by Nick Clausen
Mom shakes her head slowly. “That’s not what happened.”
“What was it then?”
For the first time, Mom seems hesitant. Her eyes flash in Dennis’s direction for a brief second. “I’m not … entirely sure.”
“What’s your best guess?” William asks.
This time, Mom is quiet for an even longer time. The others have stopped eating; all of them are giving Mom their full attention, waiting for her to speak her mind.
In the silent pause, Dennis can’t help but be taken back to that awful evening, which feels both very fresh in his memory, yet at the same time like something that happened a long, long time ago.
“When a human dies,” Mom begins, speaking carefully, “the ti bon ange drifts away and dissipates. It merges back into the collective. It no longer is. The gros bon ange then retracts from that body. You can think of it as a wave sinking back into the ocean. What I … what we were trying to do with Nadia was asking the gros bon ange to rise in her once again. It should have been like a rebirth. Because that’s what happens when a human enters this world; the gros bon ange is there at first, it’s what gives rise to the ti bon ange. And it seemed to work. It did. We had called to the gros bon ange and it had come back, it was once again flowing through her, reanimating her body. But …” Mom’s eyes grow distant.
Dennis gets the feeling they’re all holding their breath.
Liv—who has been quiet until now—is the one to break the silence, asking softly: “Then what went wrong?”
Mom looks at her, then shakes her head slow. “The gros bon ange can give life on its own, but it can’t give meaning. It’s like a car without a driver, the engine just idling away. So it wasn’t enough for us to call back the life force, we had to also call back her personal mind. And I believe we could have succeeded. But the blood … it shouldn’t have been spilled. It contaminated the pathway. It shook everything just at the most critical time.”
Dennis can’t help but seeing the blood dripping into the mouth of Nadia—he can even smell it. The vivid memory is enough to make his throat all tight.
“So what happened to her?” Dan asks. “What happened to her ti bon ange?”
“It was contaminated. Or cursed, as you put it. Just like the blood.”
“Cursed with what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” William chimes in. “That’s the missing piece of the whole damn thing, you can’t just ‘not know’!”
“I have no way of knowing,” Mom says calmly. “I can only see the result of the curse.” She nods towards the window. “It’s right outside.”
“Well, take a wild guess then,” William presses on.
Mom keeps staring at the boarded-up window for a moment. Dennis can hear the zombies scratching away out there. Then she says: “When doing rituals, the ti bon anges of the people present touch each other. If one is not careful, their personal stuff can get in the way. My best guess is that Esther’s desperate desire to revive her granddaughter was what flew into the girl’s mind right before it woke up. The fear, the guilt, the self-loathing … human pain can be immensely powerful. I believe Esther inadvertently cursed the girl’s mind at its most vulnerable stage.”
“So did it break the girl’s mind?” Liv asks.
“No. Like I said, it cursed it.”
“Then why can’t the curse be lifted?” Dan asks.
“I feel like we’re starting to go in circles here,” William says, rubbing his forehead.
“First off, because I’m not sure what did it,” Mom says. “It’s just my guess. Curing it would be like treating someone for a disease that’s never been documented before.”
“Can’t you give her, like, broad-spectrum antibiotics then?” Liv suggests. “That’s what doctors do when they’re not completely sure about things, right? They use a drug that works for most things and hope to hit the mark.”
Mom shakes her head. “That would be irresponsible.”
William throws out his arms. “More irresponsible than causing the end of the fucking world?”
Mom’s eyes flash at him.
“Would it make things worse?” Dan asks. “If we try lifting the curse and we don’t get it right?”
Mom shrugs. “There’s no way of telling.”
“I think we should try something,” Dan says. “I think it’s worth the risk.”
“You don’t get it,” Mom says. “We can’t just ‘try something.’ There are no broad-spectrum rituals; you need to know exactly what you’re aiming for, or the ritual will just be empty gestures and words.”
“Then let’s assume you’re right,” Dan goes on. “About Esther’s pain being what caused the curse. Let’s make a ritual that’ll lift that.”
“That would take several hours.”
“That’s okay, we don’t have any plans,” William says with a wry grin.
“It would take several hours,” Mom repeats, while sending William a sharp look. “And there’s only a very small chance it would work.”
“I still think it’s worth a shot,” Dan says. “We’ll help you. We’ll do whatever we can.”
Mom looks at him, and her expression changes suddenly. So does her voice as she says: “I’m sorry for your losses. But there’s no way your loved ones are coming back.”
Dan blinks once. “I realize that. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why then?”
“To make sure no one else loses their family.”
“That’s a very noble cause.”
“I don’t care if it’s noble or not,” Dan says calmly. “I just really want you to give it a shot.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“Is she still going at it?”
Dan turns his head to look at William who has joined him without him noticing. They’re standing at the opening to the living room.
“Yeah, she hasn’t moved for forty-five minutes.”
The living room has been stripped clean of furniture—except for a tiny table in the corner—and all of Holger’s stuff is now stacked in the bedroom and most of the kitchen.
