The Zombie Game

by Glenn Shepard

  I opened the door as I fell, and tried to throw myself out, but the inrush of water threw me back inside. I put my shoulder against the door to keep it from slamming shut. The truck dropped fast toward the bottom. With all my strength, I shoved my feet against the seat and pushed. I shook free from the truck and swam upward.

  I broke the surface of the water just before the truck Benoit was driving hit the water. There was an explosive splash, and then I saw Benoit smiling at me. I opened his door before the sea surged in. Blood was coming from Benoit’s chest. A spear of the broken windshield jutted out from his chest.

  Benoit shook his head. “Let me alone so I can die. I want to. It seems like I spent years in that coffin. And I couldn’t die. Now I am at peace. Thank you for freeing my soul.” He reached in his shirt and removed a shoelace that was tied around his neck. On it was the bent coin I’d given him. “This good luck.”

  I tugged at him, but the shard of glass went all the way through his body and into the seat behind him. There was no way to get him out. I paddled away from the sinking truck.

  Benoit could die at last.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The Wharf at Saint-Marc, Haiti

  2:48 p.m.

  CHAOS ERUPTED ON THE dock. A soldier with stars on his collar barked orders and made a frantic phone call. A wrecker truck roared out of one of the warehouses and raced to where I’d driven the truck off the dock into the bay.

  A pick-up truck followed the wrecker, and men jumped out and donned scuba gear. Three men with flippers and scuba tanks dove into the water and swam to the submerged truck. The wrecker dropped a hoist chain into the water, but it wasn’t long enough to reach the bottom. Gun-carrying soldiers began coming down the ship’s elevator, and the deck of the Ana Brigette swarmed with terrorists. Another truck full of soldiers drove from one of the warehouses.

  I climbed up back to the wharf and tossed my gun in the road and held up my hands. “You win,” I said to my captors, as they circled me.

  I looked for Jakjak but didn’t see him. I heard six pistol shots followed by automatic weapons fire. My heart sank. Jakjak must have shot at them with his pistol, and they’d mowed him down with their automatic rifles. My last ally in Haiti was dead.

  I was marched aboard the Ana Brigette, with Keyes in my arms. They took us up in the elevator at the back of the vessel.

  My last sight of Benoit’s men was of them mingling with the soldiers at the wharf and walking around in circles by the road. Zombies. They didn’t recognize our predicament. They didn’t recognize anything.

  Aboard the Ana Brigette

  Saint-Marc, Haiti

  2:52 p.m.

  A man dressed in a starched, tan military uniform, with two gold stars embroidered on his collar, jumped up and shouted as I walked onto the ship, still carrying Keyes in my arms. I didn’t understand Arabic but knew he was upset.

  The general ran up to us and reached out to touch Keyes, but I pulled away from him. He drew back his hand and poised it over my face to strike, but restrained himself. He leaned over and looked closely at her body but didn’t try to put his hands on her again. He turned and scolded his men.

  Standing at attention before us, the general spoke in broken English. “The great emir will be here soon to greet you.”

  With that, we were led to the quarters and placed in a stateroom furnished with two bunk beds and several comfortable chairs. I placed Keyes on a bunk and flopped into one of the chairs.

  “Look, I can move my arms,” Keyes said as she lifted both hands above her head.

  I went to her and did a brief neurological exam to determine the lingering effects of the zombie poisons. Indeed, her arm and hand functions were normal. She also had good sensation in her legs and feet, but could not move them. With spinal cord injuries, sensory and motor functions are parallel. Sanfia’s poisons had selectively blocked the muscle actions. Unusual, I thought.

  Keyes said quietly, “Betcha forgot I speak a lot of languages.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Arabic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know what they were talking about?”

  “Yeah, and it’s interesting. The general thought you were carrying me because his men had shot me. He was mad at them and said that the great emir would kill them all if they harmed us.”

