Dead Asleep

by Jamie Freveletti

  “You like my garden?” she said.

  “Not particularly,” Emma replied.

  “I use the plants for medicinal purposes. The people come to me because modern medicine doesn’t work.”

  “Nothing medicinal about them.”

  The woman snorted. “As if you would know.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?” Emma asked.

  “You’re not a healer or a witch doctor. You told me that you don’t believe in the spirit world.” The woman took a step closer. “But I do. I know that the earth contains many things. Some that can heal, some that can kill. I don’t need a laboratory and test tubes to create a drug, but you don’t know how to do it any other way.” Emma decided to let the woman in on her mistake. She pointed at the nearest plant.

  “Foxglove. Also called ‘witches glove.’ We chemists know that it contains cardiac glycosides. Most people would recognize the name ‘digitalis.’ It causes dizziness, vomiting, delirium, and hallucinations. While it’s used for cardiac conditions, a medicinal dose is so close to a lethal dose that it’s tough to administer without killing the patient.” She walked to the second row. “Jimson weed. This one saved my life once. My favorite story about it is the one where the Jamestown colonists used it on British soldiers. It causes hallucinations, delirium, insanity, coma, and death. The British survived, but just barely.” She pointed to the next row. “Rhubarb. The roots make for a great pie but the leaves will kill you. And I’m not surprised to find this last one in your little garden.” She pointed to the final row of plants. “Belladonna. If ingested, the result will be loss of balance, staggering, hallucinations, convulsions, and eventually death. Ten to twenty of the berries will kill an adult. Used by voodoo practitioners to create their so-called ‘zombies.’ How much did you give the man?”

  The priestess raised an eyebrow. Emma waited. In her experience, when one was silent others would fill the void with talk. And she wanted this woman to talk. The woman shrugged.

  “So you know plants. That won’t save you. You’re marked for death and it will come.”

  The outright threat shocked Emma more than anything the woman had said so far. While she saw the woman as the amateur that Sumner had called her, she wasn’t about to let herself be brazenly threatened. Emma walked toward her and noticed the small skull voodoo charm dangling from a necklace around the woman’s neck. The woman stood on the opposite side of a low lying oleander bush, and Emma stopped before her legs touched it.

  “Death comes for us all one day, but I don’t intend to let you or anyone else choose when. If I were you I’d watch what I say.”

  The woman smirked. “Are you threatening me?”

  Emma shook her head. “Not at all. But words have consequences. All you’re drawing to yourself is trouble. Take your fear tactics elsewhere. They won’t work with me. And tell whoever is paying you to harass me that it won’t slow the research into the blue holes. If it’s not me doing the research, then someone else will.”

  “I’ve seen brave men shake and cry in front of a voodoo bokor. You will, too, when your time comes.”

  Emma wished she’d had her phone with her so she could have called Moore, but perhaps it was irrelevant. Even if she could have notified him, he would have been forced to traverse over a mile of the trail on foot. The woman would be long gone by the time he reached the garden. She decided to quit the conversation and turned to go back to the path. From the corner of her eye she saw the woman lean forward.

  “The ritual is done, the curse is upon you, and the demons that I called forth to do my bidding are coming for you. When they do, you’ll be scared. You’ll see hell.” Emma looked back. The black soulless eyes held triumph in them. Emma raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve already seen hell. I didn’t like it, but I survived. And I hope that you chose your demons wisely, because I’m not going down without a fight.”

  She stepped out of the small area then, back into the marijuana field, and reentered the trail. She thought she heard the sound of an evil laugh echo behind her.

  Chapter 15

  Emma ran the entire looping trail and saw nothing that resembled mandrake. After her discovery of the priestess’s garden she assumed there must be another that contained the anesthetic plant. She made it back to her villa without incident, stripped off her running clothes, and took a long hot shower. The steaming water seemed to wash not only the sweat from her body but also the evil feeling the contact with the priestess had given her.

  After her shower, Emma decided to drive by Island Security to see what was being done about the woman’s male companion. As she pulled up to the building, she heard a plane in the distance and gazed into the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. It was a private jet, one of the many that landed on Terra Cay daily, on approach.

  Emma jogged up the steps and into the office. Randiger sat at his desk against the far wall and its bank of windows. He was looking out, watching the airplane approach. He glanced over and smiled when he saw her.

  “Watching the planes land?” she said. “I’ll bet that never gets old.”

  He smiled. “It doesn’t. They taxi to this end and you can watch them step out. I once saw the Queen of England walk down the steps to a waiting car.”

  “What? You didn’t make her check in through immigration?” A small covered but open air area served as the island’s immigration point; one islander sat at a window checking in passengers. The entire process took three minutes and was completed with a smile. Terra Cay seemed far removed from the crime and stress of daily life. Emma wondered if it was her presence that was disrupting the idyllic existence.

  “I didn’t need to see her passport to know it was her,” Randiger said. “A face known the world over.”

  “I wonder what that’s like. Never having your privacy. Everyone you meet knowing who you are.”

