Tortured Spirits

by Gregory Lamberson

  “I have a better idea.” Maria ran over to the cabinets against the curved wall. “Jorge, put Catoute in her own chains so you can help.”

  “No,” Catoute said in a strangled voice.

  Jorge prodded her forward with his gun.

  Maria opened the cupboards and searched their contents. There were no magic herbs, human baby skeletons, or spell books inside, just cleaning chemicals, loose hardware, half-empty paint cans, and dirty rags. She pulled out box after box: a sander, a circular saw blade, a level, a mallet, dried-up paint rollers …

  “I’ll remember you for this,” Catoute said.

  “And I’ll remember you,” Jorge said.

  Found it!

  Maria stood up with a blowtorch and twisted the valve that controlled the gas. “Anybody got a light?”

  Through the canvas covering the truck bed, Jake heard the suppressed gunfire of Louider and his gangsters. He also heard the unsuppressed gunfire of the zonbies, which tore through the canvas, whizzed overhead, and punched into the truck’s side. A man screamed. The horses whinnied. Another man screamed. One wheel on the truck blew out, and the rear left side lowered. A third man screamed.

  “They’re taking a beating out there.” Jake leapt to his feet, drew his Glock from its holster, and ran to the truck’s gate.

  Andre sat up. “Jake!”

  A figure lumbered before the gate. Stephane pointed a flashlight at it, revealing milky white eyes and hardened gums. The zonbie aimed his machine gun at Jake, who shot it in the head. The corpse dropped from view, and Jake’s personal light show began.

  Jake hopped out of the truck and landed on both feet. Andre hopped out next, followed by Stephane.

  “Under the truck,” Jake said over the gunfire.

  All three of them crawled under the truck. Stephane leveled his machine gun and opened fire, and Andre imitated him.

  My Glock’s useless down here, Jake thought as he watched zonbies shuffling in their direction.

  “They’re too close!” Andre said. “I can’t even see their heads.”

  Stephane blasted his weapon, exploding half a dozen kneecaps. Immobilized zonbies fell over like chopped trees. “Mow them down! Either you’ll stop them so they can’t get to our men, or you’ll force them to expose their heads.”

  The zonbies who had just collapsed rose on their hands and arms, as if doing push-ups, and crawled toward the truck, dragging their legs behind them. Glowing red dots appeared on two foreheads, which promptly disintegrated.

  Afraid to wiggle out from beneath the truck backwards, Jake crouched low and duckwalked, then sprang up and threw his back against the truck’s gate. Peering around the corner, he counted five different muzzle flashes around the front of the truck, accompanied by the sound of suppressed action.

  Three men down, he thought. One for each scream he’d heard.

  In the other direction, a dozen zonbies were dead on the ground, and another dozen marched forward, guns blazing.

  Not a good sign.

  Bullet holes appeared along the truck. A horse collapsed, leaving the remaining three kicking and whinnying.

  Jake shouted under the truck, “Hold your fire!”

  Looking at him as if he was crazy, Stephane stopped firing, then Andre.

  Holstering his Glock, Jake sprinted over to one of the horses, planted one foot into a stirrup, and threw the other over the saddle. Using his only hand, he untied the reins and guided the horse to the road they had used to enter the compound. He had learned to ride horseback at camp one summer, and twenty years later wondered if he still remembered the basics. He circled the zonbie brigade and waited for Louider and his men to stop firing.

  When they did, Jake wrapped the reins around his stump, drew his Glock, and took a slow ride in a straight line behind the zonbies. He dropped four of them before the rest even realized it and did his best to ignore the golden souls rising from the deactivated corpses.

  The horse bucked, and Jake tried to get the animal under control while continuing to fire at the zonbies. The horse refused to cooperate, and the zonbies refused to die. Instead, two of them fired at the horse, which whinnied and fell back with a cry, its body riddled with bullet wounds.

  Jake managed to roll free of the carcass, but the reins tied him to it. Rising on one knee, he took out three more zonbies at close range, then ducked behind the dead horse as the remaining zonbies opened fire. The horse’s carcass shook and spewed blood. Jake heard suppressed gunfire and knew his companions had come out from cover. Then silence.

