Sunday, July 18, 2004

Wrigley Field

Kristin, Dawn and I were stalking a couple skateboarder punks near Wrigley Field. I didn’t want to kill them… only drink their blood. They would wake up in a few hours with a headache. But we never got that far.

John Maguire, the vampire hunter, came out of nowhere.

“RUN!” I shouted. “I can handle this!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Dawn said.

“DO WHAT I SAY!” I snapped. The two of them hesitated, but finally did as I had told them. They ran, leaving me alone with the vampire hunter.

“Casey Coleman,” he said. It unnerved me that he knew my name. He is not a big man, maybe 5-8… 165 pounds. He’s bald, with a goatee, and black goggles that I believe allow him to see better at night. He wore a long black trench coat.

“Hey John… what’s up,” I said. The skateboarders stopped their tricks when John drew the samurai sword from the folds of his trench coat.

“I’m not here for you,” John said. “I only want Kristin. Take me to her, and I’ll let you live.”

“I can’t do that,” I said.

John smiled. I could tell he didn’t really want me to take him to Kristin. He wanted to fight. He stepped toward me, swinging the sword at my head. I ducked, rolled, kicked him in the side. John coughed and fell on the sidewalk. The skateboarder punks watching clapped and cheered.

John sprang forward, he moved fast for a mortal. The sword flashed, and the tip grazed my arm. The cut began to hiss, and white foam bubbled on my arm where the sword had touched me.

The sword has been blessed, maybe soaked in Holy Water. I don’t know a lot about these things. I only know a normal sword can’t hurt like this. Maybe it’s made of silver. I staggered back, suddenly feeling very weak. It was only a small cut on my arm.

John laughed and watched as I cradled my arm against my body.

“Oh…” I said dumbly, and I fell to my knees. My vision blurred. Something about the sword, like a tranquilizer. To my left, I saw car headlights getting closer. They were bright, headed straight toward me.

John raised the sword, and chuckled in front of Wrigley Stadium. He stood inches away from me, and held the sword like a baseball bat. He rocked back and forth like a nervous batter in the batter’s box. He even spit, just like a batter spitting tobacco spit. It could have been quite funny, except I knew he wanted to cut my head off with one clean swing of the sword.

The car headlights were getting closer. I turned my head, the car was almost on top of me. I rolled, the front of the bumper clipped my shoulder as the car narrowly missed me… but smashed into John Maguire.

The tires smoked as the car stopped, shifted into reverse, and came back toward me. It stopped next to me. The passenger door of the car opened. Dawn stepped out, grabbed me… shoved me into the back seat. Kristin was driving. My vision was bad, I couldn’t even tell what kind of car I was in…

Something about the sword… whatever it was made of… and then, as Kristin drove off, I looked back. I saw John Maguire stand. We ran over him with a car, but he was standing. And then I lost consciousness.

I woke up this morning with a massive headache. I was in Kristin’s bed. Dawn was asleep in a chair next to me. She didn’t look comfortable. I rolled over, rubbed my head… tried to remember everything that had happened. My forearm, where the blade had cut me, was wrapped in white gauze.

The bedroom door opened. Kristin stepped in, wearing a red silk robe with gold trim. Her hair was held up in a bun with gold chopsticks.

“How do you feel?” Kristin asked.

“Dead,” I said. “Do you want to tell me why John Maguire wants to kill you?”

She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, and then her gaze shifted to the floor, and then she left the room… closing the door behind her. Dawn didn’t even move in the chair when the door clicked shut. He’s a real vampire hunter. Kristin better tell me real damn soon what the hell is going on.

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