I had the same fear. About ten minutes had passed before I’d given her the antidote, and the wound was large enough to have absorbed some of Sanfia’s zombie potions.
But we needed to move on. We had to get to Saint-Marc before the bombs were transferred to the Ana Brigette. With what we now knew, the target was Atlanta, the Pope, and the thousands of people who would gather there, for Mass, Saturday morning.
“Jakjak, is there anyone to help us at Saint-Marc this evening?”
His eyes filled with fear as he shook his head. “Doktè, everybody knows Sanfia. If we ask them to help us, she’ll find out and finish makin’ us zombies.”
“How about Benoit?”
“Maybe. He likes you. And when he fixes on somebody, he do anything they ask.”
“Are there others like him who might be of help? Sanfia said he leads the other men.”
“Benoit lives and works with about twelve men. He’s the crew leader. It might work. We jes have to take him without Sanfia or Emmanuel knowin’.”
“Can you get a truck that’ll carry all of us?”
“I wouldn’t try to take Sanfia’s trucks, but they’s plenty of ’em owned by the highway department.”
“Judging from the conditions of roads in these parts, I’ll bet few of them are ever out repairing roads.”
Jakjak laughed. “Wi, Doktè, nobody will miss them.”
Keyes coughed, and I turned to her. She took three swallows of Coke and went back to sleep. I checked her pulse; it was up to seventy.
Thank God, she was improving! But had the zombie poison killed significant parts of her brain? I dreaded the possibility of her having brain damage.
Sanfia’s Vacant Safe House
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
8:59 a.m.
Jakjak returned with a large, barely used cargo van with the Port-au-Prince Highway Department logo on the doors. “They knew me. Told ’em it was for Minis Duran. It’s ours for three days.”
“What about Benoit?” I asked.
“We’re in luck. Benoit and all his men worked all night helpin’ Sanfia and diggin’ the two graves—one for you and one for your missus. They won’t know you escaped until Sanfia digs up the bodies tomorrow.”
I high-fived him.
“And better’n that, they’s supposed to be sleepin’ cause they worked all night. Nobody will know we got ’em.”
“Then let’s hit the road.”
Jakjak got behind the wheel. I laid Keyes between us on the front seat with her head on my lap. She still hadn’t awakened. I was worried about permanent brain damage and her becoming another Benoit, but we had to intercept the bombs.
Makeshift Landing Strip
Saint-Marc, Haiti
9:00 a.m.
Farok sat in a Mercedes by an isolated, brush-covered field, five miles from town. An old concrete road crossed the field. The concrete was so badly broken up that the road was unusable, except for a mile-long section that showed evidence of recent repairs. Although the car was air-conditioned, Farok’s face and body were covered with sweat. He kept looking to the sky and wringing his hands until he saw an aircraft approaching.
Looking at his watch and then upward, he said, “Allahu Akbar.”
The Piaggio Avanti circled once and then landed on the old road. As the Mercedes motored onto the road and toward the plane, a bodyguard wiped the sweat from Farok’s brow. Following behind the Mercedes was a two-and-a-half-ton military truck.
When the pilot opened the cockpit door, Farok yelled. “What took you so long? I needed this merchandise hours ago!”
The pilot shrugged. “Sorry, sir. I flew at maximum speed and altitude. It’s a long way to Aleppo.”
Farok looked at his watch again and shook his finger at the man. “I’ll have your life if you don’t get that last package to Saint Kitts on time.”
Farok’s men quickly loaded one of the crates on the truck. Then the Piaggio made a fast take-off.
Farok got in the Mercedes. One of his men wiped the sweat from his face and hands as another poured him a glass of Scotch. A faint smile had replaced his frown.
He took a sip and let out his breath.
“All the pieces of my plan are finally in place. After four long months of planning, everything is complete and operational,” he congratulated himself. “The mission will be perfect. In exactly seventeen and a half hours, the US Devil of the Universe will bow at my feet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
One of Sanfia’s Safe Houses
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
10:01 a.m.
