Cpl. Arthur Eisenstein: Viet Nam Vampire (6)
I’m as surprised as Chappy, as I find the strength to pull myself to my feet. His eyes go wide as I extract the stake from my chest and fling it away.
So wooden stakes through the heart don’t kill vampires. I’ll have to write a book on that someday.
But not today. Right now, I want him to run. Rage begins to boil within me, and all restraint seems to melt like Saigon butter. Chappy sees the change in my expression and gets the message. He takes off into the jungle.
I give him a few moments to be sporting, then fly ahead of him, stopping directly in his path. The heel of my palm cracks against Chappy’s nose, dropping him on his ass. I’m quickly on top of him. I grab his hair and pull his head to the side, exposing his neck.
He’s crying, “Don’t… Don’t…â?
Then I hear them. They’re still a way off, but they’re all around and closing. I pull Chappy to his feet.
“I could’ve had you,â? I growl, “Any time I wanted.â?
I send him crashing through a bamboo grove, then take off into the jungle.