Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 9. Introduction to the Program

The ambulance bounced along the rubbly pavement. Each impact sent fresh stabs through Kyosuke's body. Each turn pressed his weight against his wounded arm, and elicited a gasp of pain from the boy. When crying out did not provide any relief, he bit down on inside of his mouth. There was no saliva left, and the thick iron taste from his pierced lip only worsened his thirst. No matter what he did, he could not escape the pain.

"It hurts, it hurts," he pleaded. "Something, give me something."

At first, the green clothed attendants ignored him, but after several blocks, one of the green masked attendants broke off his chatter long enough to kick the stretcher. The gurney rattled against its restraints. The boy whimpered.

"Shut up! Quit your whining, it's getting on my nerves," the lean man snapped.. The stretcher received another kick.

"Hey, hey! Ease up. If you kill him, we'll be in big trouble," the other medic whined. "And you can't smoke in here."

The first attendant had lowered his mask to puff on a cigarette that he'd just lit. His face was angular. "Shut up. This bastard isn't going to die. I heard that he took down two guys when he tried to escape. Can't they hurry it up?"

"We can't turn on the sirens. It's the old man's orders. Anyways, we're almost there."

The rear windows changed from a inconsistent sky to anemic subterranean lights. A long left hand turn was pure agony. The angular medic planted the cigarette stub at the corner of the boy's limp lips. He pulled back up the mask.

The other attendant plucked the butt from the gurney and tossed it away. "Don't play around. You'll get us in trouble."

"Everyone should get a smoke before he goes," the smoker intoned in a solemn voice.

Though Kyosuke had fervently wished for the ambulance to stop, stopping brought no relief. The medics roughly unloaded the stretcher. The gurney rumbled over pavement that connected to a long hallway. The reached a room that buzzed with activity. The familiar scent of astringent stung Kyosuke's nose. A new masked man appeared. He ignored Kyosuke's cries of pain.

"Why didn't you fill out the paperwork?" the new mask demanded from the attendants.

"Hey, no one told us to," the second attendant complained.

"It's standard procedure."

"What's done is done," the smoker said. "Are you going to argue with us or are you going to treat your patient, Doctor?"

"Fill it out later, just put him over there for now," the new voice snapped.

Kyosuke closed his eyes to try to shut out everything. He was wheeled to a new area. The doctor jabbed him with questions. The boy responded to get the interrogation over with. A pair of cool hand seized him arm. He opened his eyes to see a nurse swab the inside of the bend. She pricked it quickly, and ice trickled into his veins. His limbs turned to to lead. He felt lighter as all sensation ceased. Tears welled in his eyes.

A second gurney was wheeled next to him. A form in a dark girl's sailor uniform lay unmoving on the white sheet. Her head was mummified in gory wrappings, and an oxygen mask engulfed her face. Mr. Tanaka, with his bland face firmly in place, followed the stretcher. The front of his shirt was smeared with a rusted stain.

Their voices drifted away from Kyosuke.

"I'm sorry, but your daughter isn't going to make it, Mr. Tanaka."

"Just make her comfortable," He answered calmly.


The hard light glared redly through Kyosuke's eyelids. Someone dragged him across the ground by his legs. His body was dropped to the ground. Several men towered above him. One of them smoked. Another one laughed. A third man rifled through his pockets, turning up a thin wallet. Kyosuke struggled to move, but he could not move; even his eyes were stuck shut.

Tanaka's scratched voice cut through them. "Show some respect. He fought until the end. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough."

The robber dropped the wallet on his chest. All the voices receded, leaving Kyosuke alone with Mr. Tanaka.

"You did what was necessary, as did I. I cannot criticize you, because I did the same for my daughter Shiori. I would have liked to share a drink with you, but this will have to do."

Cold metal pressed against his lips, and an equally cold liquid dribbled across his lower jaw. Tanaka left as well. The lights snapped off, leaving him in the quiet darkness. Kyosuke opened his eyes to high trusses that comprised the gymnasium ceiling. The cavernous space was sunk in shadows. The dead lay all around him. They sprawled side by side; their eyes had been closed in their cold repose. He could identify their faces. Strangely, he was not afraid. Kyosuke picked out a shock of curly hair lay next to an obese corpse, Komatsu and Hatta. They had been dropped in a tumbled embrace.

A gash across the throat, two gaping entry wounds through a youthful face, but in spite of their wounds, they all looked to be at peace. He found Akane. Her eyes were closed in solemn repose. The round face and slightly sunken cheeks seemed ceramic fragile. He wanted to grab and shake her out of her perfect stillness, but the rest of him was still paralyzed.

His eyes flicked around in panic, looking and searching for a face that he prayed he would not see. A name was ready to burst from his lips

Kyosuke sat up with a jerk in an entirely different room. The sun cut a sharp angle across a table in the middle of the room. An overturned basket of oranges lay on the ground. A smashed TV sat amid a wall full of stern black and white photos. Several portraits lay shattered on the ground.

A microphone's shriek caught Kyosuke's attention. The source of the noise was nearby, but he could not locate it.

"Hello, glad to see that you're alive," a dry voice greeted him. "I'm not really supposed to be talking to you, but sometimes one must bend the rules for the sake of fairness."

He leapt in place, the voice came from right next to him.

"Fairness?" Kyosuke rasped through his dry throat. "How is this fair?"

"Relax," Mr. Tanaka's voice answered. The voice came from his own body. Kyosuke found a hard ring around his neck. "Don't mess with the collar, that could kill you.