I WAITED IN THE van as Jakjak made sure that Emmanuel’s men were not inside the house or in the vicinity. I leaned over and talked to Keyes, even though she seemed not to hear me. She was alive, but not much more than that.
Jakjak called my name, and I went to him. We entered the house through a side door and went down to the basement. Jakjak opened one of the doors. The stench of urine hit me in the face.
Benoit recognized me and smiled. “Hello, Doktè. Good to see you.”
I smiled as I shook his outstretched hand. Benoit was dressed in a clean, black, long-legged pajama-looking outfit like so many of the fishermen of Miragoâne wore. The room was filled with a dozen other men, all dressed like Benoit and listening intently to my words. I had to sell our mission to this dull-minded man and the even more impaired men he’d lead.
“Benoit, I need your help. Some men are planning to blow up a bomb that will kill a lot of innocent people.”
His brow knitted, Benoit hung on my every word.
“It will be dangerous. The bad guys have guns. They’re carrying a heavy bomb to place on a ship in the harbor at Saint-Marc. We’re going to try to keep the bomb off the ship and also rescue one of our friends that they kidnapped. We’re going to try to capture the bomb, but if there are too many soldiers, we may have to either break the hoist that loads the bomb, or just dump the bomb into the water. Can you help me do that?”
Saliva dripped from the corners of Benoit’s mouth. His answer was delayed as he assimilated the information I’d just given. Then, he nodded his head up and down. “Yes. Men have guns. They shoot us with guns. We stop soldiers from putting bomb on boat. Maybe we drop bomb in the water.”
Jakjak told Benoit to have his men go repair ruts in the road while Jakjak, Benoit, and I planned out how to get to and disarm the bomb.
When we finished talking, I handed a coin to Benoit. “This is my good luck charm. Take it. It’ll bring luck to you.”
He slowly reached for it and inspected it back and front. He looked up and said quietly, “Thank you for giving luck.” Then, he went to round up our crew.
I didn’t know what we’d encounter in Saint-Marc, so I ad-libbed a short speech to Benoit’s men. When I was done, they all looked to Benoit. He spoke to them in Creole for several minutes. Many had questions, but all finally agreed to go.
The twelve men got in the back of the van. Jakjak had loaded it with road-repairing equipment, including shovels, rakes, garden hoes, and a dozen bags of cement. The men all put on the Haitian Department of Utility orange vests with reflective yellow bands. They looked like a work crew. Jakjak threw me a pair of black coveralls with the official department logo embroidered over the pocket, just like the outfit he’d already donned.
Jakjak lifted a yellow cooler and a lunch box to Benoit. “Food and water.”
I looked at the small lunch pail, the size I’d packed for my kids when they went to school. “That small amount of food can’t feed twelve people.”
“That’s all the beans and rice Sanfia feeds them, once a day.”
Jakjak put another lunch box and water cooler in the cab of the van. “For us,” he said.
Then he stepped close to me and whispered, “Here’s a pistol. I have one, too.”
>
“What about Benoit and his men?”
“Non, Doktè. No guns for zombies. They’s too unpredictable.”
The Wharf at Saint-Marc, Haiti
2:22 p.m.
Keyes continued to sleep. My heart ached with fear that the zombie poisons had transformed her into someone more like Benoit’s clan and less like the beautiful, vibrant, witty, and intelligent Elizabeth Keyes.
I was impressed with Jakjak. His plan seemed perfect. We’d drive around the city in broad daylight without having to conceal ourselves because we looked like an “official” work crew. As a white man, a blanc, no one would suspect me because of the many European consultants who worked with the Haitian government.
We drove down the Rue Christophe and to the dock. The destruction from the earthquake was evident everywhere I looked. The seawall was broken, a half-sunken freighter was still tied to the west side of the wharf, several demolished houses had no repairs, and ramshackle warehouses lined the roadside of the wharf.