  Jake looked over the dead animal at Louider and his four surviving men as Stephane and Andre joined them. Jake approached the men, then froze when they all aimed their machine guns at him. Dropping facedown to the earth, he covered his head with his hand. Team Louider opened fire and stopped. Jake looked behind him. Another six zonbies littered the ground, their souls flickering and fading.

  Almost fifty, he thought. Many more than he had hoped to put down. As his teammates approached him, Jake pointed past them in the opposite direction. With fearful expressions, the men turned around.

  The hundreds of zonbies in the poppy fields had already covered more than half the distance separating them. Jake saw the men stiffen and felt his own heart pound. He had never seen so many zonbies in his life, their machetes reflecting moonlight.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Everyone, get back to the truck!” Louider said.

  “We’ll never make it. Follow me!” Jake sprinted in the direction of the empty drug den. He didn’t turn around to see who followed him but pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could.

  Hurdling over the two steps leading to the building’s entrance, he jerked the screen door open, flipped on the light, and seized the open inside metal door. Two of Louider’s men ran inside, followed by Stephane and Andre.

  Machine gun fire from three different weapons erupted in the night: long, continuous bursts that came to a sudden stop, replaced by screams.

  Pressing his eye against the screen, Jake saw half a dozen machetes rising and falling. Then a hideous face with dripping flesh leaned forward, mashing its bulging eye against the screen where Jake stood. He snapped his head back, aimed his Glock at the thing’s head, and fired. The zonbie fell, and Jake slammed and locked the door before he had a chance to see its soul rise.

  “Louider?” Andre said.

  Jake shook his head.

  Outside, fists pounded on the metal door. They sounded soft and squishy, like rotten apples.

  “That door should hold them,” Jake said to the two remaining gangsters dressed as soldiers. “You two watch it just to be safe. Only shoot at their heads. We can’t spare the ammo.” He entered the empty drug parlor. “These walls are made out of cinder blocks. They aren’t coming through them. That leaves only the windows, six of them.”

  “Too bad there are only five of us,” Stephane said.

  “And a good thing that all of you have these fancy ATAC machine guns.” Jake flipped off the overhead light.

  Light from the work lights shone through the windows, casting moving shadows on the ceiling.

  At the door, one of the gangsters switched on his flashlight. “Cross your fingers that Pharah comes through for us.”

  Rotting fists continued to hammer at the door.

  Maria ran from candle to candle, igniting their wicks with the blue flame from the blowtorch. Jorge, Pharah, the other man, and the two women used matches to light the candles on one half of the chamber while she worked the other half. When she had completed half of one row, she continued at the next highest row and reversed direction. In ten minutes, she doubled the efforts of the other five people.

  This will take an hour, she thought.

  Chained in the middle of her summoning circle, Catoute laughed. “You’re like ants, scurrying around a dead dog!”

  Ignoring her, Maria finished her second row and started on her third.

  This is taking too long!

  Keeping her
hands steady, she aimed the blue flame at the wicks, ignoring the sweat the heat produced on her face. She hoped Jake was having an easier time.

  A large rock crashed through one window and thudded on the floor.

  “Stephane!” Jake called out. “Fire a grenade into them.”

  A ratcheting sound cracked the darkness, and a silhouette filled the window.

  Stephane fired a grenade from his ATAC, and the window disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

  Jake raced to the window in time to see an explosion that scattered, chopped, and incinerated half a dozen bodies.

  Too much damage, he thought. They were defeating their reason for coming.

  Footsteps thumped on the roof.

  “They’re climbing!” Andre said.

  Machetes rained down on the corrugated roof.

  Halfway finished lighting the candles on her side of the chamber, Maria cast a concerned look at her partners, who were only one-quarter finished between the five of them.

  Just worry about yourself, she thought.

  Catoute continued to cackle. “You’re on a fool’s mission, Daughter!”

  At least the old witch isn’t talking to me.

