Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

17

     The next night, Lincoln met with Helsing, who stood overlooking a long pathway out of town. It spanned over a small valley and the wind was freezing. When he walked close enough for Helsing to hear his steps, Helsing turned around, and gas lamps lying around revealed just how horrid a toll the night had taken on him. Sure, he seemed to be unusually accustomed to insomnia, but you could see all the physical ramifications: Dark circles around his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot, and whether he himself noticed it or not, he moved slightly slower in his actions. His hair was frazzled because of a dark hood he wore through the night, and he kept gripping his hands, which were warmed by black gloves.

He looked like a wreck, but he did not retire from his task. He stayed awake and not once did he yawn. He couldn't yawn. He didn't have time. "Stand over there," he said, pointing a few feet away. Lincoln begrudged and felt a bit indignant because of how curt the request was. Once in place, Helsing and his line of men stayed quiet, waiting for something. Lincoln guessed it was vampires they were waiting for. What else could it be? The other men were dour, and who could blame them? They were ordered to stay in place for a night and it was unsavory to say the least, but it wasn't like they were forced. Just financially encouraged, is all. Lincoln stood in his predetermined spot in silence for five minutes, before asking, "How much longer do you think?" The men and Helsing were quick to hush him. So, sulking a bit, he kept standing in place for another ten minutes, before he eventually got bored and slightly irritated. "Good god, how long until some pale-skin bastard turns up?" Helsing only this time, reprimanded him. "Shut up. Don't talk until you've spotted someone." Lincoln grumbled and folded his arms.

"Asshole," he muttered.

     Three hours later, after what seemed like a boring eternity, one of the men saw something coming down the distant hill. Helsing looked at Lincoln and saw that he was asleep on the ground. He furiously woke him with a hearty slap across the face, which made him jolt up in a sweat. "Christ, Lincoln. Look ahead. We got company." Lincoln made haste, slipping a few times trying to jump up on his feet. Helsing handed him a small gun. "There's six silver shots in that cylinder. Don't waste them." He took the gun and nodded.

They both looked over the curvy field from their high vantage point. A single entity was rushing forward with a black shadowy aura following behind. Once it got close enough (about a hundred and five feet), they pointed their guns forward. Limited on ammo, one man asked "Who's going to shoot this one?" Helsing spoke first. "Lincoln has too much skill to waste a bullet this quickly. I'll set an example." They lowered their guns, and he kept his dead straight at the rushing figure. He pulled back his finger, and a thunderous boom echoed across the grass. It seemed to have hit the creature in the chest. But, to the surprise of all of them, the thing kept rushing forward. "W-what? What do we do, sir?! Do we retreat?" Helsing didn't say a word. He just waited for it to get closer to see what he was dealing with. When it got only a few meters away—it stopped.

And it spoke to them.

     "Would you look at that..." it said as it held up a small silver bullet between its fingers. "You lot have your minds set on putting a full metal jacket through my skull? We haven't even spoken to one another yet. Lucky for me, I caught it just in time." It looked at them and saw the numerous gun barrels pointed at it, and the fear in their eyes that encouraged them to pull their triggers. "Woah... permission to step closer?" Helsing said to him, "Who are you, where are you going, and why?" It looked at him with disturbing red eyes—slits, like a snake's. "That's a lot of questions. To start, my name's Zayus Greek. I'm currently on my way to Stark County to stay a few nights. The reasoning being, well, I'm somewhat of a wanderer."

Lincoln decided to finally step in and say something. He was keen on it since he'd been silent for nearly an hour. "A nomad, huh? What's a nomad doing coming around this little town? On what business?" It shook its head. "Does it have to be on business? I move because I have nowhere to stay. Is that not the definition of the word?" Lincoln scowled. "Get a job and work for enough money to buy yourself an apartment. Set up a hobo tent. You have no reason to be here. And don't try hiding it. We know what you are." His face showed interest. "Oh? And what am I?" Helsing sneered. "A vampire." It's shocked and laughs. "A vampire? Sir, now what would give you that impression? Dare I guess it's my fangs? My red eyes? My pale skin? No, I'm no vampire..."

"I'm a god."