The Scourge

by R. Tilden Smith

  “You will do no such thing!” Emma said. She gathered herself and stood next to Elisha. “You will not tarnish the reputation of one of my dearest friends with such talk.”

  “He has a hole in his head from a bullet fired from your gun,” Jeremy said, “How do you suppose I blame that on Mrs. Reingold?”

  “I don’t know, you’ll think of something,” Elisha replied. He glanced over at Jamarco, Moji, and Crystal, who had huddled together at the back of the room. “You could always blame it on the nigger boy. Shit, gangs of them coons are probably out there right now killing good white folks by the thousands. Any officer of the law worth his salt will take your word over his any day.”

  Jeremy gritted his teeth, the pistol staring him in the face the only thing keeping him from twisting Elisha’s head off his shoulders. “Oh, you don’t have to worry Mr. Jenkins, I know exactly what I‘m going to tell the police when I see them.”

  “I bet you do, Jeremy, I bet you do.”

  “I pegged you for one of those godless liberals the first time I laid eyes on you Jeremy Walls,” Emma said, “and you’ve gone and proved me right. You’re disgusting!”

  “If you’re going to go, why don’t you just go already!” Crystal said. “Haven’t you and your filthy family done enough damage?”

  “Slow your roll missy,” Elisha said, “we leave when I’m good and ready and I ain’t quite ready yet. Jeremy, why don’t you mosey on over there next to your colored friends. Oh, and leave the rifle.”

  “Elisha, you can’t leave us without protection,” Jeremy said, letting the rifle drop to his feet.

  “Oh, the hell I can’t!” Elisha said, waving the gun, “Now git!”

  Jeremy stepped over the still unconscious woman lying on the floor and stood next to Moji.

  “Frank, get the rifle then go in the bedroom and see if you can find any ammo. Tommy, you go with him and collect any medicine the chinaman might have left behind.”

  “Alright,” Frank said. He picked up the rifle, slung it over his shoulder, then disappeared into the bedroom.

  Thomas looked over at Moji. She was leaning against the back wall, a look of confusion and disgust etched on her face. He wanted to run over and wrap his arms around her, comfort her, and tell her everything was going to be alright. “Uncle Elisha,” he said without taking his eyes off of Moji, “do we have to take all their stuff? I mean, what if the police don’t show up?” He pointed at the woman on the floor. “What if she wakes up and starts going nuts like the other women did? What if they need the medicine? What if—”

  Elisha grabbed the collar of Thomas’ shirt and yanked him to his toes. “Will you just shut your trap and go do what I told ya!” He pushed him toward the bedroom door. “Go now, before I change my mind and leave you here with these cretins.”

  “Go on now Tommy,” his Aunt Emma said, “mind your uncle.”

  I should have shot him when I had the chance, Thomas thought as he slumped away, heading for the bedroom.

  “Emma, sometimes I wonder why you bothered to take that boy in,” Elisha said, “he’s as confused as a mule on a horse farm.”

  “Tommy’s a good boy,” Emma said, “he might not be one hundred percent solid Jenkins stock but he’s still a Jenkins.” Emma frowned. It pained her to think about the trauma Tommy had to endure as a child. It wasn’t his fault that his daddy, her good-for-nothing brother Erwin, went and knocked up that Mexican wench. After daddy ran Erwin off for sullying the good family name, Emma was horrified to learn that the whore was going to take Tommy and disappear with him into the jungles of Guatemala, Honduras, or god knows where. How could that wench even contemplate such a thing, she thought. God didn’t bless me with ability to have children of my own, but I still have the motherly instinct. She vowed that no kin of hers would have to rot their life away in some god-forsaken jungle, destined to live among those primitive wetbacks. She couldn’t have lived with herself if she allowed that to happen, so she did what any responsible person would do, she arranged to have the woman deported then took Tommy in as her own.

  “Well, you best keep a good eye on him Emma. The man acts like a child in a grown man’s body. We don’t know what we’re going to face when go out there. I ain’t going to be babysitting no retarded boy.”

  “Don’t you worry about him Elisha. You’ll see, he can pull his own weight.”

  “Well, he’d better.”

  Frank emerged from the bedroom carrying a small cardboard box. “This is all I could find. The box is half empty, only about 20 rounds left.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any more ammo for this rifle of yours hiding around here would ya?” Elisha asked Jeremy.

  “No,” Jeremy replied.

