Man with No Name: A Nanashi Novella by Laird Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

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    Phase Two saw them creeping through a field of shrubbery and broken glass until they were huddled outside the roomful of over-the-hill yakuza. The Dragons were drunk and drugged up. Some slept, others sat around in their underwear, smoking grass, playing cards, and scratching flabby guts while cops and robbers shot each other on the television. Jiki and Mizo were not quite so foolish as to charge in, guns blasting, not quite so ferociously suicidal. In any event, Mizo was particularly intrigued to see what havoc he could wreak with his new toy, which he’d strapped to his back and primed for action.
    The gang was oblivious to their impending doom, with the exception of one fellow sitting cross-legged on a bed next to the window. This gangster was so stoned he had no clue what to make of the wand slipping between the blinds, and actually cocked his head to peer down the nozzle right before Mizo squeezed the trigger.
    The entire motel went up in flames. People, yakuza and innocent guests alike, shrieked and died as smoke boiled and the black sky was painted hellish hues of orange and red. The Terrible Two fled for the car, laughing and hooting in hyena joy, and all might’ve gone perfectly if Jiki, who drove because Mizo was still lugging the flamethrower, hadn’t decided to cruise past the scene of the inferno to gloat over their victory. A Dragon enforcer staggered from the conflagration clad only in shorts--hair smoldering, face slagged from the intense heat--and unloaded his dual automatic pistols. Jiki panicked and floored the accelerator and the yakuza stood in the middle of the road with action hero aplomb, popping off a few final rounds at their disappearing taillights before he collapsed in a smoldering heap and died. Meanwhile, a bullet punched through the car’s rear window and ricocheted from the tank on Mizo’s back. He screamed in surprise and Jiki swerved all over, tires screeching, rubber burning, and somehow during the confusion the flamethrower got set off again and turned the car into a fireball Jiki promptly steered off the street and into a canal.
    Satan apparently watches over his own because both men survived with minor burns, a few broken bones, and singed scalps. Hailed as heroes of the clan, only a handful of insiders ever knew the reality: The Terrible Two were a pair of craven, fucking morons. Famous fucking morons, now.
    The Dragon Syndicate were not amused.
    By the grace of iron-strong custom and venerable gangster tradition regarding truces were Jiki and Mizo kept from being summarily abducted and tortured and fed to the fishes. Sadly enough.
    Nanishi said, “So much for the honor of ninkyō dantai,” and laughed.
     “What now?” Haru said in a thick voice. Amida moaned.
    “We can’t return to the office without the corpse.” Koma had taken the cell phone from his pocket, but obviously lacked the courage to ring Uncle Yutaka with the current news. Things were likely tense around the gang clubhouse. “Okay, piss on it. Move over, I’m driving.”
    Koma and Nanashi traded places, although Koma didn’t get moving right away. The four of them hunched for a while in the shadows, sporadically illuminated by the hazards and the flare of passing headlights. Nanashi shut his eyes and the black motes aligned like a Venus flytrap’s teeth snapping together.
    The ghost of Muzaki whispered, There are those who claim that Time is a ring. I have found it to be a maze, and my own role that of the Minotaur. Rabbit, O rabbit. Welcome to the maze.
     
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    One often falls in dreams. In this case, Nanashi had the sense of traveling at great speed, like a bullet shot through the heart of a void. His eyes opened and blackness resolved into light and sound. Music scratched from a vinyl record -- Black Betty by the venerable Ram Jams. Karaoke was quite popular with the yakuza and he’d learned all of the classics--Johnny Cash, Roger Miller, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Clash, and