Tale of the Dead Town

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  A number of voices rose in agreement.

  “Come to think of it, Doc, you ain’t from around here, neither. What’s the story? You covering for him because you outsiders gotta stick together or something? I bet that’s it—the two of you dirty dogs been in cahoots all along, ain’t you?!”

  All expression faded from Dr. Tsurugi’s face. He stepped forward, saying, “You wanna do this with those gloves on? Or are you gonna take them off?”

  The giant face twisted. And formed a smile. “Oh, this’ll be good,” he said, switching off the gloves and pulling them from his hands. From the expression on his face, you’d think he was the luckiest man on earth. The way the physician had nailed him with a scalpel earlier was pretty impressive, but aside from that he was only about five foot eight and tipped the scales at around a hundred and thirty-five pounds. The giant had strangled a bear before, so, when it came down to bare-knuckle brawling, he was supremely confident in his powerful arms.

  “You sure you wanna do that, Conroy?” Berg asked, hustling in front of the giant to stop him. “What do you reckon they’ll do to you if you bust up our doctor? You won’t get no slap on the wrist, that’s for damn sure!”

  “So what—they’ll give me a few lashes and shock me a couple of times? Hell, I’m used to it. Tell you what—I’ll leave the doc’s head and hands in one piece when I bust him up.” Roughly shoving Berg out of the way, the giant stepped forward.

  As the young physician also took a step forward, D called out from behind him, “Why don’t you call it quits? This started out as my fight, after all.”

  “Well, it’s mine now, so I’ll thank you to just stand back and watch.”

  The air whistled. It could’ve been Conroy letting out his breath, or the whine of his punch ripping through the wind. Dr. Tsurugi jumped to the side to dodge a right hook as big and hard as a rock. As if the breeze from the punch had whisked him away. The young physician had both hands up in front of his chest in lightly clenched fists. How many of the people there noticed the calluses covering his knuckles, though? Narrowly avoiding the uppercut the giant threw as his second punch, Dr. Tsurugi let his left hand race into action. The path it traveled was a straight line.

  To Conroy, it looked like everything past the physician’s wrist had vanished. He felt three quick impacts on his solar plexus. The first two punches he took in stride, but the third one did the trick. He tried to exhale, but his wind caught in his throat. The physician’s blows had a power behind them one would never imagine from his unassuming frame.

  A bolt of beige lightning shot out at the giant’s wobbling legs. No one there had ever seen such footwork. The physician’s leg limned an elegant arc that struck the back of Conroy’s knee, and the giant flopped to the ground with an earthshaking thud. Straight, thrusting punches from the waist and circular kicks—there’d been no hesitation in the chain of mysterious attacks, and how powerful they were soon became apparent as Conroy quickly started to get back up. As soon as the giant tried to put any weight on his left knee, he howled in pain and fell on his side.

  “Probably won’t be able to stand for the rest of the day,” the young physician said, looking around at the chalk-white faces of the people as if nothing had happened. “Just goes to show it doesn’t pay to go around whipping up mobs. All of you move along now. Back to your homes.”

  “Yeah, but, Doc,” a man with a long, gourd-shaped face said as he pointed to Conroy, “who’s gonna see to his wounds?”

  “I’ll have a look at him,” Dr. Tsurugi said with resignation. “Bring him by the hospital some time. Just don’t do it for about three days or so. Looks like it’ll take him that long to cool down. But from here on out, there’s a damn good chance I’ll refuse to treat anyone who raises a hand to the Hunter here, so keep that in mind. Okay, move along now.” After he’d seen to it that the people dispersed and Conroy had been carried away, Dr. Tsurugi turned to face D.

  “That’s a remarkable skill you have,” the Hunter said. “I recall seeing it in the East a long time ago. What is it?”

  “It’s called karate. My grandfather taught it to me. But I’m surprised you’d put up with so much provocation.”

  “I didn’t have to. You put an end to it. Maybe you did it to keep me from having to hurt any of the locals . . . Whatever the reason, you helped me out.”

