THE LONELY WALK : TWO

Jif woke up to find himself in a room he didn't recognise. He'd been sleeping, sitting on an uncomfortable seat, bent over a hard, cold surface, both his arms folded out, acting as a pillow for his forehead. He raised his head, still feeling groggy, and examined his surroundings. Felt grey tiles surrounded him. Plastic white ceiling panels above him. Beneath him was a red plastic chair, like the sort there was in his school days, along with a grey stone floor with scratch marks from the chair legs. And in front of him was a pine desk; tea brown, with terrible scratches in dozens of places.
A wooden door on his right flew open. Two white men in suits walked in. An older man, pin striped blue suit, bald head, wrinkled lumps of skin around his eyes, sat down directly in front of Jif, on the opposite side of the desk. A slightly younger man, with a full mop of black hair, thick rimed glasses and horrible looking nose shuffled on the left corner of the desk. Jif stared into them, trying to recognise their faces, but he ended up staring at the plastic tags on the perils of their jackets.
"Mr Kitchen" began the older man. He spoke with a thick New York accent that could cut through cheese. "I trust you got enough rest."
"You're not in any trouble!" the younger man quickly said, shaking his mop of hair at Jif.
"Then, what is it you want me to do?" asked Jif, as calmly as he could. He tried to use his words carefully. He knew from the hostility in the air that he was in trouble. So much hostility he could almost taste it. And there was no point in asking where he was because there was no way they would tell him. He also knew it was futile to ask to leave or demand his rights; it was two against one. Why was he here? And what had happened to Yuzuyu? All he could remember was sitting at the coroner's office with her. Was this all about Charlie being inexperienced? Was it the fact Jif didn't have a degree, or the shambolic way he'd ran the building? He sat and waited for the demand to be read.
"We'd like to talk about your wife!" said the older man. There! He said it! The game was up. Jif took his arms from the desk and hid them underneath, bowing his head in shame.
"All I ask," he began, avoiding eye contact and trying to hold back tears yet again, "is that she gets treated fairly."
"Where did you meet your wife?" the older man asked immediately. He clutched both hands together on the edge of the desk, in front of his chest. Jif drew a breath. He couldn't say Frontiera Island because it didn't exist anymore. And he'd been ordered not to disclose any details about the island because all parties involved wanted it covered up.
"Japan" Jif replied, gazing down at the scratch marks in the desk. Although he wasn't looking, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man move his head sideway, and nod. At which point, the wooden door was opened again. Into the room stepped a man in a green military uniform. He was black, heavy build, mid 50's, wearing a white peak cap with a gold symbol in the middle, his Jacket decked with medals everywhere and reeking of cheap aftershave. He waltzed in the room, and stood behind the two other men before looking straight into Jif. The door noisily closed itself again.
"We know your wife did not come from Japan!" boomed the Uniform in an African American voice. It was then that Jif noticed small patches of stubble on the black mans face. Jif drew a breath, and realised that they wanted to know about the island itself!
"I ask again," said the older suit. "Where did you meet your wife?"
"Frontiera Island" replied Jif, truthfully, and looking at them this time.
"Very good" said the uniform. "We knew that this island was being made by the Japanese and the Chinese in partnership."
The bald man cut in. "We also know it got destroyed by an earthquake, and obliterated by a Tsunami!" Jif couldn't continue with eye contact and broke off, now staring at a dent in a felt tile on the left of the room. "What we don't know is what was happening before the earthquake. And we think, YOU might!"
"How old is you wife?" asked the younger man.
"She's fifteen!" replied Jif, his face turning red and still not making eye contact. The younger suit took his glasses off with his right hand and rested them on the desk.
"Records show you married in august last year. That would make her fourteen back then. She's a minor!" The suit then picked up his glasses and angrily jabbed them in Jif's direction as he emphasised his next speech. "Do realise how much trouble you could get into!!"
"Yea," croaked Jif. He couldn't hold anymore. A tear ran down his burning cheek.
"You love her. That's good. But the public won't see it that way!"
"So tell us what her connection was!" interrupted the older suit. Jif covered his eyes with his hand, as he searched his brain yet again for that time 3 years ago. How could he explain! He closed his eyes, and tried to summaries the details, in his head.

