The Train of the Dead

Chapter One

"Maybe we should've left him behind at the hotel," Akira joked. "I don't want him trailing behind us, ruining our trip."

"Akira," Mrs. Miyamoto scolded. "Stop picking on your brother."

"I'm thirsty," Michael complained. He didn't mean to whine, but it came out that way. It had taken who knew how long to climb all the way up the mountain just to observe an admittedly impressive view. He could feel beads of sweat beneath his coat. "My bag is so heavy. When are we going to arrive back down?"

Mr. Miyamoto frowned at him. "Michael, cut it out. I've had enough of your complaining. You're twelve, and you're acting like your sister's age."

Akira giggled. "Dad's right. I'm seven, and I don't act like that."

"Do you know what this mountain is called, Michael?" Mrs. Miyamoto asked, trying to take his mind off it.

"I know!" Akira spoke up. "Mount Takao."

Mrs. Miyamoto smiled at her. "That's right, Akira. Did you know that it's about 599 meters high?"

"I'm not surprised. It sure feels like it," Michael muttered disdainfully.

Michael tuned her out as she started explaining facts about the mountain. He was starting to feel bored again. He knew his father scolded him for acting childish, but he had barely been around. He was more like a distant family friend than a dad. All of them did. Michael felt so out of place following them around. People would always stare at them strangely and ask if Michael was a friend or cousin of Akira.

"Oh, look!" Michael heard Mrs. Miyamoto exclaim. They were all staring in excitement at a mini waterfall flowing down from the side of the trail over large, lumpy rocks and small, bright ferns. She snapped about a dozen more pictures, before commanding Mr. Miyamoto and Akira to pose.

Big deal! It's just water, Michael thought, rolling his eyes as they continued to observe the scenery.

While Akira started refilling her drink bottle and her father warned her it might not be sanitary, Michael couldn't help sneaking past them. He thought he could make it down much faster if they didn't keep stopping to pose for photos or admire the scenery. Then again, Michael stopped almost as much to rest, so he supposed he couldn't talk.

He continued down the mountain, barely paying attention to where he was going. He just wanted to get back on solid ground as quickly as possible. And then he'd never leave his hotel again. No, he couldn't... they were traveling to Minato City afterwards, in order to see the Tokyo Tower that his stepmother was eager about.

The more Michael walked, the more he thought about how much he wished he was at home with his mom, watching movies and eating spaghetti with her – or even helping her in the garden. Not running around every flashy building and crowded street in Tokyo. He couldn't read a single Japanese sign – Akira couldn't either, but she could understand the language far better than him. He always felt out of place when his father began speaking to the locals in front of him.

Suddenly, Michael came to a stop as he felt dark leaves crunching under his sneakers and spotted a boulder on the side of the trail. Hadn't he already passed that?

He glanced up at the sky. He could spot the late evening sun gleaming down, fading slightly as it was getting ready to sink. He couldn't see the chair lifts overhead, or hear the footsteps and muttering of other hikers. He glanced back and saw nothing but more of the trail lined with leaves, feeling nervous for the first time. He was pretty sure the trail had come to a fork at one point, and he hadn't stopped to consider which was the right direction to take.

Michael groaned, but figured he might as well take a break. He heaved his rucksack off his shoulders and lowered himself to the ground, before taking off his coat. It felt like it was suffocating him under the afternoon sun. His stepmother had insisted on taking it with him, saying it could be cold on the mountain.