John, a man who, despite his great love for the Lord, could not help resenting that He had allowed John’s parents to give him such a common name, was going to revolutionize baptism.
It was a long time coming. The town of Wendley might as well be Sodom itself. Fishing on Sundays, munching on shellfish, fornication every day of the week. John had never understood it, particularly the fornication bit.
He had never even wanted to kiss a woman, and only did so in the hopes that she may be the soulmate God had sent him. Everyone talked about how wonderful kissing was, but it was mostly wet, and time after time John had concluded each woman wasn’t for him. Seeking out kissing, let alone sex, when it wasn’t your duty to Christ was outrageous.
Anyway, his mind was straying from his work. He scrubbed the old crop duster, wringing the tattered sponge and watching the soap bubbles cascade down the rusted sides of the machine. He had bought it from a man selling his farm. The old thing had been headed for a scrap yard, but now it was a born-again Christian.
The others in the church didn’t believe a word of it. John, a member of the choir, had spent a lot of time being preached to by Pastor Quigley on the nature of his foolish ideas. Still, the fact was that the current rate of baptism was terribly inefficient. They only baptized one screaming, wriggling infant at a time, and most days not even that. Some people came to be baptized as adults, and that was always fun, but it was rare. Most of the town remained unbaptized and suffering without the light of the Lord.
The others may not have been in support of John’s idea, but that hardly mattered as long as the Lord was on his side. And when all was done, the town would be saved.
It was an obvious solution when you really got down to it. In fact, it was astonishing that no one had thought of it before. Years of tradition had gotten everyone hung up on using only small amounts of Holy Water at a time, but there was no rule in the Bible that said you couldn’t use it all at once. If someone found one verse in the Book which forbade loading gallons of Holy Water into a crop duster and spraying it over a town, then John would kiss a man.
And that was something he definitely didn’t want to do. Especially not Zaniel, no matter how charming he was when he brought John a coffee every morning, or how handsome he looked when his eyes crinkled up in a smile.
Zaniel was strange, anyway. He always smelled of garlic and showed up to church with dark circles under his eyes. Not dark and mysterious weird, definitely not. John didn’t like dark and mysterious anyway. Not at all. The chaste, humble woman was for him, even if none he met had been appealing. But it was only a matter of time.
* * *
Zaniel was growing tired of being the sole protector of the town from its plague of vampires. Going out with a stake every night and slaying the creatures had been fun at first, but after a few nights of patrolling the graveyard you started to lose sleep. Plus, he hated the stink of garlic that lingered on his skin even after showering.
Pretending to be a devout Christian was also exhausting. Zaniel was a committed Buddhist, but, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, vampires cowered only before symbols of Christ. Little statues of a fat jovial man with oversized earlobes just didn’t have the same effect that a plain wooden T did.
He had to be a member of the Church, because otherwise the supply of Holy Water was scarce. The Church didn’t approve of random visitors dropping in and borrowing a few bottles of it, but once you were a member no one paid attention to where you went.
So he had spent the last ten years filching Holy Water from the church and using it to melt vampires. If it had just been the people who died in Wendley who became blood-sucking demons it would have been manageable, but vampires seemed to love the town and traveled from all over just to feast on the people here. It was terribly exhausting and the entire world was oblivious. The vampires were masters at concealing themselves, and being able to take the guise of humans was certainly helpful.
It was Zaniel’s duty to protect the town from vampires because of some boring prophecy that Zaniel found incredibly cliché. If he didn’t kill them right away they would attack some poor midnight wanderer, likely the old man next door with a penchant for marching to a neighbor’s house every night and requesting that the owner muzzle their dog, whether they had one or not. Zaniel hoped that someone else would be blessed with his gift, perhaps a handsome man with a garlic fetish, but it had never happened.
The truth was, he was sick of the exhaustion and the dreadful impact it had on his social life. Everyone was terrified of him. Dark circles under your eyes and a terrible stench did nothing for your reputation.
