-Chapter 12-
Greetings, Dr Stein
"Chyah, chyah" Soul shouted into the wind as he dug his heels into Toride's flanks, the sharp heels biting into the working muscles.
Calls of 'Gi'iyup' burst from behind. The rangers' horses kicking up a cloud of orange dust as they spurred their steeds on in chase - the drumroll of hoof-beats filling the air.
The night before, Soul had discovered what he had thought was an abandoned barn - quite why he had thought that escaped him, as it had held several bales of hay - which Toride had feasted on.
It was more than likely that he had convinced himself just to have a shelter for the night. He kicked himself for that weakness.
Now he was once again being chased, not by officers but by the rangers to whom the barn belonged and who acted as a form of police. They didn't appreciate Soul's trespassing or the quantity of hay which his horse had consumed.
So chasing Soul had now become the day's entertainment. Were they to catch him Soul would not be in a favourable position. Fortunately Soul was riding north, and the rangers that were currently galloping behind him would not be welcome in the ranches there.
The great estates that ruled within the southern states were fiercely loyal and a trespass would carry dire consequences if caught.
Soul once again had no clue why the rangers were to suddenly break off the chase at the haggard and rickety old wooden fence he'd jumped, and wasn't about to stop to ask. Taking the good fortune which had befallen him he didn't slow, but instead charged ahead, looking for the first road he could follow.
The chase had disoriented him further and he had no clue as to where he was. Slowing to a trot he squinted, brows furrowing and cheeks pulling up, the blinding sun laughed on at his plight and Soul continued his aimless, directionless trot.
Around him waved the heavy heads of ripening corn, the sharp leaves and hollow stalks scraped along them. The track being left in their wake was only slight, as the corn slowly waved back to their soldier straight position under the beaming light. The wide dark hands of the stalks grasped at him occasionally, tugging at his trousers.
Just keep going, you're running out of time he thought hopelessly under the repetitive muffled hoof falls of the horse. He'd had his eyes shut for a while now, but the sudden change in rhythm and sound woke him from his heat drugged daze. His tongue tentatively trailed over his cracked, dry lips, the moisture bringing swarms of stinging all over the sensitive skin.
The hard, oven-baked road radiated warmth, the clay having been cooked horrendously in the hot sun. Following the road, they soon came to a traveller's hub, the few small buildings packed with peculiarly dressed people.
They would wear tan leather boots, with shining spurs that jingled each step, the tops of which held strips that fluttered in the breeze. Most sported washed-out blue pair of denim jeans and a buttoned shirt that billowed out in the gusts .Of course they also each possessed a round straw hat, that was distinctly shaped - slightly ovular and very light.
Soul sat stupidly and as he looked around he realised he was the one out of place - his smart appearance blatantly clashed with the townsfolk; him in his dark charcoal trousers, pressed white shirt - that was now considerably crumpled like the rest of his outfit, and the suit jacket which slumped over the back of his saddle.
No wonder he had cooked so much in the summer day. Whilst he had sat still, Toride had continued walking, as he had spotted a heavy water trough where the other horses were hitched. The heavy cream stone sat mottled and bleached from the sun, covered in imperfections and dents with soft, pale green water gently rippling inside. He still sat as he decidedly ignored the people now openly staring at him.
"A Bawby-jay, we's gots one derm outta tern Jacks luhkin awl fancy like" and with that it seemed like half the hub stopped to stare at him, so many pairs of eyes just ceased their business and examined him.
Soul found what he was looking for in the meantime - A sign post - and read the blessed words 'Death City, Nevada -'. Yanking on the reigns he started off quickly, the villagers had become more hostile than anything else, mentions of him being one of the satanic horsemen quickly spread and weapons were being drawn, the pretty glints like blinding suns of their own as they reflected the huge orb in the sky.
Finally, Soul breathed a sigh of relief as he departed the dangerous place. And then sucked it back in again. Shit - checkpoint, please don't be checkmate.
Soul reached inside his jacket and pulled out the medallion, the rivers had changed, he slapped himself as he realised it was a compass; one of the rivers had lengthened to point directly at Death City. Too late now, he slipped on his burning jacket, the material so incredibly hot that it was amazing it hadn't started combusting.
Taking several deep breaths he pinned on his medal and prepared himself.
The road changed sharply from cheap cobbles to manufactured paving stones. The pale bricks designed to reflect heat – their white was a pure absence of colour and dirt, a white that reflected everything.
Throughout the great promenade that was lined with palm trees that leapt up high out the ground were swirls of pale blue and orange; the elemental dance of water and fire captured flawlessly in this masterpiece.
The splendour of just the roads made Soul wonder what Death city was like, especially the palace that he could see rising majestically out of the of the city but blurred and distorted by the heat waves and dust.
The traffic had increased too, many a covered wagon clopped past, the oxen pulling marble blocks or some other heavy produce.
Others were pulled by mules and the green leafy heads sticking out from under the shade implied grocers and such. But that was not to say that they weren't stopped and vigorously searched. As Soul drew closer he could hear a guard respond to a driver who'd asked why they bother when it was clear they were just groceries, saying "We cannot be allowing those Muckers from the road-hubs into the city, what if one were to be hiding under there?".
