by Ocean
As the boat sped toward the light, Rosie’s anxiety increased. With each passing minute as the shape of the island became clearer, flashbacks of what had happened there mixed with anticipation of what was about to occur increased her nervousness.
As they approached land, there was a familiarity to the island, yet it also looked very different.
She recognized the beach where she and Devin had first landed, had tied up their boat, and had their picnic. From the distance, she could make out the rocky coast where they’d fled when they saw their first dolls, and the high cliff from where the nuns had called down to them.
But where before the island had been covered by luscious green growth, now there was nothing but gray and black remnants. Evidence of the fire was everywhere. Most of the healthy, tall, beautiful trees now lay on the ground, blackened. The few trees that remained standing were mostly charred fragments.
Rosie glanced at Devin. She still stood on her tiptoes to peer over the steering wheel, leaning into it as if that would will the boat to go faster.
“Devin?” Rosie said.
“Yes?” Devin answered without taking her gaze off her target, the island.
“Are you afraid to go back?”
Devin leaned back from the wheel.
“Afraid?” She paused as if the concept was foreign to her. “No, I’m not afraid. I mean, the worse that could happen to us has already happened. I’m angry. Angry at Ria and Naomi. And determined to make sure we get back into our bodies and they get what they deserve.”
“And what’s that, what do they deserve?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will.”
Devin turned the wheel, and the boat headed toward the side of the island.
“Okay, cut back on the speed a little. We don’t want them to hear us approaching. I’m going to land on the other side, over near the beach where we sat when they,” she paused before saying the words. “Made the change. We’ll sneak up on them through the woods.”
Rosie pulled back on the throttle, and the boat slowed. When they were near the shore Devin said, “Cut the gas.”
Rosie yanked back on the throttle. Devin turned the key, and there was silence. The boat rocked as it drifted.
Devin darted to the front of the boat and tried pushing the anchor over. After much grunting, it had only moved a couple inches.
“Rosie, come and help me,” she said.
Rosie scooted through the window in the windshield and pushed while Devin pulled the heavy, metal anchor. Finally, it slid overboard, splashing as it hit the water. Rosie watched as the rope near her feet quickly unfurled.
“Stay back!” Devin grabbed Rosie’s arm and yanked her away from the rope. “You don’t want to get tangled in that.”
The anchor drifted through the dark water to the sandy bottom.
“There. That should hold the boat here,” Devin said.
Rosie studied the distance between the boat and the beach. Had they been in their own bodies, it’d been no problem to walk through the shallow water. But in these doll bodies…
“Do you think we can swim that far?” she asked. “I mean, can we even swim? Will we sink?”
Devin looked to the shore and shook her head.
“No. It’s too risky. Come on, we’ll both sit on this seat cushion. I’ll paddle us in. You hold on to the book. No matter what happens, don’t let go of it.”
Devin placed one of the square seat cushions in the water. Rosie climbed onto it. Because of the wobbling motion, she immediately flopped on her stomach with the book wedged between herself and the cushion.
“Whoa, Devin. This is not very steady.”
“We’ll be alright. You just hold on tight to the cushion and the book, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Devin knelt and paddled using a short snorkeling flipper. The cushion rose and fell with each wave, but between the tide and Devin’s paddling, they drifted toward the island. When they were only in inches of water, Devin leapt off and tugged at the cushion until it slid on to the beach. When Rosie jumped off and was back on land, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank God that’s over with.” She clutched the book to her chest as she surveyed the area that surrounded them. Everything within eyesight was charred black. Other than the waves curling onto the beach, it was eerily quiet.
“It looks like a scene from an apocalypse movie,” she said.
“Yeah, kinda creepy, huh?”
“When you destroy an island, you sure do it top-notch.”
Rosie walked to the edge of what used to be bushes. There lay the charred remains of a doll. It was partly melted, partly burned. Several fingertips lay scattered in the black ash and a solitary blue eye stared up from what remained of the head.
Rosie shivered.
“Devin. What do you think happened to all the dolls?”
Devin had walked to another pile of burnt remains and poked at it with the flipper.
“What do you mean, what happened to them? They all burned. At least, I hope they did.”
“No, I mean their souls. Those were souls that used to be people before they were trapped in the bodies of dolls. What do you think happened to their souls?”
Devin stopped prodding at the pile of ashes and cocked her head. “Hmm. Good point. I don’t know. I suppose whatever happens to souls after we die, that’s what happened to them. I mean, I guess if they were good when they were human, they go up, you know, to heaven or wherever it is good people go. And if they were evil, then…”
“Then Guede Nimbo comes for them and takes them to meet Satan?”
The thought of the Satan that they’d seen in Cuba at the Mambo’s cottage caused Rosie’s heart to beat faster. His evil looking face, the daggered tail. Those flaming red eyes. Those teeth. The same face she saw in the water.
Devin shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not really all too anxious to find out anytime soon. Are you?”
Rosie shook her head.
Devin dropped the flipper.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s find Ria and Naomi. It’s time we teach them a lesson.”
