Tortured Spirits

by Gregory Lamberson

  Alejandro watched the soldiers fanning out across the property, some of them heading toward the garage. “What are these men doing?”

  Russel gestured to the door. “Inside, Father. Please.”

  Alejandro glanced at Maxime, who had always struck him as an unreasonable brute. He led the men to his office. “Kindly tell me what this is about. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Haven’t you?” Maxime said.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Russel motioned to the chair at Alejandro’s desk. “Sit.”

  Alejandro did as Russel suggested, and Russel pulled a chair over and sat, too. Maxime remained standing.

  Russel took two pieces of paper from inside his jacket and unfolded them. “Have you seen either of these people?”

  Alejandro studied the passport photos of Maria Vasquez and Jake Helman. “No, never. Who are they?” As a rule he accepted that to tell a lie was to break one of the Ten Commandments, but as an intermediary between La Mère and the various organizations opposing Le Monstre, he knew that protecting hundreds of people’s lives justified a little creativity.

  “Two Americans, like me,” Russel said. “They’ve murdered a number of Pavotian soldiers and have sabotaged some of our national agriculture. At least three citizens are helping them. It’s imperative that we bring them to justice before they can escape the island. We’re willing to show certain leniency toward their accomplices if they come forward.”

  Leniency, Alejandro thought. You mean torture or enslavement. He didn’t believe the stories that Malvado populated his drug fields with the walking dead, but he did believe Malvado enslaved his enemies. “I’m sorry, Mr. Russel. I haven’t seen these people, and I don’t know who these accomplices are. I can’t help you.”

  Russel offered him a sympathetic smile. “Father, I’m pressed for time. You’re the figurehead of legitimate opposition to President Malvado. We’ve allowed you a certain amount of breathing space because we want the world to see that we’re tolerant of dissenting views.”

  Alejandro felt sweat forming on his forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m no dissident. I’m just a simple priest, loyal to Pavot Island.”

  “But are you loyal to President Malvado?”

  “Yes, of course. I—”

  “Now you’re lying to me. I know you’ve communicated with Miriam Santiago in Miami. You funnel cash from her to the rebels.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  Outside, a soldier called out.

  Alejandro’s heart beat faster. What have they found?

  Russel’s cell phone rang. Answering the call, he locked his eyes on Alejandro’s. “We’ll be right there.” Russel hung up. “Let’s go outside, Father. Our soldiers have made an interesting discovery.”

  Rising, Alejandro felt Maxime staring at the back of his head. He didn’t trust the man behind him.

  They crossed the driveway to the garage, which also served as a maintenance department. As soon as Alejandro saw the soldiers gathered there, he knew they had discovered the tunnel.

  Russel smiled at the trapdoor in the garage floor, then glanced over his shoulder at the sweating priest, who turned pale. “What have we got here?”

  A muscle in Alejandro’s cheek twitched. “It’s an old maintenance tunnel linking this garage to the church.”

  “What do you use it for?”

  “Nothing, really. A shelter from hurricanes.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Russel climbed down the ladder and surveyed the tunnel’s contents: furniture, canned food, a radio. He knew a hiding place when he saw one.

  Alejandro descended the ladder, followed by Maxime.

  “Did you hide either Maria Vasquez or Jake Helman here?”

  “No, I’ve never hidden anyone here.”

  “Again, you’re lying to me. I know it. I’m placing you under arrest and seizing this church and its assets for Pavot Island.”

  Alejandro appeared as if Russel had struck him. “You can’t do that. The Vatican—”

  “—has no authority here. You were born on Pavot Island, and you’ll die here. Whether or not you cooperate with us will determine how soon that day will come.”

  Jake and Maria followed Jorge’s directions through the caverns. They supported each other as they stepped over slime and moss, and Maria carried a torch. Bats clung to the stalactites, and a rock outcrop overlooked a deep, wide chasm that appeared bottomless. Streams emptied into darkness.

  “This place is huge,” Jake said.

