Pollen

Mana and Hanako leaped off the squad of bikes first. They were as awestruck as the rest of the crowd. “Mana,” Pres said, beckoning him with his finger. “There’s Union employees here. My boys will take care of them, but you and I need to get to the alien now. Hanako can guard the bikes.”

“Okay. Got an idea how we get through?” Mana asked.

“No.” Pres rolled his eyes up and to the left trying to think.

A wicked glint came into Mana’s eye. “Bomb!” he shouted. The shock of the word sent a stampede of confusion forward. People scattered. Pres nodded in approval.

In the friction of panic, the Union employees were exposed. Pres deftly silenced two of them with a concealed knife. They pushed through toward the border of the rose field. Standing perfectly still before the red maze, Mana spotted the foreigner in the distance while Pres punched a hole through the crowd.

“Take this,” Pres passed Mana the device. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Mana took a good guess at what it was and with his hand up, he switched it on. The black tablet device shone a friendly pale blue light, and he approached the foreigner confidently. Taller and broader than most in Little Tokyo, the foreigner had brown eyes and tanned skin—but it was lighter than Mana’s own. He wore a tattered suit that had once been quite stylish. He didn’t seem to be the monster they all believed lived on the other side of the wall.

“Hello,” Mana said. The device he was holding then spoke something in a language he didn’t understand, but the suited man responded in the same tongue. The device then spoke loud and clearly in Mana’s language, “What’s going on? Why is everyone running?”

“My name is Mana, and I’m here to help you. Follow me.”

“The name’s Rome. I really need to talk to whoever is in charge.”

“Yes, you do,” said Mana.

Rome and Mana ran through the crowd. Every time a blue Union suit got near, they’d fall away. Pres tossed the dead aside like a leaves in the wind. The crowd had a life of its own, stampeding in all directions; they barely noticed Rome anymore. Then came the inevitable sound of gunfire. The cracking of the guns was the result of some ignorant militant teenagers who had decided to go to the wall and start popping off rounds at the strangers—their new neighbors. Nobody tried to stop them. Scared and angry, the strangers on the wall started throwing rocks back and a dangerous game began.

Mana and Rome arrived at the bikes, where Hanako winked at Rome and shot a burst of flame skyward. They leaped on, Pres taking the lead with Rome as they roared into the back streets again. They were not alone. The Union officials had regrouped. Pres and his bikers skidded hard into the corners and accelerated out at a frightening pace. Four Union cars were on them. Mana’s bike was now under fire from the Union cars, the shots scattered around him, smashing windshields of parked cars and shop windows. The roar of the engines and screeching of tires was deafening, and in the chaos no one heard the muzzled sound of a sniper rifle.

Mana looked over his shoulder at the bike behind. He saw Hanako squeezing the rider tight but then Hanako slumped away. A bullet had passed through her, through the torso of the rider and into the bike’s front wheel. The bike slammed up on the sidewalk, spinning and flipping into a temple window. Hanako and the rider were hurled off; the rider hit a lamppost hard and Hanako rolled at some speed until she finally came to rest at the entrance of a small noodle shop.

Mana cried out, but it was too late. He closed his eyes. Instantly the tears formed. He’d lost a friend he never realized he had. The bikes continued on and turned a vicious corner.

They were confronted with a street full of bōsōzoku bikes. At least fifty giant, highly modified bikes with flame paint jobs carried leather-clad bikers—all with guns and various super-sized slicked quiffs. Pres had organized an ambush. He jumped off his bike, spun round and picked up a giant double shoulder gun. Rome stumbled and fell to the ground he turned around, a look of terrified confusion on his face. Mana zipped through the roadblock of bikes and the small army Pres had assembled and craned his neck to watch a maelstrom of gunfire envelop the chasing union cars.

They pulled up in front of Cheng’s café and hurried breathlessly inside, into the safety of the laboratory. Rome looked increasingly worried. He wasn’t sure if he was on the right side, but at least he felt safe from the immediate dangers on the street. They descended into the laboratory quickly.

“Where am I?” Rome asked Mana.

“Not my story to tell, my friend, I’ll hand you over,” Mana replied.

“You are in the heart of darkness, but among friends,” Cheng said presenting his hand to shake Rome’s as he emerged from behind his desk. “You must have many questions for us, as do we for you. My name is Cheng.” The device pumped out the translation as Mana laid it on the table.

Rome looked around; the entire staff had stopped production. They were all hunched over their workstations taking a good look at him. “Well okay, how about we start with the simple stuff. Where am I, what is this place?”

“This is a research facility.”

“Let me guess, researching the flowers?”

“Indeed . . . more specifically, the bacteria in their pollen. I’m assuming you must know about this, otherwise you’d have died at the walls?”

“I know some things, but not specifics. I know that if I inject myself with this serum I was given, I can breathe here. But I only know that through experimentation; I played a hunch.”

“So you’re not a scientist?”

“I own a café and antique shop.”

“Then why are you here?” Cheng became agitated.

“People listen to me.”

Cheng smiled. He paced to his workbench, hands in pockets. He turned and looked around his laboratory. At this moment it seemed that he was about to become the leader of Little Tokyo, as he was sure Rome was now the leader of his neighbors. His eyes darted about before a small concerned frown etched its way into his forehead.

“Where is Shunka?”