much death. Everywhere bodies and parts lay, piled and scattered like rice after a military parade. Buildings he'd known were broken ruins. Some had completely disappeared as if some divine hand had reached down and plucked them away, perhaps to keep them safe or hold them until a better time. Throngs of bloodstained people, naked or half-naked, dragged themselves painfully along, trying to find solace. The skin of those who'd been burned by the heat was peeling or left hanging in strips. The completely dazed sat on the ground pleading for help.
Itoro stopped by what was left of an elementary school that Mynami was supposed to begin attending next year. Itoro had passed it every morning for two years, the bright faces of the children revitalizing even on the most dower of mornings. The blues and yellows of their uniform color splashed against the bougainvillea stands bordering the buildings were a feast for sleep-rimmed eyes and had always served to fuel him for the three mile trek to the train station. But there were no more children. There were no more flowers. The entire frontage as well as several interior walls had disintegrated. All the desks and chairs had somehow remained intact, and been pushed to the far end of the building where they now stood like an impassible thicket. Spots colored the concrete in the shapes of children. Here and there, pieces of bodies lay camouflaged by the occasional piece of wood and rubber.
A girl lay against a snapped power line, foot long shards of broken glass jutting from her body in every direction. Like the men who'd turned to watch the explosion, her eyes had smoldered and burned.
Itoro felt himself drawn to her. Perhaps it was the way she leaned against the pole as if she were waiting for a ride. Perhaps it was that she was so alone in death, only the shadows of her schoolmates to keep her company. He wasn't sure what it was, but he staggered to her and fell to his knees.
He felt as if he needed to bear witness. He wanted to see her face, but her head was bowed so low, her face was lost in shadow. He reached towards her to lift her chin, but jerked away as a movement caught his eye. A foot-long length of the girl's skin on her stomach seemed to move, undulating towards him. He could see the ribbed texture of her abdominal muscles revealed by the flap of skin that hung across her lap, but it couldn't have moved. There was no wind. She was most certainly dead. His mind was playing tricks on him. He shook his head. The skin hadn't moved. The skin couldn't have moved.
Lifting her chin, he gazed at her. She reminded him of his sister when she'd been little, her nose as small and delicate as a doll's. Then something grabbed his wrist. The skin of her stomach had him, stretched from where it hung by a mere inch of skin attached to her body. It quivered as it strove to pull Itoro towards the girl. He jerked his arm and lurched to his feet, coming away with the length of skin, ripping it from the girl like flowers ripping free of a stem. Holding his arm before him, he screamed. The skin was somehow alive. He watched as it crawled onto his arm and covered it. Memories immediately invaded his mind.
...morning rice steaming from her mother's favorite pot.
...joy at finally understanding the math problem that had haunted her for a week.
...confusion about the shaking of the school, wondering if it was an earthquake or a volcano that caused the pictures to clatter, the books to fall and the vase holding a single white lily sitting atop Ms. Naruki's desk to smash to the floor.
Still screaming, Itoro peeled the skin away, using his left hand to claw and rend. The effort caused him to stumble, his ankles twisting as his body spasmed, rejecting the very thought of the invasion. More skin ripped free of the girl's body as if it sensed him and needed to be connected. It began to creep towards him. Ridding himself of the last residue of the girl, Itoro ran as fast and as far from the scene as he could, knowing that Ms. Naruki had been the little girl's teacher, and knowing that he'd never known that until the skin had imparted the knowledge.
Twenty minutes later he passed the police barracks. Usually four rows