Chapter 5: Revolution, Part 3

Outside, I heard screaming as I struggled to open the door. Men screamed as they flew from their horses and thudded deftly against the house and upon the ground. A few of the men inside jumped out the back window, while another pushed me forcefully out of the way and opened the front door. Immediately, he was shot down in cold blood by a British soldier. Crimson blood spewed from his chest within the cold night air.

I quickly flew to my father's side as I rushed out the door. His starched white shirt was drenched in maroon blood, muted in the moonlight. I held his head in my lap as the fighting continued, for he was in no condition to be moved.

"Father ..." I struggled with the words, but they wouldn't move past the lump forming within my throat. Tears coursed down my cheeks and onto my father's shirt, mixing with his blood.

"Abigail, run!" Father said as loudly as he could, but it was more of a whisper. Crimson blood trickled from the side of his mouth. He coughed, and more blood spewed forth.

"Shush, Father. I am not leaving you," I choked out through my tears. The fighting continued all around, but I only saw my father cradled within my arms. "Don't speak."

"Abigail, I love you," Father began, stopping, coughing up more blood. "A father couldn't be more proud than I. Now ... I want you to run."

"Shush, don't say that." I couldn't leave him. I was about to tell him that he would live, that he would recover from his wounds, but the blood staining his shirt and trickling from the side of his mouth told me differently. "Father, no daughter could be prouder of you than I. I'm glad you are my father."

Suddenly, an excruciatingly sharp pain pierced my back, and as my father drew his last breath, I kissed his cheek, stumbled to my feet and tried to run. Another sharp pain pierced my back and it was then that I realized I was shot. Looking through the fighting, with his sights lined at me, was Corporal Clark. He shot again and I fell to the ground as somewhere in the distance, I heard Fredrick loudly scream, "No! Abigail!"

As I lay on the ground, I watched everything move in slow motion. The ground was hard and cold against my face as Fredrick moved faster than lightning, snapping the necks and ripping out the hearts of the British soldiers. For many, the sight of their own beating heart was the last thing they saw before they died. A moment later, everything was quiet and still.

I must be dying, I thought as I slowly closed my eyes. I seemed to drift, hovering between this world and the next.

"Abigail," an echoing voice in my ear consoled. "Abigail, don't die." Then Fredrick drew me into his arms and a moment later, I was flying. I was incoherent as I looked around and the cold settled into my bones. The wind whipped past, and I knew that I would not live to see the night's end. I would end with it. Soon, I was lying on a quilt, and I remember the smell of the soft down pillow under my head, caressing my cheek. I felt no pain.

I knew I was nearly dead, as my eyes slowly began to close.

Somewhere in the distance, Fredrick was talking to me, but I could not hear nor understand. I was floating, floating on a cloud. Death had come for me, and I was ready. I had lived my life, although short that it was. I saw my father, smiling, waiting for me ... but Fredrick had other plans.

Suddenly, Fredrick's voice was in my ear, telling me things I couldn't quite hear nor understand. Then, I thought he was bending close to kiss me goodbye when he bit my neck. I wondered what was happening, what he was doing as he bit my wrists, ankles, and arms. Then a sharp, searing pain moved through me like fire burning within my veins, threatening to overtake my body.

My heart beat frantically within my chest, and the pain burned me to the core, moving over my body. Had I died and gone to Hell? What had I done in my life to deserve this? I remembered hearing horror stories about Hell as a child, but this burning felt like someone was peeling off my skin, or worse yet, burning it off. Oh, God, please don't force me to endure an eternity of this hell, I begged within my mind as the pain seared my body.

"Kill me! Please, do it now!" I begged Fredrick, as I slowly regained consciousness.

"No, Abigail," he said softly in my ear. "You're becoming a vampire. You feel pain, but you will heal quickly, and you will never die, at least not of natural causes ..."