  “I see light ahead.”

  They followed the incline to the sunlight at the mouth of the cave. They heard gulls cawing and waves crashing before they saw Armand and Stephane and the sand and ocean beyond them. Jake squinted at the bright light.

  “Hola,” Maria said.

  “Did you bring us lunch?” Stephane said, setting his machine gun down.

  “No, we came to relieve you,” Jake said.

  Armand and Stephane exchanged doubtful looks.

  “Go ahead. I can still handle one of those.”

  Armand passed his weapon to Jake. “Show me.”

  Jake slung the machine gun’s strap over his shoulder, grabbed the gun’s trigger handle with his right hand, and leaned his bandaged stump over the barrel.

  “I’m not convinced.”

  Maria picked up Stephane’s weapon and posed with it. “How about me?”

  Armand chuckled. “All right, you convinced me.” He turned to Jake. “Stay inside the cave, gringo. You glow like a ghost, and a patrol boat will spot you from half a mile away.”

  Stephane chuckled, and they left Jake and Maria at the opening. A rock nook hid the cave’s mouth from the water, which crashed into the small cove.

  “It’s hard to believe such a beautiful place has so much evil,” Maria said as she sat in the sand.

  Jake removed the machine gun, set it down, and sat opposite her. “There’s evil everywhere.” He looked at his stump. “I still feel my fingers. Right now I’m opening and closing them.”

  “Phantom pain,” Maria said.

  Jake watched the ocean spray against the rocks.

  Maria lit a cigarette. After taking a drag, she offered it to Jake, who shook his head.

  “Got something on your mind, Helman?”

  “A lot of things.”

  “Like Kalfu?”

  Jake pulled a slate stone out of the sand and skipped it across the water. “Malvado’s army and the zonbies pose a more immediate threat.”

  “In New York the Machete Massacres were committed by zonbies carrying machetes, right? But the zonbies who wiped out Papa Joe and his crew carried machine guns and Glocks, and a lot of the ones you put down carried guns. Except for a few guards at the plantation, the local breed sticks to machetes.”

  “It all depends on who’s calling the shots. Katrina designed the Machete Massacres to elicit fear in ethnic groups familiar with island magic, but her dealers and soldiers packed modern artillery. Here on Pavot, Malvado needs a workforce to harvest his crops. The one thing Malvado has in common with Katrina and Prince Malachai is a desire for free labor with undying loyalty.” Jake narrowed his eye. Malvado owned sugarcane plantations and rum factories, not just poppy fields. He needed far more zonbie slaves than those who worked on his plantations.

  “Angels and demons.” Maria reached inside her shirt and took out the gold cross that hung around her neck on a chain. “I was raised in a religious household. I’ve always believed in God and heaven. But demons? Not so much.”

  “Hold on to your beliefs. Don’t change them because of me. It will be easier to get through the day.”

  “It’s not all about you, baby. There’s fucking zonbies on this island. If that doesn’t point to the devil and an army of demons, I don’t know what does. But half the people on this island worship a certain demon, and you tell me that Katrina did, too. Same demon, same walking stiffs. I detect a pattern.”

>   Resting his head against the rock wall, Jake inhaled the ocean’s salty fragrance.

  “So you never encountered this Kalfu?”

  He shook his head.

  “But you believe he exists?”

  “I have no reason to doubt it and plenty to believe it.”

  “What about Cain and Abel?”

  “I’d rather not discuss them.”

  Maria puffed on her cigarette. “I know it was my choice to come here, but I went through a lot to save your ass, and now I’m stuck. I think I deserve to know any information you’ve got about these Realms of Light and Dark.”

  “You’ll just think I’m insane.”

  “I already wonder if I’m insane.”

  Jake stood. “If you think that hearing what I have to say about Cain and Abel will make you feel better, you’re mistaken. But there is something I want to tell you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I killed the Cipher. If you’re still looking to bust someone for that job, I’m your man.”