  “No, I didn’t.” There was mysterious light in the physician’s eyes as he shook his head. While you couldn’t really call it amity, it wasn’t hostility or enmity, either. You might call it a kind of tenacity.

  And then D asked him, “Have we met somewhere before?”

  “No, never,” the physician said, shaking his head. “As I told you, I’m a circuit doctor. In my rounds out on the Frontier, I’ve heard quite a few stories about you.”

  The physician looked like he had more to say, but D interrupted him, asking, “Who used to live in that abandoned house?”

  The physician’s eyes went wide. “You mean to tell me you didn’t know before you went in? The house belongs to Lori Knight—the girl you rescued.”

  -

  DESTINATION UNKNOWN

  CHAPTER 2

  -

  I

  -

  The girl was sitting up in bed. She looked like a snow-capped doll—the plaster for removing radioisotopes that covered her limbs was called snow parts. Glowing faintly in the evening from the radiation it’d drawn from her body, it hid the soul-chilling tragedy that’d befallen her beneath the beauty of new-fallen snow.

  “There’s no immediate threat to her life. I believe you heard all about her condition from Pluto VIII.”

  D met the physician’s words with silence. The girl—Lori—was reflected in the Hunter’s eyes, but what deeper emotions the sight of her stirred in D’s psyche even Dr. Tsurugi couldn’t tell. Or maybe it didn’t stir anything at all. The physician thought that’d be entirely appropriate for the young man.

  They were in one of the rooms in the hospital that stood near the center of the residential sector. Dr. Tsurugi and a middle-aged nurse lived there and treated every imaginable ailment, dealing with everything from the common cold to installing cyborg parts. His skill at being able to handle such a wide range of health problems made him a qualified, and accomplished, circuit doctor.

  “Could I put some questions to her in writing?”

  D’s query put Dr. Tsurugi’s head at a troubled tilt. “Perhaps for a short time,” he said reluctantly. “It’s just . . .”

  D waited for his explanation.

  “I’d like you to refrain from asking her any questions that may likely prove shocking. We’re dealing with a young lady who’s been seriously wounded both physically and psychologically. She’s already well aware of what the future holds for her.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Seventeen.”

  D nodded.

  The physician looked rather concerned, but he soon walked over to Lori’s bedside, took the memo pad and electromagnetic pen from beside her pillow, and jotted something down. An introduction for D, no doubt. Her white shoulders shook a bit, her downturned face shifted slightly toward D—then stopped. D watched expressionlessly as her face turned down again and her lily-white fingers took the electromagnetic pen from the physician. The pen moved with short, powerful strokes. Like it was fighting something off. Tearing off the page, the physician stood up straight and handed the message to D. In beautiful, precise penmanship it read, Thank you so much.

  Returning the sheet to the physician, D settled himself into the chair beside Lori’s bed without saying a word. The blue eyes peeking out from under her various white wrappings suddenly opened wide. The girl turned her face away. Quickly bringing it back, she cast her gaze downward. From her reaction, she apparently recognized D.

  The physician got another pen and notepad and handed them to D. The Hunter’s hand quickly went into action. There’s someone in your house, he wrote. Were there any strange occurrences there before?
<
br />   Lori stared at the page he’d given her. And continued to do so for a long time. It seemed like nearly ten minutes passed before she shook her head from side to side.

  Once again D’s hand scrawled a few words. Do you know what your father’s experiments involved?

  Again, she shook her head.

  D readied his pen once more.

  Lori shook her head. Over and over she shook it. Her shoulders began to quake, too. Bits of healing plaster fell from her like snow-flakes. Dr. Tsurugi held her shoulders steady. Still, Lori tried to go on shaking her head.

  “Kindly leave. Hurry!” the physician said to D. The door swung open and the nurse rushed in.

  Getting to his feet, D asked, “Where’s Pluto VIII staying?”

  “As I recall, he’s in P9 in the special residential district. It’s right by the law enforcement bureau,” the physician called out, but his words merely echoed off the closed door and died away.

  -

  Exiting the hospital, D walked down the street. Despite the sudden madness they’d witnessed in Lori, his eyes were as cold and clear as ever. Any human emotion would’ve seemed like a blemish when it showed in the young man’s eyes.