  “I imagine Carrow knows a bit about that.” Randiger grimaced. “Though I don’t think I would like that particular brand of celebrity. The whole crew seems trapped in their skin.”

  It was an interesting observation. The more Emma talked to Randiger, the more she liked him. There was something solid and dependable about him. He stood up.

  “What brings you here?”

  “Just wondering if you caught the man who chased me.”

  Randiger grew serious. “No. But we did find evidence that he’d been living at the far end of the mangrove. There was a makeshift tent and some cooking pots along with a banked fire. The fire was our biggest concern. Something like that gets out of control, this entire island could go up in flames. The acres around it consist of mainly scrub, and our fire department is volunteer and small.” Emma told him about her encounter with the woman.

  “A poisonous garden?” Randiger rubbed his face and sighed. “I’ll get one of the gardeners up there to rip it out. Along with the marijuana. We know it’s being cultivated in small plots and we’ve been diligent about destroying it whenever we find it. It’s not that we’re so against the individual grower, but drugs inevitably bring dealers and violence. It won’t do to let it get out of hand.” Behind him, Emma saw the jet taxi to the end of the runway, coming to a stop just a few feet from the looming mountain.

  “They almost fly right into the mountain, don’t they?” she said.

  Randiger nodded. “I’m sorry to say that a few actually have. But the majority of pilots who fly the route have been here before and know what to expect.”

  The plane began a slow turn and headed off to the side nearest the immigration area. As it did, Emma saw the navy crest with the word Rex in stylized calligraphy embedded in an elaborate logo.

  “That’s Carrow’s personal plane, isn’t it? His bass player was having a seizure earlier. Do you know if they airlifted him out?”

  Randiger nodded. “Just a little while ago. Carrow sent him on that jet. It’s on the return. I’ve been told it should be holding the new crew that will be setting up the villa to act as a recording studio. Alon
g with a new bass player and drummer.”

  “Was he conscious? Nalen, I mean.”

  “Oh yes. Awake and talking. Said the seizure was only a vague memory. He recalled Carrow speaking to him and being unable to respond or to control his muscles.”

  “Odd.” She watched the ground crew work around the airplane. One man chocked the wheels while another rolled a set of stairs to the door. The setting sun threw a streak of red and gold across the plane’s white shell. Heat waves shimmered off it.

  “The general consensus seems to be that the cocktail of drugs he took didn’t mix,” Randiger said. He came to stand next to her and watched the ground crew work.

  “Is their drug use an issue for the island? I haven’t seen it full-blown, but I’ve heard that it can reach epic proportions.”

  Randiger threw her a glance. “It would be if it wasn’t for Carrow’s wealth and the fact that he is, overall, an asset to Terra Cay. He’s given hundreds of thousands of dollars to the local library and instituted a music program at the elementary school set up for some of the weekly staff that bring their children with them.” Randiger shrugged. “Frankly, he’s done a lot more than some of the other owners, even those with ten times the amount of money that he has.”

  “Ten times? Is that possible? Carrow’s loaded.”

  Randiger nodded. “We have a few billionaire owners. Carrow’s three hundred million doesn’t come close.”

  “What does a billionaire do with all that money if not donate it to good causes?”

  Randiger shrugged. “Who knows? One has a yacht complete with a submarine and helicopter. Half the time he doesn’t use it, though. He flies in.”

  “Are they nice? Friendly?”

  Randiger rocked his hand back and forth. “Some, sure, but it depends. Many get here and then sit in their pool house taking work calls while their guests party. Guys with everything that money can buy, and instead of kicking back and enjoying it for a couple of weeks they spend their time here working. It can be sobering to watch.”

  The door to the jet opened from the inside and Emma watched as a steward swung it wide. She waved at the ground crew before disappearing back inside. The first man out of the plane stood for a moment on the stair, blinking in the setting sun. Emma gasped.

  “What is it?” Randiger said.

  Emma stepped closer to the window to peer at the man. After a moment she smiled. It was all she could do not to bolt from the office and head his way. She hadn’t seen him in a while.

  “I know that man.” She pointed at the passenger as he headed down the stairs.

  “What’s his name?” Randiger asked.

  “Oswald Kroger, but his friends call him Oz.”

  Chapter 16

  Emma stepped onto the porch and watched as Oz strolled down the stairs and toward immigration. He hadn’t spotted her and she took advantage of his lack of awareness to take stock.

  She’d met Oz the year before, when he was down and out, looking to run a shipment of marijuana from Mexico to the States. Both he and she had gotten caught up in a nightmarish journey with both the shipment and the cartel that controlled it. Oz had nearly lost his life. Now, though, he looked healthy, but still too skinny, she noticed. He had long brown hair to his shoulders and the face of an ascetic; angular, pale, and classic. She knew that he had the mind of a genius, but Oz’s intellect was both his savior and his curse. He often struggled to fit in, and though in his late twenties, he was still at times awkward in a large group. His real talent was anything electronic; computers, circuitry, and sound systems. He’d always taken freelance work as an audio engineer, and she supposed that’s what he was doing in Terra Cay.