  She exhaled smoke. “Deep inside, I always knew it. Did Edgar help you cover your tracks?”

  “Not directly. But I learned later that he had his own suspicions and pulled a string or two that protected me without my knowing it.”

  “You’re a pair of real interesting guys.”

  “Yeah.”

  She stood as well. “The Cipher killed your wife. I get that. You did what you thought you had to do. I might have done the same thing if a serial killer killed someone I loved.” She tossed her cigarette in the sand and crushed it. “As a cop, I can’t condone what you did. But I understand why you did it.”

  “So you don’t want to take me in?”

  She walked over to him. “It doesn’t matter if I want to or not. Whatever happens when we get off this island, I feel close to you. Too close to put the job above.”

  He held one side of her face, the sea breeze blowing her hair. He felt close to her, too. “I’ve got something else to tell you.”

  “Shit, Jake, are you trying to bring my whole world down?”

  “I don’t intend to leave without Andre Santiago.”

  Maria’s eyes flared with anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve got to get our asses out of here!”

  “I came to help Edgar, but it’s gotten bigger than that. Our friends inside are downplaying the danger they’re in—danger we’ve put them in. You know there’re all kinds of ways the local bulls can tie them to us, including the fact that they’re here protecting us instead of being wherever they belong.”

  “And you think busting Santiago out of prison will change that?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But you’re willing to take the chance?”

  “People here have risked their lives for us. Everyone on this island is oppressed. There are scarecrows and the zonbies. If nothing else, if we get Santiago back to the US, an investigation by the UN could put an end to Black Magic on Pavot Island.”

  “Jesus Christ. They’ve got that boat ready for us. We have a damned good chance of escaping with our lives, and you want to throw that away?”

  “We already made our plans. If anything, the circumstances are even more ideal now, because Malvado’s forces are preoccupied with finding us.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it. Another is that those forces are already marshaled and waiting.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. I have to do this. But I want you on that boat.”

  “Now I know you’re bugging. You’ve only got one wing. You need me.”

  “You’ve done your share—more than your share.”

  “So have you. I’m not leaving without you.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Tree branches whipped at the Dodge Ram’s windshield as the vehicle drove along the narrow jungle road at sunset. Armand drove with Stephane beside him, both men wearing black. Jake, Maria, and Jorge rode in the back, Jake and Maria clad in shorts and T-shirts, Jorge in black like his friends.

  “I still think we should all go in with you,” Jorge said.

  Jake frowned. “That wasn’t the plan. Besides, we only have two uniforms.”

  “And you only have one hand.”

  “But I have two,” Maria said.

  “It won’t matter if they see our faces, since we’re already public enemies number one and two,” Jake said.

  “Just remember who number one is,” Maria said.

  Jorge raised his hands. “I give up. The next time you two get a hotel room, make sure you don’t leave the USA.”

  Chuckling, Maria put one arm around Jorge’s shoulders. “But then we’d never see you, O fierce one.”

  Jorge rolled his eyes.

  “I appreciate your desire to go in there with us, Jorge—we both do—but we don’t know these other men. We’re counting on you to be our lookout in the tunnel and for Armand and Stephane to take out the guards in those towers.”

  “We’re your guys,” Stephane said.

  The sun had set by the time they reached a clearing surrounded by dense trees.

  “Everybody out,” Armand said.

  They climbed out of the truck, and Armand glanced at his watch. “Jorge, show them the view while we’re waiting.”

  Jorge pulled out a machine gun and threw another one to Maria. “This way, Americanos”.

  Jorge led them through a thicket and up an incline, and they crouched behind a rock ridge. He handed them a pair of night vision binoculars. Maria looked through them first, then passed them to Jake.

  Thirty feet below, a field stretched for half a mile. A forest had been cleared, leaving hundreds, perhaps thousands, of stumps rotting in the ground. At the end of the field, a chain-link fence topped with coils of razor-tipped wire separated the field from a stone fortress. Guard towers rose from the front left and rear right corners of the fenced in area. Pale yellow light shone out some of the barred windows, but most of them surrendered to the darkness.