  “Somehow I don’t believe you but, unfortunately, I don’t have time to let Frank here beat it outta ya. It’s time for us to hit the road.”

  “Good riddance,” Jeremy said.

  “Hmph!” Emma said, “You’re all heathens! I hope you rot in hell!”

  “Likewise,” Crystal said.

  “Tommy!” Elisha said, “It’s time to go boy, let’s go.”

  Thomas ran out of the bedroom with a variety of pill bottles in his arms. “I don’t know what some of this stuff is Uncle Elisha, so I just took what looked good.”

  “What? See what I’m talking about Emma?” Elisha said, “The boy is retarded.”

  Emma just shrugged.

  “Just throw the stuff in the bag,” Elisha said, “we’ll sort it out later.”

  “You’re not going to get away with killing this man,” Jeremy said, “I will make sure Thomas is brought to justice.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” Elisha said, “Come on, let’s go.”

  The woman on the floor moaned and stirred.

  “Well, looky there,” Elisha said, “the stray coon woman Jay-mer-ko found outside is waking up.” He followed his family out the door and into the hallway. Just before closing the front door, he stuck his head back in the room and flashed a smile. “Looks like you folks are going to be busy.”

  28

  The woman began to twist and writhe under the thin blanket. Her moans became more pronounced and frequent.

  “You ladies better go out into the hallway before this woman wakes up,” Jeremy said, “Jamarco and I will stay here and see if we can...um...help her.”

  Moji moved over to kneel next to the woman. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Miss Douglas!” Jamarco said, “you should not get too close! You could be hurt.”

  “What? Is she contagious? Do you think she has—what did I hear you call it—the scourge?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s what they’re calling it, the scourge,” Jeremy said, “now please Miss Douglas, stand back so Jamarco and I can restrain her before she hurts someone.”

  Moji ignored Jeremy’s request. Instead, she leaned over and placed her hand on woman’s forehead. Her skin was dark and smooth, but clammy. “She’s burning up but she’s going to be ok.”

  “Moji, how can you know that?” Crystal said.

  “Shhh,” Moji said suddenly, “did you hear that?”

  Jamarco gave Jeremy a quick glance and then looked back at Moji. “Miss Douglas, please. It is very dangerous what you are doing. She could wake up at any moment.”

  “Jamarco be quiet!” Moji said, “I think she's trying to say something.” She put a hand other either side of the woman’s face and leaned down so that they were almost nose-to-nose.

  The woman’s eyes snapped open and her body went still and rigid. Jeremy and Jamarco scrambled backward. Crystal didn’t move.

  “Get away from her!” Jamarco said.

  “Hi,” Moji whispered to the woman.

  “Hi,” the woman replied. She relaxed, put her hand on top of Moji’s, and smiled.

  “How are you feeling?” Moji said, softly stroking the woman’s forehead.

  “I’m feeling much better now.”

  “Can you sit up?”

  Y
es, I think so.” The woman placed her hands on Moji’s shoulders for support as Moji helped her to a sitting position.

  “Oh my god!” Crystal said, “look at your nails!”

  The woman looked down at her hands. Her fingernails extended about an inch from the tips of her fingers and curved slightly inward toward her palms. They grew more rounded tapered until they ended in a sharp point.

  “Jamarco, were her nails like that when you brought her in here?” Jeremy said.

  “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “Mrs. Reingold had nails like that too,” Crystal said, her voice trailing off. She glanced over at Paul's body.

  “Look,” Moji said, “why are we worrying about how someone’s fingernails look, don’t we have bigger issues to worry about?” She put the woman’s hands in hers and held them tight. “Ma’am, can you tell us your name?”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be ok, huh? I‘m with friends, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” Moji said, “we’re all friends here.”

  “Well, ok then,” She smiled broadly. “My name is Wilma, Wilma Mae Patterson. Born in 1929 in the great state of Louisiana. My friends call me Wilma.”

  “Wilma,” Jeremy said, “you had a pretty bad gash on the back of your neck when we found you. How do you feel now?”

  “My head don’t hurt none, young man, if that’s what you mean. But I tell you what, before I woke I was having a right big wrassle with the devil and I was losing, losing bad.” She looked at Moji and smiled. “But then an angel came down from heaven and saved me.” She reached up and held Moji’s head in her hands, being careful to keep her nails away from Moji’s skin. “Thank you blessed angel.”

  Crystal cocked her head to one side, confused, “Moji, what in the hell is this old woman talking about?”

