it in his chest as we met, but in doing so, I would be knocked backward—and the two of us would be sent tumbling down the stairs. As we wrestled, the second vampire would strike Speed and Lamon above. Lamon would panic (this being his first hunt) and empty his revolvers wildly, but his bullets would miss the mark. It would therefore fall to Speed and his rifle to silence the creature, which he would do by shooting it cleanly through the heart and head. The noise would rouse Mrs. Davis and the children from sleep, and they would scurry into the hall at precisely the moment I freed my ax from the first vampire’s chest and took his head at the base of the staircase. Their screams would bring the frail, half-blind Jefferson Davis stumbling out of his own bedroom, upon which Speed and Lamon would shoot him to death. With our sincere apologies to his family, we would then run off into the night.
But on reaching the top of the stairs, Abe found nothing. Every door was open. Every room empty.
Could we be in the wrong place? Could Davis have suddenly and inexplicably risen from his bed and departed for Washington? No—no, Henry’s instructions had been meticulous. This was the house. This was the intended date and time of our strike. It was all wrong.
The truth now formed in my mind. Oh, that I had ignored my instincts! That I had come at all! Damn Henry’s rippling water! How could I have been so reckless? How could I have ventured my life with three sons at home? A wife who was already fragile from grief? No… I would not die tonight. I refused.
“Out,” whispered Abe. “Out at once—and make ready your weapons… we are betrayed.”
We bounded down the stairs toward the front door, but on reaching it found it locked from the outside. The clapping of wood against wood now surrounded us as storm shutters were slammed shut over every window, and a chorus of hammers pounded nails into the house, ensuring they could not be opened. “Upstairs!” I cried. But here, too, the shutters had been closed and fastened.
“They’ve trapped us!” said Lamon.
“Yes,” said Speed. “However, all things being equal, I’d rather be in here with us than out there with
Abe said nothing. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they smelled the smoke; before they felt the heat of the fire as it ate through the walls and floorboards. As if answering this thought, Lamon exclaimed, “Look!” and pointed to the flickering orange light coming through the crack beneath the front door.
They had no choice.
Whatever horrors waited outside, they couldn’t be worse than certain death by burning. The flames were now visible all around them through the slats in the storm shutters.
I had a plan. Once through the door, we would remain shoulder to shoulder, three across, and charge straight ahead until we reached the tree line. I would take the center, using my ax to cut down whatever came at us from the front. Speed and Lamon would be on my right and left, shooting whatever came at us from the sides. It was a plan almost certain to fail (based on how quickly the shutters had closed around us, there were at least a dozen men, vampires, or some combination of the two outside), but it was the only one we had. I lifted my ax and steadied myself. “Gentlemen,” I said.
The front door flew open with a single blow of Abe’s ax, sending smoke and hot ash flying away from the porch.
The heat was immediate. It drove us back at first, blistering our skin and very nearly setting our clothes alight. When my eyes adjusted to the flames on the front porch (by now fully engulfed), I saw that the fallen door had provided a narrow path across. I held my breath and led the way, hurrying over the door, down the front steps and onto the grass below. No sooner had my feet touched the ground than I realized the hopelessness of our effort. For in the light of the burning house behind us, I discerned no fewer than twenty figures ahead—some aiming rifles, others wearing dark glasses to shield their eyes from the flames. Living men and vampires—conspiring to cut off all hope of escape. One of the living, an older gentleman, stepped forward and stood but ten feet from me.
“Mr. Lincoln, I presume,” he said.
“Mr. Davis,” said Abe.
“I’d be much obliged,” said Davis, “if your companions would put those irons down. I’d hate for one of my men to startle and fill the three of you with holes.”
Abe turned to Speed and Lamon and gave a nod. Both dropped their guns.
“The big one is concealing another pistol,” said one of the vampires behind Davis. “He’s thinking about reaching for it right now.”
“Well, if he does,” said Davis, “then I suggest you kill him.” Davis turned back to Abe. “Your ax as well, if you please.”
“If it’s all the same, Mr. Davis,” said Abe, “I don’t expect to live but a few moments longer, and I would very much like to die holding the ax my daddy gave me as a boy. Surely one of your men will shoot me if I raise it in anger.”
Davis smiled. “I like you, Mr. Lincoln—I do. Kentucky born, same as me. Self-made. As fine an orator as ever lived—and dedicated, my Lord! Coming all the way down here just to kill a man! Leaving your family alone and unprotected in Springfield… no, sir, let no man speak ill of your convictions. I could sing your praises till morning, sir—but some of my associates are rather sensitive to sunlight, and… well, I’m afraid we just don’t have that long.
“Tell me,” said Davis, “with your many fine qualities and famous mind, how is it that you’ve arrived on the wrong side of this fight?”
“I?” asked Abe. “I must have misheard you, sir—for of the two of us, only one is conspiring against his fellow man.”
“Mr. Lincoln, vampires are superior to man, just as man is superior to the Negro. It’s the natural order of things, you see. Surely we agree on this much, at least?”
“I agree that
“Am I wrong, therefore, to recognize the inevitability of their rule? Am I wrong to side with the greater power in the coming war? Sir, it brings me no pleasure to think of white men in cages. But if it must come to pass—if vampires are to be the kings of men—then let us work with them while time remains. Let us regulate the thing— limit it to the Negro, and to the undesirables of our own race.”
“Ah,” said Abe. “And when the blood of Negroes is no longer sufficient; when the ‘undesirables’ of our race have been exhausted—tell me, Mr. Davis… who then shall your ‘kings’ feed upon?”
Davis said nothing.
“America,” Abe continued, “was forged in the blood of those who opposed tyranny. You and your allies… would you not see it delivered into the hands of tyrants?”
“America is thataway, Mr. Lincoln,” laughed Davis, pointing north. “You’re in Mississippi now.” He stepped forward, to the very edge of where Abe’s ax could reach if he chose to swing it. “And let us speak plainly, sir. We’re
Davis paused a moment, offered a slight bow, and retreated. Three of the living men now stepped to the front of the group—each with a rifle aimed at us. Each waiting for Davis to give the order.
“Damn it, Abe,” said Lamon. “Are we just gonna stand here and do nothing?”
“I’m wearing a watch,” Speed told the executioners, his voice cracking. “It belonged to my grandfather, I—I ask only that someone see it back to my wife in Louisville.”
“Well, if I’m dying,” said Lamon, “I’m dying with a gun in my hand.” He reached for his coat.
“Boys,” said Abe to his friends, “I’m sorry for dragging you into th—”
The crack of rifles filled the night before he could finish.
