Outcast: A Portal Fantasy Adventure (Shinobi Rising Book 1) Read online

  “Damn it,” the mugger muttered. He helped his friend to his feet, and then, with Andy running after them for a few yards, both of the muggers hastily fled.

  Andy didn’t bother to chase them down. He watched them go, then turned and jogged back to the old man to make sure he was okay. The old guy was bruised and shaken but not seriously injured, and he thanked Andy profusely.

  “Thank you, son,” he said. “In this rotten world, few people would have done what you just did. Looks like one of those bastards got you on your arm there.”

  Riding the buzz of adrenalin, Andy hadn’t noticed just how bad the cut on his forearm was. Now that the old guy had pointed it out, though, he saw that blood was trickling down his arm and dripping off his wrist, where his skin was exposed between his motorcycle gloves and his jacket. The cut was starting to hurt, but he shrugged off the pain.

  “I’m more pissed about my jacket,” Andy said. And he was—this jacket had come from a thrift store, but even so, it had cost him twenty bucks. Right now, he couldn’t even shell out an extra twenty cents for unforeseen expenses.

  “You’re lucky you had that jacket on,” the old man said. “That guy would have taken your arm off without it. I saw him, he really was hoping to slice your arm off. You’d better get that cut checked out. Go on, get outta here, the cops are pulling up, I’ll be okay. You need to take care of that wound.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Andy asked.

  “A little shaken is all,” the old guy said, beaming out a grateful smile as the police approached them. “Hey, this kid saved me!” he said to the cops. “He’s a hero, you guys should give him a medal or something.”

  “I’m no hero,” Andy said. “I just did what any decent person would do.”

  The cops took a brief statement from Andy, which caused him far more anxiety than it should have—there was no way in hell he wouldn’t be late now. And the cops seemed entirely blasé about Andy’s wound, as the red liquid continued to drip off his wrist and pool in the fingers of his left glove. After what seemed like an eternity, they let him go.

  He wasn’t about to head to hospital, even though the cut was a bad one. He couldn’t afford medical debt. No, some superglue would be his surgeon and the convenience store bathroom his operating theater.

  As he expected, a familiar figure was standing outside the convenience store, tapping his right foot and scowling. Ted Danzig, Andy had always said, was what you’d find if you opened a dictionary and searched for “jerk boss”. Ted was in his fifties but looked a decade older. His poor attempt at a combover did little to disguise his baldness. If his downturned mouth, twisted into a permanent glower, had ever smiled, it had to have been decades ago. His teeth and fingers were yellow from the cigarettes he chain-smoked. His clothes—cheap suits in shades of pastel blue and gray, usually—reeked of tobacco.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little boy on the big bike,” Ted sneered. “What time do you call this, Knight? You should have started working that cash register fifteen minutes ago! Because of your lazy slob ass, I’ve had to do it, looking like a chump in front of the customers! Dammit, Knight, get your ass off that bike and behind the cash register, now! Move it!”

  Andy parked his bike and took off his helmet. He half-opened his mouth to begin telling Ted about the mugging, but the look on his manager’s face told him that it would just fall on deaf ears.

  “Sorry Ted,” he mumbled, and then headed into the store.

  When he got his jacket off behind the cash register, he was able to finally get a good look at the cut on his arm. It was deep, but not too bad, and thankfully no tendons had been severed. There weren’t any customers in the store, and Andy saw Ted lighting up a cigarette outside, so he had a couple minutes to take care of the wound. He grabbed a tube of superglue and ran to the employee’s bathroom, where he hastily washed the cut with soap and water, dried it off with paper towels, and then closed it up with superglue. It wasn’t exactly a professional surgical stitch-up, but it would at least keep the wound closed and stop the bleeding.

  He got back to the cash register just as Ted stepped back into the store. The manager glowered at him, but then trudged off to his office and slammed the door, leaving Andy alone.

  A couple customers came in, but it was mostly a quiet morning. It was so quiet, in fact, that his phone’s piercing tring tring almost made him jump. Geez, Andy thought. I get it, Mr. Stavros, I owe you god knows how many months’ rent…

  But it wasn’t Mr. Stavros. Andy took his phone out of his pocket and saw it was his godmother, Mrs. Tanaka, calling. He glanced at Ted’s office door before answering..