  Jake shone his flashlight at the ceiling, silhouetting the feet of the zonbies standing up there. “Maybe a dozen.”

  “Thanks for busting me out of prison,” Andre said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The first machete blade ruptured the roof.

  “Done!” Maria said.

  Some 1,300 candles burned on one half of the chamber, their flames steady and yellow. She ran past Catoute, who sat cross-legged on the floor of her summoning circle, frowning.

  “All of you move over to your right,” Maria said. “Draw an imaginary line down the middle. You take half and I’ll take half. We can do it!”

  Six machetes broke through the roof, withdrew, and reappeared, the sound of their blades grinding against the plastic roofing almost unbearable.

  Andre aimed his machine gun at the roof.

  “Don’t do it,” Stephane said. “You’ll do more damage than they are.”

  Andre held still.

  “How’re you guys doing?” Jake said to Louider’s men at the door.

  “Fine,” one of the men said.

  Then a loud crack echoed through the building, and the first zonbie dropped through the ceiling.

  Jake shoved his flashlight in his belt, drew his Glock, pressed it against the zonbie’s left temple, and fired. He heard the spewing of liquefied brain, then the zonbie collapsed and his soul rose.

  Two more zonbies fell to the floor around him. Stephane’s laser sight cut the room in half. Two muzzle flashes later, Jake stood alone again.

  “Thanks,” Jake said, spots flashing in his eye.

  “Don’t mention it,” Stephane said.

  The door crashed open, and Louider’s men screamed in stereo.

  Maria finished lighting her candles, then checked out what remained to be done. Pharah, Jorge, and the others had completed lighting one-third of their remaining candles.

  Sighing, she started at the top and worked her way down. The blowtorch ran out of gas. “Goddamn it!” She adjusted the valve, but her well had run dry.

  Catoute’s cackling echoed around her.

  She’s doing that on purpose to psych us out.

  Looking around, Maria spotted a torch burning on the wall and snatched it. She had to stand back, and it took longer to light the wicks, but it was still faster than using matches.

  “Everyone—grab a torch!”

  Zonbies wielding machetes flooded through the doorway and jumped through the hole in the ceiling.

  Jake, Stephane, and Andre ran to the rear of the building. Stephane opened fire, the intense muzzle flash of his ATAC illuminating the approaching zonbies. Heads exploded, sawdust billowed, and bodies toppled. Then darkness.

  “I’m out of ammo!” Stephane said.

  “Andre,” Jake said, “shoot!”

  The muzzle flash from Andre’s machine gun revealed the number of zonbies inside the building had doubled.

  “Shoot your grenade,” Jake said.

  “I don’t know how!”

  Stephane seized Andre’s weapon. In the darkness, Jake heard a cocking sound. He smelled smoke, and the center of the building erupted with a flash of light. Jake felt the concussion, then chunks of flesh and bone pelted him, and burning bodies staggered around. He was about to suggest they flee out the closest window when half a dozen arms reached through it and clawed at him.

  “We did it,” Pharah said. “They’re all lit!”

  All six of them held flaming torches as they admired their handiwork: 2,500 candles filled the chamber with a golden glow.

  “Now what?” Maria said.

  “We deal with my mother.”

  They strode to the summoning circle, where Catoute sneered at them.

  Pharah crossed her arms. “Well, will you help us in exchange for saving your own skin?”

  “Go to hell,” Catoute said.

  Jorge retrieved his machine gun and aimed it at Catoute. “If we kill you, we stop Malvado’s slaves in their tracks.”

  “That would free the zonbies’ souls, but it wouldn’t increase our troop levels. I’ll just have to change their orders myself.” Pharah turned to Jorge and Maria. “Gag her.” Then she crossed the chamber and kneeled down on the floor, facing a section of candles.

  “Use your hand while I get a rag,” Maria said.

  Wrapping one arm around Catoute’s shoulders, Jorge placed his other hand over her mouth.

  Maria returned to the cabinets and retrieved the longest rag she could find, an old bandana.

  Catoute’s eyes grew wild at the sight of the rag in Maria’s hands.

