Chapter One

Mego Kinugawa hated her job, and it showed.

Shiny with sweat, she peeled off the greasy polyethene gloves and tossed them into a nearby bin, as ancient ovens blazed nearby, reeking of hot metal and melted cheese.

Standing Lojack to Boss Man Slater, Mego hunched over a Pizza base, where she alone was the creator.

Finally done, she held her arms wide open, like a minister ending a sermon.

As a special treat, her work buddies had given her free rein to create a new recipe at the takeout restaurant known as: 'You wanna Pizza me?'

A goodwill gesture they quickly came to regret.

For there, in the glow of sweat-soaked ovens, Mego had served up a kind of chilli-based hate crime: the bastard son of some spice-themed revenge plot, which proved so inedible, so unholy, it would have made the Gods of Pizza blanch with horror.

Disgusted, her fellow employees rushed to rid themselves of the aftertaste, much to its creator’s amusement.

After recovering, everyone reconvened in the break room, which was no mean feat, given its size. A mid-range coffee machine took up most of the counter, while a small wooden table was enough to accommodate three people, if two were ghosts.

Boss Man leaned against the counter and gave his thoughts on Mego’s new recipe.

"Interesting," he said. “I like the combination of spices; everything that should clash somehow complements the dish.” His employees stared at him, aghast. Even Shin Pie, the young, blue-eyed oven manager, shot his boss a bemused look. “Can you recreate it?”

As far as Mego could tell, she had piled on the ingredients with all the grace of an explosion.

"Not really." She said. “I made it up as I went.”

"What would you call it?"

A beat.

“Death from above?"

"Nice. Catchy." Boss Man said, before turning to the others. “Alright, people, you've all got places to be, except you, Kinugawa, go home."

Mego stood straight in an attempt to look fit for duty, but was unconvincing.

Up close, it looked like she had picked a fight with a stampede.

A red line divided her lower lip, with yellow marks underscoring pale grey eyes. A palette of bruises topped off the nasal strip bridging her nose.

"I know I look..."

"... like crap, yes." Boss Man said. "That’s why you won’t be working tonight."

"I'm fired?"

"No. I just want you to rest up. "

"I could use the cash; Mom just gave me a car."

"I saw the Toyota; built like a Tank, turns like a Yacht."

"Liftback." Mego said. "Pretty sure that's what I’ll be needing when it breaks down.

"You're talking to someone who owns a Mightyboy."

They shared a smile; only one of them winced.

"I could wear sunglasses." Mego said.

"Will the sunglasses cover your face? I need all hands on deck, but none that will scare the customers. You're in bad shape; come back when you've recovered.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all she wrote.” Boss man said. Moved to protest, Mego could only resign herself to a slight nod. She collected the yellow coat and pushed open the back door; her dead eyes blinked toward the fading sun. "Oh yeah...Happy Birthday."

***

Against the wet wall of a darkened alley, Mego stood rubbing her nose, while icy drops drummed against the hood of her Parka. In a way, it felt good to see how the cold water tracked down her face like skeletal fingers.

Framed in a bank of amber light, she stood under a dead neon sign for an auto repair shop and fished out a packet of Mekong Cigarettes. The crumpled green box had the gold outline of a ram's head, encircled in Chinese lettering.

Shaking the box, she eyeballed two fingers of wrapped tobacco, one of which belonged to her Mother. Smiling at the brazen theft, she winced as her nerves lit up like brake lights in rush hour traffic.

Putting on a brave face was starting to take its toll, as the white-hot pain returned with a vengeance.

The intense burning felt like elastic bands around her optic nerves, while scraped fingertips tingled with the sensation of being dipped in vinegar. The rest of her felt hollowed out and stuffed with crumpled static.

Every cough was a gut punch.

She followed the alley to a nearby Izakaya bar, where pink neon hoops lit slat-blind windows. Stopping to check the menu, she pulled on the cigarette and sighed.

Time ticked away on stilts.

***

After a brief confab with the boss, Shin grabbed a plastic bag and found Mego inspecting the front bumper of her car. One end hung down, threatening to break off at any moment.

“Damn it”, Mego said, quietly.

"Having fun, I see.”

"Yeah. yeah.”

The car was in rough shape, pockmarked with red rust and cloudy windows. The whole thing looked fresh out of a barn.

Unlocking the door, Mego lowered herself into the driver's seat, surrounded by dark plastic, faux wood stickers, and the aroma of fifty-year-old tobacco, subsumed into worn Vinyl.

Shin helped himself to the passenger seat and rifled through a bunch of cassettes in the centre console. He watched Mego give the glove compartment a frustrated whack.

"So weird not being able to blip the door from a mile away." He said.

"It’s annoying, like people who go through my stuff.”

Shin replaced the cassette. "This is why you don't like passengers."

"Right," Mego said, giving the gearstick a wiggle. After a year of nervous driving, she was still reluctant to take on passengers. "I don't want to be responsible for someone else's safety."

"I guess you won't be babysitting."

"I guess."