  I took a deep breath. “Then, the emir knew we were coming. He tried to spare us for the grand dinner party we’re to be food for. He doesn’t want to eat bruised meat.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Aboard the Ana Brigette

  Saint-Marc, Haiti

  3:03 p.m.

  IT TOOK A FEW minutes to comprehend all that was going on. We had succeeded in dumping the bomb. But could Farok recover it and put it back in action? The effects of the zombie poisons on Keyes were wearing off. But would her recovery be complete? We were Farok’s captives. And I was certain he planned to torture and kill us. We had to escape. But with Keyes’ disability, how? And was it even possible?

  “What’s left for us to do?” she asked.

  I couldn’t tell her what I really thought because she needed encouragement to recover. I looked away from her as I answered. “The immediate nuclear threat is over or at least delayed. If they manage to pull the bomb from the water, it will take a while. Their timetable will be set back a few hours, hopefully longer. It will be mid-morning or later before they can shoot their nuke. So we’ve at least gained some time. If Farok launches an attack at sunrise, as planned, it will be with conventional weapons, not nukes.”

  “And he’s Mister Big Time. He won’t do anything on a small scale.”

  I shivered at her words, knowing she was right. I looked into her eyes. “We can’t waste any time. We must regroup and plan our escape.”

  “Yeah. But until I can walk, you’re on your own.”

  I put my hand on her head. “You’ll help us with your brainpower, which is more than all of Farok’s organization’s brainpower combined. Together, we’ll outsmart them.”

  Just then a key rattled in the lock and the door burst open. There stood Jakjak, in handcuffs. Mobuto shoved him into the room and locked the door.

  I was so pleased, I could have kissed him. I hugged Jakjak tightly, and Keyes squeezed his hand. I stood back and looked at him. There was no blood or evidence of injury.

  “Are you alright? I thought with all that gunfire, they’d shot you up.”

  “Funny, Doktè. I killed two of them, but they only fired their guns in the air until I runs out of bullets and surrenders.”

  “They never shot at us, either,” I said, suddenly realizing why we’d all been saved.

  I looked out the porthole to see if the terrorists had brought in heavy equipment to lift the bomb from the sea. To my surprise, the wharf was empty. There were no soldiers and no vehicles, other than the abandoned cars that were there earlier. The only evidence of what had happened was a flattened guardrail.

  “Why aren’t they trying to capture the bomb I sank? ”

  Keyes was puzzled, too. “They paid billions for it. I thought Farok would spare no expense to retrieve it and dry it out. Even with water damage, it should be operational.”

  The engines of the Ana Brigette started. I looked out again at the wharf. The dock lines were gone, and the ship was moving. We were leaving without the nuclear warhead.

  “They’re leaving without the nuke? What’s happening?” I wondered.

  “I need my computer,” Keyes said.

  “That’s now the property of Farok.”

  I called Jakjak to my side and spoke in a whisper, not wanting to disturb Keyes’ thought process. “You’re devout in your religion.”

  “Well, Doktè, I was before last night.”

  “Something Benoit said raised a question. He said that the judgment of your society was
just and that he accepted his punishment, being made a zombie, because he was rightfully judged.”

  Jakjak nodded.

  “I have a question about the ‘rightful judgment.’ Sanfia caught us attending the society without an invite.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They captured us, and thirty minutes later Sanfia gave her judgment that we would receive the zombie sentence.”

  “That’s right.”

  “In any reasonable court system, the judge confers with others in the judicial system and a group renders the verdict.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the punishment is decided and rendered at a later date.”

  “O wi.”

  “Then how is it just for Sanfia to catch us, make judgment, and render the judgment all in a half-hour period? And without the counsel of others?”

  “I seen this done fifty times since I been in her sanpwel. It always took three or four weeks between the trial and judgment.”

  “Then, the protocol seems unusual?”

  “Wi, Doktè.”

  “And Sanfia takes money for her services?”