36
Learning a new language
Rosie took a step onto the charred ground, yelped and leapt back onto the sand, rubbing her foot.
“What’s the matter?” Devin asked.
“It’s still hot.” Rosie pulled her ankle up and looked at the bottom of her foot. “I think it melted a little.”
A large cloud that had been hiding the moon drifted by and they were showered with rays of thin moonlight. Visible wisps of smoke rose from the ground over the scattered charred remains.
“We can’t cut through the forest,” Devin said, “or what’s left of it. Let’s circle around the edge of the island, along the rocks.”
They made their way along the coast, climbing over seaweed-covered rocks until they turned a corner and saw a large campfire in the middle of a clearing.
Devin reached a hand out and held onto Rosie’s arm. She pursed her lips and pressed a single finger against them.
They peered over the top of a large rock.
Two boats were tied to the one remaining tree that had been scorched but not completely burnt. One slick speedboat had the words, “Key West News” imprinted on the side. The other was a wide, flat pontoon boat.
About a dozen people dotted the beach, most manned numerous cameras and spotlights that scattered the edge of a filming set.
Naomi and Ria, in Devin and Rosie’s bodies, sat in foldout director’s chairs, drinking wine and toasting marshmallows while being interviewed by what appeared to be two television reporters. The four of them were obviously the center of attention and were laughing.
“There we are!” Devin pointed.
“Okay cut!” yelled a man sitting in a tall chair beside one of the larger cameras. “That’s a wrap. Good job, ladies.” He jumped down off the chair and stretched. Beside him lay a large dog who had been sleeping. When the man stood, the dog als
o rose, stretched and sniffed the air. The dog turned his head in Rosie and Devin’s direction. The hackles on his back stiffened. A growl rumbled deep in his throat.
“Uh-oh," Devin said.
The man slapped his own thigh.
“Brutus. Sit.”
The dog obediently obeyed yet continued to eye in their direction.
One of the female reporters cuffed Naomi on the back.
“I give you both credit. I know you said you don’t believe the rumors are real, but I have to admit, it’s creepy out here at night.” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “I keep expecting to see a possessed doll stumble out from the ashes any minute.”
Rosie watched as Devin’s body lit a cigarette.
“I’ll kill her,” Devin whispered. “She’s smoking with my body.”
Rosie nudged her.
“Shush.”
“Nothing to be afraid of on this island except your own imagination,” Devin’s body said as smoke exhaled from her mouth. “These are the kinds of stories that Hollywood loves. Sells movies, books, magazines. But it’s like Sasquatch, Chupacabra, and little green aliens. None of it’s real.”
“People do love a good scary story,” said the reporter. “The tale of Doll Island about cursed dolls that come alive at night has been a big moneymaker for Key West for centuries. And now, with what you two have been through and the mysterious fire, well, it’ll flame the public’s desire for more details for years to come.”
The man who’d jumped down from the tall chair barked orders.
“Okay, everyone. Hit the hay. We only have five hours until sunrise. I want you all up and back here in four hours to prepare to reenact the rescue scene. It’s a short night. Lights out in all tents in thirty minutes.”
An undercurrent of grumbles rose from the workers who obediently shuffled toward the many tents that lined the edge of the beach. Ria and Naomi headed toward the largest of the tents. It was set back and away from the others.
Rosie and Devin made their way along the edge of the beach, hiding in the shadows, pausing and ducking behind rocks and charred remains when someone walked by. Beyond them the forest was still smoking hot so they couldn’t approach the tent from the backside. They’d have to walk across the clearing.
At one-point Devin indicated she was ready to approach the tent, and she stood, but Rosie pulled her back down.
“Not yet. There’s still activity in that one.” She pointed to a nearby tent that still had a light on inside. Male voices drifted from the canvas enclosure. There was low murmuring, occasional laughter and swearing mixed with the sound of bottles clinking together. After a while, a man left the tent and relieved himself at the edge of the woods. There was a sizzle sound as his urine hit the smoking charred remnants of forest. When he finished peeing, he returned to the tent. The talking and laughing continued.
“Shit, why don’t they go to bed?” Devin said, as she eyed the big tent Ria and Naomi had disappeared into. Their light was still on.
“We have to wait until the coast is clear,” Rosie said. “Two dolls strolling through the campsite won’t exactly go unnoticed.”
Reluctantly, Devin resumed squatting behind the rock.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on that little twerp. How dare she smoke with my body?” she whispered.
“Okay,” Rosie whispered back, “let’s review the plan. We may only have one shot to do this. We have to make sure we do it right. How’s this going down?”
Devin’s mouth twisted to one side.
“Um… I’m not sure exactly. I guess you just repeat the spell and that’ll transfer our souls back into our bodies.”
“Do you really think they’ll let us do it that easily? I mean, what are we supposed to do, crawl up their clothes like a crab, I blurt out the curse, then we both lock lips with our own bodies?”
Devin’s face distorted.
