Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder
Page 21
CHAPTER 19 - THE PLAN
The next girl succumbed more easily to Joseph's training and shortly began satisfactorily fulfilling her promise to Ramon. Ramon was delighted with the results, and even more so when he found it less necessary to spend his lust on Carrisa.
"This is because she is only a girl, young and ignorant, from a small village, sir. A foreign woman will be more difficult."
"Perhaps you have given her some of René's drug," joked Ramon.
Joseph laughed at Carissa, who slumped stupidly on a woven mat in a corner of the hut. He poked her with the toe of his sandal. "This one will never be jealous, sir."
"This one will never be anything," snorted Ramon, turning back to the small, skinny girl whimpering at his feet. The cringing creature entertained Ramon for more than a month before he tired of her. Temporarily sated, the small man's thoughts turned to the cane fields.
"We must go back to Haiti to bargain with René," he announced one evening as Joseph was spooning food into bowls for their captives.
"That would be dangerous, sir. Besides, if we go off on a trip, what should we do with them?" he asked, pointing to the women.
"Take them with us, of course!" hissed Ramon. "I have a plan." Ramon told his friend how he hoped to make them financially secure.
"There are cane fields on both sides of the border. These fields are always in need of workers. Cheap labor! We will provide that labor, Joseph. For a price!"
Joseph opened his mouth in astonishment and Ramon bared his teeth in an evil grin. "We will bargain with René. We will buy zombies, then we will sell them. Sell them to the cane field owners. Those on this side of the border are not familiar with zombies, my friend. We will teach them how to make use of these workers."
"But, sir, other workers will see them. See their eyes. They will know something is wrong. They will find out our secret!"
"Leave the arrangements to me," Ramon insisted. "We are protected in this matter. You can count on that."
The two men and their captives left early the next morning. Ramon mentally noted the cane fields' locations as they passed. If they were successful in purchasing a zombie from René, he planned to sell the creature to one of these plantation owners on the return trip.
René was standing outside the hut when the Chevy drove up. He wasn't happy to see Ramon again, but perked up when Ramon announced he'd brought a gift. Ramon dragged his latest conquest from the car and shoved her at René.
"She is yours! With my blessing!"
René grunted, gesturing that his visitors wait outside. He took the girl inside the hut. Several minutes later, he returned. "I have inspected her," he told Ramon. "She has been abused."
Ramon shrugged. "I am a very passionate man. Few women are able to match my passion!"
René snorted in disgust.
"You do not want the girl?" Ramon snarled.
"I will accept her," René agreed.
"And I have come to bargain," Ramon announced, his eyes glittering dangerously. "This time I must have a man. Large and strong."
"Come inside," whispered René and he entered the hut.
The bargain was quickly struck and their order filled the following week. Joseph took charge of the huge, shambling zombie and ordered him into the Chevy's backseat. There was a bit of a tussle as he obediently entered one door and, scrambling over Carrisa, attempted to exit on the other side.
Ramon waited impatiently beside the car, greedily contemplating the price this worker would bring, while Joseph settled the zombie down and paid René. Then Joseph slammed the car's back doors shut and took his place behind the wheel. They wasted no time on the return trip and, in a short time, recrossed the border.
As Ramon had predicted, the first plantation owner he approached agreed to purchase the strong, hulking, dull-witted laborer. "He requires no salary and is satisfied with the rudest of accommodations," Ramon pointed out.
The landowner regarded the laborer's eyes. "I think it best if he is put to work on the far side of the field, away from the others," he suggested, placing a straw hat on the zombie's head and adjusting the brim to shade the fellow's eyes.
Ramon nodded, adding, "He is to receive only one bowl of food a day. But you must remember. No salt!"
"And no meat, sir," Joseph insisted, "as it naturally contains salt." He handed a paper parcel to the man. "Do not inhale this! Do not touch it to your own skin! Not even to your lips!" cautioned Joseph. "A small amount, just this much, must be mixed into his daily food."
"This must be done to keep him as he is!" Ramon insisted.
When they were back in the Chevy, Ramon counted the money. "This pays us the price of both Carrisa and the man," he smirked, "with some to spare! For every zombie we buy from René, we shall sell to a plantation at more than twice our cost."
"A nice profit, sir," Joseph agreed, "and speaking of Carrisa, where is she?" Ramon turned and checked the backseat.
Carrisa was gone!
The two men looked at one another in horror. Joseph recovered first and put the car in reverse, coming around, and tearing back up the plantation road. "Look for her, sir! She should be easily visible."
They drove in circles around the plantation, up and down the rows of cane, but Carrisa was nowhere to be found. "When did you last see her?" demanded Ramon.
A look of horror again crossed Joseph's face.
"At the hut, sir. At René's. She was there when I put the man in the back seat."
"Go back! Go back!"
"But, sir, it's such a long way!"
"Go back, you fool!" Ramon shrieked.
Joseph brought the car onto the road and headed back to the border. When they arrived at René's hut, they found him alone.
"Why are you back?" he snarled. "Have you lost something?"
And Ramon was forced to admit Carrisa was missing.
"Not missing for long!" declared René. "I possess her soul. She cannot hide from me." He headed for the hut, gesturing for Ramon and Joseph to follow him. "She must come to me if I call her," René whispered. He took a tiny, red jar from the tiered table and placed the container on the altar. "Do you see this?" he purred. "It contains her essence. Her very breath. I will call her to me!"