  “Hi Mayumi,” he said. The Tanakas had always insisted that he refer to them by their first names. “It’s great to hear from you, but I can’t really talk now—”

  “It’s Haruki!” she said, referring to her husband. From the urgency in her voice, this was something serious. “He’s… Andy, I think he’s dying. He wants you here before he… before he goes.”

  “I’m coming,” Andy said, his heart racing. “I’ll be there right away.”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket and started sprinting. He snatched his helmet, gloves, and jacket from inside the store and dashed back out to his bike.

  “What the hell are you doing, Knight?” Ted yelled as Andy hopped onto the bike and started it up. “You leave now, you don’t ever come back here, you hear me!”

  Andy ignored him and sped away.

  Ted’s hoarse shouts of “you’re fired, Andy Knight!” were quickly drowned out by the potent roar of the motor as Andy raced against the clock to get to his dying godfather.

  The world was a blur of speed as Andy carved through the winding mountain roads that led to the Tanaka’s residence and wildlife sanctuary. On the straights he took the bike up to 160 miles an hour, and through the curves he hung off the machine at extreme angles of lean. All he could think about was getting to Mr. Tanaka before it was too late.

  He got to the familiar old wooden gates in record time, and left his bike there, tossing away his helmet and gloves before scrambling over the gate—he didn’t have time to fumble with the rusty combination lock.

  Whenever he came here, he would usually go see the animal residents first—they all knew him well, and all of them had been here for many years. Now, however, he sprinted straight for the front door of the rickety wooden house he’d called home for a few years. “Mayumi! Haruki!” he yelled hoarsely as he barged into the house. “I’m here!”

  “Hurry!” Mayumi called out from somewhere inside. “He’s here, in our bedroom!”

  Andy raced through the house, a modest but tastefully minimalist space, decorated with traditional Japanese watercolor scrolls, ornamental fans, wooden sculptures, and bonsai trees. Both of the Tanakas were first generation immigrants, although they had been in America since their respective childhoods, and they wore their Japanese heritage proudly.

  Andy, breathless, charged into the bedroom at the end of the hallway. There he saw Mr. Tanaka laying in bed, with his tearful wife sitting next to him, holding his hand. Mr. Tanaka looked older and frailer than Andy could have imagined, and the sight of this once proud and strong man like this broke his heart. He knew how much Mr. Tanaka valued stoicism and strength in the face of adversity, though, so he put on a brave face.

  “Andy,” Mr. Tanaka croaked. “I’m glad you’re here. Please, Mayumi, leave Andy and I alone for a few minutes. There is something I must discuss with him.”

  Mrs. Tanaka nodded, sniffing as she wiped away her tears, and got up and left the room. Mr. Tanaka patted the bed next to him, and Andy sat down. Andy took Mr. Tanaka’s hand, which felt cold and clammy. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and Mr. Tanaka squeezed back with what little strength remained in him.

  “Haruki, I—” Andy began, but Mr. Tanaka held up a finger to silence him.

  “Let me talk, Andy,” he rasped. “I have much to say… but so little time to say it.”

 
Andy nodded.

  “I have no sons, no daughters,” Mr. Tanaka said. “The doctors said it was because of the aftereffects of radiation at Hiroshima, which is where I was born, a few years after the atomic bomb. It is one of my greatest regrets… but one which I could do nothing about, of course.”

  Mr. Tanaka paused to breathe. “But even though I could not have children of my own, the universe sent me a son anyway, for a few wonderful years.” He smiled and gave Andy’s hand a squeeze. “Your father, he was a good man, Andy, even though he had his vices. His heart was good—as is yours. Mayumi and I… we were happy to take you in after the accident. You became, to us, like the child we could never have. You always thanked us so sincerely for what we did for you, but we never thanked you enough for what you gave us.”

  A tight sob was forming a knot in Andy’s throat, and tears burned at the edges of his eyes. “Haruki, I—” he began, but again Mr. Tanaka cut him off.