The pair started dating a month after she began working. There was no love at first sight, just mutual respect, a propensity for sarcasm, and a healthy interest in pop culture. Over time, stolen glances and awkward small talk weren't enough to hide their feelings.

"You should've called in sick," Shin said. "Everyone would have understood."

"I didn't want to be home. Mum is great, but my God, so many questions."

"So who hit you?"

"It doesn't matter. What're you going to do? Hunt them down?"

"Or a polite talking to."

"Don't bother,” Mego said. “Mum already scared them off." said, turning on the ignition. The engine grumbled into life. "I suppose part of me was grateful for the attention."

"I doubt that," Shin said. "I mean, who decides to get beaten up on their birthday?”

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"You're not still punishing yourself, are you?" Shin said. "I thought you were done with that."

Mego switched off the engine. Frustration simmered through guts of lead.

"I'm not having this conversation in a car park."

"You got beat up out of some kind of survivor's guilt?"

The girl looked away. "Sometimes pain is the only way to feel something."

"Your Mum would call that 'so much ‘Emo crap'."

"I know she blames herself. That’s the thing about loss; it eats away at everything, leaving nothing but the void." Mego left the cigarette in her mouth and stretched. "The weight of the world."

Shin held her hand. He felt the soft cushion of her fingers close up around his.

"Sorry.” He said. “I'd hug you, but it looks sore."

"Thanks, every rib feels like biscuits," Mego said, offering him a world-weary smile. "Love you too."

Shin rubbed the eagle tattoo on the back of his neck.

"Oh!" He said and passed over the shoebox. "This might cheer you up."

Lifting the lid, Mego was surprised to see a pair of red running shoes.

"Oh, my God."

"Remember our first date? After dinner, we looked through a bunch of shop windows."

Mego took in that new shoe smell. "I love them. Thank you."

She gave Shin a quick squeeze

"You want to catch a movie?" He said. "Drinks?”

“Sure, this town could use some chaos.”

She had stopped remembering Coventry a long time ago. It was nothing now, a dead city wreathed in a mist of poisonous smog.

"You shouldn't dwell on the past," Shin said. "Or you'll never leave."

"Still doesn't help."

"There was no escaping from it, Mego. "Shin said. "How can anyone?" Before she could answer, they were interrupted by a Goth girl waving frantically in their direction. She looked pale with anxiety, a picture of dread. Shin wound down the window. "S'up?"

The girl hugged herself.

"He's back."

***

The three arrived at the manager's office, where Boss Man, Tired Student, and Beach Bum were all poring over grainy footage from an ancient CCTV camera.

Boss man brushed away pistachio shells while track lines on the video cut across the CCTV monitor.

The screen showed a stranger known as ‘Mr Cold’ dressed in a white Tuxedo. He stood perfectly still in the corner while Goth girl was in front of the shop. Eventually, it got to the point where she had to shoo the man away. The stranger started to walk backwards, as if it were nothing, wearing the same rictus smile with unblinking eyes.

There was an uneasy lull as everyone tried to process what had happened.

"When I closed the door, the inside handle was like ice." Goth Girl said, rubbing the back of her shoulder. "He called again and asked for Mego by name."

Beach Bum looked away. "For what reason?"

"Nothing good,” Mego said, still rattled.

Boss Man shook his head.

"It's gotta be more than that; no one can be that obvious."

"Yeah, rapists are known for their subtlety," Shin said. "This is crazy. It's been a month, and he's still at it. What did the police find?"

"They did a follow-up, but after a search of the house, it turned out to be abandoned, no one to find."

"Abandoned house and creepy phone calls," Tired Student said. "All we need now is a cheerleader with a broken-down car.”.

Mego smiled darkly.

“Yeah, my car is cooked, so I’m halfway there.”

As the image flickered, the stranger almost appeared to wink at her through the crooked feed. Something cold snaked down the small of her back.

"Don't even joke." Goth Girl said. "I can't imagine going anywhere near that weirdo, day or night."

"What if I went anyway? Not alone, obviously."

Everyone shot Mego a confused look.

"Be serious," Shin said. "Why would you want to?"

"He'll keep harassing us if I don't."

"And become an unsolved crime?" Boss Man said. "Nope, not gonna happen."

"Shin will be with me, all the way."

"Thanks for taking me down with you," Shin said, slightly irked.

"Why are we even discussing it?" Beach Bum asked.

Mego tried to present her case. "We have his details; he’s not going anywhere."

"Yeah, let’s just wait ‘til he stops.” Boss Man said. " I am not sending my employees to their own crime scene."

"So what do I do? Wait until he gets bored?"

"Bored means he'll give up."

"Who's to say he won't drag Mego into a van?" Shin said. "It's the next step."

"And thank you for that," Mego said sharply. "Cos I wasn't freaked out already." She thought for a while. "What if I quit? Or work in the office? Administration. Do the accounts."

“Great idea.” Boss Man said. “Now, all we have to do is wait for you to graduate from Uni. Job done.” This time, Mego did not protest. "I know, it's like choosing the least smelliest turd. For the moment, we have food going cold, so let’s get a move on. Everyone, back to work. Kinugawa, you're on scrub duty.” Mego’s body slumped dejectedly. “Don't sulk. Next time you're given time off, I suggest you take it."