By the time René's colorful ritual began, the woman had stumbled two miles along the dirt road and was approaching the outskirts of her former village. René pranced and postured, sweated and strained, chanted and moaned. He sprinkled herbs and powders, and shook feathers and bones, calling to the owner of the jar-trapped soul.
Two miles down the road from the hut, a young boy squatted, playing in the dirt. He glanced up and saw Carrisa stumbling toward him. The boy jumped up in horror and ran back to his village, calling an alarm as he went.
"The dead walk the road!"
"The people must be warned."
The villagers heard his cries and ran out into the road to see for themselves. One look at Carrisa lurching along sent them scurrying back to their homes, drawing curtains, shutting doors. As she shambled past them, somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, a memory stirred. That little hut at the end of the road. Her birthplace. Her mother's place. She moved more quickly now.
She had a goal.
She was going home!
René finished his ceremony as Carrisa approached the hut where she'd once lived. Her mother heard the shouts and stepped outside the hut. Squinting against the tropical sun's rays, she shaded her eyes and peered down the road. Something familiar about that woman, coming closer, stumbling along. And the eyes! Horrible! Then she recognized her daughter.
Her dead daughter!
An agonized scream tore from the mother's throat. "Angelique!" Still screaming, the older woman stumbled back into the hut, slammed the door and blocked it with a chair. She hastily drew the curtains. Carrisa hurried to the door and beat on it with her fists.
"No! Go away! I buried you!" her mother howled. When Carrisa found she couldn't beat the door down, she knelt and clawed at it with long, broken fing
ernails.
Scraaaatch . . . scraaaatch . . .
"Save me! Make her stop! Oh, make her go away!" begged the mother.
One young fellow bravely ventured from the safety of his hut and called to Carrisa. "You! The one we once called Angelique!" Carrisa paused and half-turned, her dead eyes staring in the direction of his voice.
"Yes, you! You are dead! You can no longer live here!" the man shouted. Carrisa turned fully in his direction, appearing to understand. "Where is your master? Where is the one who made you?" the man demanded. Carrisa turned and stared in the direction of René’s hut.
"Go back! I command you! Return to your master! Return to your grave!" Carrisa swayed, then stopped, uncertain. "Go now! I command you," the man insisted, "or else we will force you back into the earth!" But although he spoke bravely, he had no wish to touch her and prayed it would not come to that.
To his great relief, Carrisa began to stumble back down the road. She lurched, silently, back through the village and away from the homes and hearts now barred to her. She had nowhere else to go and, in the end, returned to René's hut.
Joseph cried out in triumph as Carrisa stumbled into the yard. He forced her into the Chevy's backseat and locked the doors on both sides to prevent her inadvertent exit. René stepped outside and, exhausted from his efforts, slumped into a chair. He held out his hand to Ramon. Ramon peeled off part of his newfound wealth and placed it onto René's waiting palm, curling his lip at René's smug expression.
As Ramon passed Joseph on his way to the car, the little man lashed out, striking his friend's head against the vehicle. Joseph recovered quickly and the two men entered the car. As they pulled away, Joseph could see René laughing in the rear-view mirror.
"You made me appear foolish!" Ramon hissed.
Joseph knew better than to attempt to reason with his master. He kept his silence, furtively reaching up to wipe at the trickle of blood caused by his contact with the Chevy.
In time, Ramon's temper had run its course and his mind turned to the profits to be made from selling zombie workers to plantations. Then he remembered Carrisa and frowned.
"She must have tried to return to her village. She must have been seen by those who knew her. Her mother! Perhaps even her mother saw her! Why did they allow her to return to René?"
"Oh, sir, it is Haitian law! Carrisa had been declared dead by those who knew her. She had been buried. Even if she suddenly appeared walking up the main road, even if her eyes were normal, by law, she is still dead. That is how people, even her own mother, will treat her." Ramon was delighted to learn this.
"You see, sir, she is a different person since burial. René has separated her from her soul. She now has a different life and bears a different name."
"You mean, Joseph, even if every zombie we plan to purchase escaped and managed to get home again, even then, they would all be returned to us?"
Joseph turned to him in horror. "Oh, sir, we agreed not to call undue attention to ourselves. We do not wish others to rise up in a body to hunt us."
"Si! Si! I remember," Ramon snapped in annoyance.
All the way back to the hidden place, his mind dwelt on the profits to be realized through zombie traffic and, eventually, his thoughts turned to the Baka. He smiled. The Baka had protected him again!
"Life is good, Joseph! We shall remain at the hidden place for about a week and then," he paused, grinning, "we shall search for another promising woman." He clapped Joseph on the shoulder.
"Ah, yes, sir," Joseph agreed. "A woman we will train together."
Ramon leaned back, smiling to himself, contemplating the women to be savored and the profits to be made. "Yes, Joseph, we are going to be very busy!"
And very busy they were, so much so that it wasn't until several months later that Ramon awoke in a cold sweat. He struggled to a sitting position, remembering.
The months were slipping away! The year was nearly gone! The Baka would be expecting a sacrifice! A blood relative must be chosen without delay.
Bathed in perspiration, his thoughts racing, Ramon sank back onto the mat. He had no wish to forfeit his own life and newfound power.
Tomorrow! Yes, he would make his plans tomorrow. And while he lay there, waiting for daybreak, visions of possible candidates danced in his head.