Tale of the Dead Town (11 page)

“And could you move into another body from the one you’re in now?” the mayor asked.

“Yep.”

“Hmm. Then maybe you ought to try possessing me. That way you’ll know straight away
whether I’m telling the truth or not.”

“Wow, knock me over with a feather. Are you sure about this? I’ll be privy to your
every little secret.”

“I don’t mind a bit. After all, this way, you’ll see it’d be in your interest to join
forces with me for a little while.”

“Join forces?”

“That’s right. We’re both after the same thing, but there are any number of ways it
might be used.”

“Ah, I see. So, as long as your use and mine don’t conflict, we’d be fine. Good enough.”

“What’ll you do about the sheriff?”

“I’ll screw with his brain a bit and leave him snoozing. Make sure no one comes in
here for a while.”

The mayor spoke into his intercom, saying something to the effect that no one was
to be let into his chambers. He turned to face the sheriff. One of the giant’s hands
latched onto his deeply wrinkled wrist. Two seconds passed . . . then three . . .
And then, with a crash that shook the whole room, five hundred and thirty-five pounds
of lawman fell over like a tree. An expression of amazement that wasn’t his at all
quickly formed on the mayor’s face as he sat there with his eyes shut.

“I . . . I can’t believe that.” The voice that slipped from his dry lips was choked
with fear. Almost as if his own thoughts terrified him . . . “Who could do such an
awful thing . . . And you still call yourself—or should I say myself—human?!”

-

-

I

-

Though the crisis had passed, the town showed signs that it hadn’t yet recovered from
the tragedy. The owners of devastated houses didn’t look very motivated to repair
the damage as they sat around sulking, and their neighbors didn’t seem at all inclined
to help cheer them up. Every face wore a demented expression, and the people stood
around like empty husks, or milled about in the streets aimlessly. It was almost as
if the overwhelming disaster had stripped everything that mattered from them. But
in the midst of the milling townsfolk, mixed with the chatter of the frantically scrambling
relief party that answered directly to the mayor, a crisp and spirited young voice
rang out. It was that of Dr. Tsurugi, working at the emergency medical facility that’d
been established in front of the hospital. “Okay,” he said, “I want you to form a
single file—no pushing—and one by one, take a seat.”

Once a patient was seated in the simple revolving chair, Dr. Tsurugi ran his hands
over their clothed form and asked them a few questions. The palms of his gloves were
imprinted with some kind of medical diagnostic program. The questions were to gauge
the level of mental upheaval each patient had suffered.

“Okay—Point nine seven. A slight case of radiation poisoning. Mental balance is .
. . no problem. Pick your medicine up over there. Okay, next!”

Only at the very end did a bit of honest emotion slip into the doctor’s face, but
shortly thereafter he reclaimed his beaming countenance. It was a sight to see him
in action, working through the endless chain of patients at a rate of less than a
minute each. However, the person by his side dispensing medicine wasn’t the nurse.
It was a lovely young lady of seventeen who couldn’t compliment anyone or say a single
word to comfort them, but who showed all the compassion she could muster in her large
eyes as she quietly handed them their medicine. It was difficult to believe that,
less than ten hours earlier, her whole body had been covered with plasters for removing
radioactive contamination. It was Lori.

After seeing how terribly overburdened Dr. Tsurugi was, she’d volunteered to help
out. Of course, the physician’s situation hadn’t been helped by the fact that his
nurse had been horribly frightened and had yet to recover from her dementia. As Lori
gazed at the townsfolk and the numb expressions they wore, there was sorrow in her
eyes, but another, more invigorating feeling filled her slight frame. She’d lost the
use of her voice and ears, but she had to go on living. The determination to do so
burned strongly in her. However, on a more basic level, the girl was immensely pleased
to be able to do something on her own.

Lori’s smiling eyes were suddenly infused with an intense glimmer. A powerful figure
in black was coming down the same street filled by the lines of townsfolk.

D stopped next to the physician. “Make it through okay?” he asked. From the Hunter’s
tone of voice it wasn’t clear whether he was actually concerned or just being polite.
And, of course, the sound of it didn’t reach Lori’s ears at all. Still, she got the
feeling there was something beyond the usual severity in the gaze he cast on the physician
and herself, and it made her heart leap.

“I muddled through somehow,” Dr. Tsurugi replied. “How about you? I’ve heard dhampirs
have a far greater tolerance for radiation than the average human—” The physician
caught himself and quickly bit his lip. A few of the townspeople looked surprised
by what they’d heard, but most showed no reaction at all. While the shock of the magnetic
storm was to blame, the effect it’d had on the populace was just too great.

