Hell Rig (33 page)

“The stairs are just there,” Jeff said.

“Where are we going?”

“I want the other two amulets.” He held out the
gris-gris
. “This thing seems to work. Maybe the power is doubled or something with more than one.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just winging it here.”

Lisa felt that maybe Jeff was right. She had felt her amulet warming as they confronted Damballah Wedo. The amulets had worked on the fog. “It can’t hurt,” she agreed.

They started down the short stretch of hall. The dirty, stagnant water reached her knees. It was as cold as ice and smelled of dead things. She could see the stairwell ahead of her. She focused on it. Jeff moved faster and got ahead of her.

“Wait up,” she called to him. Suddenly, the water beside her erupted as a skeletal arm, burned black, reached up and grabbed her leg. She screamed and tried to pull away from its cold, clammy grasp. “Help!” she yelled. She shuddered when she saw McAndrews’ blackened, shriveled face emerge from the water.

Jeff rushed back and kicked at McAndrews’ head. Chunks of seared flesh fell away, revealing blackened bone beneath. McAndrews paid no attention to the attack as he slowly rose from the water, dragging Lisa down into it by her leg. She swallowed a mouthful of filthy water and gagged, coughing it up, sputtering as she was dragged back and forth as McAndrews struggled with Jeff. She fought to keep her head above water.

“Mac,” Jeff shouted, but the zombie McAndrews paid no heed to him. He reached for Jeff with his other arm. Jeff pulled the Glock from his pants and fired his last bullet into McAndrews’ arm. The bullet severed the arm but did not release Lisa from its grip. She slapped at the severed arm with disgust until it fell away and crawled toward Jeff. As she did so she saw Jeff grab a fire axe from the wall. McAndrews grabbed her leg with his other arm and dragged her under again. She could see nothing and was concentrating on not drowning when she felt McAndrews’ grip lessen. She pushed against the deck with her hands and broke free. She surfaced and opened her eyes. She was staring into McAndrews’ eyes as they floated by on his severed head. Lisa reached up to grab Jeff’s hand. She stood, shaking from more than just the cold water and wiped her face. “God, that was awful,” she said.

Jeff watched McAndrews’ severed head slowly slip beneath the surface of the stagnant water. “He won’t bother us again.” He kept the axe as they climbed the stairs.

“I have to change clothes,” Lisa said. The odor from the foul water was getting to her, making her ill.

Jeff pulled at her. “We don’t have time.”

She fought out of his grip and stared at him. “I have to change clothes,” she repeated.

He looked at her and nodded. “All right.”

He kept watch in the hallway as she stripped naked, wiped down with a towel and put on fresh clothes. Her boots were wet but at least she felt better in dry socks.

“What do we do now?” she asked, toweling her hair.

“We get the amulets.” Jeff no longer looked frightened, but did seem defeated. “We have to reach the TEMPSC someway. I don’t know how.”

They both jumped when they heard the squeak of a door opening. Jeff hefted the axe in both hands as Sims came through the door of the front office.

“Sims,” Jeff growled. “How did you make it back?”

“I outran them. They’re slow.” He stopped in the hallway. “I saw you at the emergency craft. You’ll never make it.”

Jeff swore and moved toward Sims with the axe. “You lying bastard. You knew Waters was dead.”

Sims glared at Jeff and pulled out his knife. “Bring it on, Towns.”

Lisa saw Jeff stop and stare at the knife. At first, she thought the knife frightened him, but then she saw the look of recognition in his eyes.

“An eagle,” he whispered. “There’s an eagle engraved on your knife, Sims, on the handle. That’s where I saw it before. That’s where the kid on the supply ship saw it.” He looked up at Sims. “You killed them.” He stared at Sims a moment longer. “You killed Waters. It’s been you all along.” He nodded at the knife. “I thought it was destroyed by Waters.”

Sims smiled. “Another illusion.”

Lisa gasped. “You killed Waters.”