Jakjak interrupted my thoughts. “Doktè, be careful as we pass. We mustn’t appear like sightseers looking for trouble.”
He drove onto the concrete wharf and to the south side, the only place where a ship could dock. Occasionally, Jakjak stopped the van so he and Benoit could get out and “inspect” one of the many potholes. Thirty or forty old weather-beaten cars were parked on one side of the wharf. For all I knew they were abandoned cars wrecked in the quake, as I saw no dock workers.
When we parked near the end of the wharf, beside a pothole that was four feet wide and three inches deep, I saw the Ana Brigette motoring into the dock. I tried not to focus on the vessel while I walked with Jakjak and Benoit, who were surveying the pothole we’d come to repair.
Benoit took a bag of cement and poured it into a plastic mixing bucket. He instructed one of his men to drop a bucket on a rope to get sea water for mixing the cement.
I pretended to observe the workers, using my peripheral vision to look for the pirates. It didn’t take long to spot them. About twenty men in military fatigues were walking from the large, seemingly empty warehouse at the front of the dock. They casually walked past us toward the docking Ana Brigette. Looking sideways without turning my head, I saw that five of them carried automatic weapons. I looked for evidence of concealed weapons on the others but didn’t see any tell-tale bulges in their clothing.
I peered out at the Ana Brigette, trying to look for Lars, hoping he was alive. But I saw only about twelve of the pirates walking around the ship’s aft deck.
We finished the repair, and Jakjak directed his crew to other large potholes in need of repair, to keep us there a while. Benoit had done this type of work before and was quite efficient in his supervision. He divided his men into three groups and kept all the men busy doing productive work.
I drew Jakjak aside. “What have you learned?” I whispered.
“Doktè, a heavy military truck is parked in the warehouse to your left. A driver is at the wheel, and tarps cover a big package. That has to be the bomb. About a dozen other men are in two other trucks parked in the rear of the building.”
Meanwhile, a new crisis was arising: We were running out of cement.
“Jakjak, how do we look busy when our supplies are gone?”
He already had his answer. “Doktè, the soldiers seem to be moving slow. I haven’t even seen what they have to load on the ship. We take a lunch break before the cement’s used up. We return to finish the job when the package is near the water.”
Again, Jakjak had impressed me. Although he was superstitious and childlike around Sanfia, otherwise, he was really sharp.
We packed up the van and drove to the public park on the side of the road opposite the wharf. The park was deserted except for four vendors pedaling trinkets and one selling ice cream. A gazebo was in the center of the park, and a statue of a public figure stood near the street.
Benoit distributed a tin cup of water and a small cup of beans and rice to each of the men, not a lot of food for working men. While the crew ate, Jakjak kept watching the wharf, waiting for the right chance.
I had an idea and hoped it wouldn’t make Jakjak angry. I went to the van, stuck my hand in the still-sleeping Keyes’ bra, and pulled out some money. I went up to the ice-cream cart and bought ice cream sandwiches for the workmen.
I sat beside Benoit to eat mine.
Benoit smiled. “You good man. Thank you. Haven’t had this since I was a boy.”
I decided to ask him a question, partly to see if Jakjak’s explanation of the Vodoun judgment by the societies was true, and partly to get to know the man a little. “So what was your crime that the society judged you so harshly for?”
His answer was quick, as if he’d been waiting a long time to answer. “M’ kase kòd te papa. My father die, I get the farm. I sold it and keep money. I should have shared with my brother. My crime was horrible. The society was just.”
“And the others?” I asked as I looked at the men.
“Men did bad. Sanfia took their spirits. They slaves like me.”
Jakjak looked at his watch. “Let’s get back to work. I see there’s activity in the warehouse.”
Jakjak was slow to move the equipment to the potholes. He waited while the truck from the warehouse moved to the end of the wharf and under the loading platform on the side of the Ana Brigette. A second truck followed, carrying the soldiers. The solitary package looked heavy. The men from the second truck got out and began taking the plastic covering off of the bomb. A large crane moved into position by the dock.