  Jorge winced and removed his hand. “Bite me again, and you’ll lose what teeth you still have.”

  Catoute sputtered, but Maria silenced her with the rag, which she tied behind her head. “Let’s hear you cackle now.”

  Pharah raised her arms and chanted.

  Mother and daughter, Maria thought. They have the same bloodline. She leaned close to Jorge. “If this works, will we control the zonbies?”

  Jorge shook his head. “Jake and Pharah agreed it was better to give them a choice.”

  “I sure hope he knows what the hell he’s doing.”

  The zonbies slammed Jake against the wall below the window. They pulled at his hair and scratched his face with long fingernails. He felt cool metal graze his skin, then saw a machete pass before his eyes.

  Stephane jumped beside him and triggered Andre’s ATAC. Even with the silencer on, Jake winced at the suppressed gunfire as well as the muzzle flashes. The smell of gun smoke filled his nostrils, which he preferred to the smell of rotting flesh and human waste. The gun clicked, but the zonbies released him and he slid down the wall.

  Holding the ATAC with its barrel pointed at the ceiling, Stephane reached down for Jake. “On your feet, soldier.” Stephane’s eyes bulged at the sight of the machete blade sticking out of the middle of his chest, and he dropped to his knees, which brought him face-to-face with Jake.

  “Stephane!”

  Stephane’s eyes rolled up, and blood seeped out of his mouth. He slumped forward, and the ATAC struck the floor.

  Jake drew his Glock and stood, allowing Stephane to slump over. He aimed the Glock at the forehead of the zonbie who had killed Stephane and squeezed the trigger.

  The zonbie’s scalp and skull fragmented, blowing brain fluid out the back of his head. When the zonbie’s soul flickered out of his skull, Jake glimpsed Andre backing away from two zonbies in the opposite corner. Jake put a bullet in both zonbies’ heads, dropping them.

  “What happened to Stephane?” Andre said.

  “He’s gone and we’re surrounded. By my count, I have one round left. Do you want it for yourself?”

  Andre hesitated before answering. “No. You do it for me.”

  “When will we know if it
’s working?” Maria said.

  Jorge stared at Pharah’s back. “We won’t know one way or the other until this is over.”

  Maria hated waiting.

  Jake aimed his Glock at Andre’s forehead. He had only one shot with which to spare the man an agonizing death. There would be no such easy way out for himself.

  “Wait,” Andre said. “They’re leaving!”

  Jake turned and saw the shadowy zonbies shuffling toward the door. He scooped up his fallen flashlight and pointed it at their backs. What do you know? “It worked!”

  The zonbies filed out of the building, leaving Jake and Andre with the corpses of their three fallen comrades. Jake retrieved Stephane’s ATAC, and Andre located the other one.

  “Let’s go,” Jake said.

  Stepping over unmoving zonbies, they made their way to the front of the building. Jake’s clothes clung to his sweaty body. The work lights and moonlight provided ample illumination in the compound.

  Jake stopped in the doorway, Andre beside him. Easily two hundred zonbies stood motionless in concentric circles radiating from the truck, all of them clinging to machetes. Jake moved between the zonbies, avoiding their blades. They didn’t react to his presence. Lumpy bald heads. Long, stringy hair. Glazed-over eyes. Rotting teeth. Skeletal arms. Emaciated bellies. All of them dead. Undead.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Andre said behind him.

  “We must have killed a hundred of them,” Jake said, scanning the bodies on the ground. He stopped at the corpses of Louider and his men, hacked to pieces, and collected their weapons. He handed a hand radio to Andre, who switched it on.

  “This is Le Père,” Andre said.

  “Go ahead,” Alejandro said over the speaker.

  “Unit one has achieved its objective. We sustained significant casualties.”

  “Roger that. I’ll notify unit two.”

  They walked through the motionless zonbies to the truck, where the two remaining horses whinnied. Jake reached into an open crate and passed clips and grenades to Andre, who reloaded the two ATAC weapons. Jake ejected the magazine from his Glock, slapped another one in, and stuffed his pockets with reloads.