Sims laughed. “Waters was less than alive when he left here after Katrina and he knew it. He came back seeking release and I gave it to him. It was McAndrews who had him sent back out, you remember. Blame him.”

Lisa stared at Sims, incredulous. “You did it all,” she accused, seeing the truth in Sims’ eyes. “You killed everyone and blamed Waters for it.”

Sims’ smile revolted her. “Waters wasn’t the first one here after Digger Man did his thing. From my disabled shrimp boat I saw the rig on fire but thought we might tie up and ride out the storm long enough to make repairs. I went up on deck amid the carnage to see if I could help and saw the Digger Man. I never looked evil in the face until that moment, but I knew it when I saw it, pure evil, primeval and untouched, undiluted by man’s truths and religions. He reached out and…touched me.”

“You crucified Digger Man,” Jeff spoke up.

“Yes. Damballah Wedo commanded it. I had no choice. He was in me just like he was inside Digger Man. There was no fighting it. Digger Man just stood there as I wired him to the crane and ripped him open navel to chest with this knife. He stared at me like he couldn’t believe it, so I plucked out his eyeballs and tossed them over the side. He didn’t even scream as I hoisted him into the air.”

“How did you do it all?

In answer to Jeff’s question, Sims’ face began to melt, to run like molten wax. It reshaped itself as Waters. “Waters thought he was helping you, trying to save you. I borrowed his face. It was so hilarious when Tolson attacked him and Waters had to fight back. It made using him as a scapegoat so much easier, so entertaining.”

“Why the charade?” Lisa asked.

“A diversion to keep you here. You feared Waters and ignored the real danger.”

Lisa thought of her friends, the men on the supply ship and choked back a sob. “All those men…how could you?”

“Souls for my master.”

“There’s one more thing,” Jeff asked. “You said the hip flask contained a tonic. What is it?”

Sims smiled, replaced his knife in its scabbard, removed the silver flask from his back pocket and offered it to Jeff. She watched as Jeff took the flask and sniffed it. He jerked his head back, snorted and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

“Blood,” he said in disgust.

“Digger Man’s blood,” Sims added, “mixed with a little blood from all the others. Like I said, it’s a tonic.”

Jeff threw the flask down in disgust and stomped on it. A dark, nauseatingly thick ichor oozed from the opening. Sims’ face clouded and his flesh began to quiver in agitation.

Lisa smiled that Jeff’s action angered Sims. “Your master is a fool if he thinks he can break the barrier between life and death,” she yelled.

Sims frowned and balled his fist. “Damballah Wedo is all powerful.”

She laughed. “Damballah Wedo is a weakling who needs humans to do his biding. He’s afraid of us. He’s afraid of me.”

As she hoped, a black shadow began to ooze from Sims’ mouth and eyes. It ran like oil to the deck, pooling around Sims’ feet. Sims staggered and writhed as his body emptied of its host.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asked her under his breath.

She cautioned him to wait.

Sims moaned as the last of Damballah Wedo poured from his body. He stood rigid, empty, his eyes wide with fright. The pool of evil began to rise, reshape itself into a sick parody of a man.

“Run Sims!” she shouted. “You’re free!”

Sims turned but Damballah Wedo was too quick. An ebony tendril lashed out and encircled his head. He screamed as black smoke rose from his face. The tendril whipped around and tossed Sims to the floor. He rose on his hands and knees, moaning loudly. Lisa gasped when she saw his eyes had been burned from the sockets. The flesh was black and raw. He crawled blindly across the floor, groping his way until he collided with a wall and curled up in the fetal position.

“You will never destroy the Gateway,” Lisa shot at Damballah Wedo. “The other Loas will stop you.”

His laughter shook the room. “They are aiding those who try to stop me, fearing my wrath too much to confront me directly. My power grows stronger by the hour as the storm approaches. Shortly, I will have enough power to rip the Gateway to shreds. The dead shall rise; the living shall tremble. I will control both.”