  “O wi. She loves money.”

  “Could she be ‘bought,’ and her services sped up by an offer of a large sum of money, like tens of thousands of dollars?”

  Jakjak never hesitated in his answer. “Wi. She do anything for that much money.”

  “She seemed so grateful to me. She even acted friendly after we gave her just a few hundred dollars. But then she turned on us. I bought her loyalty until a better offer was on the table. I think Farok got to her, like he did the police chief. And he paid her a lot of money.”

  Keyes frowned. “Why would Farok do that? Pay Sanfia to make us zombies?”

  “Think about it,” I said. “Somewhere along the way, he learned about Sanfia and zombies—about how zombie poisons rob you of muscle actions while your sensations are one hundred percent active.”

  “That’s right. I heard every sound made, even a long distance away. And the sweet things you said when you thought I was dying. And I felt everything, like your teardrops falling on my face when you cried. And your hand taking money from my bra.”

  “Most notably, you never lost your pain reflex,” I added.

  “In fact, my pain and touch sensations are much stronger than they’ve ever been,” she said. “When you pinched me, it hurt like hell. And the clairin on my head wound. That was too horrible to even think about.”

  “And that’s exactly what he was counting on. If the trick worked and we were paralyzed, mission accomplished. The added pain we’d experience was all the better, a sadistic bonus.”

  “I’ve seen him do similar things in other circumstances. He has a thirst for torture,” Keyes added.

  “Did you see the expensive watch Sanfia wore at the sanpwel?”

  “Was it a Rolex?”

  “I’d bet on it. And that’s his mark. And that proves he’s given her gifts. Sanfia switched her loyalty to him. He wants us conscious but paralyzed while he carves up and eats our bodies.

  Jakjak looked horrified. “Doktè, that makes sense. I knows Sanfia was bought by somebody to make an entire society go against its own rules. And I believed in the Vodou for my entire life!”

  Keyes shook her head. “Farok’s a conniving bastard. To make sure we didn’t escape from him, he was going to make us zombies. I wonder what else he’s done to manipulate us?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Aboard Farok’s Learjet 60

  3:12 p.m.

  FAROK’S AIDE DIALED A number and handed the phone to his boss.

  “Everything all set?” Farok asked.

  “The bomb has been loaded on the boat and is now being programmed for detonation. Saturday morning, 06:30 hours.”

  “Right. And there’s no room for error in this mission. Make certain that bomb explodes precisely on time.”

  Farok handed the phone to his aide. The man dialed another number and returned the phone to Farok.

  “How are my guests? You haven’t let them slip through your fingers again, have you?” Farok asked.

  “I have them. You know their current status?”

  “Yes. I was told that our bokor failed us. The man is functioning normally, and the girl is paralyzed from the waist down.”

  “That’s correct. Shall I punish the bokor?”

  “Not this time. I may need her again. Let her live.”

  “And you know about our loss?”

  Farok sighed. “Yes, and it puts a dent in our attack. There’ll be fewer casualties, but the primary objectives will be achieved.”

  “I can recover what was lost. It may be helpful for future projects.”

  “What’s your timetable?”

  “Three hours max.”

  “That doesn’t fit my plan. The monetary loss is acceptable. Any extra maneuvers near the dock may invite trouble. Proceed with the final arrangements.” Farok paused for a moment before continuing in a loud, harsh voice. “And any more mistakes will be met with severe consequences!”

  Aboard the Ana Brigette

  4:32 p.m.

  The sound of the two helicopters was deafening, and the ship vibrated all over as they landed.

  Keyes lifted her upper body up on her elbows and listened. “Two Kamov Ka-50s.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A couple of copters, probably from Farok’s fleet. They have twin-stacked rotators. Can’t you hear the whine of the top blade?”

  I listened but didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “They’re heavily armored. Farok’s paranoid about getting shot at and travels in them when he doubts security. They carry fifty-caliber machine guns and rockets capable of knocking out tanks.”