In 1810, in a small reef off the westernmost coast of Japan, there was a chance discovery of coal. Coal mining began, the reef grew into an artificial island of one kilometre in perimeter and people came to live here. It was named Gunkanjima, or Battleship Island, due to the structure of the high rise buildings. But when the Second World War broke out, it was abandoned. The natural resources dried up and once the military left, it was deemed inhabitable.
In the 1990's however, Japan decided to branch out and use the island as a business opportunity. Off the record, meetings were held with British and American officials. The plan was to make Gunkanjima a habitable place for secrete companies to operate. The businesses were largely military; the manufacturing of weapons, animal testing laboratories, etc. The chief fundraiser for this project was a man named Kensuki Kenjiku. His angle on the project was to hold a base for cryogenic experiments.
Building work began soon after celebrations of the new millennium. The island would still belong to Japan, but the British and Americans could stay as long as they wanted, and could participate in the construction. The island was renamed, FRONTIERA ISLAND, to make is sound more friendlily to westerners.
Even by 2003, three years after building work began, construction was not finished. But the businesses began setting up anyway.
The island had been increased to 4 times its original size using an experimental method that had not been done before, and it proved groundbreaking. The advanced construction methods were below the cost and time span associated with other methods of construction at its time. It was no wonder then that a great deal of attention was given to this man-made island, whilst held in secrecy.
Vincent ordered Jif to sign an official denial; a no whistle blowing policy. Jif wasn't allowed to speak of Frontiera or of the company, anywhere, except in the island itself. He was also kept in the dark about the company. Jif's "company" was simply a front to store weapons for the UK military. It would be off international laws, so they could stockpile all the controversial weapons; cluster bombs, Nerve gas, poisons. Jif would only ensure the stock went in and out again and that the right money came through.
At least, that was the plan.

Jif woke up from his 'dream' and found himself at the table again, his hand his over his eyes. He pulled his hands away and swiftly delivered his answer.
"Yuzuyu was the daughter of Kensuki Kenjiku." Jif began, sniffing a blocked nose.
"Go on," said the black man, shaking a finger.
"Kensuki Kenjiku was a politician, in charge of running Frontiera Island! I don't know if he WAS the mayor!"
"But..." interrupted the younger man, leaning forward as he spoke.
"Yuzuyu died several years before, and she was cryogenically frozen. She'd been resurrected when the earthquake struck. That's how we met her. "
"Yea," said the military man. "This wasn't out of love." The man bowed down the Jif's eye level, trying to be friendlier. "He had a sinister reason for all this, right?"
"Did you know him?" asked Jif
"Just carry on talking!" said the older suit. Jif wiped his eyes with the right sleeve of his suit jacket.
"He... he wanted for her to rule the island." replied Jif. The men looked at each other, failing to understand.
"How?" asked the younger suit. His glasses were back on again."She didn't how to run a city!"
"They were going to....take away her emotions......" Jif began to splutter at this point. Every time he took a breath he struggled; his throat clenched up, his body shook. "She was going to be a soulless lump of meat!"
"And you didn't want her to be like that!" said the bald man, coldly. Jif's eyes burnt as tears became stored behind his eyelids. He paused before nodding in agreement.
"How did you get her out?" rasped the black man, leaning over his two colleges, his shadow from the florescent lights creeping over their heads and onto the table, making the other two men appear darker, their eyes like black holes.
"I was helped!" yelped Jif, managing to stare straight into the domineering glare of the inquisitionists.
"You had help!" repeated the black man. "And you didn't finish the job!"
Jif finally made eye contact with the man, simply because he didn't understand what he meant. Open mouthed, he was about to ask what he meant, when a sharp pain suddenly appeared in his left shoulder.
"Uh" he groaned, looking down at his shoulder, and covered it with his right hand. It felt like the skin was being pinched with a pair of pliers. But there was nothing there!
"YOU FAILED" screamed the black man. Jif was no longer interested in his questioners, instead focusing on his shoulder, which was becoming too painful for him. He clenched the shoulder with his hand to test feeling, but it did nothing, and the pain got worse. Jif looked up at the three men, staring back at him coldly. He placed both his hands on the desk, and thrust all his weight onto his arms to heave himself up. But as he stood up out of his plastic chair, his knees went numb. He grinded his teeth and gripped the thick, dirty edge of the desk to try and hold himself, but couldn't hold his balance.
"You should have killed them all when you had the chance!" yelled the black man, thrusting his head forward an inch, tiny globules of spit emanating from his mouth, disappearing into the air.
Jif's legs gave way. He collapsed in a wet, blubbering heap in a corner of the stone floor. Throwing his arms out to break his fall, his palms slammed into the smooth floor, picking up tiny pin pricks of dirt into is soft flesh. The coldness of the floor sank into his clothes. The pain in his shoulder was getting worse and all he could do was moan and cry.
"I'm in pain" he groaned throatily, unable to stop his tears flowing now. The black man stepped around the desk and walked up to where Jif was lying. With a crack of his knees, he crouched over Jif, expressionless. He thrust his hand into Jif's face; until all Jif could see were the black man's eye balls and the skin around them.
"YOU FAILED!" screamed the black man, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly with the movement of his jaw. Jif's vision deteriorated with the tears in his eyes and everything went blurred.
"Nooo!!" wailed Jif. He'd never felt so embarrassed before, because he'd never cried for so long. Pain was travelling from his shoulder to his stomach, and his whole body felt terribly heavy, as though he was drunk. All he could do was moan and sulk. He knew what was happening, but he just couldn't react to it.
"YOU FAILED" screamed the man again, and Jif felt his face crush up into despair. Falling backwards, all he could do was wail.
"AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!" Jif screamed as the room blurred out of his vision. The light began to dim. He howled again, and everything went black.