Instead, on the middle of the wooden floor sits Birgit, her legs folded, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes closed and her lips moving soundlessly. Around her, a wide circle is drawn in white chalk, surrounded again in a wider circle of lit candles, their flames the only source of light in the room. In front of her is an open book, a bowl of water with leaves floating around it and four shiny black stones places in a neat square. From the ceiling hangs strings with feathers, sea shells and thin animal bones—Dan can even make out what appears to be the skull of a crow.
“This is fucking nuts, you know that, right?” William says in a low voice.
“I guess you’re right,” Dan shrugs. “But so is what’s going on outside.”
“Speaking of things that are fucking nuts,” William says. “That’s actually why I came down here. The tarp is ready. We could use your help, if you’re done here.”
Dan nods. “I don’t think she needs any more from me.”
Earlier on, before sinking into silent prayer, Birgit instructed Dan in strewing out the chalk and lighting the candles while she recited phrases from the book.
Dan follows William upstairs. As they step into the room facing the courtyard, Dan can’t help but recall this was where Holger’s body was dumped from. That’s not the only reason why he dreads this part of the plan, though.
The window is open wide, showing the beautiful sunset in the horizon—which for the first time in weeks is partly covered up by distant clouds, carrying the promise of rain.
Dennis is standing by the window, peering down into the courtyard, from where the incessant choir of moans and groans comes floating up.
On the couch is Ozzy, resting, but lifting his head as they enter the room.
Liv is working on the ropes attached to the big, dark green tarp they found down in one of Holger’s utility closets. They’ve secured the rop
es all the way around the edges of the tarp, leaving still several yards of rope for them to hold onto.
“Right, are we at go?” William asks, clapping his hands.
Dennis turns to look at them, the usual look of restraint on his face as he nods.
“I think so,” Liv says. “We just need to lower it.”
“Should we just go over it one more time?” Dan asks. “So we’re all sure of our individual tasks?”
“Right,” William says. “Dennis and I lower the tarp. Liv goes down to the tunnel and lures the zombies over towards the well cover, so that hopefully, only a few of them will stay below our window. Dan, you keep ready with the rifle.” William points to the weapon leaning up against the couch. “If anything goes wrong, you use it.”
Dan nods. “And the two of you, will you be able to hoist it up?”
“Sure, we’re a couple of buff dudes, right, Dennis?” William pats Dennis on the shoulder. “You used to hit the gym regularly, didn’t you?”
Dennis looks down shyly and shakes his head. “Not really.”
“No, I can tell,” William says. “Me neither. But we can lift one guy, right?”
“I guess so.”
William looks at Liv. “We’ll try and catch one of the lighter ones. I saw a couple of kids down there. If you can … you know, lure the others away.”
Liv throws out her arms. “I don’t really think I’ll have any say in the matter.”
“No, you’re right,” William concedes. “We’ll just see who we get. If it’s a big, fat guy, we can always dump him and try again.”
“Okay,” Dan says, going to pick up the rifle. “I guess we’re all set then?”
“Yeah,” William says, looking at Liv. “You make the first move.”
She nods, takes a breath, then leaves the room. They can hear her walk downstairs.
All three of them wait by the window. Dan peers down at the crowd of zombies. There are a lot of them, probably close to a hundred. Most of them are huddled below the window, reaching up at them, but others are still clawing away at the windows.
Then, gradually, they begin to turn and walk off to the far end of the courtyard.
“It’s working,” William says. “Liv is down in the tunnel now, and they are sensing her. Okay, let’s get this thing in the water.”
He lifts up the tarp, and Dennis helps him. Dan moves to the side, getting out of their way as they maneuver the tarp out the window, then starts lowering it using the ropes.
“More to the left,” William instructs. “No, that’s too much. You need to give a little more rope on your side, Dennis. That’s it. Nice job. It’s spread out nicely. Okay, get ready now. Liv will be heading back any minute. As soon as she’s gone, they’ll come back. Once the first one steps onto the tarp, we pull it, okay? You ready?”
Dennis nods. To Dan, he looks like someone who’s about to be sick.
“You’ve got this, Dennis,” he tells him. “You’re doing excellent.”
Dennis looks at him, blushing before he can look away. “Thanks.”
“Okay, here they come,” William says. “On my mark …”
They wait, watching the zombies. Dan can’t see them from where he’s standing, so he watches the faces of Dennis and William instead. Ozzy senses something going down and begins whimpering from the couch.
“Three, two, one,” William counts. “Now!”
He yanks back the rope, and Dennis does the same on his side.
“Pull, pull, pull!” William shouts, as they both heave and tug at the ropes, pulling it in as fast as they can. “I think we got one! Keep pulling, Dennis!”
They hoist up a few more feet of rope, then William stops.
“Okay, wait a minute,” he says, panting. “We need to check …” He holds the rope tightly as he leans out to look down. “It’s closed. And there’s definitely someone in there. Judging from the size, I’d say there’s only one in there.” He darts a broad smile at Dan, then turns to Dennis. “We did it, man! Hole in one! Gimme some!”
He holds up his hand. Dennis hesitates for a moment, then realizes what it means and raises his own hand to high-five William. But as he does, the rope starts slipping.