Behind him, the bodies of Easton, Ed Harris and the crew of the supply ship fanned out, blocking the hall. Lisa realized their only escape, if any, led outside into the storm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sims slowly rise to his feet, holding onto the wall. Freed of the creature inhabiting him, the part of him that remained Sims the shrimper fought for control of his body. He could no longer see, but he could smell the fetid creature that had possessed him.

“You will not win,” she shot at Damballah Wedo to keep his attention focused on her. As she had hoped, the creature did not see Sims draw his knife and lunge at it.

“Run!” she shouted, grabbing Jeff’s hand and pulling him to the door. She looked back to see Sims driving his knife deep into the Loas’ neck. Black flames erupted from the wound and engulfed both of them. Sims’ body shriveled as the flames consumed it but Damballah Wedo remained untouched. The flaming knife fell from Sims’ hand and shattered on the deck. Sims, burning fiercely, grabbed at the Loa’s legs as he fell in a last attempt to tackle the creature. Damballah Wedo kicked at him and Sims dissolved into a pile of black ash that scattered in the breeze.

The zombies, momentarily without direction from their master fell to the deck. Slowly, they began to rise. Jeff yelled a warning but the wind ripped the words from his mouth. Outside, they crawled, hugging the side of the building for shelter.

“Where are we going?” she yelled into his ear.

“To the TEMPSC.”

She grabbed him by the shirt and shook her head. “No. We can’t. We have to stop him.”

He looked at her as if she had suddenly gone crazy. “Are you crazy?”

They turned the corner of the building into the lee of the wind and managed to stand. He grabbed her shoulders with both hands.

“We’ll die here,” he told her and she knew he was probably right, but she also suspected Damballah Wedo would never allow them to leave.

“He controls the sea and the storm,” she explained. “We’ll die if we try to leave now.”

Jeff shook his head uncertainly. She knew she had to persuade him.

“Did you see Sims?”

“Yes, I guess I understand about him now, poor soul.”

She shook her head. “No, I meant when he attacked Damballah Wedo, the zombies fell. His control of them faltered. He’s not yet as all-powerful as he claims.”

“He’s stronger than us,” Jeff reminded her.

“He admitted other
houngans
and
mamboes
in New Orleans are fighting him. He controls the storm through his control of other Loas. If we could break that control for just a short while, maybe we could redirect the hurricane and save New Orleans.”

Jeff looked unconvinced. “How does this save us?”

“It might not,” she admitted, “but if the hurricane moves away, he loses some of his power. It might give us a chance to escape.”

Jeff smiled and shook his head. “You’re a poor liar, Lisa. I like that in a woman. Okay, tell me what we need to do.”

There, in the lee of the storm, hunkered down against the elements, they plotted.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Jeff waited patiently alone. Lisa tried her best to convince him her plan would succeed, but he still harbored doubts. At best, he thought, they would die quickly and together. Even that seemed better than the messy alternatives his mind churned up. Fighting a Loa with a god complex seemed like a futile effort, but Lisa was convinced help was waiting. She said she sensed other voodoo priests and priestesses back in New Orleans and along the coast gathered together challenging Damballah Wedo’s power. That she considered herself a
mambo
now frightened him, too. How could a college-educated woman living in the Twenty-First century believe in voodoo? Granted, he had witnessed enough strange things the last few days for one lifetime, but to seriously believe chants, trances and a few candles could even the playing field—it didn’t make sense.

She had guts. He had to give her that much. If it were left up to him, they would be taking their chances in the TEMPSC, maybe at the bottom of the Gulf by now, but away from voodoo central. She had insisted he wait while she retrieved her I-Pod from her room. They had watched as the zombie horde, his dead friends among them, tottered off into the storm at the far end of the platform. He hoped she would be safe.

They could not risk candles and trances inside and outside in the storm it would be impossible, but Lisa insisted all she required now was her music to reach that dream state she needed to open the doorway. The rest was just window dressing. She explained that the music brought forth long buried memories and chants her voice—she had not dwelt on this revelation—had hidden. Even though he had been there,he thought, he wasn’t sure he believed such a place really existed.