There was a man he had been attempting to flirt with for some time now, John, but every time he got near, John would stiffen. He remembered the first time he had attempted it and cringed at the memory.
He had ignored John at first, but there was something cute about the man’s earnest piousness. He stood in the choir and sang not because it was his duty, but because it brought him genuine joy. You had to admire someone like that.
John was mocked by the others. It was true, he did have a certain quirkiness about him, but the church needed some zaniness if it was going to keep up its image.
Zaniel wasn’t the best at social interactions, but he had heard bringing someone you liked a coffee did wonders for improving their opinion of you. So he had brought John a coffee one day and John looked as if he had stared into the eyes of a gorgon. Dreadful creatures those were. Their habit of turning people to stone was terribly annoying.
“I’m sorry if I was in the way,” said John.
“Oh, no,” said Zaniel. “This is for you.”
John’s eyes darted to the cup. “Why?”
“It’s a gesture of affection.” That was how the conversation in this sort of situation worked, wasn’t it? Zaniel fidgeted with the button on his coat, letting the calming texture wash over his frantic mind.
John accepted the cup, but the moment his hand touched it he yelped. “Th-thank you. I-It’s a bit hot.”
“God dam-I mean gosh darn it. Sorry.”
John shook his head. “It’s okay. I like coffee. Just a bit startling. How do you deal with the temperature?”
“Hyposensitivity. Takes a lot to engage my senses.” Being autistic usually meant you were extra sensitive to stimuli, but sometimes it was the reverse. Zaniel could get burned and not notice for days. It was a constant worry. Then again, it had saved him from fully experiencing the excruciating wounds inflicted on him time and again.
John nodded along, clearly not understanding the meaning of the word, and Zaniel set the cup on the table. “There we go.”
“Thank you. No one’s done that before.”
John smiled at him, and Zaniel relaxed. At least that hadn’t been a total disaster.
Of course, nothing else besides coffee ever happened. He didn’t want to scare John off. It was something Zaniel was all too good at doing, because when someone liked him he had the habit of exposing his eccentricities too soon and prompting them to politely excuse themselves and leave town. Oh well. At least Zaniel had his pet fish to talk to.
* * *
John decided to baptize at night. That way the atheists of the town wouldn’t come roaring with the rage of Satan when the water allowed the light of the Lord to enter them. They would be asleep in their beds, oblivious to the blessings passing over their houses and seeping into them and their children’s dreams.
There was the small matter of the roofs getting in the way of the Holy Water, but after careful reflection John concluded that God would understand John’s purpose, so why shouldn’t he bend the properties of matter for a few moments?
John was sure the water would fall through the roofs as if they didn’t exist and douse the people as they slept. After all, if God could part a sea, why couldn’t he help a humble follower of his save some souls?
The crop duster was ready to go. He had christened it Satan Sprayer, which had been painted in golden letters on its side. It was adorned with images of crosses and paintings of Jesus. They weren’t the best pictures, as John was atrocious when it came to drawing people, but Christ would appreciate the effort.
He loaded the gallons of Holy Water into the crop duster’s tank and climbed inside. As the machine kicked into life, John spread his arms wide. He had never imagined he would be the savior of the town, but here he was, poised to rid the area of demonic influence. He hoped Zaniel would notice.
* * *
Zaniel had never dealt with so many vampires before. They crawled towards him, snarling with their pointed fangs exposed and their red eyes gleaming. He hardly had any Holy Water left, the store had been out of garlic the entire week, and he was almost too tired to raise his stake. You could hardly spend years without enough sleep without losing a bit of stamina.
“Look,” he said, plunging a stake into yet another of the creatures’ chests. “Can’t we call a truce? I’m tired, you’re tired…maybe leave the bloodsucking for tomorrow?”
“We shall corrupt you,” a vampire hissed. They were incredibly boring creatures for all their hype. All they talked of was corruption and how much they loved blood. They needed a new hobby, like becoming blood connoisseurs. Of course, the only vampire Zaniel had suggested the idea to had taken a bite out of his arm, so they didn’t seem fond of the concept.