  Though plenty of people were coming and going on the street, the path directly ahead of D was completely unobstructed. Every last person in his way stepped aside. They didn’t do this out of the superstitious, ingrained distaste they had for those who dwelled outside their society, but because of the young man’s good looks and the aura about him. Everyone knew. They also knew that not everyone out on the street was necessarily human.

  And yet, there was a hint of intoxication in the eyes of all as they gazed at D. His gorgeous features made them shudder with something other than fear, and not only the women but even the men felt a sort of sexual excitement when they saw him. Most of the people wore work clothes and carried farm implements. Working the earth wasn’t quite the same in a sector of a moving town, but people went about the business of living as best they could. They labored. On the far side of the park lay farms and fields, as well as a sprawling industrial sector.

  D soon found the law enforcement bureau. Despite the grandiose name, it was no different from the sheriff’s office you’d find in any town this size. The group of blue buildings across the street made up the special residential district. A pair of three-story buildings that looked like hotels—that was all there was to the district. As D came to the door, a cheerful voice shouted to him from across the street. On turning, the Hunter found Pluto VIII trotting his way. Both his hands were covered by a riot of colors—flowers.

  “Hey, what are you doing, stud?” The biker wore a personable smile that made his hostility back at the mayor’s house seem long forgotten. Once he’d reached D, he looked all around them. “They’re mighty unfriendly in this town,” he groused. “I heard there ain’t a single florist anywhere. Someone said there was a flower garden, so I went to have a look-see, and they tell me out there they don’t sell to outsiders. Well, that ain’t so rare in itself, but I tell ’em, ‘Dammit, I wanna take them to a sick friend,’ and still they wouldn’t give me the okay.” He was truly indignant about this. Foam flying from his mouth, he added, “Hell, I told ’em the flowers were for Lori. I say, ‘She used to live here just like the rest of you, right? I don’t care if her family decided to leave; it ain’t like she came back here because she wanted to. She lost her mother and father, and got hurt real bad herself, and only came back to try and save her life.’ Son of a bitch—they still told me I couldn’t have ’em. Said that once you leave town, you’re an outsider.”

  To his snarling companion, D said softly, “So, how did you get those flowers then?”

  “Well, er—you know. Anyway, I was pretty pissed off at the time.”

  “That’s not exactly new territory for you, though.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Pluto VIII confessed easily. It was frightening how quickly his mood could change. “Oh, well, not much I can do now. Anyway—did you have business with me?”

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “Is that a fact? Well, let’s not stand around here jawing. There’s a bar around the corner. What do you say to having a drink while we talk?” Laughing, he added, “Don’t think they serve human blood, though.” Knowing exactly who he was saying this to, his joke might’ve had deadly repercussions, but D didn’t seem to mind. He followed Pluto VIII.

  -

  The bar was packed. Work in town must’ve been done in shifts. As the two of them entered, all chatter in the watering hole stopped dead. The eyes of the bartender and the men around the various tables focused on the pair.

  “Excuse me! Coming through! Pardon me!” Pluto VIII called out amiably as they slipped between the crowded tables, finally seating themselves at an empty one in the back. In a terribly gruff voice he shouted, “Hey, I’d like a bitter beer. That, and a—” Turning to D, he asked in a completely baffled manner, “What’ll you have?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dope, you can’t just walk into a bar and order nothing—you’re a nuisance.” Yelling, “He’ll have the same,” to the bartender, Pluto VIII turned to D again. “So, what’s this business you have with me?”

  “I went into a certain house earlier,” D said. “There was someone strange inside. Wasn’t you, was it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think anyone from town would be rooting through the house at this late date. And the only ones here from somewhere else are you and me.”

  Pluto VIII leaned back and laughed heartily. Those seated around them flinched and gave him startled looks. “Hate to disappoint you, but it wasn’t me. Hell, even if it was me, you think I’d just come right out and say so?”

  “Why are you here? Seems someone like you would be better off leaving town.”