“That’s kind of a gross thought, I mean making out with myself.”
“Yeah, it is. Well, you don’t have to make out exactly. What did they tell us, just a few seconds, long enough to have our souls transfer?”
“Right. Five to ten seconds they’d said. Still. It’s an odd concept.”
“Agreed. But if we want to get back into our bodies…”
Devin nodded.
“We still don’t know how to do it. I mean they’re not going to let us do the change willingly.”
“Probably not.”
“Okay then, next plan?”
“How about we wait until they’re sleeping and perform the curse then? Like they did to us.”
“That might work.”
“Maybe you better practice the chant, you know, so you don’t screw it up. Like you said, we might only have one shot at this.”
“Good idea.” Rosie opened the book. She turned a couple pages.
“There’s some really cool stuff in here. Look,” she pointed to the top of a page. “Spell to make someone lose their memory.”
“That’s amazing. But hurry, get to the transferring of the soul part.”
“Okay,” Rosie flipped through the pages. “Here it is, ‘curse of the damned’.”
She traced the words with her finger as she read.
“The curse of the damned can be performed in several ways. First, to transfer the soul of a living being into an inanimate object, repeat the words, ‘Dooha bangoo bahaba mozzubee. Witchabak nosquito. Witchabak morang zee chagga.’ The living being must be breathing. Press the inanimate object that you wish to transfer the soul into, to the mouth of the living being for at least six seconds. The soul will be sent from the living to the non-living. The body of what was living can now be destroyed and the soul will be trapped inside what had been non-living.”
Rosie stopped reading. “That’s what the Shaman originally did to Ria and Naomi. She transferred their souls into the wax dolls.”
“What else does it say?” Devin asked.
“Oh my, Devin, listen to this! ‘Second. To swap the souls between two living beings, the curse of the damned must be chanted and the lips of each being pressed together for at least six seconds. At that time, the souls will be changed.”
“That’s what Ria and Naomi did to us,” Devin said.
“If you can call possessed dolls living,” Rosie said. “Wait, there’s more.” She kept reading. “Third. If you are unable to get close enough to press lips together with a soul you wish to swap with, simply add the words, ‘I command to’ and say the person’s name.”
“That’s it?” Devin said. “That’s all we have to do?”
“I guess,” Rosie said while she continued to read.
“Cool. Throwing a curse from a distance. Let’s do it now,” Devin said.
Rosie read on.
“You must be within an arm's distance for the transfer to occur.” Rosie’s shoulders slumped. “I guess it’s better than having to kiss them but getting within an arm's distance won’t be easy either.”
“Do you think they mean a doll’s arm's distance or a person’s? That’s a big difference.” She held her arm out straight. It was only about eight inches long.
“I don’t know but either way, it means we have to get pretty close.”
“Is there anything else?” Devin asked.
“Yes. Four. To transfer a soul to another being from another time or place, you state the curse of the damned and add the words, ‘I command to find, say the name, time and place,’.”
“Geez, this curse business is getting complicated. Why would you want to curse someone in another time?”
“I don’t know. I guess whoever created the curse wanted to cover all the bases. It is complicated. There’s lots more.”
Devin motioned with her hand.
“Skip all the rest, just get to the reverse the curse part. You know, the part about for the curse not to last and putting the soul tight where it belongs.”
“Okay, fine, here it is. ‘For the curse not to last, say the last word first and th
e first word last.’”
“Right, that part. Okay, easy enough, you simply have to say the curse backward.”
“But do I have to say the words backward or all the letters backward?”
“I don’t know, what do you think?”
“It says, ‘last word first and first word last,’ Other than that, they don’t explain it very well. We may only get one chance at this, Devin. What should I do?”
“I think saying the words backward instead of all the letters makes more sense. That way, you’re still saying the words…only backward.”
Rosie nodded.
“But if you say the curse, how will they know which soul goes into which body?” Devin said.
“I don’t know,” Rosie continued to scan the book, searching for answers.
“I want to make sure I get in my own body,” Devin quickly added, “not that there’s anything wrong with your body.”
“I know what you mean. I want my own body back too. Ah, not that there’s anything wrong with your body.” She turned the page. “Oh, here we go. There’s one more part. Add the phrase, ‘I command a reverse (one name) and (other name).’ The two souls will be returned to their original physical being.”
“Rosie! That’s it! That’s what we need to do. It’s so simple. This is wonderful!”
Rosie shook her head. “Not simple exactly. Getting each person involved an arm's distance away from each other is not going to be easy.”
“Okay, so we’ll need to get close to them. I guess you can perform the reverse curse for both of us, right?”
“I think so. Devin, I don’t know. This is really scary, what if it doesn’t work?”
“We don’t have a choice. We have to try. Practice the curse so you can say it right.”
“How do we know what’s right?”
“We don’t but at least you can say the words in the right order.”
Rosie began repeating the words, one at a time.
“Chagga.”
“Chagga zee.”
“Chagga zee. Morang.”
“Chagga zee. Morang witchabak.”