Soul approached, he slowed as he did so.
"Dismount!" The guard ordered. Wow that pisses me off Soul hadn't been ordered like that for years, but he bit his tongue and obeyed. He had attached the medallion earlier to hang on his left lapel, level with his heart and conspicuously shiny in comparison to his dusted suit.
As it caught the guard's eye, he closely examined it, before looking up to him and asking, more politely "Your name, Sir?"
"Kato" He excluded his fictional rank as it no longer held authority here. Noting the name he waved 'Kato' through.
The lack of checking stirred some unrest in those who'd started to queue behind, and a particularly disgruntled person shouted that it was 'elitism'. Needless to say he was promptly silenced by a glare from the guard.
The horse's hooves clapped sharply against the stones below. As Soul approached the great city he noticed a winding trail to the right. Crossing the road he looked more carefully and saw a faded ' Dr. Stein – Best doctor in all the land' on a sun bleached piece of wood.
"Here we go Toride, now our adventure really begins…" Toride shook his head and whinnied in response. Trotting off the urban road, they returned to a mucky trail. It wound into dunes and dead hills that hid the building from the road.
As they got closer, they noticed a tower, it was made of whitewashed planks and stitched together with rusty nails that punctuated the monotonous, sterile colours. It reached up as though it were unsure of its ability; it creaked and groaned in the wind, and the bells inside gently chimed in the deathly silence as it leaned awkwardly.
They approached in silence as small breezes ghosted about them, the movement pulling a soft undulating howl form the building. Meeting the front of the structure as the hills opened out into flatlands was daunting. A great foyer crawled out of the building; two great columns of smooth stone continued the grey tones, the bottoms wide and flourished but smoothed by erosion. The heavy roof balanced upon it, giving shade to the dry white gravel underneath.
Around the foyer the rectangular building proliferated itself regularly, only further adding to the peculiarity of the tower. The two storey building was clinical, windows were regular and minimalistic and everything perfectly proportioned. Except for that tower…
Two bright doors rose up from the ground, the mottled glass inset in the upper half of the matt metal door. The door had been repaired it seemed, and pieces of metal were welded to it, the burns like stitch marks across it.
Soul dismounted carefully but still landed with a heavy and echoing crunch. He flinched at the sound and left his horse outside. There was no light bubbling through the rippling glass, but Soul approached regardless.
He stepped up onto the hard stone front and grabbed the wooden loop that hung from above. Pulling down fluently, the sounds of bells pealed out around him. Within he heard the slam of several doors and heavy footsteps.
The wooden thunk of an armchair or similar being hit echoed loudly and the sound of dry, screeching wheels greeted him as the door was slammed against from the inside. A few moments later the door slowly groaned inwards revealing a relatively young man who was hunched over the back of an office chair.
His pale hair made him look older as it hanged over his wide circular glasses which glinted in the dropping light. A simple, small cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the angry tip releasing a continuous stream of beautiful grey smoke that twirled and danced as it spiraled up into the sky.
His thin, pale lips smirked slightly and he rolled the cigarette around his mouth as he looked at Soul silently. The chair he sat on was old and worn, the grey leather torn and re-stitched all over, the chrome plated skeleton visible and rusting, and the hard wheels dull and dead. His hands also drooped from him, one over the front and the other in his lap. The heavy lab coat he wore surrounded most of his attire, but a relatively simple and plain outfit showed underneath.
Looking back at Stein, Soul suddenly gasped as pierced through Stein's head was a huge bolt that was slowly turning. It was in noticeably better condition than the rest of his equipment, Soul noted.
"Greetings, Mr Evans." Stein started, "You've found me then, and within the time it seems. Good, I'll enjoy this. Shinigama told me some… very… interesting… things about you."
"I'm sure he did. What do you want of me?" Soul had no clue what was to happen once he had met Stein, but figured he would have to end up fighting him.
"Not much, not much" Stein casually uttered in a high, ingenious voice. "just want to take some blood, do a few experiments… Nothing serious. Then you'll be free to go."
Soul eyes narrowed, his gut clenched and churned with ill-feelings, "and what if I say 'No'"?
"Doesn't matter, the outcome will be the same, I will get what results I want. I am The Doctor after all…"
"Then I say No."
"As you wish" Stein reached up to his head and turned the Bolt several times, each rotation earning a louder and deeper click than the previous. The sound slowed and echoed around Soul unnaturally and Stein's eyes glowed bright yellow. The same colour began to crack and coil around his arms and fill his hands, leaving a sulphurous smell in the air.
Toride snickered and trotted away to a safe distance. Soul recoiled slightly, sensing the massive wavelength emanating from Stein. His foot bit into the ground behind him as he braced himself. Pulling out his old shortsword he had no clue how he was to overcome Stein, but that wouldn't stop him fighting to the end.
"Let's do this." Soul murmured to Stein, locking eyes as Stein swung forward…
A/N Okay, so I know I promised a longer chapter, but I figured I'm already late ( I lost writing time due to flights, delays etc.) so I'll post this, hope you enjoyed and see ya next week! (Awkward moment where you go to spell 'next' as 'neckst')