This is our chance. We can disable the crane.
Before I could get to Jakjak’s side, the crane on the deck of the ship started up.
Damn. We had to do something—soon, before the bomb was on the ship.
The soldiers continued to remove the plastic coverings from the bomb until the container was down to only about four by six feet. I beckoned Jakjak to the van, and we got in.
“Jakjak, the package is small enough for our crew to lift. The men with automatic weapons may cut us to pieces, but we have to get that bomb.”
Then, my spine tingled as a mysterious voice came from the back seat. “If it’s a nuke, it’s packed in lead to prevent radioactive leakage. Your men can’t lift it. It weighs over a ton.”
Jakjak’s eyes widened, and we both turned to look at Keyes. Her eyes were open.
“Elizabeth!” I jumped in the back seat and hugged her. “You’re okay!”
“Not by a long shot. I can think and talk, and my hand movement is starting to return. But besides that, I’m still essentially paralyzed.” She opened and closed her fingers but could barely lift her forearm. She looked intently at me. “Doc, will I ever be able to walk again?”
“You’ll be running in a couple days.” I said, but I shared her fear.
I changed the subject. “How’d you know about the warhead? You’ve been asleep a long time.”
“As a doctor, you should know. Hearing is the last sense to be lost and the first to return. Be careful talking about your patients while they’re under anesthesia.”
“So you heard us talking?”
“Along with every sound within hearing distance of me since Sanfia tried to make me a zombie. It’s a weird feeling to know everything that’s going on around you but not be able to respond. And pain. I’ll never forgive you for pouring alcohol on my head wound. That was the worst pain I’ve ever endured in my life.”
“I thought you were asleep. Sorry about that.” Hugging her again, I said spontaneously, “I love you.”
“I thought I loved you, too, but now I’m having second thoughts.” She gave a slight wink.
“You’ll be walking in no time.”
I looked up to see the crane on the ship’s deck lower a cable down to the truck. “Let’s move fast. Once it’s aboard the s
hip, it’ll be impossible to shove it overboard.”
“Any ideas?” Jakjak asked.
“There’s only one solution. I’ve got to drive that truck off the wharf.”
“You’d better come back for me,” Keyes said. Though she was smiling, I could see the fear in her eyes.
“Always,” I said and kissed her on the forehead.
I jumped from the van and walked slowly to the truck that was carrying the bomb. The driver was at the back of the vehicle getting ready to fasten the ship’s cables to the package. He spoke to me in some Arabic language, and I mumbled back to him in French. As I opened the door on the driver’s side, the driver began running toward me. I got in and started the truck. I saw Jakjak approaching. I slammed the accelerator to the floorboard, and the truck leaped forward.
Only ten feet to the edge of the dock!
I was nearly there when a machine gun blasted the windshield. Glass sprayed my face. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and kept my foot pressed down on the pedal.
Jakjak pulled out his pistol and shot the gunner. Another pirate fumbled to get his gun from the holster. Benoit screamed an order as the pirate aimed at Jakjak. One of Benoit’s men ran headlong into the pirate before he pulled the trigger, bowling him over. He jumped on top of the pirate and grabbed him by the neck, snapping it with both hands.
The truck was accelerating rapidly but stopped abruptly when it hit the four-inch-high curb. The front of the truck bounded in the air while the rear wheels continued to grind away. As the front of the truck nosed down to the water, the rear wheels were thrust in the air. The water rushed toward me as the truck vaulted over the railing. Yes!
As I prepared to jump from the truck, it jarred to a stop, suspended in air, the rear wheels hanging on the high curbing of the wharf.
Benoit dropped his shovel and snatched the driver from the second truck. He jumped in and stomped the accelerator, ramming the rear of the truck I was in. The crash nearly knocked my teeth out, but it sent my truck propelling toward the water again.
The Zombie Game Page 16
