Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

29

Now here he was, fighting the most formidable of them all. God be his protector, and may his passion drive his courage.

His dagger swung wildly, and each time it was evaded. When Lincoln had reached a point of fatigue, Zayus took the opportunity to swipe his nails against Lincoln's face. Instinctively, Lincoln placed his free palm on the several parallel cuts and pulled it away to assess the bleeding. His hand was stained with four red lines of bright blood. Once again he struck at Lincoln, this time knocking him to the ground with a martial kick, sending him down on his back. He planted his foot under his jaw, and it pressed harshly on his throat, almost crushing his heel through his trachea. Then, in a state of pensive reverie, his life began to flash before his eyes. Not in a fantastic hallucinogenic way, instead a peloton of memories came racing forward in his mind. He couldn't even focus on the fight, as his mind and body prepared him for the last deadly strike upon him.

     He remembered Helsing and the first time he'd seen him. After Ronnie came out from a significant meeting, she found Lincoln on the steps and explained to him the hiring of a vampire hunter. Then as they talked he snuck up on them. His mien seemed confrontational and intimidating at first, and so Lincoln responded with suspicion and resentment. Time went on though and the town's endangerment happened to inspire their collaboration. His bravery and determination soon became clear, and his talents truly did benefit the town. There's no question that they couldn't have come as far as they did without him.

He remembered Ronnie Anne, a person even braver than Helsing, he thought, because despite her unrivaled stress and fear, she acted brilliantly in the face of danger. She deserved more respect than the town gave her. Not just that; she deserved more in every way. She deserved someone who loved and who cared for her, and would always be there in her worst of times. He smiled at this, because he imagined the only person that could fulfill that position was himself. That's when another memory surfaced. Another one related to Ronnie. A memory that reminded him of his purpose:

She dipped her hand into the plastic bag and rustled around in it, eventually taking out a clove of garlic to hand to Lincoln. He takes it and looks over it with confusion. "I'm not hungry, but thanks." She lightly shoves his shoulder. "For the vampires, Lincoln! I'm going home to make a late-night salad. I wish you luck for tomorrow, soldier." She winked at him and walked off, leaving Lincoln to sit on the curb with a lump of garlic in his hand.

Now he came back to reality. In a small revelation, he reached into his pocket and grabbed what was inside. He could almost hear Ronnie's voice whispering into his ear. "You've always had it in you. I believe in you." He brought up his hand and looked at what it held: A small lump of garlic—a token of love, spiting his nature. Zayus's foot stayed firm on his throat, but seeing Lincoln contemplating something palmed under his fingers, he grew frustrated. "What is that? What are you holding?" Lincoln didn't respond so he pressed his heel deeper. "I said, WHAT ARE YOU HOLDING?!" In turn, Lincoln muttered his answer. He spoke so quietly that Zayus could not hear him. He took his foot off of him and pulled Lincoln up by the collar of his shirt. "WHAT DO YOU HAVE?!" he yelled. Lincoln, dangling languidly in his grasp, whispered again. This time Zayus was close enough to hear his answer: "Garlic, asshole."

He shoved the clump in his face and it burned against his skin. Zayus dropped Lincoln and stumbled back, covering his face. His skin bubbled as if boiling and he howled in pain. Lincoln staggered and almost fell, however he found his balance and sneered at Zayus. "A god allergic to garlic. What a pathetic sight." He walked over to the cowering vampire and looked down at his sickly body. He knelt in front of him and patted him on the head. "Don't worry," he said in a sinister way, "it'll only hurt a lot." Zayus continued to grunt in pain, while Lincoln took the clump of garlic once more and shoved it into his mouth. He began to choke and a hot burning smoke arose outward. His body slowly disintegrated into a medium pile of black ash.

Lincoln panted for a few seconds and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He swallowed deeply and felt a second rush of pride go through him. The vacuous black space around him began to grow light. As it faded away, he compared it to the sky he once saw that night he left the hospital. Those two red stars, awfully like Zayus's piercing red pupils, formed in Lincoln's mind. They came quickly, though did not stay long before fading away into obscurity and burning out like a flame at the end of a wick. Finished and gone. The world's color returned and the townspeople were huddled in a large tumultuous crowd. They all stared forward at him and he returned the gaze. "What's going on? Why's everyone staring at me?"

Pushing past the center of the crowd, wading through citizens, emerged Ronnie Anne. Upon spotting him her eyes grew wide. Possibly, for the first time, not from anxiousness. She rushed up and hugged him, happily squeezing him hard enough to restrict his breathing. "You did it!" she screamed. "You did it, Lincoln! Oh my god, you did it!" The crowd threw their hands up in rapturous uproar. Tens of people celebrated him like a savior, chanting his name at the top of their lungs. The chef of a local restaurant shouted above the rest, saying "We must throw a party immediately! Everyone is invited, and let Mr. Loud's great heroism be the reason for our feast!" The day carried on with gorging and drinking, jesting and laughing, dancing and even singing. The grandest of achievements had been attained, and nobody could shake the newfound feeling of safety and joy. Even when night fell, the darkness stood no chance against the generous lighting of colorful lamps and Chinese lanterns (a festive decoration they happened to have in storage and foresaw no use for them otherwise in the future).

After an hour of boisterous cheers and tunes, Lincoln grew tired and decided to retire. He left, going unnoticed by anyone because of how entranced they all were by the excitement. He walked back to his residence, weary, and the silence that grew as he got further from the party offered a pensive juxtaposition. He got to his door and reached for the knob when a voice called out. "Knew you weren't one for parties. Though, I thought you'd leave earlier. You had me sitting on this step longer than I wanted." He looked beside him and found Helsing crouched down on the steps up to his house. "What do you want?" Lincoln asked. "Ease up. I don't want money or anything. Maybe a little talk, maybe a little story about your triumph, maybe... some company?" Lincoln scoffed playfully. "You're lonely? I never thought I'd see the day."

"God, you're hard to talk to sometimes," Helsing told him. Lincoln smirked. "Guess that makes two of us. Do you want to come in?" He stood up off the step and dusted off his black coat. "Beats going to that dreadful party." They both enter and the door shuts behind them. "You want a beer?" he asked Helsing. "Sure. Say, Lincoln, I was thinking. You know, this whole thing with that damn Zayus guy, now that it's over—it is over, right?" Lincoln laughed and nodded. Helsing went on speaking. "Well, I travel around looking for vampires. That's always been my motive for moving around from place to place, but... now that that guy's dead, I supposed it was time I left." Lincoln raised an eyebrow at this, wondering where this was going. "I was ruminating about that map. Remember? The one me and the police found painted in blood? Marvelous a discovery, that was. All those paths on that map are going through live towns and cities, and vampires are still going to charge through those areas. So I got to thinking, maybe with your talent, your strength, your abilities... I imagined you could join me in killing the other vampiric leaders as well."

     Lincoln took a draft of beer and wiped his mouth. "How much does it pay?" Helsing grinned. "Whatever a desperate town is willing." He pondered it for a moment and took another sip. "I'll think about it, alright?" Helsing gave a thumbs up and they both spent the rest of the night drinking in quiet, away from the rest of the town.

"Hey, Helsing."

"Yeah?"

"I think tomorrow I'll propose to Ronnie Anne."

...

"Sounds like a goddamn plan."