“Oh, shit,” William says, grabbing it. “Let’s finish the job, then we’ll celebrate later …”
Running footsteps as Liv appears in the doorway, out of breath. “Did it … did it work?”
“It did,” Dan says. “Maybe stay back. We need to make sure the tarp is safe.”
Dennis and William pull the ropes all the way in, and the tarp comes into view. It’s bundled up and closed at the top, where the ropes have laced together just as they had planned. Inside the teardrop-shaped bag, a zombie is thrashing around, its nails audibly scratching away at the tarp. Ozzy jumps to his feet and begins growling.
“It will hold, won’t it?” Dennis asks, sounding both anxious, excited and out of breath all at once. “The tarp is too thick for him to claw his way through?”
“It’s heavy-duty material,” William pants. “I trust Holger only bought the best shit for his bunker. Come on, let’s get it inside …”
They pull with a last effort, backing up as the tarp moves over the windowsill and plunges to the floor.
“Tape it up!” William shouts, holding the ropes tight so the opening is kept closed.
Liv moves in from the side, bringing the role of duct tape. She swiftly wraps it around the opening several times, closing it off effectively.
“Perfect,” William says, still holding the ropes. “Now, everybody out! Except for you, Dan. You keep ready. If that fucker sticks as much as his dick out that bag, you shoot it off. Then you shoot him in the head. All right?”
Dan nods, holding the rifle against his shoulder and pointing it at the tarp.
Dennis and Liv have already left the room.
“I’m letting go now,” William says, easing off the ropes. “Here we go …” He drops the ropes completely and jumps back. The tarp-bag slumps down, the dead guy on the inside groaning and scrambling to get at them, but the tape holds the opening closed with little difficulty. Besides, the zombie seems to have no idea where the opening is, but is simply attempting to crawl right through the tarp, which is way too thick.
“It’s working,” Dan says, feeling his heart pound away in his throat. “It can’t get out.”
William steps back inside the room. “You’re right. We did it.” He looks up, smiling again. “We fucking did it! And on the first try! I can’t believe it. Where’s that high-five you owe me, Dennis?”
Dennis steps into the room, looking like he’d rather not, but he comes closer to William, holding up his palm with a tentative smile, and William slaps him a stinging high-five.
TWENTY-FIVE
If William is being honest with himself, he has very little faith in the project. To him, it looks and sounds like goddamn lunacy; catching a zombie and trying to force some voodoo-ritual on it … stuff like that is only for dumb movies; it’s too crazy to work in real life.
Yet William can’t help feeling excited as they bring the tarp-bag containing the thrashing dead guy into the living room.
Birgit is no longer sitting in the circle, but has gotten up and is preparing something on the table by the wall.
“Where do you want this?” William says, dragging the bag into the room.
Birgit turns to look at them. She’s painted her face white with some flour-like powder and put black feathers into her hair. By all accounts, it should make her look silly, but in the flickering light of the candles, she reminds William of a ghost from ancient times, and there’s nothing funny about it.
“In front of the circle,” she says, pointing. “It needs to stay put; it can’t be thrashing around like that.”
“Well, what do you want us to do?” William says, dragging the bag to the place Birgit pointed out. “Nail him to the goddamn floor?”
Birgit shrugs. “Whatever will keep it from moving around.”
“We could actually nail it to the floor,” Liv offers. “I mean, nailing the tarp to the floor.”
“That would risk it tearing,” Dan says. “I think it’s better to use duct tape.”
“Great idea,” William says, turning to Dennis. “Could you get the tape? Oh, and maybe bring more than one roll.”
Dennis gives a quick nod, then runs out of the room.
They just stand there for a minute, waiting in awkward silence. The zombie moves around in the bag, trying to get at them, and William needs to constantly pull it back into place.
Birgit has turned back to the table and seems to be mixing things into a bowl. Dan walks over to her, careful not to step on anything on the floor.
“Anything else you need us to do?” he asks.
Birgit offers him half a glance. “I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you if the time comes.”
“You think it’ll work?”
She shakes her head. “I think the chances are very, very slim.”
“Well, let’s try it anyway.”
Dennis comes back, carrying a bunch of duct tape rolls. He hands them out, and Liv and William both begin to tape up the tarp bag.
It’s not easy, especially since the dead guy keeps moving and they have to be constantly on the lookout for any holes or tears in the tarp. But little by little, they start to get the bag wrapped up, making it tighter still with each new round of tape, until finally, the zombie can only wiggle feebly. It looks like a silvery cocoon. They then tape the whole thing to the floorboards.
“There,” William says, straightening up with a sigh. “I think that’ll do.”
“About time,” Birgit says, stepping into the circle, holding the bowl of water. “Now, please leave the room or stay and be quiet. I’ll have to concentrate on this next part.”
“You’re welcome,” William mutters, sending the others a look. They retreat to the kitchen. William places himself in the opening to the living room, so that he can keep an eye on Birgit. Mostly because he’s curious to see the macabre ritual, but also because he still doesn’t trust her.