There were ten more heading from another direction, now employing their excruciatingly dull powers in an attempt to terrify him. Their eyes popped from their sockets on long stalks. Their bodies contorted into the shapes of figures from Zaniel’s past, which was quite frankly a highly insensitive form of warfare. Why couldn’t they turn into bats like the legends said? Bats were cute; flight might make them more interesting.
He used the last of his Holy Water to melt five of them, but now he was nearly defenseless. One of the vampires wrapped its incredibly long eyeball stalks around the stake and jerked it from his hands.
Zaniel sighed. He supposed he should run, but he’d only have to come back tomorrow, and the next night, and the next. He had never hated his job as much as he did now.
“Can’t you be more original?” He huffed at a vampire approaching him, wearing the guise of a peer he had bullied in elementary school. The resemblance might have been better if there weren’t eyeball stalks waving around like he was some kind of human-snail hybrid. A snuman? A snampire?
“See the corruption already within? The human race is doomed to wallow in its own sins. Join us and revel in it.”
“I’d rather get a job as a public speaker. I really don’t want to be a snampire.”
The vampire furrowed his brow. “A what?”
It was at that moment that a cascade of rain poured down and every vampire melted on impact. Zaniel himself was soaking, but there were only sticky puddles where the demons had been, and a loud engine was pounding over his head.
Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t rain at all, but water from a crop duster with the words Satan Sprayer and pictures of what looked like a monkey’s face painted on its side. It was, undeniably, a miracle, and it was of utmost importance that Zaniel found out what force of light had spared him.
* * *
John considered the baptism a great success. Only one atheist had awakened, and she hadn’t unleashed the wrath of Satan, but instead had danced in the spray of Holy Water while crowing out the words to “Singin’ in the Rain” in a decidedly non-talented voice.
The rest of the town slumbered on while John had saved them all. He landed the Satan Sprayer back at the farm and thanked the Lord for granting him this chance.
As he knelt, the sound of shoes squelching through the grass became apparent, and John looked up to see a beautiful figure approaching him.
“Zaniel?”
“John?”
“Y-yes.”
Zaniel knelt beside him. “What was in that duster?”
“Holy Water. I figured it would be more efficient for saving people.”
Zaniel laughed. “Genius! How could no one have thought of that before? You saved Wendley!”
It was everything John had dreamed of. “Well, really it was the Lord’s work, but thank you.”
“How did you know about them?”
“Know about what?”
“The vampires!”
“What?”
Zaniel’s brow furrowed. “What else could you have been doing with that duster?”
“Baptizing people. Much more efficient than one at a time, don’t you think?”
Zaniel said nothing for several long moments, then burst into laughter. “Baptism! You were saving people with…baptism!” He cackled, and John took a step back.
“I don’t understand.”
“John, will you let me fly the crop duster every night?”
“Any time!” said John. “The more blessings the better.”
“Yes!” Zaniel laughed. “The more b-blessings the better!”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No, not at all. It’s just…I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. You deserve to know.” He smiled. “I could kiss you!”
“Oh!” said John. “Could you really?”
Zaniel quirked an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“You don’t think Jesus would disapprove?”
“Seeing as you just saved a whole town from demonic forces, I would say no.”
“Alright then,” said John. They kissed, and for the first time in his life John understood what the big deal about lip-on-lip contact was. In fact, he wanted to do this again, and soon.
He smiled and took Zaniel’s hand, and together they walked to Zaniel’s house, where John would learn about the vampires. The church may not regale John as a hero, but both the Lord and Zaniel knew his heroics, and that was enough. Baptism had never been so exciting.
Juliette L. Dunn (she/her) is a queer, autistic writer from Oregon, USA. She writes science fantasy and publishes through both indie and traditional publishing. You can find her @dunn_juliette on Twitter and @juliette.dunn on Instagram.