condemned me to death. The god shouted, âKill him!â and I came under attack from youths in devil masks. I ran as if possessed, back to the dispensary and with trembling hands locked the glass door. But the demons chased after me and started hammering on the door. âCome out here! Weâre going to kill you!â they yelled, and continued pounding on the door. Pam pam pam! I awoke to the sound of someone banging on the glass door.
The glass door was making an awful racket. For a brief moment dream and reality were jumbled together, but this was not the continuation of the dream. Somebody really was pounding on the dispensary door.
The dim light of dawn filtered into the room. I went through to the dispensary, and saw the figure of a person silhouetted behind the curtain over the door.
âWho is it?â I asked.
Instead of answering, whoever it was started banging even harder on the door. I tutted and pulled back the curtain to reveal on the other side of the glass the salesman, dripping wet and deathly pale. As I opened the door, he grabbed my arm.
âDoctor, please help me!â he pleaded, his voice quivering.
I had no idea what he was talking about. For the time being, I took him inside and sat him on a chair. He was shivering as if sick.
âHas the illness relapsed?â
âItâs not that. Theyâre going to kill me!â he gasped.
I was none the wiser. âThey? Whoâs âtheyâ?â
âThose guys!â
âThose guys? Are you referring to the islanders?â
âIsnât it obvious? Theyâve gone mad. Theyâve really lost it. Theyâre trying to say that the mayor died because of me.â
âSurely not!â
âItâs happened before.â
âIt has?â
âI read it in a book. Once there was a shipwreck that drifted ashore, and some of the crew had smallpoxââ
âYes, I already know about that story. Half of the islanders died of smallpox because of it.â
âIâm talking about the bit after that.â Twisting and untwisting his fingers, he continued quickly, âThe island god ordered revenge, and the islanders ripped the entire crew to bits.â
âBut that was over a hundred years ago.â
âThis island hasnât changed a bit in the last hundred years. All the elders call the mainland Yamato, just like they did a century ago, and youâve seen for yourself how they all unquestioningly do whatever their mysterious god tells them to do, havenât you?â
Yes, I had seen it. The mayor had accepted the oracle and chosen to die, and the islanders had acquiesced. This island was ruled by the will of the god. In matters of life and death, at least, it was true.
âBut even so, why would they kill you?â
âIâve seen it.â
âWhat have you seen?â
âIâve been up at the shrine. I had a bad premonition, and went to see what was going on. The mayorâs funeral already finished last night, but there they were still glued to the shrine, not moving. Theyâre waiting.â
âWaiting? For what?â
âTheyâre waiting for the oracle to tell them the name of the person to be held responsible for the mayorâs death. Theyâre holding their breath waiting to hear the name of the person they have to rip to pieces. I know who theyâre going to choose for their sacrificial offeringâme. They think this disease was brought in by an outsider. Itâs just like that shipwreck a hundred years ago. Theyâre going to make me their scapegoat, I know it.â
The salesman glanced fearfully at the mountain. The melancholy drumming could still be heard mixed in with the sound of the rain. It told me that nothing had finished. It had been premature to think everything had finished with the end of the epidemic. In fact, it had probably signaled the start of something terrifying.
I was forced to