The Cowboy and Vampire
Chapter 32

Lenny never saw his assailant. His eyes had been on Tucker and half blinded from the explosion. Judging from the strength of the arms now clamped around him, it had to be a Vampire that was dragging him over backward.
They landed with a bone-jarring thud and he planted his feet and drove his head up and back, feeling the Vampire's nose give way with a crunch. He was dropped involuntarily but as he spun around with the rifle in hand, the undead combatant was smiling through this minor pain. He thrust a massive hand out and crushed the barrel as easily as clay turning it up and away from his chest.
Lenny let it go and darted out toward the temporary safety of the rocks and cactus, praying that no mines were still active. He heard a laugh and then heavy footfalls behind him, closing fast. He fished a Browning Hi-Power out of his gear vest and emptied it behind him without turning to gauge the effects, knowing already the nine-millimeter ammo would be practically useless.
Just for fun, he threw the empty pistol behind him and almost laughed when he heard it strike something solid and elicit a groan of pain. The footsteps drew even closer and, though he was running his fastest, he knew the Vampire was toying with him. At the last second, he dropped into a ball and felt the shins of his pursuer collide with his sides, tripping the Vampire and sending him flailing and stumbling face-first into a large saguaro cactus. There was a howl of pain as the needles sank into undead flesh, but Lenny didn't linger to gloat, he was already loping farther into the rocks and shadows.
In the deep pockets of his combat vest there was a lone thermite grenade. Against a highly mobile target, it was practically useless. There was no way to keep it close to the target without toasting himself. Then his fingers closed around a roll of duct tape and an idea came to him. He undipped the Vietnam-style tomahawk from his belt and leaped over a rock.
The Vampire was still silent, though enraged. His nose was broken and would take all night to heal. The cactus needles stung like hell. And he was hungry. He was looking forward to feeding on this little man and scented the night wind. Things got a little confusing out here in the sand, but the Adamite was close. He leaped over a wind-smoothed boulder, landing softly. His hand streaked out to Lenny's shoulder and he spun him around.
Lenny turned with the impetus, raised the brutally shaped hatchet overhead, and drove the diamond-pointed edge between the Vampire's eyes. The Vampire dropped to his knees, stunned. His glazed eyes refocused in time to watch Lenny pull the pin from the grenade taped firmly to the handle of the hatchet.
"Oh, shit," the Vampire said, clawing at the deadly bundle.
"Yep," Lenny said, diving away and covering his eyes. There was a whoosh of ignition and he turned to see half a body, from the waist down, slowly topple over through a bank of chemical smoke.
Alone and weaponless, save for a knife, he eyed the now-distant compound and the eerie flicker of gun light dying out within.
Parallel to him and a little over a mile away, the black helicopters were disgorging a swarm of Vampires that ran screaming toward the now-open gates of the compound.
"Christ," he muttered, "looks like Lawrence of Arabia." He broke into a trot toward the idled choppers.
Amidst the din of the battle, the brief flare out in the darkness was lost to Tucker, who was feeling the first real loss of the combat. A numbness filled him as he imagined living to tell June that it was his fault Lenny was gone. He crouched down in the shadows, the rage now vanished and nothing coming to take its place. He watched the enemy pour through the gate like water from a cup, watched Lazarus, his massive frame clearly visible through the sea of bodies, throw himself into the breach.
In the midst of this undead engine of siege came Julius, the battle reducing him to little more than an animal himself. A violent, powerful animal with a cunning mind, but an animal nevertheless. His hands flashed through flesh and bone, tearing and snapping, and all who crossed him died or else shrank back. All except Lazarus.
Separated by the sea of bodies locked in immortal combat around them, their eyes met. Lazarus, standing like a mountain of retribution in the swirling chaos, saw his most ancient of enemies and began a laborious approach. His eyes burned brightly as he made his way forward, bodies of attackers tossed carelessly away like firewood. Julius snarled and rolled his eyes, redirecting his whirlwind of destruction in a straight line toward Lazarus. Vampires fell under his onslaught like wheat before a scythe, until the two stood face to face, only a dozen yards of casualty-strewn sand separating them.
