Neko-chan, I don't think we're in Chiba anymore...

The cat is, without even the slightest doubt, faster than I am. I come to that realization as I soon find myself darting through the station building, through some glass automatic doors, and out onto a paved road. I begin snapping my head left and right trying to spot any sign of the feline. But I am standing in the middle of a seemingly lifeless Intersection. In front of me there is a bridge that crosses a small river into what looks like the main hub of whatever town this is. To my left and my right the road stretches out onto a street lightly dotted with tired old structures, some with colourful flags signalling omiyage shops lightly swaying in the breeze. However, most important of all – at least in that moment – no matter where I turn, there is no cat.

I stand in the middle of that road, sweat starting to pearl up on my brow, as I try to figure out which way the cat had gone for at least a couple of minutes, when the inevitable occurs. I could hear a muted beeping sound and the hair on the back of my neck springs up. I whirl around as the mellow grumbling of a long dormant engine floods my ears — specifically a train engine.

'No!' I shout, as I start sprinting back through the glass doors of the station.

I don't even get past the ticket gate before the train lurches heavily and starts to roll away.

'Son of a bitch!' I bellowed as I bang my fist against the train — watching as it picks up speed.

It isn't going to stop. I already know that, even before I start banging on the side of the moving vehicle. It feels insane to be thinking this, but a little voice in the back of my mind makes me doubt there is anyone on board who can even hear me. Still, this day has fallen so far beyond shitty that I just need to hit something.

'You can leave me here!' I cry out as I stop pounding against the wall. The train starts to move so fast that all the windows begin to blur into one. The small strip of glass revealing carriage after carriage of empty seats.

I am out of breath and my still dry throat feels like gravel from the shouting. However, no matter how pissed I am, the train is reaching full speed now, and hitting it is going to do nothing except give me a broken hand. I step back on the platform and lean my back against something large, metal and cold. It comes as a wave of relief from the heat. But the shock to my system makes my vision start to blur, and my head goes feint and clammy as the mix of the suns heat and the mental strain of the day starts to set into my whole body.

'Can't I catch a break!' I spit as I ran my fingers up through my hair. The sweat on my brow clings to my palms.

I've got to hydrate before I have no fluids left… I think.

I glance behind me and see that I am resting against a vending machine. It was one of the "one coin" ones and there were bottles of Evian natural mineral water clearly on display for 100 yen. I can't help recalling my statement about not catching a break and frown.

'This doesn't count!' I call out to a universe that I am certain doesn't care I exist. However, as I pull out my wallet and take out my only hundred yen coin with trembling sweaty fingers, I have to reconsider my position on the universe. Because the coin slips out from between my thumb and forefinger, then rolls under the vending machine. I don't even have to look to know it was well out of reach. The universe might just be listening, because it sure seems to have it in for me.

I groan. 'If I apologies, will you lay off it?'

The universe said nothing — 'cause it's a dick.

I stick a thousand yen note and the machine and it spits out a mess of coins along with the bottle of water. Then, without a cat, without a ride, and with a bunch of change that I now have to lug around I walk back into the station building. I see there are a few faded green wooden benches in a waiting room area. So I sit down and start to drink my bottle of water as I try to think.

This day has been a mess and the dehydration had really taken its toll on my ability to focus. But as I drink the water bottle my brain feels like a huge weight is being lifted off of it in a way that has me sighing with relief. I fall back in the bench and closed my eyes, dozing a little as I let my mind roll over my options.

I can't find a way to wrap my head around this place. The strange language on the station sign made no sense no matter how I tried to rationalize it. However, for the most part I fee like I have to still be in Japan. The architecture of the buildings, and the vending machine taking my yen seemed a clear enough proof. It's not be impossible to believe I have gone so far out of Tokyo that I have ended up in a small mountain town. Places like Hakone and Yaminashi are all easy enough to get to on the local lines. However, what strikes me as insane is that I could have gotten here on something directly tied to the Tozai. It also doesn't explain why the train seemed to literally wait for me to get off before it left, or why this village seems to have been abandoned yesterday with no indication of a panic. I am sure Japan has its share of ghost towns. But I doubt any of them would have an active train line and fully stocked vending machines.

