Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

thick-skulled as he is thick. You must forgive my saying so, for I know he is your friend, but never in my thirty years have I encountered a more disagreeable, pugnacious, humorless man! It is obvious why you recruited him (for the same reason one recruits a big, dumb ox to pull a heavy cart). But why you—a man of the finest mind and temperament—would keep his company otherwise I shall never comprehend.
Armstrong never wrote about his impressions of Speed, but it’s likely they were just as unflattering. The wealthy, dashing Kentuckian was spirited and chatty, qualities that Armstrong would have found irksome in the toughest of men. Speed, however, was soft-handed and slight, the very kind of “dandy” that the Clary’s Grove Boys would have stuffed in a barrel and sent down the Sangamon.
Out of nothing more than respect for you, dear friend, we agreed to forgo our grievances and see the errand through.
Their target was a well-known professor named Dr. Joseph Nash McDowell, dean of medicine at Kemper College.
Henry had warned me [about McDowell]. The doctor was an “especially paranoid specimen,” he’d said. Paranoid to the extent that he wore an armor breastplate beneath his clothes at all times, lest some assassin try to stake him through the heart. I related this to Armstrong and Speed, and added my own warning: because McDowell’s “death” would likely cause a stir in St. Louis, they must take care to remain unseen during the errand, and avoid making inquiries as to the doctor’s whereabouts. To do either would be disastrous.
Armstrong and Speed did both.
The reluctant duo stood at the corner of Ninth and Cerre Streets that April afternoon, each in a conspicuous, bulging long coat, asking every man who entered the four-story medical building: “Sir, do you know where we might find Dr. Joseph McDowell?”
At last we were directed to a steep, circular lecture hall. A miniature coliseum of ever-expanding rows and railings, upon which curious gentlemen rested their hands, their faces illuminated by the hissing gaslights of the surgical table below, their eager eyes trained on the wild-haired, pale figure cutting into the flesh of a male corpse. We took our places on the uppermost level and watched Dr. McDowell remove the heart and hold it up for all to see.
“Banish all poetic notions from your minds,” he said. “What I hold here knows nothing of love or courage. It knows only rhythmic contraction.” McDowell squeezed the heart in his hand several times. “A single, beautiful purpose… to keep fresh, rich blood flowing to every corner of the flesh.”
A vampire teaching anatomy to men! Can you imagine it, Abe? (I must say, I rather liked the fellow’s cheek.)
He cut further into the corpse as his demonstration continued, removing and discussing organs until at last the dead man resembled a gutted fish. (Armstrong was rendered weak-kneed for the whole—I, on the other hand, found it all quite fascinating.)
The lecture ended “to the polite tapping of canes against railings,” and McDowell’s students filed out. All but two. After hurriedly gathering his instruments and papers, the doctor “made haste to a small door at the rear of his stage and disappeared.” Armstrong and Speed followed.
FIG. 12.2 - IN AN UNDATED PHOTOGRAPH (CIRCA 1850), A GROUP OF SURGEONS EXAMINE THE HEART AND LUNGS OF AN UNIDENTIFIED MAN. THE FACT THAT HE’S WEARING RESTRAINTS SUGGESTS THAT HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS - AND THE FACT THAT HE’S WEARING DARK GLASSES SUGGESTS THAT HE’S A VAMPIRE.
We wound down a narrow stone stairway in complete darkness, feeling our way along the rough, wet walls until at last our hands met something smooth. I struck a match against my heel, and a black door appeared before us—the words J. N. McDowell, M.D. Private in gold paint. Out came my pistol and Armstrong’s crossbow. Out went the match. My heart presently took to its “single, beautiful” purpose with great enthusiasm—for we knew that a vampire waited on the other side of the dark.
Speed felt his way to the knob and pulled it quietly, quietly open…
Sunlight.
Here was a long, tall room with smooth walls. High above our heads, a row of small windows let in the soft light of late day, and framed the feet of passersby. To our right, a long table of caged rats, glass vessels, and silver instruments. Ahead, what appeared to be a body on a stone slab, covered by a white sheet. And to our left, Abe… to our left… naked