Home
The tapping of a hammer woke up Recon, who lay in the lay in the corner watching his owner and friend work. The huge Saint Bernard was used to the noise and even the strange odors that filled the shop, when you live with a master gunsmith you learned to adapt, even if you are a dog. But Recon had been there for hours and other needs forced him out of the corner and over to Andy's bench.
"Woof." Said the Saint Bernard.
Andy stared at the blued metal, a hammer in one hand and a small chisel in the other, With the finest of touches, he set the point of the chisel down on the gun's frame and continued etching away on the slide of the pistol. The fine art of engraving guns was a skill that Andy didn't get to practice very often. More often that not, his customers wanted repairs or modifications to existing guns, Andy regretted that, for of all the gunsmithing skills he possessed, engraving and gold inlay was one of his favorites.
The gun that had been commissioned was both simple and complex at the same time. It was a presentation Colt 1911, a gun Andy was very familiar with because of his years with Colt. Andy had already tuned the gun to a fine point because there was no way that any gun that left his shop wouldn't be 100 percent functional. The Inlay on each side of the slide was another story. The gun was meant as a gift for the mayor of Lon Angeles and the engraving was two different views of the downtown skyline. On the right was the city from the north and on the left was a view from the beach. Andy found it interesting to recreate the same scene from two different angles.
"Woof." Recon repeated.
"Just a second furball," Andy said. With a sharp flick of the wrist, the hammer met the chisel and the last line of the 666 building was completed. Andy flipped the magnifying glasses up on to his forehead and set the chisel and hammer down, he looked up at the clock only to find that he'd been working on the gun for the past eleven hours. "I'll just bet I can guess what you want." Andy headed to the door and let Recon out to do his business. Andy arched his back, feeling the joints pop as he did, "Not a bad idea," he said to Recon as he rolled towards the shop's small bathroom.
As Andy came back he found Recon sitting by the cut down 55-gallon drum that served as the dog's food dish. "You've got to be kidding me. You ate this morning!"
Recon just stared at Andy with deeply saddened brown eyes as if to say, "but I'm just a growing puppy, I need more food than that."
"Ok, Ok." the gunsmith conceded as he headed over to the locked storage room. Fishing for the keys he remembered why he kept the dog food under lock and key. The first week that he'd had Recon, he'd come home to find the fifty pound bag of dog food that he'd purchased when he'd picked up Recon from the pound was nothing but scraps of paper littered all over the floor of the kitchen. Much to Andy's surprise when he went to clean up, he didn't find a single piece of food, just paper on the floor, and a silly grin on Recon's face. Ever since then, the dog food was always locked up.
Andy filled a three-pound coffee can from the large sack of dog food and carefully sealed the can with the lid, Again a bitter lesson replayed in his head. He'd gone to feed the dog and Recon in his never-ending quest to please his friend tried to save Andy the trip to the dog dish. Recon had jumped up on Andy and started eating; never thinking that waiting might have been a better idea. True to form, the shit hit the fan. Andy, Recon and the wheelchair all fell over. Once the shock of falling was done, Andy started laughing so hard that the dog quit eating and began licking Andy's face with a dog food flavored tongue, lesson learned.
Andy dumped the dog food in the drum and before the last crunchy piece could join the pile, Recon was crunching away like there was no tomorrow. "Three more hours buddy, then we go home."
Three hours later the shop was filled with two sounds: The hammer hitting the chisel and Recon snoring in his corner. Andy hadn't made as much progress as he'd have liked to. The First Interstate Bank building was giving him fits. The building itself was simple enough; it was the name and the logo that had nearly driven him to quit. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but the gold inlay that would be applied later would cause the engraving to stand out like a neon sign. Andy wasn't willing to omit the fine details that would be noticed if they weren't there, so it took him more than two hours to get the lettering and the logo just right.
Andy pulled the headband off his head and rubbed his severely tired eyes. "That's it… I'm not gonna get anything else done tonight." Andy hadn't noticed that it wasn't night anymore, three AM is early morning. "Recon." He bellowed. "Let's go home."
Fortune is a fickle bitch; in fact in Andy experience fortune was the embodiment of Murphy's Law… If it can go wrong, it will. If it does go wrong, it will do it at the worst possible place and time. Tonight was no exception. Andy and Recon were driving through the park heading for the freeway and home when the van died.
Andy cursed as he muscled the van over to the side of the road. With the power steering out the van was a little difficult to turn but Andy hardly noticed the difference. Years of powering the wheelchair had left their mark. Andy's arms and chest would have put many Olympic wrestlers to shame, so it didn't really bother him. What was bothering him was that it was 3 AM and he just knew that it would be after dawn before he could get a tow truck to come pick him up. "Maybe it's something simple that I can fix," He wondered out loud.
A knocking on the glass and a "Hey Mister you need a hand", interrupted Andy's thoughts
Andy rolled the window down. "Sure kid" he answered cautiously.
"Cool dude, pop the hood and I'll take a look."
Andy reached down and released the hood, then headed for the chair lift. There was something that just wasn't right, A tingling in the back of his head. If Andy didn't know better he'd have sworn that another immortal was around somewhere nearby. Before he opened the door Andy checked the old Smith & Wesson and made sure that the Gladius was at hand.
Andy rolled around the front of the van and instead of one young man, now there were four and the feeling in the back of Andy's head became a screaming child crying for its mother.
"Damn Chad," one of the men said to the one that had offered to help, "We don't even have to chase dinner." The speaker headed towards Andy.
Before Andy could get the .44 out, Recon, growling more like a wolf than a pet tore into the group. Andy drew the .44 and fired two quick shots into the chest of the charging man. The 250-grain hollow points staggered the man and threw him to the ground. Andy counted that as a kill and changed his sight picture to the next in line only to be grabbed from behind.