"To answer the question, fairness is evening the odds. After all, we are all equal under the Leader, and the Program is the great equalizer. Practically speaking, you've been treated with an experimental painkiller. How do you feel? It won't kill you to answer my question."

Other than his arm, he felt normal, which was much better than expected.

"OK, I guess," he answered cautiously.

"Good. It was developed by the SDF so that a soldier could fight at top condition even if he were at death's door. The drug also doubles as a coagulant. You just need to take the anti-coagulant at night or you'll probably suffer a massive stroke. Clinical trials have shown that the drug may cause infertility, liver failure, or death if taken for an extended period of time. Now on with the program."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Kyosuke demanded, but was ignored.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Great Leader's program," the microphone screeched with distortion again. Kyosuke did not react, because he already knew. "I'm sure that everyone is eager for the game to start, but I have some announcements to make.

"Please, do not move yet. If you stray too far from your current location, you will die. As you may have noticed, there is a collar fixed around each of your necks. This is essential for our little project, which I will get to in a moment," Tanaka announced as if he were a teacher talking about a field trip. "Right now, I just want everyone to get up and stretch.

"I'll know if you're slacking off. C'mon, lively now! That collar is set to monitor your pulse and temperature, so you'd better work up a sweat. We're going to do some jumping jacks. 1-2, 1-2."

Kyosuke considered joining in the calisthenics, but his thirst burned with full force once his initial surprise had passed. He scrambled to a fallen orange. He tore the fruit in halves and sucked at the mashed flesh. Sticky juice covered his chin.

"Settle down. We're already behind schedule after some unforseen delays," the hoarse voice continued. "The Program was formed forty years ago to strengthen the unity and the moral fiber of our great nation, our only nation. As participants in our program, you should feel proud to have been chosen."

Kyosuke tossed away the peel as he craned to listen closely.

"On to the rules. You probably have heard rumors, but these are the only rules that will matter to you.

"First, the goal is to be only the survivor. The participants must eliminate each other. If no one is eliminated in a twenty-four hour period, everyone is immediately disqualified. We will be announcing a running tally at the top of each hour.

"Second, equipment. There is a satchel on the outside of each door. There are some water, rations, a compass, and a map. The map is divided by zones. Different instruction may be given in later parts of the Program Session. Each bag also contains a GI-39 nine millimeter automatic pistol.

"This is the basic sidearm of our militia. It has nine rounds, simple to maintain, and rarely jams; it's an oldie, but a goodie Don't forget to chamber the first round, and put on your safety. Safety comes first. You should remember how to use this from middle school. If you didn't pass it, you shouldn't be in high school. There is also a random goody in each bag, use it well.

"Third, the playing field. Marked on your map are the boundaries. Passing a boundary will detonate the collar around your neck, resulting in immediate elimination. The sewers are also out of bounds. Also, gas and electricity have been cut off to this part of the city. Sorry, but trying to blow up a gas main is useless.

"Fourth, upgrades. Use whatever you can find. The Great Leader values resourcefulness. The map is marked with the location of better equipment that have been planted throughout the playing field.

"Fifth, active times. During each active hours, you must move at 10 meters away from where you started at the beginning of the hour. Moving five meters forward and then back will get you messily disqualified. Only horizontal distance counts. The Program will start in active hours. I will announce the beginning and end of resting hours.

"Finally, this Program is about heart and spirit. The things you learn will be useful later in life. That is, if you manage to survive. You should always strive to do your best, and, thereby, live to your full potential.

"The session starts in five minutes. Everyone, best of luck."

The mike squealed to a stop. Kyosuke scrubbed his sticky hands against his pants. The orange roiled in his belly. The talk of gun training unnerved him. Was everyone else that far ahead of him? He had handled a gun before, but he had been running on adrenaline. And Ayukawa had been beside him.

Would they be forced to kill each other? the thought intruded. No, he would free them from this nightmare. He had his Power.

Kyosuke darted to the door. After a moment's consideration, he peered through the windows. The streets were empty. He cracked opened the door. A dozen imagined stares weighed on him as he snatched the bag. He slammed the door close.

Kyosuke emptied the bag with trembling hands. The promised items were in the bag: three protein bars, a plastic bottle of water, a pistol a cheap compass, and a map. A rough plastic case lay on top of the pile. He awkwardly opened the clasped lid. Six needles lay in the spongy interior; they were the painkillers and anti-coagulants. He closed it and stowed the box in the bag with the rest of the gear.

Kyosuke checked the gun as he had seen in the movies. The clip slid out and hit the floor with a clatter. After the second try, he managed to chamber a round. He awkwardly flicked off the safety with his cast, aimed at the picture of a youthful soldier, and squeezed the trigger. The gun shot rang deafeningly through the small room. He missed, but he couldn't waste anymore bullets. Kyosuke tried to switch on the safety with an ounce of Power.

His will passed through the metal. Kyosuke focused on an orange. There was no reaction, no matter how many time he tried. The same with teleportation; he couldn't generate the buoyant feeling. Panic seized him. As far back as Kyosuke could remember, his Power had been as automatic as seeing or walking. It had been his mother's gift to him.

The solemn soldier's portrait stared at him. A young woman looked out of the adjacent portrait. The determined look on her face reminded him of Ayukawa. Kyosuke swiped the safety switch against his cast. He silently asked the faces to look over them. He needed find Ayukawa. He needed to move or become rooted by the fear spreading through him.

The boy peered through the cracked door. The way still looked clear, and with his pounding like a jackhammer, Kyosuke tore the door open and charged into the street.