at the featureless building from which she’d come. The door was closed. There was no information there.
Then she walked to the center of the deserted Shibuya Scramble and stood there, alone, shivering in the chilly night, dwarfed by the city that was Tokyo. It was as if she were the last woman on Earth. She didn’t believe she was alone in the world—not for a moment—but she almost wished it were true. A world vacant of people might be better than a world overrun by the Undead.
The lights flashed, the signs blinked, the spotless buildings gleamed. She’d seen Tokyo destroyed. This… could not… be here.
On the edge of the Scramble was a small Tokyo police cruiser, parked against the curb. Alice walked over to the cop car, and tried the door. Locked.
Not for long.
Off to one side was a bicycle rack, with a dozen lonely-looking bicycles neatly stored. There was an empty slot, and lying across the metal of the slot was a bicycle chain with a large metal lock still attached. She picked it up, swung it experimentally. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing—almost like a chain mace.
She went back to the cruiser and swung the chain, hard, smashing the lock into the side window on the driver’s side of the vehicle, shattering it. She pulled some excess glass out of the way, then reached through, unlocked the door, and opened it. Sliding into the seat, she did a quick search and found a .45 automatic stuck between the cushions; a nice Glock with a good heft to it. She could feel by the weight that it was fully loaded. She located a spare magazine on the floor, and stuck that in a pocket.
There was a police jacket in the back. She pulled it on and got out of the car, the gun in one hand, bicycle chain in the other.
Something chill struck her cheek. She touched it— water. She looked up and more struck her face. It was raining.
Suddenly the doors to every department store burst open, all at once, as if choreographed—and the Scramble began to fill up with busy people, who seemed serenely intent on their own personal missions. They were just the sort of people Alice had once seen, here in Tokyo. Dour salarymen in suits and young women in fashion finery and strolling girls in more conservative secretarial wear and teen girls with earphones, looking J-pop, and young men with spiky hair…
Cars swung around the corner, and suddenly there was traffic. Within seconds the streets were choked with pedestrians and vehicles, cars and cabs and trucks.
The rain was coming down more heavily, tapping on car roofs. Umbrellas sprouted throughout the crowd. Alice noticed that the rain seemed oddly warm—anyway, “room temperature.”
“Who did this?”
It was a cop. The angry uniformed officer pointed at his car, and the broken glass of his window. He didn’t seem to notice Alice.
A teen girl—in a mix of J-pop and kawaii styles— was walking by, frowning as if contemplating some inner conundrum. She was soaking from the rain, one of the few people who, like Alice, was without an umbrella. Something about her was fascinating. The girl’s eyes seemed unfocussed and distant.
She stopped at the center of the Scramble, in a crosswalk, and stood there, arms hanging at her sides. A businessman walked by, and glanced at the J-pop girl—who suddenly lunged at the salaryman, knocking him to the ground.
Then she was tearing at his throat with her teeth, so that blood sprayed… to be washed away in the heavy rain.
7
The crowd panicked.
They ran helter-skelter away from her, dropping their packages, bags, and umbrellas in terror.
The businessman was already transforming into the Undead. He came to his feet—his eyes had gone milky white. He stared at a confused kogal—a young woman dressed like a sexy Japanese schoolgirl—who hadn’t seen what the others were running from.
Without warning he lunged at her, bit deeply into her shoulder, ripping through fabric and skin with his teeth.
Women in the crowd screamed;
Then she walked to the center of the deserted Shibuya Scramble and stood there, alone, shivering in the chilly night, dwarfed by the city that was Tokyo. It was as if she were the last woman on Earth. She didn’t believe she was alone in the world—not for a moment—but she almost wished it were true. A world vacant of people might be better than a world overrun by the Undead.
The lights flashed, the signs blinked, the spotless buildings gleamed. She’d seen Tokyo destroyed. This… could not… be here.
On the edge of the Scramble was a small Tokyo police cruiser, parked against the curb. Alice walked over to the cop car, and tried the door. Locked.
Not for long.
Off to one side was a bicycle rack, with a dozen lonely-looking bicycles neatly stored. There was an empty slot, and lying across the metal of the slot was a bicycle chain with a large metal lock still attached. She picked it up, swung it experimentally. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing—almost like a chain mace.
She went back to the cruiser and swung the chain, hard, smashing the lock into the side window on the driver’s side of the vehicle, shattering it. She pulled some excess glass out of the way, then reached through, unlocked the door, and opened it. Sliding into the seat, she did a quick search and found a .45 automatic stuck between the cushions; a nice Glock with a good heft to it. She could feel by the weight that it was fully loaded. She located a spare magazine on the floor, and stuck that in a pocket.
There was a police jacket in the back. She pulled it on and got out of the car, the gun in one hand, bicycle chain in the other.
Something chill struck her cheek. She touched it— water. She looked up and more struck her face. It was raining.
Suddenly the doors to every department store burst open, all at once, as if choreographed—and the Scramble began to fill up with busy people, who seemed serenely intent on their own personal missions. They were just the sort of people Alice had once seen, here in Tokyo. Dour salarymen in suits and young women in fashion finery and strolling girls in more conservative secretarial wear and teen girls with earphones, looking J-pop, and young men with spiky hair…
Cars swung around the corner, and suddenly there was traffic. Within seconds the streets were choked with pedestrians and vehicles, cars and cabs and trucks.
The rain was coming down more heavily, tapping on car roofs. Umbrellas sprouted throughout the crowd. Alice noticed that the rain seemed oddly warm—anyway, “room temperature.”
“Who did this?”
It was a cop. The angry uniformed officer pointed at his car, and the broken glass of his window. He didn’t seem to notice Alice.
A teen girl—in a mix of J-pop and kawaii styles— was walking by, frowning as if contemplating some inner conundrum. She was soaking from the rain, one of the few people who, like Alice, was without an umbrella. Something about her was fascinating. The girl’s eyes seemed unfocussed and distant.
She stopped at the center of the Scramble, in a crosswalk, and stood there, arms hanging at her sides. A businessman walked by, and glanced at the J-pop girl—who suddenly lunged at the salaryman, knocking him to the ground.
Then she was tearing at his throat with her teeth, so that blood sprayed… to be washed away in the heavy rain.
7
The crowd panicked.
They ran helter-skelter away from her, dropping their packages, bags, and umbrellas in terror.
The businessman was already transforming into the Undead. He came to his feet—his eyes had gone milky white. He stared at a confused kogal—a young woman dressed like a sexy Japanese schoolgirl—who hadn’t seen what the others were running from.
Without warning he lunged at her, bit deeply into her shoulder, ripping through fabric and skin with his teeth.
Women in the crowd screamed;
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