  “You don’t need to say anything, Andy,” he said softly. “I know what is in your heart. And that’s what counts. I… I wish I could leave you something of monetary value, now that I’m departing this world. Of course, you know you are always welcome here. But for now, I must leave the house and land to my wife; she still has many years of life left to live, unlike me.”

  Andy looked down, barely stifling tears.

  “I don’t have any money,” Mr. Tanaka continued. “We’ve poured everything we’ve made into this sanctuary, and I have no regrets about doing that. You know our residents well, and I’m sure you agree. Our lives are so much richer for what they’ve brought to us—and it’s something that no amount of money could have bought me. I will die with no regrets in my heart.”

  He paused here, and a fit of coughing came on. He covered his mouth with a white handkerchief, and when he drew it away, it was red with blood, as were his lips. He was looking more pallid with every passing second.

  “Even though I have no money to leave you, Andy,” Mr. Tanaka said when he’d recovered, “I do have something of immense value that I must pass on to you. Please, go to my wooden chest in the corner over there, and look for a white silk bag inside it. Get it and bring it here.”

  Everything seemed surreal. Andy felt as if he was moving through a dream. A thousand different clashing thoughts careened around the inside his skull. He paused in front of the old wooden chest and turned around to face Mr. Tanaka.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Andy asked softly. “Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong? I saw you only a month ago, and you were fine…”

  Mr. Tanaka smiled sadly. “I didn’t know anything was wrong then, Andy. It’s that back pain I’ve had for years. I always thought it was just a bad back, from hauling heavy bags of animal feed around. And I thought the feelings of weakness and extreme lethargy I’ve been having the last few months were just old age catching up with me. Last week I went to get some blood tests done for something else entirely… and they discovered I’ve got stage four pancreatic cancer. It’s gone far beyond the stage where they can do anything about it. The doctor suggested I go on a course of extreme chemotherapy, but even then it would only have had a one in fifty shot of working. I made peace with the hand the universe has dealt me, and decided I’d rather pass at home in my own bed. I’m sorry… I should have told you last week when I found out, but I didn’t think I’d go downhill this fast. I thought I’d have a few more weeks left, not days.”

  Andy didn’t know what to say. “I’m … sorry,” was all he could murmur.

  “It is what it is, Andy,” Mr. Tanaka said with a smile, stoic until the end. “I’ve lived a long, fulfilling life, and that’s more than any man can ask for. Now please, get the silk bag out of the chest. I don’t—” He stopped here as another fit of coughing racked his body.

  Andy dug around in the chest and found the silk bag right at the bottom. There was something solid and fairly weighty in it. He carried it over to Mr. Tanaka, who took it from him with a smile. With trembling fingers, Mr. Tanaka opened the silk bag and removed the object.

  “It’s beautiful,” Andy murmured, staring in awe at the item. He immediately felt entranced by the sight of it—this ornate hardwood box, its surface covered by intricate relief carvings of wild animals of all kinds. “It’s a true work of art…”

  Mr. Tanaka chuckled, and then coughed some more. “Yes, yes it is quite beautiful, isn’t it? But this is no more ornament, Andy.” His tone became grave. “This is possibly the most valuable thing you will ever own. It took me a long time to decide that you would be the right person to pass this on to—your whole life, in fact. But when you came and lived here, and I really got to know you, I knew without a doubt that you were the right person to inherit this.”

  “I… Well, thank you, Haruki, I’m honored—” Andy began, but Mr. Tanaka interrupted him.

  “I don’t have much time left, my boy. Please, let me speak. You must listen very carefully to what I’m about to say. This is no mere ornament, Andy. It is a powerful, wondrous tool. I… I never unlocked its full potential myself.”

  Andy noticed that when Mr. Tanaka said this, his forefinger drifted over to his left pinky finger. This finger was horrendously scarred, as if it had almost been severed long ago. Andy had noticed the scar as a child, but had always assumed that one of the sanctuary’s residents—perhaps the old lion or the tiger, or the grizzly bear—had tried to bite it off. Now, though, he had a feeling that somehow, this strange box had something to do with the deep scar on Mr. Tanaka’s pinky finger.