Lazarus threw himself like a battering ram into his lifelong enemy, his very frame transformed into a weapon. Julius staggered back with a snarl and a look of stunned surprise. Lazarus reared over him and dropped again, like a giant eagle. Again and again the ancient foes struck, clothes shredding and flesh tearing away to reveal bone and muscle. Any mortal would have died a dozen times, but the two kings continued on.
The other fighting died down as all eyes turned to the chaos before them. Elita stood on the porch, her hands bloody from stacking up the dead before her. The savagery painted on her face began to dissolve into awe as she watched Lazarus and Julius. Lizzie walked slowly out to lean on her, her body bowed and a look of exhaustion on her face. Drawn to the sight of her, Tucker raced past the soldiers stilled by the spectacle and regained her side. He took her hand.
"How you doing?"
"Weak."
"If Lazarus takes him, I think it'll be over. Without Julius, the others will leave."
She squeezed his hand.
Lazarus had the upper hand. His weight was wearing on the much smaller Julius, who was on one knee and bracing for the next charge.
"At last," Lazarus bellowed. "After all these centuries, it comes down to this. A simple contest of strength." He drew back and then threw himself forward, hands outstretched.
"Nothing is ever that simple," Julius hissed, pulling a golden crucifix from inside his tattered clothes. One end had been hammered to a dull point and as Lazarus descended, Julius thrust it up and into his heart.
"Nooo," Lizzie screamed from the porch.
Lazarus staggered back, staring at the holy icon with a morbid curiosity. The night was completely silent as he looked over to the porch. "Ahh, I'm sorry," he whispered to Lizzie. "I failed you. I never thought..."
He pitched face down into the sand, his own weight driving the instrument of death farther in, until it protruded from his back, glistening in the half light.
"How quaint," Julius said as he stood, unconsciously rearranging the shambles of his clothes. "He does still believe."
In the silence that followed, Alexandra howled pitifully and threw herself toward her fallen master, but Rex blocked her way and Tucker reached down to grab her collar. A roar broke out from Julius' men, who set upon their foes with redoubled vigor. Julius strolled casually toward the house, his damaged flesh already slowly regenerating.
"Well, wasn't that entertaining? Elita, I trust you are well?"
"Never better," she replied.
"You know, there is something that has been bothering me," he continued. "Maybe you could set me straight. Just whose side are you on? I sent you out to kill Sully and yet I see him cowering in the shadows there. I can't imagine him getting the better of you. So, tell me, whose side are you on?"
"Yours, of course."
He nodded. "Just getting close to the prey, I suppose?"
"Exactly."
"And all this?" He gestured at the bodies around them. "For the sake of show, I suppose?"
"I wasn't sure you could beat him."
"And if I didn't, I guess I can't blame you for wanting the power yourself. How else would you move up the social ladder? Poor little girl, always from the wrong side of the tracks." He smiled at Tucker and Lizzie. "At any rate, I know you well enough to know you are on my side now, since I have won." He motioned and she smiled and moved into his arms. "I did miss your company. You can be so amusing."
"You traitorous little bitch," Tucker hissed, swinging a shotgun up.
"Tucker, no," Lizzie said, stopping the arc with the palm of her hand.
"Yes, wait," Julius agreed. "Perhaps you could kill both of us, but I rather doubt it. The potential of the uncreation is racing through my blood. But even if you did, my men have strict orders." He pointed at the multitude of faces gathered beyond the house. "If I die, so will you, your father, Sully the dog..."he paused when he noticed Alexandra, "dogs, I should say And," he added dramatically, "Elizabeth, who as an immortal, can endure the rigors of rape and torture for a very, very long time." He smiled magnanimously. "I have given you a great deal of time to play out your little games and now they have come to an end. I have won. The power will be mine and your lives are forfeit. All that remains are the details of your dying."