Ideas of aliens or parallel universes jumped to my mind like something out of a Marvel movie. But I push these to the side. This place was clearly not "normal", but going zero to one hundred or the conspiracy theory chart wasn't going to solve anything. I need to start thinking of simple solutions. Things I can do right here and now about my problems. As far as I can see, I only have two choices. Stay here and pray that another train comes along. Or get up and take a look around for… anyone? Anything? I guess just looking was the whole plan really…

I sigh and look out the station's glass doors. I know waiting is probably the smarter choice. After all every station must get at least a couple of trains a day, right? But I also know I'm not the type or person who is comfortable with just sitting and waiting.

I let myself doze for a few more moments. Then I opened my eyes. I see that there is a town map painted on the wall directly in front of me. I lean forward to get a better look. Where there are labels, the letters appear to be about half kanji, half that weird hieroglyph language that was on the station sign. Regardless, I can basically read none of them. However, "basically none" is more than "literally none".

I recognize that there is a Koban (a kind of small police station), next to the koban was an shop – most likely an omiyage shop (a souvenir store). I can see the symbol for a bookstore few streets down, most of the labels around it were the hieroglyphs, but basted on the street layout I am guessing that is the towns main shopping district. I spotted a few of the "universal" map symbols. For example I could see the river just outside the station ran right through the centre of the town. The koban and the omiyage shop; along with a few other major locations are on the same side I am on. However, what looks like most of the residential and shopping district are across the bridge. Beyond the main community there is some kind of rice field a little to the north, with a shine sitting just on the outskirts. Finally, there was something that really catches the my attention just south of the station.

'Yes,' I mutter under my breath, as I jump to my feet and dash over to the map to double check. Once I am sure my eyes aren't lying to me, I drain the rest of the water in my bottle and dash out of the station.

I am soon standing right where the map indicated. In front of me is a clearly re-purposed building. It looks like it was once a house of some kind — maybe the station masters. But what tells me I am in the right place is the dull green metal sign just to the left of the front door. On that sign there is a symbol to travellers from all over the world. The "i" that indicates a tourist information centre. I doubt there will be anyone here to help me, since – apart from that cat earlier – I still haven't seen a soul. But if there is anywhere in this town that will have useful information in English, it has to be here.

The building itself is a small one. Its walls are a rough plaster and it's painted the same off-white cream colour as the station. I walk over and glance though a window in the centre of the front door. As I expected, inside there is no one in sight and the lights are off. I jiggle the handle and get repaid with the familiar chuk-chuk sound of a locked door that isn't budging any time soon. I try knocking a couple of times. But there is no answer.

'Of course…' I groan. Then I glance up and down the street. There are no signs of life — because of course there aren't. However, right now that may be to my benefit. I normally don't like the idea of breaking and entering. But this situation isn't normal, and I'm getting desperate.

But I can't just punch in the glass of the front door in broad daylight… can I? I think. Someone might have cameras or something. I peer closer into the dark room and see a back window that is cracked ever so sightly open. 'Well it's not "breaking and entering" if I don't actually break anything, right?' I mutter to myself.

I make my way around to the back of the information centre. The small yard that surrounds it looks like something out of a hoarders show. There are large piles or paper trash tied together with string. Another of black trash bags. And a final pile of old broken furniture. I ignore all this and soon find the window. I look inside once more. 'Hello?' I call out. 'On the off chance someone is in there and is just ignoring me, I swear I'm not a creep. I'm just looking for information…' I pause for a moment, not sure how to end it. 'Sorry if I spook you… I guess?' I step back from the window, then place my fingers firmly on the window frame. Then I push up with a grunt. Nothing moves.

Of course it's stuck… I grumble internally. I cast a glance around till I spot what remains of an old chair in the mound of ruined furniture. It sparks an idea in my mind. I walk over to it and see that one of the chairs legs has been snapped off. I give it a good yank, and it comes free of the pile. I test how sturdy it is in my hands and it feels strong enough.

'Alright… I guess this is what I'm doing now…' I say to myself, trying to ignore the nerves building up in my throat – sneaking into a public building through an already open window is pushing it. However I'm well and truly getting into felony territory now.

The overshadowing gloom of dusk is starting to fall as I walk back to the window. I have no idea what I will do when it gets dark. Maybe I can just hold up here in the tourist centre? If someone does turn up this is probably the safest place for me to claim I'm just a confused, lost, foreigner.

I wedge the broken chair leg under the small crack in the window to make a kind of lever. Then I push down hard. The window lurches wearily, but eventually I notice a slight wobble, before it gives out and slides open.

Huh, nice, I think to myself as I appreciate my own DIY skills. 'Okay, last chance, I'm coming in,' I call into the open widow. I really doubt that – if anyone is even in there – they could understand a word of what I am saying. But that isn't the point. I am just giving them a fair chance to hear me and come out.

