Methodically, the sun crawled up over the Sierra’s and climbed into the sky over the Central Valley of California. It found Orange Cove, Dinuba, Reedley, Fowler, Selma and, ultimately, Kingsburg. At first, light shot across the sky like tiny microscopic lasers, coloring it, revealing the few lingering clouds overhead to the joggers and commuters who might happen to glance overhead. For those it was as if there had been some sort of race to see with which the darkened sky was lit. Each individual fragment of light darted across the sky toward a finish line somewhere on the other end of the world. As the stragglers filled in the cracks and thus chased night away for another thirteen hours, they found an unsuspecting, most unlikely audience.
Watching first as the sky began to lighten, becoming more blue than black, Vincent was foggy as to what was taking place. The vampire had a pain in his head that he had not known in a long while, and he had not the brainpower to attribute it to Nathaniel's delivered blow. All that he knew presently was that something nameless and faceless hovered overhead and began to completely encircle him.
As the vampire’s cold skin began to warm, Vincent slowly came out of his daze. The sun became recognizable for what it was. Its rays were a peculiar sensation. It was odd, both because it was unfamiliar, and then ultimately because being undead, the vampire did not believe it possible for him to be feeling much of anything at all concerning the elements of this world. Inside, however, somewhere behind his eyes, there was a buzzing about him.
Suddenly, just as the sensation began to become bothersome, he began to remember why it was that he usually had nothing at all to do with the sun. The sun was death to vampires.
Initially, it was nothing more than a slight irritation. Now, it caused him genuine pain.
Vincent looked himself over as pain raced up his body. He was only wearing his blood-stained shirt and jeans. His leather coat was in a heap at his feet. He still had the two US Calvary sabers impaled in his chest; however, this time, he could see both leather spiraled handles, not just the one. The fullered blades had Vincent fastened tightly against the side of an old barn, somewhere out in the country and away from the city.
Vincent smelled something burning suddenly.
It was him.
His skin began to sizzle. Tiny fires erupted, setting his clothing on fire and burning it off of him. In various places, sections of his flesh danced, rose and ultimately popped, sending milky fluid into the air on a microscopic plane. Before his very eyes, it then flaked off, rolling back like so much paper on fire and float away in the gentle summer morning breeze.
The vampire attempted to get free, but none of his efforts were successful. What he did not know was the blades had been driven through the vampire first, the weathered pine wood and lastly the blades pounded flat against the boards, making sure that the only way Vincent could escape was to bring down the entire barn. He wondered whether they were waiting for him inside—waiting for him to die.
The matter below his skin now being revealed in droves, the pain was excruciating. Soon, unendurable.
The vampire shrieked as he regained complete consciousness only to realize that he was being cooked alive.
“Nathaniel!” he managed to scream. “Nathaniel!”
The vampire hissed, squirming and flinging his arms and legs about, doing his evil best to pull himself free, but was far too weak.
“Nathaniel!” he screamed.
“Nathaniel!”
The vampire's vision was the first to go, leaving him thankfully blind to the horror which was about to befall him.
The last ounce of moisture within him dripped from shriveling lips as he fought to scream. “'aahannnnuulll!”
The vampire's last sensation was the feeling of his weight as it dripped like melting wax from his bones. The final act of decomposition was the great beast’s skull as it fell in and all of its bones turned to dust. What did not blow away with the light breeze fell like dirty snow upon what remained of his jeans and riding boots.