  “I-I-I don’t know,” Moji said. “Wilma, you said I saved you. I don’t remember doing anything like that.”

  Wilma giggled, “Lordy, but I remember you! I was on my last legs. That devil, she was about to do me in, when you came soaring outta heaven in your beautiful yellow dress! You came down and gutted the devil with your sword! Woo-we! I never saw anything like that before. Blood was everywhere! That devil was squealing like a stuck pig and flopping around like a bass at the bottom of a flatboat!”

  At the mention of a yellow dress, Moji had a flash of recognition but it faded quickly, disappearing from her consciousness before she could make sense of it. “I’m so sorry Wilma, I don’t remember doing anything like that.”

  “That’s ok angel. I do remember, and I will never forget what you done for me.”

  Jamarco looked sick. “Dis some bad voodoo,” he said, backing away from the group, “Sometin’ not right.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Jeremy said, “But we don’t have time to think about that right now.” He pulled the curtain away from the window. “The sun’s coming up. I think it’s high time we pack up, get out of this building, and find some medical attention for these ladies.”

  “We’re fine,” Moji, Crystal, and Wilma said in unison. All the women looked at each other, perplexed.

  “What the hell was that?” Jeremy said.

  “Very bad voodoo!” Jamarco said.

  “I can’t explain why I—we—just said that,” Moji said, “maybe it was just coincidence.”

  “Bullshit,” Jeremy said, “something odd is happening and we need to figure it out before we—”

  Wilma suddenly gasped and grabbed Moji’s wrist. “Angel! Another devil! Another devil is coming!”

  For a few seconds, Moji’s mouth went slack and her eyes looked blank and unfocused. Then, as quickly as the look came, it left. “We have to leave,” she said, “right now.”

  “What? Why?” Jeremy said, “What’s going on with you three?”

  “We three?” Crystal said, “I might have blurted out ‘we’re fine’ for some unknown reason but I ain’t seeing no devils or whatever this crazy old woman is talking about.”

  Moji stood up and grabbed Crystal’s hand, “Crystal, we have to go right now!”

  Crystal flinched when Moji touched her, like she’d been surprised by a jolt of static electricity. Her mouth opened and closed like she was trying to speak, but no words followed. Suddenly, she said, “Uh...yeah, you’re right Mo. We have to leave. We have to get away from here.”

  Crystal and Wilma stood up and joined Moji. All three hurried toward the front door.

  “Now wait just a damn minute!” Jeremy said, “What the hell is going on? Where are you going?”

  Jamarco stood up, but instead of following the women, he stepped backward until his back was pressed against the window. “I dink dee girls is possessed by dee devil!” he said.

  Jeremy glanced at Jamarco. His eyes narrowed. “Jamarco, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said, “you’re not helping.”

  “Sometin’ not right,” Jamarco said, “I’ve seen dee chantin’ before. Dee voodoo priests, in my granny’s village, day would chant together and speak without speaking, just like dat.”

  Jeremy sucked his teeth in disgust. “Jesus Christ man, do you hear yourself? We’re in the middle of a full blown disaster and you’re talking some third world mumbo jumbo.” He turned his attention back to the women. ”Wait! Don’t you realize that you’re suffering from some sort of shared delusion? You guys are sick. Let us find you some help.”

  Moji and Crystal stood on either side of Wilma, assisting her as she hobbled on ancient legs toward the doorway. “Oh lordy,” Wilma said, “my legs ain’t what they used to be.” She squeezed Moji’s arm. “Angel, I’m too old to tangle with the devil. Just leave me be with these menfolk. You have to get away. You have to find the queen!”

  “No!” Moji said, “You have to come with us! I don't know why but I know I need you!” She looked back over her shoulder at Jeremy and Jamarco. “I can't explain why, but if we stay here we’ll die.”

  “I'm sorry Miss Douglas,” Jeremy said, “but you're delusional. Look outside! We die if we go off half-cocked and start wandering around out there with no plan.”

  Wilma suddenly stopped and swayed forward, her long, gray dreadlocks flopping in front of her face. “Oh lordy,” she said, “I’m afraid it’s too late. The devil has come. She is here!

  29

  I’m not going to make it, Ray thought.

  The dogs, and that thing, had difficulty getting past the hedges that bordered the western end of the golf course so Ray was able to put considerable distance between himself and his pursuers. But in the tricky early morning light, he had badly misjudged the distance to the tall building at the eastern end of the park.

