her mother answered, her voice as fragile as glass when she said, “Hello.”

“Hello, Mother … It’s me … Miko.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the line, and then she heard her mother take a long shuddering breath.

“Miko … You are on your way to see me?”

Her mother sounded so lonely, so dispirited it pained Miko’s heart to say what she was about to say. Guilt and shame, almost too much to bear, filled her, but Miko’s fear of the apparition and his vague warning was even stronger.

“I am not coming … at least not this morning,” Miko finally said. It took effort to force a note of calm into her voice. “There have been … complications, and I have already missed my flight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” her mother said in a mild tone that didn’t register any real disappointment Miko knew her mother must be feeling sorry for having a daughter who let her down like this.

“I’ll have to make other travel arrangements,” Miko said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, but for now—”

Miko cut herself short when a smoky shadow shifted across the bathroom floor. She hadn’t heard the restroom door open, and there hadn’t been any increase in the sounds coming from out in the terminal. She was positive she was alone in the restroom, but a chill wound slowly up from the base of her spine to her shoulders when she sensed as much as heard someone walk past the closed stall door. Looking down, Miko saw a pair of battered man’s boots, old and scuffed, and the rolled up cuffs of heavy canvas pants.

Clutching the phone in her hand, Miko held her breath and, leaning forward, stared out through the crack between the stall door and the metal door frame. Her heart squeezed into a cold knot when she saw the
kamikaze
pilot standing next to the row of sinks. He was staring straight at the stall where Miko was hiding.

Miko swallowed hard, her pulse pounding rapidly in her ears. The apparition glared at her with such intensity she felt as though there was no metal door—nothing at all—separating them.

“I … I would like to ask you a question, mother,” Miko said in a trembling voice. She was surprised she could speak at all. “ … about my father.”

“Ahh … your father,” Kyoko said. Her voice was as clear through the phone as if she were right there beside her.

“Who was he?” Miko asked. She should be ashamed for this sudden display of curiosity. She wasn’t being respectful to her mother, and the truth was she had no idea where this question had come from. But it had to have something to do with the dreams and visions she’d been experiencing.

“I’ve told you many times. Your father died long ago.” Her mother’s voice was low and hushed with respect. “Before you were born.”

“But how? … How did he die?”

“He was a soldier in the war. He died—” A sudden silence on the phone made Miko fear she’d lost the connection, but after a pause, her mother continued. “He died honorably, fighting for our country.”

All this time, Miko kept one eye close to the crack between the stall door and frame as she watched the ghostly figure. He stood there, unmoving, unblinking, his dead eyes focused on her.

She finally knew—and accepted—that this was the ghost of her dead father.

“Was he a … a
kamikaze
pilot?”

The words scraped her throat like sandpaper, and sweat broke out across her brow. The phone in her hand felt like a dead weight. The air around her was suddenly too thin to breathe.

After a long pause, her mother sighed and said, “I will say only this. He died with honor.”

Miko almost didn’t hear her because at that very instant, the ghost of her father seemed to be standing beside her as he whispered something into her ear. A subtle gust of cool breath washed over her skin. A chilled shudder ran through her as tiny white spots of light weaved and danced across her vision. Time seemed to stop as she stared back into the eyes of her dead father. When she swallowed and blinked, he disappeared in an instant. Miko thought he might have shifted out of sight, but even though she could no longer see him, she was convinced he was close by, watching her even though she couldn’t see him.

Suddenly aware of the phone in her hand, Miko swallowed and shook her head, hoping to clear it. When she put the phone to her ear again, all she could hear was a faint, hissing silence.

“Mother …? Hello …?” she said, but the connection was gone … dead.

Miko’s hands were trembling as she closed the phone and put it back into her purse. She was satisfied that she would call her mother later, once she figured out what she was going to do. It was, after all, still early in the morning on the West Coast. Her mother had probably drifted off to sleep.

Miko watched with amazed detachment as her hand rose and unfastened the lock on the stall door. When it clicked, the sounded echoed from the tile walls like a gunshot. The air in the bathroom seemed to have returned to normal, but when Miko looked toward the row of sinks where her father had been standing, she saw a faint distortion in the air, as if a hole had been punched in reality and was rapidly filling in.

Feeling weak in the knees, she stood up and walked over to the sink where she ran the water again so she could splash her face. The water streaming from her face mingled with her tears as she cried. Just as she was reaching for some paper towels to dry her face, a woman burst into the restroom. Her face was pale. She was trembling, and her eyes were wide circles of fear as she clapped both hands across her mouth and just stood there, shivering and shaking her head from side to side as she stared blankly at Miko.

“I can’t believe it!” she said, her voice muffled behind her hands. “I can’t believe it! Oh my God! … Oh my
God!
”

Miko felt a surge of sympathy for this woman and took a step forward to help her if she could. She wondered if this woman had also caught a glimpse of her father’s ghost, but before Miko could say anything, the woman pointed back over her shoulder at the door. Her hand flapped loosely on her wrist, looking to Miko as if she was holding a wounded bird.