Erik Handy (7 page)

Chapter 26

Angelina, Marie, Anna, and six other women sat around the small fire. Not recognizing those six other women was understandable to Marie. Only the men in the village were really allowed to socialize. Marie cursed herself for allowing herself to be taken to this jungle by Rosalo. To be taken by him. She still couldn't figure out when it was that the man she once loved had changed so. In fact, she had difficulty remembering anything specific before this exact moment. She resigned herself to the present and joined the others in staring at the fire, lost in their anguish. They all lost precious pieces of themselves to the village. This was their dead end.

Marie hugged herself around her chest. Her entire body throbbed sharply. She was getting used to it. The knowledge and acceptance of her dim fate was numbing her to the pain.

She didn't have much time left. Either her life, like her memory, would give out or Rosalo would find her here. And kill her in his brand of brutality. She almost smiled at that. Then, she would be dead. But, no. She would never give him the pleasure. She had to hang on for herself and Jean Paul. Why? What did it matter?

An old woman dressed in a battered, dirty white housedress slumped out of a tent. All the women except Marie turned to her. A few got up to join the old woman to discuss something quietly and hurriedly. The elder watched Marie as they spoke to her.

The old woman stepped over to Marie and rested her wrinkled hand on her head. Marie tried to smile at the kindly matron.

"Marie, this is Sari," Angelina said. "She's a magic woman."

"What," Marie tried, but her mouth was dry. "What does that mean?"

"She's been through what all of us have," Anna chimed in. "They took so much from her."

The old woman, Sari, opened her ancient mouth to reveal that half her tongue had been cut out.

Marie recoiled.

"They sacrificed our children," Angelina said. "Our sisters, everyone we loved. And for what? They took so much from us. Marie, will you help us take from them?"

"How? Take what?"

The look in each woman's eyes was cold, hard, detached, save for Sari's. She sadly smiled. With difficulty, she answered, "Life."

"Our vengeance," Anna said, "requires a sacrifice from each of us. A final sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Marie said. "What is it?"

"Ourselves," Anna answered. "Our lives to allow those who've fallen by their," she pointed to the jungle, meaning the village beyond, "hands to unleash death upon them."

Marie's head was swimming. The images of the women around her seemed to drown her, their words riptides. "I don't understand."

Angelina: "My brother, killed by them because he spoke dissent."

Another woman: "My husband, betrayed by his brother."

Another: "My oldest son who tried to save his sister."

Another: "My mother --"

The women's voices blurred into one wave for Marie. Noise. Indecision. Drowning. Until --

Anna: "We will wake the dead and they will break those horrible men. Break their faith and their bones. We will die so vengeance can be born."

Marie shook her head. "I don't --"

A rusting in the jungle startled everyone.

"We must go," Angelina told Marie. "With or without you. Your baby is dead. Your husband the murderer. You are already wounded beyond our repair. What do you have left?"

The women began to file out from the camp, leaving the tents and their few scant belongings behind. Sari led them.

"The choice is yours," Anna said.

What choice? Marie thought before replying, "What must I do?"

Angelina offered her hand to Marie. "Come with us."

Chapter 27

The women steadily made their way through the jungle, even in the dark. Led by Sari, the women, at first a solid group, splintered into trios and pairs. They thought that would make the villagers' search for them more difficult.

Marie found herself with Anna and Angelina, away from the others.

Male voices filtered through the night and trees.

The women halted. Listened.

A harsh beam of light cut through the darkness, sweeping past them.

Two of Rosalo's men walked by. They talked softly. What they spoke about was indistinguishable to the three women.

The women ducked down just as the men passed a few yards away. As soon as the men were out of earshot and their beam was a dying speck, the women rushed away, not caring about making much noise. The men wouldn’t be able to hear past their own noise.

Another pair of men crossed the women's path, both groups unaware of each other.

A loud shout from one of the men.

Another shout in response.

The two groups of men reversed course and headed back to the village --

-- inadvertently following the trio of women.

Marie wanted to turn and look, but Anna yanked her attention forward.

The women suddenly veered right just as the men's light blasted the spot where they turned.

The men moved on.

The women soon wound up in a small clearing marked by scattered rows of wooden stakes in the earth.

The other women from the camp were already there. Sari was positioning each at a stake.

A graveyard, Marie soon realized. The village's graveyard. She had never been there despite the many deaths the other husbands in the village had instigated. The dead were buried here and forgotten. But these women remembered.

"Come, Marie," Anna said. "It's too late to turn back. They'll kill you if you do."

Angelina was already at a grave. Sari beckoned Marie and Anna over.

"I'm afraid," Marie said to Anna.

Anna smiled, trying to break through the other's fear. "You'll see your baby again. Did you name him?"

Marie watched each woman step into place. A few looked uncertain, but no one lost their confidence. "Jean Paul," she answered.

"Then you'll see little Jean Paul again. Come."

Anna led Marie to a grave, then kissed her cheek. One final look into her eyes and she was soon over her own grave.

Sari visited each woman and handed them each a mean sliver of bone. She made sure to close each hand over the sharp instruments.

Finally, she gave one to Marie. In the gentlest of motions, Sari pantomimed running the bone over her throat. She then patted Marie's face. "That is all," Sari managed to say.

