The mountain road on which I was driving a few minutes earlier was plunged in the most total darkness, in addition to being soaked by a violent autumn rain.
The water drops were crashing violently on the roof and on the windshield, obstructing with obstinacy my vision between two movements of the wiper blades. As a result, I was reduced to driving at a considerably lower speed, the long-range headlights not being able to illuminate more than twenty meters ahead on the winding road I had to take at this late hour of the evening.
Occasionally, the storm would trigger a flash of lightning near my path, partially illuminating some unusual places in the forest.
Most people would surely have been frightened by such weather, or even refused to make the trip.
But not me. Because I didn't know what fear was.
Glancing briefly at the GPS, I saw that the estimated time of arrival had once again been extended; in accordance with my driving speed, which I kept reducing.
I was a cautious person, after all.
This didn't stop my manager from assigning me the most unpleasant tasks. Missions that I sometimes had to carry out at ridiculous hours, like the one I was currently doing. Maybe it was my fault too. I didn't really know how to distinguish between a simple order and an abuse of power. Perhaps others in my place would have surely refused.
But even if I had refused, where would it have gotten me?
I would have simply gone home, eaten something, and then fallen asleep in front of the television until the next day. So... I might as well make myself useful.
Especially since tonight's mission was important.
I had to pick up the manuscript of one of our leading authors. It was the chapter that was supposed to come out this week, and because of the bad weather, his internet access had gone down. And courier services didn't work in this weather, nor for such long distances. Therefore, it was impossible for him to send us the dematerialized version of his work.
So, I became the courier of Osagawa Sensei, a famous author of detective novels. I was still only an editorial assistant, and not yet a full-fledged editor.
But I wasn't surprised. I didn't know what it was to be surprised.
The author Osagawa Tokuhei was not only known for his writings, but was also still a handsome man, despite the fact that he was already 58 years old, and looked as skinny as he was tall. This attracted a lot of attention from the female employees of our publishing house, as well as from his fans. He was the kind of person who exuded a certain charm - especially in the way he dressed - and a rare elegance.
Maybe that's what attracted people, even before his writing. The fact that he had a magnetic personality and appearance, which attracted crowds.
But for myself, I didn't really know. I had never read his books, nor had I seen him other than in the magazines where he gave interviews. And even then, I had to say that his style of dress was pretty austere, even if the journalists referred to it more as a classic style straight out of the 70s.
From what I could see, he was always wearing sleeveless sweaters over perfectly pressed shirts, a tie with a perfect knot, a black felt trilby hat, and a long olive green trench coat. Maybe he wanted to look like the characters he wrote about. Or maybe he liked to dress out of step with the fashions that came and went.
Still, to me, there was nothing extraordinary about it. I dressed because it was a necessity. Not because I liked anything in particular.
I wasn't really happy or excited about meeting this author that everyone held in high regard. It was just routine, work.
The wind blew my car slightly to the right, momentarily shifting me into the oncoming lane.
Quickly, and with a precise gesture, I brought the vehicle back on its lane, and compensated for the wind's push by turning the wheel slightly to the left.
The weather forecast didn't say anything about a typhoon, but I was pretty sure that this kind of stormy weather with gusts of wind fit the description.
I saw a sign on the side of the road. The GPS hadn't said a word for a while, a sign that I still had to go on the same road without making any detour. This sign was the only indication of how far I was from my destination. And it seemed that I was not very far anymore.
The road continued to advance between the tall pine trees, their thick trunks forming a kind of wall that hid the rest of the forest. And in the distance, the road was bordered by two big stone walls, behind which the trees were still as threatening by their imposing size.
My cell phone rang in my pocket, and quickly taking it out, I saw the name "Chiba" written. It was my supervisor calling me, so I picked up.
"Nijima-kun! Are you there yet?" The man on the other end of the phone immediately asked.
He hadn't even bothered to say hello - or rather, good evening - and had directly asked his question aggressively.
"I'm still on my way," I replied.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you have arrived by now?" Chiba Takuya complained.
"It's raining here. I have to slow down," I replied without elaborating on the situation.
"Are you going to tell me that the rain is slowing you down?" My supervisor asked sarcastically.
"I have to slow down if I hope to make it here alive," I replied simply.
"Alive? "he repeated.
Then I heard him laugh on the other end of the line.
What was so funny about that? Had I missed something?
"If you were that scared, you could have said no!" he exclaimed.
"You asked me to go," I replied, again, very soberly.
The laughter redoubled in intensity and duration. Then, having visibly regained his composure, my supervisor added, not without a touch of sarcasm:
"You really do everything you're told without complaining, don't you? What are you, a zombie?"
Ah. That word again. How many times had I heard it?
I had always been called a machine, an automaton, or even a zombie.
Zombie.
The word sounded strange in my mind. To everyone around me, I was probably the closest thing to it, after all.
I never showed any emotion.
I never got angry, never cried, never smiled.
It wasn't that I was someone who refused to show what I was feeling. It was that I didn't feel anything. I couldn't show others what I didn't have.
To others, it was probably a quirk. They would laugh about it and then not think about it the next day; they were already focused on another curiosity.
For me, it was something omnipresent. Or rather, something eternally absent.
I had no memory prior to my sixth birthday. But from the time I was six, until now, when I was twenty-nine, it had always been the same. I felt absolutely nothing. It was as if I were on autopilot, my heart beating unceasingly with the same regular rhythm. And since then, I had given up on the idea that this would ever change.
People had always stayed away, after realizing that I didn't respond the way they wanted, to their first friendly greetings.
They had probably given up, too.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" Said my manager then, interrupting my train of thought.
I had kept driving without really paying attention to what I was seeing in front of me, just following the long black ribbon of road stretching out in front of me. I had even forgotten that I was having a conversation with someone.
I blinked rapidly, the deep dark circles under my eyes barely moving.
"I'm listening, Chiba-san," I said while focusing on the road again.
I quickly heard a furtive whisper from him, a 'little jerk' that wasn't directed at anyone in particular. Maybe he thought he had whispered low enough that I wouldn't hear it. Or maybe he didn't care that I heard him.
Because already he was speaking on, as if he hadn't just momentarily gotten mad at me.
"Osagawa Sensei has already been waiting for you for a little while, so speed it up a bit, will you?" he insisted.
"I'll get there in time, even at my current pace," I replied with a neutral tone of voice.
It was true, after all. It was just an observation...
"Are you messing with me?" Chiba snarled.
So why was he getting so upset? Had I said something wrong?
I heard him sigh heavily, as if he was trying to control his anger. Then, still with a slightly aggressive tone, he said:
"Well, if you look at the documents I gave you, you should have the directions to find Osagawa Sensei's house. Follow them carefully."
Directions? Ah, he meant that piece of paper he gave me before he left?
I quickly glanced at the back seat, before looking at the road again.
It took me a few seconds, barely.
But that's all it took, for me to realize too late that someone was on the road, right in front of my car.
Too late for me to brake before I hit with a big shock a human figure; which collapsed on the ground before passing under my car.