  El Miedo, Jake thought. “It looks smaller than I thought.”

  “We have a small population and a number of local jails. Remember, El Miedo has only one prisoner.”

  They heard another truck arrive behind them.

  “Come on,” Maria said. “We’ll see that place up close soon enough.”

  They returned to the Ram, which had been joined by a silver SUV, just as a van pulled up. By the time a second SUV had arrived and discharged its passengers, Jake counted twenty-five men and women holding guns.

  “There’s no time to introduce you to everyone. We’re one branch of the People for Pavot. There are eighteen branches across the island.” Armand addressed the circle of freedom fighters. “This is Jake Helman and Maria Vasquez. They were sent by La Mère to take Andre back to Miami with them. Your job is to do everything you can to slow down the black snakes when all hell breaks loose. My job is to deliver them to their transport.

  “I want the driver of each vehicle standing by to drive them just in case the rest of us don’t make it. Space your vehicles out along the road, facing in the opposite direction. Park in the brush, so other vehicles can get around you if necessary. Everyone knows where to rendezvous. We’ve waited a long time for a spark to ignite this revolution and longer for Le Père to be freed. This is the beginning, but a price will be paid. Libération de I’île Pavot.”

  “Libération de I’île Pavot!”

  The drivers returned to their vehicles and turned them around. As the other men and women checked their weapons, Armand gathered his party and everyone shook hands.

  “Good luck,” he said to Jake and Maria.

  “You, too,” Jake said. “All of you.”

  “Hopefully we’ll see each other back here in an hour or so.” Armand nodded to Stephane. “Let’s go, ami.”

  Armand and Stephane moved off into the jungle, their sniper rifles slung over their shoulders.

  Jorge led Jake and Maria into the jungle in the opposite direction. He turned on his flashlight, and they did the same. Seventy yard
s from the road, they stopped at a large tree trunk.

  “Don’t tell me,” Jake said.

  Smiling, Jorge bent over, felt along the sides of the trunk, then pulled back the top, which was attached by a wide hinge on the inside. Jake and Maria peered down, and Jake saw only darkness. Jorge aimed his flashlight at the wooden ladder rungs bolted to the shaft’s wall.

  “Under the circumstances, you should go first,” Jorge said to Jake.

  Jake swung one leg over the tree stump, set it on the top rung, then swung the other leg over and plunged into darkness. Jorge’s flashlight beam showed the bottom, perhaps ten feet below. When Jake’s sneaker touched the ground, he aimed his flashlight at the ceiling.

  Seven feet, he estimated. He pointed the flashlight into the tunnel, which swallowed the light. Directing the beam, he glimpsed supports and crossbeams spaced every eight feet. The walls and ceiling were flat and straight.

  Maria descended behind him, and he heard Jorge close the stump and join them. Darkness pressed in.

  Jorge lit a lantern, which cast dull light over them. “We have half a mile to travel, which will take us to the prison fence. Then another tunnel that’s not so spacious. The floor here is level and clear of stones, but it’s still just dirt, and you’ll encounter the occasional tree root. Every crossbeam has four holes drilled into it two inches wide, with a pipe that runs to the surface for air. Some of them are clogged with dirt and leaves. If you have trouble breathing, you have a small oxygen mask and tank in one of your backpacks. Use it sparingly, in case the ceiling caves in.”

  “I guess smoking is out of the question,” Maria said.

  They set off.

  Jake and Maria used their flashlights to supplement the light from Jorge’s lantern.

  “How long did it take to dig this?” Maria said.

  “Decades,” Jorge said. “The original diggers started with the final tunnel you’ll use, then worked their way back to where we started. If Le Père was a younger man, we might have continued another half mile. The time for rescuing him is running out. It’s good you came when you did.”

  “I wish Humphrey was alive to see this.”

  “So do I.”