He kissed Elita lightly on the cheek. "I rather fancy the feel of world dominion."
His gloating was interrupted as the first of a chain of explosions rocked the distant choppers, each one igniting the one next to it.
The firestorm lit up their faces and dazzled their eyes, and as Julius turned his head in annoyance, Elita twined her fingers through his hair and jerked his head back savagely. "Run," she screamed and then plunged her nails deep into his exposed throat. Julius pitched backward with a shout, dragging them both into the crowd of surprised Vampires who closed around them like a curtain.
Tucker seized Lizzie by the arm and dragged her inside, with Dad and Sully close behind and bolted the iron door in place. "To the tunnels," Tucker shouted. "Downstairs."
"We have to help her," Lizzie cried, pulling her arm free.
"Too late," Sully said, grabbing her by the waist and scooting her forward. "If we linger, she dies in vain."
Already the door was echoing the sounds of forced entry and a clamor of voices could be heard outside.
Through the house they fled, down the stairs and into the chambers below. Past the bodies of the dead and dying, past the occasional live representative of the undead still lingering in the shadows.
Tucker steered them through the maze of corridors and burst breathless into the darkened garden where the pool shimmered faintly. "Through here."
"Through where?" Lizzie asked.
"The water. It leads to the tunnel." He helped her jump in and then handed a reluctant Alexandra to her. They disappeared and Sully climbed in next. Rex watched the whole thing with bewilderment and balked when Tucker reached for him. "You have to go, you idiot dog. Want I should leave you here with the Vampires?"
Rex didn't answer or move, so Tucker motioned Sully through. "You're next, old man."
"This is a good set of clothes, Tucker."
"Get in." He pushed Dad, who fell sputtering into the pool. "Take Rex."
"Come on, you dumb mutt," Dad called, but Rex backed away and eyed them like they were crazy.
"He never did much like water. Go on, I'll drag him through."
Dad disappeared and Tucker grabbed Rex by the collar and dragged him to the edge of the pool. He climbed in and his grip loosened. Rex darted out of reach and sat down, trembling. Tucker stood chest-deep in the water and shook his head. "What the hell are you doing?" He pulled a pair of grenades out of his pocket and laid them on the edge. "See these. I'm gonna pull the pins and take off and so help me God, if you're still sitting there, you're gonna get blowed up." He waited, but Rex sat motionless. "I don't need this. There's plenty of other shit going on, and I shouldn't have to be talking to you like a little kid. Now come on." Rex didn't budge. "I ain't joking. Once I pull these pins you got ten seconds to make up your mind."
Rex lay down and put his head on his paws.
"Aww, for Chrissakes, Rex," Tucker said as he crawled out, dripping water. There was a roar outside, and the thunder of footsteps.
With a yelp, Rex shot past Tucker and made a mighty leap into the water, disappearing. Tucker pulled the pins from the grenades, tossed them toward the entrance, and dove into the churning water.
SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO
October 30, 2001, 11:22 P.M.
Julius stood in the rubble of the hallway, scattered fires burning around him. He felt curiously weak and yet a strange, luminous power flowed through him that left him disconcerted. He massaged the side of his neck, which was savaged and raw.
Elita's attack had left him drained to the point that he could not, as yet, sense Elizabeth's whereabouts. He knew they had retreated deep into the caverns and had destroyed the entrance to this particular cave. Were they waiting breathlessly on the other side, he wondered, or was there another means of escape?
He reached out with his mind, felt nothing of Elizabeth. Instead, he felt a weakness, and crouched down disoriented. There was something else. Voices.
He heard the voices for the first time. Faint, but there nonetheless.
They were laughing. Mocking him.
He pressed a knuckle to his temple and fought against the ache blossoming there. The ache and the voices.
And the whisper of insanity.
He must find her. He would find her.