“Is the corpse inside?” the Hunter asked.

“Yes, he’s still asleep. I don’t know what you did to him, but it must’ve been incredible.”

“I’d like a look at it.”

“Fine. But I’d like something in return,” the physician said, his hands never taking
a break from examining patients.

“What’s that?”

“Once you’re done with that, I’d like you to help me out.”

“There’s nothing I could do,” said D.

“If you’ve got arms and legs, we’ve got work for you.”

“Okay, if I’ve got time.” And with that uncharacteristic reply, D went through the
door.

Lori’s sorrowful gaze followed the Hunter. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged her presence.

-

On entering the operating room, D took a portable atomic lamp off the shelf and switched
it on. A pale flame blazed up around the wick. The body of the man lying on the operating
table on the other side of the room was outlined in blue. Twisting the faucet to get
the water running, D looked down at his left hand and said, “I’ve got some soil ready,
too, but what would you like first?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions,” a voice quickly answered. At the same time, a human face
complete with eyes and a nose mysteriously surfaced in the palm of the Hunter’s hand.
Forming a scowl, it said, “You’re splitting hairs with all this talk about fire first
or water first, when the truth is nothing’s been all that tasty lately. After all,
I’m the one who’s gotta eat them. Oh, my—we’ve got a nuclear reactor today? That looks
positively delicious. None of that alcohol lamp or dried werewolf dung, thank you.
That stuff’s the worst!”

Taking a handful of dirt from one of his coat’s inner pockets, D put it beside the
lamp. “Be quick about it,” he said. “The corpse should be waking up soon.”

“Hmph. Well if it does, you can just put it back to sleep again. Day in and day out,
you’re always pushing me around.”

“Fire or water?” the Hunter asked.

“Hmm, I’ll take the dirt.”

D held his left hand over the blackish pile. There was the intense squeal of air being
drawn in, and the clod of earth broke apart into a powder that was inhaled by the
palm hanging over it.

“That tastes awful!” the voice said after sucking up every last grain of dirt. “This
soil hasn’t known the usual ups and downs, or been part of the natural circle of life,
death, and rebirth. It doesn’t take its life from the planet. It’s just a decoration
laid down over steel. You’re not gonna be very satisfied with the kind of results
you get by feeding me crap like this!”

Without saying a word, D held his left hand up to the atomic flames.

“Sheesh! You dolt. Water’s supposed to be next,” the voice squawked, but the Hunter
didn’t move a muscle. Further curses of “freak” and “sadist” soon died out, and the
atomic light—as impossible as it sounds—quickly condensed into a single glowing stream
that disappeared into D’s hand. Or, to be more precise, into the tiny mouth that’d
opened in the palm of his hand. And just how voracious was that mouth? Well, the ultracompact
reactor the lamp was equipped with was supposed to be enough to power the atomic flame
for more than a decade, but in less than two minutes its color faded, it flickered,
and finally it went out.

D didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at that bizarre occurrence, but instead put this
hand under the spigot in the sink, palm up now. A few minutes later, the voice sputtered,
“That’s enough,” and as it did, D twisted the faucet to shut it off.

“How are you feeling?” D asked. His eyes remained trained on the corpse.

“Well, I’ll get by. I suppose I’m a hell of a lot better than I was last night.” Along
with the words, a gout of flame roared from the palm of the Hunter’s hand. In a mouth
left pale blue by a few thousand degrees of heat, a red tongue flicked impassively,
saying sharply, “So, what the heck do you want analyzed?”

Devoid of pity or any other deeper emotion, D brought his left hand over to the man
on the operating table—and put it against his forehead. At that instant, the whole
corpse stiffened and bent backward from the waist, like a bow. It snapped into the
shape so fiercely that it wouldn’t have been strange to hear his hipbones shattering.
Countless red points began to form all over his body, along with specks of blood.
Had this body, which had supposedly long since ceased to function, begun to have metabolic
activity once again? The vivid red spots grew larger and larger, and in no time their
surface tension broke and they began to course down the sides of the body, leaving
disturbing trails on his flesh. When the first drop hit the operating table, a faint
moan escaped from the corpse.

D had his eyes half-closed. What was his hand trying to do? What kind of analysis?
What did he hope to learn from this corpse?