"That hurt you crippled bastard." With the last word out the mans face vamped out, "Now It gonna hurt you a hell of a lot more. Andy never got a chance to respond to the threat. The vampire exploded into dust with and arrow sticking through his heart.
The Archer had arrived.
It was only seconds later when another arrow flashed by Andy's shoulder and another of the attackers was dusted. He heard Recon growling at the intruders, the Saint Bernard had no fear of the men that attacked his friend. The large dog charged the closest vampire knocking the demon to the ground. Like a pitbull the dog's snapped his jaws around the vampires throat, unlike a pit bull Recon had the muscle and the weight to toss the demon around like a rag doll.
"Recon No," Andy yelled. But the dog was beyond control. Recon shook the vampire back and forth digging his teeth in deeper and deeper, growling the entire time. The Saint Bernard clamped his jaws down even further and then tried to toss the vampire over his shoulder. With the sickening crunch of bones being crushed the vampire's body went flying but its head dropped at Recon's feet. In milliseconds it burst into a dust cloud, leaving Recon shaking his head and sneezing.
The last vampire showed a little more sense that its brethren and ran through the darkened park trying to escape. It didn't stop till it was at the periphery of the park, more than 300 yards away. Hearing no sound of pursuit he changed back into his human face and pulled the collar of his leather jacket up around his ears and tried to look inconspicuous.
Back at the site of the fight Andy was getting angry. "Who the fuck are you," he demanded of the man rushing forward with a strange looking compound bow in his hands.
"One second." The stranger drew an arrow and in one smooth fluid motion, he knocked the arrow and let it fly.
Little more than a second later, Andy lost the strange feeling that had dogged him since the van broke down. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that that last creature was gone. Now was the time for answers. When the stranger turned around, he found himself staring down the barrel of the .44 that Andy always carried. "What are those," Andy said in a menacing tone of voice as he pointed to the layer of dust that now covered the park grass. "And who the fuck are you?" he added.
The Archer, his blue eyes locked on the immoral gunsmith, slowly slung his bow, carefully keeping his hand clear of the quiver, answered. "I'm afraid that those answers would take a while to answer."
Andy took a quick glance back at the broken van, "Well it seems that we have more than enough time." As Andy spoke, Recon padded over to his master and shook his coat violently, trying to get ride of the dust that now covered his fur. Almost without thought Andy reached down and scratched behind Recon's ears. Strangely enough it was this simple action that caused the Archer to trust the handicapped man.
"Who I am doesn't really matter, but you can call me by my nickname, the Archer." The Archer rubbed his face briskly with both hands. " I hope you have a vivid imagination my friend," he added. Those are," a brief grin crossed his face, "were, was are vampires." The Archer waited for a response.
Andy's mind raced. <Vampires, how the fuck can that he?> <How the fuck can there be immortals?> he debated to himself. "Ok say I buy that, you hunt these bastards?"
"Every fucking chance I get."
The vehemence of the Archer's tone rocked Andy back in his chair. You know this how? Andy inquired softly.
"In 1979 I was training for the U.S. Olympic team…"
The young man stood on the archery list with the bowstring drawn back to his ear. Sweat beaded his forehead as he concentrated on the second to the last flight of the night. Knock, as he was known to the members of the team, was a young man having turned 19 the day before.
Jessica, the girl that stood beside him was a typical California blonde. Her skin was incredibly tanned from hours baking in the sun on the beaches during summer vacations. Her hair was cut and styled in the fashion of Hollywood, her bangs nearly covering her eyes and the sides flared imitating a popular T.V star. "Can you hurry?" She whined in a little girl voice, hoping that they could still make the party at the beach.
"Shut up Jessica, I'm trying to shoot here." Almost imperceptibly Knock drew in a breath, let half of it out and released the bowstring. The bowstring slapped against the arm guard and the arrow struck the red on the target 100 meters away. "See!"
"Last one." Knock stole a quick kiss for luck as he drew another arrow from his quiver.
Jessica wandered around the back of the list failing to notice the single man lurking by the storage shed.
Talon, as he was known to the vampire community, only because he refused to tell anyone that his real name had been Peter Buggar, wasn't the bravest demon in the world, which would help to explain how he'd managed to survive for the past 300 years.
Talon wasn't bright, but he was cagey. That's how he figured that the archery list would be a good spot to hunt. He'd read about teams practicing for the Olympic trials and figured someone would stay late to get in a little more time on the range. He was right and he secretly rejoiced He didn't have to share this kill with any high and mighty master vampire.
Talon waited and watched and waited some more, drooling over the young lady that was watching the archer practice. Talon had picked up the taste for young women during that last 100 years. He thought they had a better flavor, plus the terror that they felt added a little spice to the mix.
When the young man headed away from the list it was time to move. He morphed into feeding mode and faster than the human eye could follow he pounce on the young girl, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her neck and the sweet blood began to flow.
Knock started the car and headed back to pick up Jessica. He was please with his performance and inside he was almost certain that he would have one of the spots that would be heading to Moscow next summer. As he headed towards the list he pulled the headlight on to avoid hitting anything. The headlights exposed the list he'd just left and much to his surprise Jessica was being held in a deadly embrace. Before he could say a word the attacked dropped Jessica's body and ran off, leaving her to hit the ground dead.
"Noo !!!" screamed knock as he reached for the bow in the back.
In the same fluid move that he used on the practice list, he knocked an arrow and let it fly.
Andy had been listening closely, but there remained a question. "How did you know that it was a vampire?"
A grim smile crossed the Archer's face, "That's the easy part, you see I'm from Santa Clara.
Home |
||
| |
||