"Yes, I'd love to go to a place like that."

"There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Yes?"

"The other day we lifted up that stone and opened the entrance, right?"

"Yes, you and I opened up the entrance. After that Nakata fell sound asleep."

"What I want to know is-did something take place because the entrance opened up?"

Nakata gave a nod. "Yes. It did."

"But you still don't know what that is."

Nakata gave a decisive shake of his head. "No, Nakata doesn't know yet."

"So maybe it's happening someplace else, right this minute?"

"Yes, I think that's true. As you said, it's happening. And I'm waiting for it to finish happening."

"And once whatever it is finishes taking place, everything will work itself out?"

Another definitive shake of the head. "That Nakata doesn't know. I'm doing what I'm doing because I must. But I have no idea what will happen because of what I do. I'm not so bright, so it's too hard for me to figure out. I don't know what's going to happen."

"At any rate, it's gonna take some time, right? For whatever this is to finish up and some conclusion or something to happen?"

"That is correct."

"And while we're waiting we have to make sure the cops don't grab us. 'Cause there's still stuff that needs doing?"

"Correct. I don't mind visiting the police. I'm ready to do whatever the Governor tells me to do. But now is just not a good time to do that."

"You know what? If the cops heard your crazy story, they'd just blow it off and make up some convenient confession, something anyone would believe. Like you were robbing the house and you heard somebody, so you grabbed a knife from the kitchen and stabbed him. They don't give a damn what the real facts are, or what's right. Framing somebody just to jack up their arrest rate. They wouldn't bat an eye. Next thing you know, you're thrown in jail or some maximum-security psycho ward. They'd lock you up and throw away the key. You don't have enough money to hire some fancy lawyer, so they'd stick you with some court-appointed bozo who couldn't care less, so it's obvious how it'd end up."

"I'm afraid I don't understand all-"

"I'm just telling you what cops are like. Believe me, I know," Hoshino said. "So I really don't want to take 'em on, okay? Cops and me just don't hit it off."

"I'm sorry to cause so many problems for you."

Hoshino sighed deeply. "As they say, though, 'Take the poison, take the plate.'"

"What does that mean?"

"If you're gonna take poison, you might as well eat the plate it came on."

"But if you eat a plate, you'll die. It's not good for your teeth, either. And it'll hurt your throat."

"I'd have to agree," Hoshino said, puzzling over it. "Yeah-why do you have to eat the plate?"

"I'm not so bright, so I really can't tell you. But aside from the poison, the plate's way too hard."

"Um. You got that right. I'm starting to get confused myself. I never was one for using my head, either. What I'm trying to say is, I've come this far so I'll stick with you and make sure you escape. I can't believe you did anything bad, and I'm not going to just abandon you here. I've got my honor to consider."

"Much obliged. Nakata can't thank you enough. I'll presume on you again, though, and ask one more favor."

"Go for it."

"We'll need a car."

"Would a rental car be okay?"

"Nakata doesn't really know what that is, but any kind is fine. Big or small is all right as long as it's a car."

"No problem. Now you're talking my specialty. I'll go pick one up in a while. So we're gonna be heading out somewhere?"

"I think so. We probably will be headed out somewhere."

"You know something, Mr. Nakata?"

"Yes?"

"I never get bored when I'm with you. All kinds of off-the-wall things happen, but that much I can say for sure-being with you's never boring."

"Thank you for saying that. I feel relieved to hear it. But Mr. Hoshino?"

"What's up?"

"I'm not really sure I understand what being bored means."

"You've never been bored before?"

"No, not even once."

"You know, I kind of had the feeling that might be the case."

We stop at a town to have a bite to eat and stock up on food and mineral water at a supermarket, then drive up the unpaved road through the hills and arrive at the cabin. Inside, it's exactly as I left it a week ago. I open the window to air out the place, then stow away the food.

"I'm going to take a nap before I head back," Oshima says, nearly covering his face with his hands as he lets out a huge yawn. "I didn't sleep well last night."

He must really be exhausted, because as soon as he gets under the covers and turns toward the wall, he's out. I make some coffee and pour it in a thermos for his ride back, then head down to the brook with the aluminum pail to fill up on water. The forest hasn't changed a bit-the same smell of grasses, birdcalls, babbling water in the brook, the rush of wind through the trees, the same shadows of rustling leaves. The clouds above me look really close. I feel nostalgic to see them again, for they've become a part of me.

While Oshima sleeps I sit on the porch, sip tea, and read a book about Napoleon's 1812 invasion of Russia. Some 400,000 French soldiers lost their lives in that huge country in this massive, pointless campaign. The battles themselves were awful, of course, but there weren't enough doctors or medical supplies, so most of the severely wounded soldiers were left to die in agony. More froze to death or died of starvation, equally terrible ways to die. Seated there on the porch, sipping hot herb tea, birds whistling all around me, I tried to picture the battlefield in Russia and these men trudging through blizzards.

I get about a third of the way through the book and go check to see if Oshima's okay. I know he's exhausted, but he's so quiet it's like he's not even there, and I'm a little worried. But he's all right, wrapped in the covers, breathing quietly. I walk over next to him and notice his shoulders rising and falling slightly. Standing there, I suddenly remember that he's a woman. Most of the time I forget that, and think of him as a man. Which is exactly what he wants, of course. But when he's sleeping, he looks like he's gone back to being a woman.

I go out on the porch again and pick up where I left off in the book. Back to a road outside Smolensk lined with frozen corpses.

Oshima sleeps for a couple of hours. After he wakes up he walks out on the porch and looks at his car. The dusty, unpaved road has turned the green Miata almost white. He gives a big stretch and sits down next to me. "It's the rainy season," he says, rubbing his eyes, "but there's not much rain this year. If we don't get some soon, Takamatsu's going to run out of water."

I venture a question: "Does Miss Saeki know where I am?"

He shakes his head. "No, I didn't tell her anything. She doesn't even know I have a cabin up here. It's better to keep her in the dark, so she won't get mixed up in all this. The less she knows, the less she needs to hide."

I nod. That's exactly what I wanted to hear.

"She's gotten mixed up in enough before," Oshima says. "She doesn't need this now."

"I told her about my father dying recently," I tell him. "How somebody murdered him. I left out the part about the police looking for me."

"She's pretty smart. Even if neither of us mentioned it, I get the feeling she's figured out most of what's going on. So if I tell her tomorrow that you had something you had to do and will be gone for a while, and tell her hi from you, I doubt she'll quiz me about the details. Even if that's all I tell her, I know she'll just let it pass."

I nod.

"But you want to see her, don't you?"