Hallowed Ground

“Run,” Red whispered.

Ever since the night I first met Red there had been some thing or other trying to kill him, or me or both of us. So when Red said to run, I ran.

He grabbed my hand and took off so fast I almost tripped over my own feet before I even got moving. 

He splashed through a scummy puddle in his combat boots and I wish I could say I didn’t think about how much my shoes cost before he dragged me through it behind him.

We’d hunted, and been hunted by, a double handful of nightmare things; but this felt different -- Red was squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt. He was running so fast I couldn’t keep up: he was just dragging me forward.

A dark figure dashed in front of us, crossing from one alley to the next. Red came to a barreling halt. I crashed into him, bounced off and landed on my ass.

It was in that moment that I realized that neither of us were armed. 

We’d gone to dinner. We’d just gone to dinner, hot dogs from Haven Brothers’, because it was Red’s favorite.

“Are you okay?” Red was crouched beside me, concern etched in his voice and across his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I insisted.

He kissed me then. It was just a quick thing, but ever since the first time I kissed Red, it has always made me feel invincible.

“So what is it, then?” I asked.

“Vampire.”

“Oh, grand.  So those are real. How do we kill it?”

“We should move,” as he was pulling me to my feet.

“How do we kill it?” I asked again.

“He’s old and tough and kinda pissed at me.”

“Do I even want to know why it’s pissed at you?”

“I killed its spawn; five or six of ‘em,” Red seemed almost sheepish.

“Well, killing vampires without me....”

“Boy, it was before we even met.”

“Don’t you ‘boy’ me,” I punched at this shoulder.  “I will always be 1 year, 6 months and 4 days older than you.”

“C’mon, I think I have a plan.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Second and Bradbury.”

“Second and... ohhhhh!”

Red flashed me a grin, seeing that I understood, and grabbed my hand again. We took off at a run.

As we were rounding the corner towards Third, just scant blocks from our destination, that same dark figure dropped from a low rooftop. We were in a small alley between the avenues and it blocked the way forward.

Red skidded to a stop and I was able to keep my feet this time as I pulled up short behind him.

“Hello, Red.”

It spoke in a throaty whisper that somehow carried and echoed strangely. And when it said Red’s name it uttered it with a sardonic twist.

Red didn’t speak. It was almost a rule that he never spoke to monsters.  He did step forward, always protective, shielding me from its view.

“I see your little boyfriend there, Red. I think I’ll rip his balls off and feed them to you.”

Red glanced back at me and rolled his eyes to show what he thought of the threat. I was pretty sure that wasn’t just bravado, but I had never heard Red refer to a monster as tough before. And he usually had his swords or some other exotic weapon.

I’d seen him fight without weapons before, I knew he didn’t need them. But this was a vampire and I had no idea what it was capable of, what was fact, what was fiction.

The figure was moving now, coming closer, seeming to glide rather than walk or run. But it was closing rapidly.

“Go,” Red said to me and quickly brought my hand to his lips. “Second and Bradbury.”

Red spun away from me and launched himself into combat. Using all the superhuman speed and agility I knew he was capable of, he was a blur to my eyes as he closed the distance to the vampire and fired off an acrobatic series of punches and kicks  -- weaving and dodging as the vampire parried, feinted and counterattacked.

Red was faster, more agile. But the vampire WAS tough: it shrugged off the blows that Red landed. The vampire’s own attacks lumbered at Red with bone shattering force. Grace kept Red deflecting and dodging those blows, but it was never going to be enough. A seemingly glancing blow off Red’s chin rocked him and gave the vampire an opening to follow up with a strike from his talons. Blood flew as it raked across Red’s chest.

“Red!” I screamed.

He glanced at me for a micro-second: “Fuller! Run!”

There have been times that I was able to help Red in a fight, but I had to accept that this was not one of them. I took to my heels, back the way we had come, taking the longer way around which would lead me directly to Second Avenue. I prayed, as I ran, that Red would be able to execute his plan, whatever it was.

There was a streetlight overlooking the corner, but there wasn’t much to overlook: Second and Bradbury was a vacant lot, overtaken by weeds and scattered rubble. I didn’t know where I should stand or what I could do other than to wait.

The seconds began to stretch, impossibly elongated, measured only by the thunderous pounding of my heart.

I only realized I was holding my breath when I saw Red sprint into view and I exhaled explosively. He came skidding up to me, gave me a quick, one armed hug and shooed me away as he crossed back out of the light thrown by the streetlight. I could see, just down the block, the dark shape of the vampire approaching at a sedate pace.

The vampire drew perilously close and Red lunged: feinting left, going right. And stumbled.

The vampire leapt -- but Red was already rolling to his feet, a convincing feint; he caught the vampire in mid leap, and whirling, threw him towards the vacant lot.

Somewhere over the sidewalk, between the curb and the edge of the lot, the vampire’s skin began to smoke and blister. Red was already in the air, following up his throw with a devastating kick to the sternum that sent the vampire flying further into the rubble strewn lot.

Red snatched up a bit of refuse, a sign advertising a fundraising drive to rebuild St Rocco’s of the Sacred Blood. He struck the vampire full in the face and the wooden support holding the sign snapped, leaving Red holding a jagged spike of wood.

The vampire was howling and shrieking the most inhuman sounds I have ever heard as its clothes began to burst into flames.

What Red had told me about the corner at Second and Bradbury was that the tiny church, St Rocco’s of the Sacred Blood, had been destroyed by fire. The congregation had tried to rebuild, but was never able to raise the necessary funds.  The church was gone, but it had never been deconsecrated.  So it was still...

“Hallowed ground, suck head!” Red bellowed as he brandished his makeshift stake and drove it through the flaming vampire’s chest and into the earth.

Surprisingly, it didn’t burn for very long.

I joined Red as it collapsed into smoldering ash. Draping my arm over his shoulders and delivering a kiss to his cheek I said: “We really gotta work on those catch phrases, Red.”

The End

Word Count: 1257

Inspiration: The contest theme, of course.  It's been awhile since I told a story, and I’ve never actually told a full story about these characters (though they’ve been journeying through my art for years).  The contest theme immediately gave me an idea; I had the opening line and more than a vague idea of where the story went and how it ended. I just had to fill in the middle.

In Memoriam: Randy P. Connor

Word Count: 2649
Hours Spent: 9
Software Used: DAZ Studio 4 With IRAY, Photoshop CS6 and above, Google Docs