  Shit! It’s at least another hundred yards, he calculated, pretty sure his oxygen-starved brain was screwing that up too. He’d been running almost full out for almost four hundred yards, snaking in and out of the sparse cover, trying to stay out of the open. Hyped up on adrenaline and fear, he thought of nothing but getting to the safety of that building while his legs and arms pumped furiously, carrying him forward on autopilot. Now though, so close to his goal, he was feeling the burn of his lungs and his injured arm was stiff and numb. You gotta get to cover! his depleted brain demanded. Through the trees he saw that the building had a three story parking garage next to it. The ground level was surrounded by a small concrete wall that looked from his vantage point to be about five feet high. Get over the wall! he thought, Get over the wall and hide.

  He left the golf course, crossed the cart path, and headed into the street. He was running much slower now and his injured arm hung limp at his side. He angled toward the southeast corner of garage. Just get there damn it! Just get there and climb over that frigging wall! Now that he was running on pavement, he thought he could hear them behind him—a faint click-click-click of claws scraping concrete. He wanted to peek over his shoulder, to see how much time he had to maneuver before he was dog meat, but he didn’t dare look back. Just get over the wall, he said to himself, get over th
e wall and live!

  The garage was the typical Houston variety, a flat gray concrete monolith, with little to no vegetation around it. The first rays of the morning sun struck the eastern flank of the adjacent building, casting weird elongated shadows onto the garage, making it difficult to see what lie within its concrete interior. Better to risk getting over that wall than to let those monster chicks and their pets get with me. He crossed the low grassy berm that separated the garage from the street in two strides, lost his balance, and crashed into the wall with a painful thud. He quickly turned around and pressed his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath

  In the distance, less than two hundred yards away, two dogs, sprinting, were headed straight for him.

  Shit! He stood up and faced the wall. It was higher than he thought, its ledge slightly above his head. Get over this fucking wall right now Ray or you’re dog food! With only one working arm, pulling himself up was out of the question. Think Ray, think! He could clearly hear the dogs approaching. The sound of their gait threatened to paralyze him. He only had a few seconds left. He took three steps back then ran at the wall as fast as he could, leaped, and hooked his right arm over the top of the ledge. The knots in his legs flexed and the cramps flared, hampering his efforts to scramble up the slick surface. “Climb, damn it!” he screamed, and using the last bit of strength in his aching muscles, he got his right leg over the lip of the wall and rolled. His momentum vaulted him over the six inch wide ledge and down the other side, where he fell on his left side, onto the hood of a car. The shock of the landing caused Ray to double over in pain as he rolled off the car and onto the ground. “Fuck!” he screamed, grabbing his left arm with his right hand and hugging it against his body. He could hear the dogs sniffing, snarling, and scratching on the other side of the wall. “Fuck you doggies!” he said through clenched teeth.

  Ray sat up and took a breath. He knew he still wasn’t safe. Those dogs will sniff around until they find a way in here or one of those bikini-wearing monsters will show up. He examined his left arm. The dog bite had grown progressively worse. A smelly pus oozed from the puncture wound and the skin of his forearm had turned gray-black all the way to his wrist. The muscles from his elbow to his fingertips were dead. Above his elbow to his shoulder, they still functioned but movement was stiff and painful. Ray had seen his share of damaged and mangled limbs in Afghanistan but nothing like this. He gently pressed down on the damaged skin with a finger. He felt nothing, and more worrying, the flesh didn’t rebound. Instead, the furrow of skin stayed frozen, like if he’d stuck his finger in a mound of fresh bread dough. I definitely have to see a doctor, he thought. A short laugh escaped from his lips as he imagined how that conversation would go. “Hey Sam, I know me, Terp, and Spuds left the depot without permission, but we were desperate to score some extra cash, you know? So we stole a company vehicle and rolled down the block to rob the local Subway. But wouldn’t ya know it, we got ambushed by a mutant masquerading as a woman in a yellow bikini. She and her trained pack of wild dogs ripped Terp’s crotch out then chased me all the way to the bayou. And would you believe it, one of those mutts bit me! See? Right here. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll need to take a few days off.” He chuckled to himself then rolled to his feet. Yeah, union’s gonna have a hard time backing me on that one. He didn’t hear the dogs sniffing around outside the wall anymore. Probably waiting for the bikini-wearing mutant to show up. Ok, time to find a place to hide.