The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark

CHAPTER 17

The neighborhood reminded Nadia of Hartford. The owners believed in paint, power washing, and curb appeal. The neatly groomed front yards beckoned for a child and a golden lab. But there was no living thing in sight.

Nakamura parked in front of a yellow ranch-style house. The shades were pulled. Johnny and Bobby carried boxes of food and supplies. Nakamura rang the doorbell. When no one answered, Nakamura opened the door and they went inside. He didn’t bother using a key. There was no need for door locks in a ghost town.

They took off their shoes in the foyer and followed Nakamura past a small living room and kitchen into a bedroom. A gray-haired woman lay propped up on pillows on a bed. She smiled at Nadia, Johnny, and Bobby. Said something in Japanese. Nakamura told them to come closer. Although she sounded weak, the woman seemed cheerful.

Nakamura introduced them in Japanese, and translated in English. The woman’s name was Yamamoto. Johnny bowed and said a few words in Japanese to her. The woman beamed. She replied in rapid-fire Japanese. Johnny seemed to understand what she said and answered, but got lost in the further exchange. Still, his attempts only increased the cheerfulness of her disposition, and the strangeness of the situation.

Nakamura asked the old woman a question. It started with a word that sounded like yoshi. After the woman answered, Nakamura smiled and nodded.

“Genesis II is in the house next door,” Nakamura said. “Mrs. Yamamoto owns both properties. Her husband was an airline executive and bought it as an investment many years ago. Mrs. Yamamoto uses it for storage. She accumulated many things during the years she travelled around the world with her husband. She asked Yoshi to go there to retrieve some photo albums for her.”

Johnny leaned into Nadia’s ear. “Did you hear?”

“Yes.”

“Genesis II’s name is Yoshi. He’s Japanese.”

Thoughts swirled around Nadia’s head. Chornobyl and Fukushima. Fukushima and Chornobyl. As Nakamura had said, they were forever linked. And now, for reasons she couldn’t fathom yet, it appeared the formula shared a similar link. A boy from Ukraine, another from Japan. If that were true, it might confirm her theory that scientists from both countries had worked together to develop a radiation countermeasure. But that was just her own pet theory, she reminded herself. She had no evidence to back it up, and there were countless other explanations.

Nakamura studied the vials of prescription medicine on the nightstand beside a pitcher of water. A remote control with a red button rested beside the phone. It looked like a panic button a patient pressed if she needed immediate assistance. The other nightstand contained a collection of framed photos.

Johnny was studying one of the photos. It showed a pair of young teens holding surfboards, a wave preparing to crash on the shore behind them. When Nakamura finished his conversation with Mrs. Yamamoto, she turned to Johnny and said something.

Johnny smiled. He glanced at Nakamura uncertainly. “Did I hear the word for brother?”

“That is Mrs. Yamamoto and her brother. When they were children. Their grandparents were killed in the American bombing of Nagasaki in 1945. The nuclear disaster in Fukushima has brought back painful memories for the older generation. At least two hundred thousand people were killed in Hiroshima and Nagasaki from the explosions themselves. Sixty percent of the victims burned to death. Can you picture that? They burned to death. The long-term effects of radiation syndrome followed. Some of the emotional healing that took place is now coming unraveled. There is an unspoken fear that Japan may experience such suffering again.”

Johnny studied the picture again. Looked for something positive to say. “Please tell her she and her brother look like good athletes.”

Nakamura told her. He listened to her answers and translated. “Her brother was her inspiration until his death last year. He was one of the Fukushima Fifty.”

Nadia remembered the newscasts during the nuclear disaster. Fifty TEPCO employees volunteered to stay at the power plant to stop the leakage and prevent further disaster.

“We heard about these great men in America,” Johnny said. “I’m sure they did the entire world a great service. We all owe them a debt.”

Nakamura translated, and Mrs. Yamamato nodded her appreciation.

“He died from shame,” Nakamura said. “The Fukushima Fifty were among the men who stood by as the reactors melted down. They were not prepared for what happened. Some people consider them heroes, but others believe they’re to blame for the disaster. When the disaster was finally stopped, credit went to the Prime Minister. It is a very Japanese thing. To let credit rise to the top, and blame fall to the bottom. When the press took photos of the Fukushima Fifty, Yamamoto-san was one of the men who turned his back to the cameras. Out of shame. He died because he wouldn’t leave his apartment to go to the pharmacy to get his heart medication. In the end, it was not his illness but his shame that killed him.”

Someone screamed.

The sound came from outside the house. It was far enough away to sound muted, but loud enough that its meaning was unmistakable. Someone was in trouble.

Genesis II was in trouble, Nadia thought.

Nakamura and Johnny rushed toward the front door.

A second scream. This one was muffled, as though one person had silenced another.

Nakamura and Johnny burst out of the house. Nadia caught the screen door before it hit her in the face. She flung it open and stepped outside.

A young man struggled to free himself from two burly men. The young man had his back to Nadia. He had short black hair, long legs, and narrow hips.

It was the boy. It was Yoshi. It was Genesis II.

The beefy men wore leather jackets. They looked like the duo that had followed Bobby and her to the airport. The Slavs. They’d found Bobby and her in New York. Now they’d found Genesis II in Fukushima.

A large truck rumbled backward down the street. It stopped. The rear door rolled up. A third man reached out with his hands. The other two men lifted Genesis II off the ground. The third man grasped him by the lapels of his shirt and jacket. The men shouted at each other in Russian over the din of the truck’s idling engine. The two men holding Genesis II had their backs to the house. The third man didn’t look up until it was too late.

Nakamura lowered his shoulder and rammed one of the men in the chest. The man groaned. Released his grip of Genesis II and doubled over.

The second man on the ground held onto Genesis II. He turned.

Johnny drove his fist into the man’s jaw. The man toppled backward against the truck. Johnny reached for Genesis II, but the third man in the truck pulled him up into the cabin and out of Johnny’s outstretched hands.

Bobby started toward the truck. Nadia grabbed his arm and stopped him. Shoved him to the ground and sent him rolling on the lawn.

Nakamura put his hands on the bed of the truck to lift himself up. Johnny did the same on the other side. Nakamura had his back to the man he’d hit. He didn’t see that the man was recovering and pulling something out from beneath his coat.

“Hiroshi, watch out!” Nadia said.

The man behind Nakamura pulled him to the ground and drove a knife through his throat. Blood spurted. The Russian pulled the knife out, twisted the doctor around, and plunged it into his heart. Nakamura slumped to the asphalt.

The third man stomped on Johnny’s hand to prevent him from vaulting into the truck. The killer pulled the knife out of Nakamura’s chest. Johnny must have sensed the danger. He dropped down to the ground and faced him.

Nadia ran down the stairs and ripped a boulder out of the stone wall. Sprinted toward the man with the knife. Johnny had removed his belt to defend himself. Nadia would sneak up behind the man with the knife and pummel him in the head—

Something caught her eye on the left in her peripheral vision.

A fourth man was sprinting around from the back of the house. Who was he? He must have been there all along, covering the back entrance. Knife in his right hand. Overhand grip.

Nadia threw the boulder at him. It bounced off his chest.

He closed in with shocking speed. Running was useless.

He would be upon her in seconds.