-

When the treatment of the townsfolk and the distribution of medicine had finally wound
down, Lori quickly looked at the physician. Massaging his hands, Dr. Tsurugi nodded
to her. The girl got up and went into the hospital. Talking pains not to tread too
loudly, she peeked into the waiting room. There was nobody there. Was he in the office,
or maybe the operating room? It had never even occurred to Lori that D’s business
there might be with a corpse. Once more, she stepped out into the hall. She decided
to try the office.

A few inches away from her, the door to the operating room opened inward. A figure
suddenly appeared. A man completely covered in blood.

Lori froze in her tracks, choking back a scream. The man suddenly collapsed in a heap.
When Lori saw the other figure that stood behind him, she desperately tried to keep
her knees from failing her. She didn’t want him to see her do anything stupid. Having
lost her voice and hearing, she was damned if she’d lose anything else now.

As the girl tried desperately to steady her footing, D watched her without saying
a word. Waiting until she’d gotten her trembling under control, the Hunter grabbed
the corpse by the neck and brought it back into the operating room. As they gazed
at the blood spilled on the floor, his eyes held a dark tint.

By the time D went back out into the hall, Lori had returned to her senses. She’d
always been a brave girl.

“You want something from me?” D asked. He said it out loud.

Lori tried desperately to follow the movements of his lips. Somehow, she managed to
read them. She shook her head. She had no business with him. She just thought it would
be nice to see him. That was all.

“While you may not be able to get back what you lost, you can learn something new
in return,” D remarked impassively, almost as if he didn’t care what became of Lori.
Not understanding exactly what’d been said to her, Lori pursed her lips with grim
resolve and tried not to miss anything else. D said to her, “Come with me. We probably
don’t have much time.”

And with that he walked out. Lori followed after him. A smile had risen to her lips.
By watching D’s cold profile, she understood what he was saying.

“Just where are you two going?” the physician called to them as they came out the
front door.

“Where’s the highest point in town?” the Hunter asked in return.

“That’d be the hill behind the factories. Why?”

Nodding with satisfaction, D began to walk away. As the two figures walked off down
the street, the physician watched them coolly.

-

The damage to Chad Beckly’s house had been relatively minor. Fastening a waterproof
tarp over a couple of holes that falling rocks had left in the roof, he decided the
repairs could wait for another day. They were a family of four. There was Chad, his
wife Vera, and their two sons Luke and Simon. Chad’s family was extremely concerned
about the way he was acting. Ever since he’d come home from the navigational control
room, his expression had been one of deep depression. Skipping dinner entirely, as
soon as he’d put the sheet over the roof he’d gone straight to bed.

What was troubling Chad was where the town was headed. The new route that’d been programmed
into the computers clearly had them headed right for some of the Nobility’s ruins.
They’d probably be there in less than two days. The question was, what was waiting
for them there? Even the mayor said he didn’t know. Legend alone had the answer. Graves.
And not the kind of Noble resting place ornamented with elaborate crests and guarded
by electronic devices. What slumbered there was . . .

Hauling his mind back from its slide into anxiety, Chad tried his best to get to sleep.
The wind howled outside his window. Tomorrow, he’d have to get up before dawn and
head back to the control room. What on earth was going to happen to the town? Chad’s
brain was burning with worry. Downstairs, his wife and children were still up and
about. So much had happened, they probably couldn’t get settled down to rest.

There was a slight sound . . . A rap at the door, perhaps? His wife walked around.
The floorboards creaked. He’d have to speak to the mayor about getting them replaced.
But who could be out at this hour? There was absolutely no way he was going back to
the control room. Someone came in. The door was still open. There was the sound of
something falling over.
Did the missus
trip over that dang chair again?
he wondered.
Wait a minute—they didn’t get back up.

Footsteps crossed the living room and started up the stairs. Creaking all the while.
Must be his wife. Out in the hall now. Still coming. Slowly. Coming this way. The
footsteps stopped. Out in front of the boys’ room.

Maybe I should go see who it is?
he thought.
No, it’s just the little woman, of course. Besides, I’m dog-tired.

The door opened.
Aw, she shouldn’t have gone and done that. Hey, that was a scream just now, wasn’t
it?
More thuds as things fell. Two of them. The door closed. The footsteps were coming
closer. Slowly. No hurry . . . They stopped. In front of his bedroom. It couldn’t
be . . .

There was a knock on his door. Chad remained in bed. The knocking continued, then
stopped for a bit—and started again.

Chad got out of bed. Step by step, each one feeling like it was sinking into the carpet,
he headed for the door. He didn’t want to go. He knew it was his wife outside the
door. But what if it wasn’t . . .