I toss the chair leg through the window, it clatters on the wooden floorboards on the other side. I still don't see or hear anyone, so I hoist myself in after it.

The room is gloomy, but the two windows let in just enough of the waning sunlight to see. I am behind a counter. I assume this is where the information centre employee would normally sit. On the other side of the desk is a small room. The walls have a number of pictures up. Some feature photos of mountains, others seem to be painting done by local artists. There is a display cabinet in the centre of the room with ornate wooden dolls, chopsticks and other wooden crafts. I assume that wood-workings must have been historically significant to the local area. It makes me wonder if I have some how ended up as far north as Miyagi. Another idea that didn't seem possible – but since none of them did, why not consider crazy ideas?

To the far right is a shadowy wall and a door that — from a sign featuring the rough shape of a man and woman above it — I can see leads to a bathroom. To the left I can see racks made of those cheap white-wire frames. The racks are filled with brochures and pamphlets that are mostly calming green and blue colours; and feature a variety of landscape photos showing picturesque images of what I assume is the local area. Similar the station, there are no signs of damage or disturbances. But everything is covered in a layer of dust that makes me assume no one had been here in at least a week or two.

I can't stop myself from chewing my tongue as anxiety fall heavy on my shoulder. What the hell is happening here?

I know there are plenty of abandoned places in the Fukushima area after the nuclear waste spread from the power plant. But that was over a decade ago. This place looks like it would have been could have been deserted for a week – at best. Not to mention I doubt there are public trains running into radiated Fukashima.

I try to put these thoughts to the back of my mind. Instead I pick up my chair leg and make my way around to the brochure racks. I run my eyes over the language titles. Japanese, Korean, French and the lucky last is... bingo! It's English! I snatch up what looks like a town map. Then I see something featuring the words "Local History" so I grab that too. I am skimming the rack for something as convenient as a train timetable. When I hear the creeeeeeak of exhausted wood from behind me.

I freeze in an instant. It must have been the bathroom door on the opposite side of thee room opening and closing. Someone has just been taking a hell of a long time doing their business. Then walked out to see me standing inside the middle of a dark, locked room. Will this be Awkward? Yes. But do I need to panic? No. All I need to do is turn around and show them I mean no harm. Then no one is going to get the cops called on them… I hope… Then a voice in the back of my head whispers an uncomfortable point. That door creaking sound must have been at least a minute ago. If they are just some normal guy, why haven't they said anything yet?

I quickly decide the worst thing I can do is stand there with my back to them. I spin on my heels and try to put on my best "confused gaijen" grin. 'Konnichiwa!' I say.

They say nothing. Namely because there is no one there. However, the bathroom door — that was closed when I came in — is certainly open now… My heart drops.

'What fu—' I start to mutter as I look down, but I cut myself off as I see a… well… I saw a lumpy mess of human fingers…

To be clear, when I say "lumpy mess" I mean just that. They look like they were just dumped there in a pile like a packet of expired mincemeat spilled onto the floor. Not to mention that the skin in the dull light is a strange blue-grey colour that seems an unnatural pigment regardless of ethnic background or climate. My stomach turns, but in morbid curiosity, instead of backing away I crouch down to see them better. I quickly realise I can't see where any of them end. Instead every fingertip leads to a knuckle that then leads back into the centre of the mass of flesh and out of sight.

I find myself crouching in the middle of the room — stunned and silent. My lack of physical reaction starts to bother me. I mean I'm not sure what could be considered a "natural" response to seeing a cluster of half rotted flesh just, suddenly exist in front of you is. But I feel like I should be doing something? Right? Maybe dry retching? Panicking? Poking it with a stick?

But, with how strange this day has been, all I can bring myself to do is stare at it awkwardly.

I slowly notice there is a black, thick oily substance ingrained in the nails and joints of the fingers, and that the nails were jagged and broken all over. Like whoever they had once been attached to used to relentlessly gnaw at them. This seems gross, but all together irrelevant. It's not like I'd be cool with a pile of clean fingers after all?

I force myself to start doing "something" and I find myself glancing around the room – I'm pretty sure I'm subconsciously looking for a plastic bag to put the fingers in — why did I want to do that? Honestly, I'm not sure. I have a vague notion that I should take the pile of human meat to the koban and see if any cops are around. But that could lead to a whole lot of questions I have no idea how to answer...

But that is when the smallest of the fingers — a child's pinky if I have to to guess the owner — twitches.