  Mr. Tanaka stroked the old scar absentmindedly as he continued. “This box is not a family heirloom, if that’s what you were thinking,” he said. “It was given to me by a family friend in Japan, before I came to this country. He was one of my father’s friends from the war…” Suddenly, his eyes grew wide and his body spasmed, and he burst into another fit of coughing. This time blood sprayed out of his mouth, splattering the sheets with bright red.

  A sense of deep dread and unavoidable tragedy gripped Andy. He knew that he was witnessing his godfather’s final moments. Mr. Tanaka tried to speak after the coughing fit passed, but only an empty rasping emerged from his gasping mouth. This was it—the end was here.

  “Mayumi!” Andy yelled hoarsely. “Mayumi, hurry!”

  Mrs. Tanaka came running in. Tears streamed down her face, which had crumpled into an expression of inconsolable grief and sorrow. Andy knew she would want to be alone with her husband in these final precious moments.

  With tears burning his eyes and his throat tight with a sob, he wrapped his arms around Mr. Tanaka and hugged him tightly.

  “Goodbye Harumi,” he said, choking on sobs. “You were one of the best men I’ve ever known, and you were a true father to me, and a loving guardian to the many animals in your care. I’ll always love you… goodbye, I’ll see you on the other side one day.”

  Mr. Tanaka smiled and gave Andy’s hand a weak squeeze. Then Andy took the ornate wooden box and strode swiftly out of the room, leaving the old couple alone for Mr. Tanaka’s final moments.

  Andy walked out into the sprawling backyard. The huge property had been a farm long ago, in the early twentieth century, but it had been abandoned for decades before the Tanakas took it over. Now, where fields of crops had been there were spacious enclosures for various species of wild animals, all rescued from tragic situations of neglect and abuse by the caring Japanese couple.

  Andy closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face, and listened to the wild birds in the woods on the edge of the property singing their joyful songs, seemingly oblivious to the tragedy that was taking place inside the walls behind him. None of this felt real—but then again, neither had the deaths of his parents almost ten years ago. This day shared that same surreal feeling. He could still remember the school principal coming into his homeroom classroom that day. “Andy Knight, I need to speak to you in private. I’ve just had a phone call and… please, just come with me.”

  That had be
en the day his entire world had been turned upside down. And now it felt as if it was happening all over again. He opened his eyes and examined the box in the bright midday sunlight. The carvings on it were truly exquisite. He wondered how old it was. Judging from the artwork, it seemed to be at least a few hundred years old, but it was neither worn nor weathered.

  There was something else about this box, though, something that went far beyond its beauty. Andy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there seemed to be some sort of energy pulsing from within this football-sized object, almost as if it contained an active nuclear warhead.

  Andy looked up from the box and noticed that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to feel that there was something strange and fascinating about the item. The wildlife sanctuary’s residents were all wandering up to the fences of their respective enclosures and staring intently at him.

  Of course, they always came to greet Andy whenever he visited this place. They had all lived here for many years, and knew him well from when he had lived here. And in those lonely, difficult years following his parents’ death, these animals had been just as good to him as the Tanakas had.

  There was Baloo, the grizzly bear, missing a paw that he had lost in an illegal bear trap. Fang, the blind wolf who had lost his eyes to a hunter’s poorly aimed blast of birdshot, left maimed by the cruel man. Rajah, the tiger rescued from the tiny cage she’d spent her first four years in as a roadside attraction at a truck stop. Simba, the old lion who’d been rescued from a circus. Pete, a bald eagle who could no longer fly after being hit by a speeding car. Gary and Glen, a gorilla and a chimp who had been rescued from a vivisection lab in which they’d had all manner of cruel experiments performed on them. They, like the Tanakas, were all elderly now, but they each lived life with just as much enthusiasm as their able-bodied brethren in the wild.

  And now all of them were pressed against the fences of their enclosures, staring with utter fascination at the box in Andy’s hands. Having the rapt attention of these wild creatures served as a good distraction from the crushing tragedy of Mr. Tanaka’s final moments.