  I shrugged.

  “Don’t you see? It’s the helicopter he travels in! He’s here on this ship!”

  The door flew open. Six uniformed soldiers aimed automatic rifles at us. “Get your asses out of here before we kill you all.”

  I stepped between the soldiers and Keyes. “No. We’re staying right here.”

  One man raised the barrel of his rifle and poked it at my chest. I grabbed the gun, knowing he had orders not to harm us. I was a lot bigger and stronger than he was. “We’ll come with you, but I’m going to carry my friend.”

  I lifted Keyes in my arms. We walked down the hall and stopped at another door, which I recognized as the captain’s quarters. One of the soldiers opened it. Lars was lying on his bed. He was alive! He had his arm over his face and didn’t get up at the soldier’s command.

  One soldier raised his gun to strike Lars, and I shouted, “Hit that man and I’ll kill you right now!”

  They had their orders not to harm us, but apparently that didn’t apply to Lars. It looked like they’d beaten him badly.

  “Help that man up,” I demanded.

  Lars looked awful. His face was so badly bruised, I barely recognized him. He cradled his left arm with his right, and his limp reflected even greater harm.

  He looked at me through his right eye, the only one with a slit large enough to see through. He tried to smile. Blood dripped from his mouth as he opened it to speak. He lowered his head and hobbled down the passageway to our meeting area.

  I thought of how I’d been a year earlier, before they’d accused me of murdering two people in Carolina and before my wife had turned her back on me. I was meek and mild-mannered, just happy with my plastic surgery practice, my family, and the new surgery center I’d built. I never had any violent thoughts. But all that I had been through had hardened me. Faced with the current adversity, I was capable of fighting back and killing to protect Keyes and now Lars, who was also unable to defend himself. Had they not been crippled, I would have sacrificed my life to stop the terrorist attack. But now I had to st
ay alive to help Keyes and Lars through this.

  Just halfway down the passageway, we turned into the ship’s conference room. Sitting at the head of the table was the emir, dressed like Yasser Arafat, with a pasted-on mustache.

  Keyes whispered, “That’s Omar Farok. He is always clean-shaven and wears expensive suits, except when he’s with his soldiers. Then, he wears a fake moustache and a thobe that’s too big for him.”

  This surprised me. Despite all I knew about Farok from our conflict in Carolina, I’d never seen him before the initial hijacking of the Ana Brigette, and at that time, I didn’t know who he really was. Somehow, I expected him to be tall and debonair, like the actor Omar Sharif. I saw the amulet on his neck, a heavy gold hand with the blue star sapphire at the top, just as Keyes had described. She was right about his superstitions.

  Farok spoke in Arabic, and a soldier pulled up a lounge chair for me to lay Keyes in. I put her down and sat on the arm of her chair. Farok’s eyes flickered up and down, but he never looked either of us in the eye.

  He sat silent for what seemed like five minutes. He appeared to be studying a paper in front of him, but when we’d walked in, I saw it was just a menu from some English-speaking restaurant somewhere. He was pulling a “big shot” tactic on us, but it didn’t work on me.

  At last he spoke, in a deep bass tone and loud voice. “So, you’ve decided not to play my little zombie game. That will prove to be a problem for you.”

  I remained close-mouthed.

  “Too bad. I was just making dinner preparations. But I’ve changed my plans for you. After dinner, I’ll let you see a fireworks display, up close, in which you fire rockets and then dodge the incoming ones, if you can.”

  Farok rose and walked to Keyes. He leaned over and tried to kiss her lips. She turned her head to the side, and his lips brushed her cheek.

  “So you don’t love me like you did that night in Greensboro?” he sneered. “Sanfia’s zombie medicines have magnified your erotic sensations; you would enjoy me even more than you did our last night together. You would feel my every touch and movement. You don’t have anything you want from me? … Like me sparing your life?”