Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

3

       The next morning, Lincoln didn't remember where he was. That's when he realized that what had waken him from a drunken slumber was a cold drop of rain; a singular drop amongst the many that began to storm down. "God," he muttered, "I drank myself to death again." He stood up and removed himself from the bar's alleyway. The streets were bustling, and the town was packed. People in a hurry to get to their jobs, parents transporting their kids to school, and joggers whose day it is off, and found it in their interest to exercise their legs. Lincoln asked a passing man the time, and the man checked his wristwatch and said "It's 8:30." Crap, Lincoln thought. He'd slept in longer than he meant to. He always went to bed around 3 am and aimed to wake around 8 am. Vampires burn in sunlight, so you'd think they'd not be roaming the streets during the day, but that would be a misconception. Simply donning a sun hat, coat, and gloves would be enough to keep the sun's rays from touching you. He dedicated every hour possible—sometimes at the cost of reasonable sleep—to killing vampires. Now that he was in the sun, he could see how dirty his clothes had gotten overnight. Some stains were mud, while the other stains he could not identify, even after bringing them to his nose to smell.

       "My, my, Lincoln. Look at what you've done to yourself!" He poked his head up and saw a woman approaching. He didn't know who she was until she'd tipped up her cloche hat. It was Ronnie Anne: a friend of Lincoln's, as well as the mayor of Royal Woods. Well, "friend" may be putting it generously, as they rarely ever spoke. It seemed that Ronnie had a fascination for Lincoln, though she never expressed exactly why that was. Being such a high-class lady, it was peculiar to many folks that she would go out of her way to speak with someone so wayward, such as him. "Oh," he said. "Hi, Mayor." She waved a finger. "Come now, we've talked about this! You can just call me Ronnie Anne. I appreciate the politesse, but it gets exhausting hearing the same title every day. We're friends I'd say, right? No need to pay my position any mind!" He shrugs at her and reaches for his pocket, patting it to feel for something. "Hey, you wouldn't have a cigarette on you, wouldn't you?" She gave him an unimpressed look. "No, I don't. I didn't know you smoked. Now why would you do that to yourself?" Lincoln looks around for a smoke shop but doesn't see one, which makes him slightly irritated. "It helps me stay focused. Keeps my mind sharp and stuff." She takes his curt response as a sign that he wishes not to talk, so she attempts to wrap up the conversation, but making one last invitation.

       "You know, I'm hosting a gathering at the town hall. It's to celebrate the founding of our town. On this day, one hundred and four years ago, Sir Issac Sherkowitz assigned his best men to construct the foundation for Stark County! It's a wonderful thing. Can I expect you to be there?" He yawns. "Will they have cigarettes?" She says no, but that she could buy him a pack if it meant his attendance. "Fine," he says. She cheers in a reserved way and adds: "It starts at seven tonight. It runs until midnight. There will be libations, snacks, and games! I can't wait to see you there!" With that, she waved goodbye and left Lincoln in the cold rain. "Man," he exclaims. "I hate parties." He walks down the street, getting soaked the whole way, and stops when he comes to a sandwich joint. He eyes the neon sign for a minute before walking inside. The front door jingles a bell, which lets the man behind the register know of his presence. "Hello, sir!" the man said with zeal. "May I get you something?" Lincoln orders a large meatball sub and sits down. After disappearing for a few minutes, the man returns with his sandwich and places it down on the table. "Is that all, sir?" As Lincoln was in the middle of his response—"Yes, thank...—he noticed that the worker's smile was not of the ordinary. It contained a healthy set of teeth, with two very large fangs.