***

Mr Cold’s address led Mego and Shin to the gloomy, dead-end street of Akiya houses. An overhead street lamp provided the only patch of orange against the encroaching dark, which cooked the adrenaline in her veins. No sounds, not even the distant traffic on the main road, could be heard.

Mego switched off the solo for ‘Riding on the wind’ and stopped the car. Everything was still as if the world was holding its breath.

Great idea, Mego. You win at ideas.

Shin sat motionless on the motorcycle. Usually, he would be the first to knock on her window, but he remained unmoving. She waited thirty more seconds.

"Pizza's getting cold, dumb ass," Mego said, with increasing frustration. “What are you doing?”

Wasting no more time, she stepped out, marched over and punched him on the top of his arm. No reaction.

"I'm taking all your tips and leaving you here." She slapped the back of his helmet. "Wake up!" Nothing. He was out cold.

Rubbing her wrist, Mego looked back toward the customer’s house. Folk music played with joyous abandon while silhouettes danced behind thin curtains. The sight of this gave her a twinge of relief. "Witnesses,” She said, dully. “It’s something, I guess."

Pushing on glasses and a bucket hat, she tried to look as innocent as possible, like a doe-eyed ingénue on her first day. (If anything, it was good for tips.)

Approaching the drive of number twenty-six, her skin prickled with excitement. Soon, survival instincts gave rise to a new feeling of trepidation, as shadows jostled with hedonistic revelry.

Mego passed the garden gate and took the side entrance, figuring no one would want to thread a Pizza around a house full of partygoers. The incessant throb of music was harder now, pulsing from the walls. Out in the backyard, someone drunkenly crashed through the door onto the lawn, causing a group inside to laugh loudly and heartily.

People. Mego thought bitterly.

Upon entering the garden, she was surprised to find everything lit by a honeyed glow, with a scented air reminiscent of Potpourri.

Okay, getting spooked now.

A masked soirée was taking place on the crisp, manicured lawn, surrounded by white lanterns hanging between laced buntings.

At the back, an ice sculpture served as a centrepiece for the buffet table, laid out with hors d'oeuvres and crystalline glassware.

Each guest sported an insect or animal mask covering their entire heads, reminding Mego of a comic convention.

Inexplicably, everyone she passed felt the need to curtsy or bow.

Mego found Mr Cold in his bright white Tuxedo in the right-hand corner, focusing on her with those dead, unblinking eyes.

"T-twelve pounds f-fifty," Mego said, handing over the box.

A guest in a Grasshopper mask gave her a nod, making her jump.

In that moment, something caught in her throat, causing it to dry out. A parcel of dread began to unpack from inside her gut. These were not masks but their actual heads.

Anxiety rang Klaxons in her mind.

Abandon ship!

"Welcome," Mr Cold said in a sibilant tone. "Care for a drink?"

"I-I'm at work," Mego replied. The pitch of her voice had increased exponentially; her eyes grew wide as saucers. "I really need to go."

"You have just got here. This party is for you."

"M-me?"

The Tuxedo man gave a slight bow. "Welcome home, your Majesty."

Mego turned toward the guests, who all lowered themselves in veneration. Saltwater welled up in the rims of her eyes; she could barely push out a sentence.

"I need...I...have to..."

The man placed a hand softly on the top of her scalp. Under his breath, he uttered a single word:

"Awaken.”

***

Shin woke up with a jolt, feeling cold air leave his lungs. Why had he slept? He was not even drowsy. It felt like a bad dream or worse, some kind of witchcraft.

Cursing, he unsteadily dismounted the motorcycle and coughed out a rope of saliva, tasting metal on the breeze. Something had felt off upon arrival, maybe a name unspoken for fear of evoking an ancient evil.

Even the air felt unnaturally frigid, like the inside of a cave.

Looking up at the address, it turned out to be a decrepit pile with boarded-up windows and no signs of occupants. Shin breathed out sharply. He should never have agreed to this. If only he had taken the Boss Man’s side, maybe he could have convinced Mego to abort the mission. He checked her car; it was locked and empty.

She must have gone on ahead, or worse…kidnapped.

Fearing the worst, Shin pushed the gate, which creaked noisily on rusted hinges. Dead air hitched in his throat as he made his way up a path carpeted with plants, jutting through broken stones like tendrils. Wandering in a silent stupor, he jumped out of his mind after tripping on a rusted tricycle.

Crap-crap-crap!

Desperately brushing himself off, Shin took a moment to calm down; no easy task, seeing how everything reeked of dead vegetation. High fences were half-buried under a mass of overgrown shrubs and foliage. The untouched lawn rolled at knee-height, forcing him to wade through tall grass to reach the door. Locked.

Looking around, Shin suddenly spotted the discarded pizza box, still warm and left under a glass table. An icy chill ghosted over his face. 

Mego Kinugawa had disappeared into thin air.