His voice trailed off, but I paid no attention as I burned. At first, I didn't believe it. How could vampires really exist, right under our noses? How could this be true? But as the pain began to dissipate, and my heartbeat slowed, I knew it was true. The pain began to leave, but replacing it was an eternal thirst. As the pain faded, I slowly opened my eyes. My heartbeat slowed and my breathing became regular.

"Has the burning stopped?" Fredrick asked, and for the first time, I really saw his face. My vision was so acute I could see every line, every curve of his face with amazing clarity.

"Almost," I answered calmly, still lying down. The pain had dissipated enough for me to speak coherently. "No need to kill me now."

"That's my girl," Fredrick said with a smile.

I tried to smile, but failed miserably. I decided to talk to take my mind off the pain that still lingered within my body. "Did you get those bastards?"

"Abigail!" Fredrick exclaimed, laughing at my word choice. In those days, women never used words so profane. "But, yes, I got them."

"Good," I answered, beginning to regain control over my fingers and toes. Then, as the pain left my hands I clenched and relaxed each, one by one, and a thought occurred to me. "My father?"

Fredrick just shook his head, but said nothing.

Remembering my father and what he meant to me, I turned my head so Fredrick couldn't see and let the cold tears slide slowly down my face, drenching the pillow. Those were the first tears I cried as a vampire. It wouldn't be the last, but I assure you, I made others shed plenty more.

Fredrick later told me that the Revolutionary War began on that day, my first day as a vampire. On that day, the Battles of Lexington and Concord were the first of the war ... and we were right in the middle of it all. But that was many years ago.

The lights of the freeway brought me from my reverie, flashing brightly, neon reminders of the present. As I looked around, I realized we were on I-95 and crossing into New York.

"I must have been in my own little world for a while," I said to Rick, who was still driving. Vampires never grew tired, but needed to rejuvenate from time to time, like going into a coma, or into hibernation.

"You were out," Rick replied, glancing at me with a smirk. "And I thought you were tough," he teased.

"Tougher than you, pretty boy," I replied with a smile.

Rick laughed. "Now that, I do not doubt!"

Looking at Rick and thinking back to that day, he had not changed one bit over more than 230 years. Amazing. And his personality hadn't changed either. He was still the same caring person now as he was then.

"Rick, can I ask you something?" I asked, watching him in the dim light.

He half smiled, and looked at me from the corner of his eye. "You know you can. What's up?"

I sat sideways in my seat with my arm over the back, still watching him. I leaned the side of my head on my hand. Rick waited. He was always so patient; nothing like me. "Rick, why did you do it?"

In the dim street lamps that passed, Rick's eyebrows pulled together. Actually, I have 20/20 vision in the dark. All vampires do. His eyebrows smoothed as he understood my meaning. "Make you a vampire, you mean?"

I was still watching him as he drove. "Yeah, why'd you do it? Why didn't you just let me die?"

Rick's face grew serious again. Over the last 230 years, I'd never asked him that question. "To save your life. I couldn't bear to watch you die."

I nodded, understanding. Rick was the one person I could be vulnerable with. After that day, he took me under his wing, cared for me, and taught me the ins and outs of being a vampire ... a good vampire. And here he was, still caring for me now. "Thank you, Rick."

He smiled a half smile, shaking his head in disbelief. "What brought all this on?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just thinking."

After a moment, Rick answered, taking his eyes off the road to look at me, "You're welcome." He smiled and shook his head. "Now get some rest. We're almost there."

I looked at the clock. Had we been driving for about six hours? Then a thought occurred to me. "Where are we going, anyway?"

Rick smiled broadly, already knowing what my reaction would be. He was clearly enjoying this. "Cooperstown."

I rolled my eyes. "New York?" I asked, incredulous.

Rick laughed, eyeing the expression on my face. "Is there any other?"

"Oh, Heaven help us all," I replied. Small town, USA. Great. "We're going to need it." Then, I threw my head back against the seat, trying to block out Rick's peals of laughter.