Sari left to go on to her own grave.

Marie pondered the bone in her hand. She looked over at Anna, who nodded to her.

Angelina was staring at the ground at her feet, lost in her thoughts. She was talking to herself or God or the person her suicide was going to resurrect.

Then --

-- a final silence.

No one breathed.

The ten women looked at each other, the last time each would see a living soul again.

One by one, the women raised the bones to the edges of their throats. Marie was the last.

Sari closed her eyes and swayed back and forth. She whispered a barely audible prayer, a wish for vengeance.

She was the first.

Soundlessly, she fell forward. She landed on the dirt grave, blood spilling from her jugular soon soaking the ground.

As she fell, the others save for Marie followed suit. They landed either across their graves or parallel.

None fought death.

They convulsed.

Gasped.

Gurgled their last.

Angelina, who wept.

Then Anna.

Marie.

The mother was calm, past the point of shock. Her chest wound which now she didn't feel would kill her anyway. She was sure of it.

She took solace in knowing she would be with her baby again.

And that her husband would for all his evil.

Each drop spot darkened with blood. The sounds of dying soon faded as finality set in on them.

Marie whispered, "Jean Paul."

She was the last to die.

The gurgling ceased.

The last muscle spasmed.

Ten bodies bled dry onto the resting places of their beloved wronged.

It didn't matter whose grave they bled into. The deed was enough to reanimate. The intent was the spark and fuel.

The jungle noises remained muted as if all things natural had fled the area.

The last stream soaked into the earth.

Then nothing.

Then --

-- a twitch.

Not from any of the women.

The red earth beneath Angelina.

Pulsed.

Cracked.

The other graves did the same.

The place where Sari straddled bulged up. Dirt fell from the thing coming up.

A face burst through.

Pale, white, ashen. Eyes void of any emotion. Cheeks sunken. Purple veins road-mapped his body.

The corpse came through and appeared to embrace Sari. Then it rolled her body off of him and climbed from his grave.

The other zombies also rose.

Angelina's zombie, as it rose, placed his arm over her parallel body as if to cuddle, then pushed her off of him as he climbed out of the hole.

Marie's zombie, whoever he was, just rose, no gesture of affection. The intent was the spark.

Ten pale figures, adult males and females, stood next to their old resting places.

Stood. As if waiting for some instruction. And the instruction from the ritual came and they set off, slowly, for the village.

Chapter 28

Seeing Raymond blow away the man in the road should have shaken Nolan.

It didn't.

He took it in stride. Watching the grocer die and then seeing his wife's decapitated corpse changed something within Nolan. That and the scene in the church. He would never be the same after this. He wondered what he would become after he was finished with this country.

He didn't want to think about it so he felt like he should have asked Raymond something. Plus this could make him feel like more of the group and not the outsider he was. The soldiers didn't really acknowledge his presence -- they couldn't care less about this meddling outsider -- and Raymond was more courteous than actually interested in the priest. In fact, Nolan wondered why the man had really wanted him to come along. He had to know that the priest was untrained in jungle combat let alone any armed combat judging by the awkwardness in which he held his rifle when they first met. In the jeep, Nolan simply mirrored how the other soldiers held their weapons and did a barely convincing job at that.

Perhaps Raymond meant what he said when he thought a little divine help would be needed. Was Raymond genuinely a man of faith in this desolate locale or was he desperate for any assistance, imagined or not? Nolan feared the latter, but that didn't deter him from believing Raymond was sincere in seeking out Marie and Jean Paul.

What Nolan didn't know or consider was that Raymond's zest to accomplish this rescue was more of a matter of pride than it was an act of common decency. Raymond was out to prove to his superiors he could accomplish what the constable couldn't or wouldn't and what his peer Captain Fleur failed at. Perhaps if his superiors took note, then a promotion, and a desk job, would be in his near future.

Nolan leaned forward. "Captain Raymond."

Raymond looked back.

"I haven't seen any animals since I've moved here." It was lame, but it was something.

Jacoby silently scoffed at the priest. He wanted to sightsee, too! Jacoby wished this ride was over. He couldn't bear to sit so close to Nolan any longer even with someone between them. The gall of this ass to come into his country, his home, and demand services and privileges that couldn't even be afforded to the native people. And then to ask where the animals were! This was no jungle cruise!

Jacoby wished a rock would fly out of the trees and smash the bastard's smirk away. Or a stray bullet should there be another gunfight.

"Do not be surprised," Raymond replied. "With all the tribes and other fringe elements out here, the wildlife has retreated further and further into the jungle. But do not let their absence fool you. There's still a poisonous snake or a mountain lion lurking about."

An image of Nolan being bitten and poisoned, then painfully dying pleased Jacoby. His joy soon evaporated when he realized someone would be sent to replace him. Another obnoxious white man with nothing better to do than annoy the locals with talk of a better life with God.

Nolan grasped to continue the conversation. "What kind of snakes?"

Raymond smiled. "All kinds."

Nolan sat back after he couldn't come up with anything else to say. He sat with the terrible thought that should anyone get bitten out here or in town, then that person would probably die. He couldn't imagine anyone having an anti-venom nearby. Or that if someone did, they would allow it to be used.