  “I’d tend to agree with you,” Pluto VIII conceded easily. “But it ain’t that simple. Why, compared to the world down there, this place is like heaven. If you got money to spend, you can buy just about anything, and you can get by without messing around with any of the Nobility’s deadly little pals. I tell you, I plan to stick around until they toss me out on my ear.”

  “You couldn’t buy flowers,” D reminded him.

  “Yeah, but that don’t change much.” But, just as his confident smile spread across his gruff face, a number of people piled in through the bar door. A gray-haired crone was at the fore, and behind her three powerful-looking young men. All four were pale with anger.

  D’s eyes dropped to the bouquet on the table, and he said, “You stole those, didn’t you?”

  “No, I’m renting them, you big dope. I just didn’t leave a deposit for them.”

  The whole bar started to buzz with chatter, and a bunch of people gathered around D and Pluto VIII’s table. “There he is. There’s the no-good flower thief. I’m sure of it,” the crone shrieked, her bony finger aimed at Pluto VIII’s face.

  “Now that ain’t a very nice thing to say,” Pluto VIII said, knitting his brow. “I’m just borrowing these to take ’em to a sick friend, okay? What could make a flower happier than that?”

  “The hell you say!” The crone’s hairline and the corners of her eyes rose with her tone. “Do you have any idea how much back-breaking toil it takes to grow a single flower in this town? Of course you don’t! You’re a dirty, rotten thief!”

  “He sure is,” another person surrounding the table chimed in. “And thieves gotta pay a price. Let’s step outside.”

  “Nothing doing,” Pluto VIII laughed mockingly. “What’ll you do if I don’t go?”

  “Then we’ll have no choice but to use force.”

  The biker’s confident laughter flew in the faces of the tense men. “Do you folks know who the hell I am? I’m the one and only John M. Brasselli Pluto VIII, known far and wide across the Frontier.”

  Silence.

  “What, you bastards never heard of me?” Pluto VIII said with a scowl. “Well, at
any rate, I bet you know my friend here. The most handsome cuss on the Frontier, a first-rate slayer of Nobility, an apostle of the dream demons, and all the beauty of the darkness in human form—I give you the Vampire Hunter D!”

  Every face around them went pale. Even those of the men in the very back of the bar.

  “Hell of a reputation he’s got, eh?” Pluto VIII chortled. Looking around at the men who were now still and pale as corpses, he asked, “Still want us to step outside? My buddy can split a laser beam in two.”

  “For your information, this doesn’t concern me at all,” said D, his gazed fixed on the same spot on the table the whole time.

  “What do you mean?” Pluto VIII said, bugging his eyes. “Oh, you’re cold-blooded. Aren’t we buddies? Don’t listen to him, guys,” Pluto VIII laughed. “He was only joking.”

  “Go outside if you want. But leave me out of this,” said the Hunter.

  “I don’t believe you!” Pluto VIII rose indignantly. “Did you forget about the beer I just bought you?”

  “Sorry, sir, about that,” someone called from behind the bar, “we just ran out of your beer.”

  “God damn it all, this just ain’t my day!” Pluto VIII cursed.

  “Quit your bellyaching and step outside already,” said one of the men surrounding him. “Stealing flowers is stealing all the same, and a thief’s still gotta pay the price.”

  “Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?”

  “A thousand lashes with the electron whip, or thirty days hard labor.”

  “Don’t care much for either. Well, I’ll go out with you anyway.” Giving D a look that could kill, Pluto VIII didn’t seem terribly afraid as he followed the men out. Still, it wasn’t the fight headed outside that every eye in the place was following—their eyes were riveted to the handsome young man who remained at the table.

  Four men escorted Pluto VIII outside. Two of them were in their thirties, while the other two were younger. They must’ve been around twenty years old. As was normal for laborers on the Frontier, the mass of their muscles was evident even through their rough apparel. Every one of them stood over six feet tall. Pluto VIII, on the other hand, was five foot four. The biker was just as big through the chest and shoulders, but, in a bare-knuckle brawl, he’d be at an overwhelming disadvantage.