  He disappeared into the immigration area, reappearing five minutes later carrying a black duffel bag. Emma made her way across to the parking lot. Oz was looking around, taking in his surroundings. They were fifty yards apart when he spotted her. His face lit up and he dropped the duffel onto the ground. He jogged toward her with his arms out on either side and Emma heard him laugh. When he reached her, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground, holding her tight against him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he said into her hair. Emma squeezed him back. He lowered her to the ground but kept his arms around her waist.

  “Working. You?”

  “Working. I’m going to set up a studio for the band Rex Rain. They’re here on the island.”

  “I know. I’ve met Richard Carrow. Didn’t you run sound for him in the past?”

  Oz nodded. “Once at a stop on his tour. Carrow’s great. When he called and asked if I’d come, I jumped at the chance. The timing’s perfect and I can always use some extra cash. Can you walk with me a minute?”

  “I can do better than that, I can drive you where you want to go. Where are you being put up?”

  “At Carrow’s villa. They say he has some outbuildings and a guest house.”

  “I have a car over there.” She pointed to her Jeep. “I’ll take you.”

  “Great. Just let me tell the driver that I’ve got a ride.”

  He returned to snatch the duffel off the ground and held a brief conversation with a man in khaki pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, who stood near a black Range Rover. When he was finished he headed her way, tossing the duffel into the Jeep’s backseat. Oz settled into the passenger side.

  “You look good,” Emma said when they were on their way.

  “Thanks, I feel good. I’m back at MIT and just finished my core classes. Two more years and I’ll finally get my bachelor’s degree.”

  “Yes!” Emma put up her hand and Oz slapped it in a high five.

  “Great, isn’t it? Money’s tight, as usual, but I’m getting a bit of a reputation as a sound engineer and jobs like this are starting to come my way. This one is ideal. I get paid to work on a beautiful tropical island and I’m on break, so it won’t interfere with my classes.” Emma shifted into third and continued along the airport road. “The only reason I got the job, though, is because the original plan for recording fell through. What’s this I hear about two members of the band getting deathly ill? Do you know anything about that?”

  “It’s odd. Don’t quote me, but they both seemed drug-related.” Oz didn’t seem surprised at that bit of information.

  “Yeah, well that pretty much comes with the territory. Rex Rain isn’t the worst, but they’re among the top users, I’d say. Channel Surfeit is the worst. Their lead singer just tanked and they dumped him in rehab and cancelled the rest of the tour.”

  “There’s something else going on,” Emma said. Oz gave her a sidelong look.

  “Mm. When you say that I get nervous. You still taking small projects for Banner?”

  “On and off. When he has a job that I can fit into my schedule.”

  “Is your business here for Banner? Because if it is you can drive me right back to the airport. I don’t need to be around anything that Banner is handling. He only gets hired when the situation is dire. Dire situations scare me.”

  Emma smiled. “Guess you’re right about that. But don’t worry, what I’m doing here is for the lab. It’s a lucrative contract, and I don’t need to tell you that it’s important, given the flat economy.”

  “Business tough?”

  Emma nodded. “Lots of cosmetic companies are dialing back on research and development, preferring to market their tried-and-true products. It’s a prudent strategy for a tight economy, but it means that Pure Chemistry has fewer projects pending. I don’t want to have to lay anyone off, so I’ve been belt tightening everywhere else. This contract came through at just the right moment.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  Emma told him about the bizarre man and voodoo priestess as well as Sumner’s call.

  “You were with me during my last adventure. Think it could be related?”

  Oz seemed to ponder her question a moment, and she remained quiet to let him think. She had shifted into fourth on the
main road but was beginning to climb the mountain. Deadman’s Curve was ahead, and she prepared to downshift. She flipped on the headlights, because the sun was almost gone and shadows were everywhere.

  “I don’t think so, but I’ve followed news of the cartel since then and by all accounts it’s disappeared. This sounds like a couple of locals who don’t want you muscling in on their action.”

  “That’s just it, there is no action. No one currently mines the blue holes and the locals won’t go near them out of superstitious fear.”

  “I’m talking about the mandrake. Maybe they think you’ll start selling it directly to the members of Rex Rain and cut them out.”

  Oz’s suggestion was a revelation to Emma. She hadn’t even considered that the voodoo priestess was a drug dealer, but it made perfect sense.

  “That is such a smart insight on so many levels that I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it before. She must be dabbling in drugs, because the zombies of voodoo lore are a result of local priestesses who administer scopolamine to their victims. I’ll bet the man was under the influence. Oz you’re a genius.”

  He smiled. “Nope. I’ve just been around rock and roll bands a lot longer than you have. They have drug dealers lined up in every town on the tour and they contribute mightily to the local economy while they’re there. Miss Priestess is probably just trying to scare off the competition.” Emma shifted into second and slowed for the curve. It was full dark and a bug hit the windshield. The night air was still warm but had cooled to a tolerable level.

  They heard the pulsing music about a quarter mile from the villa. The heavy bass and rapid guitar wailing floated on the night air. The song was “Requiem for the Dead,” one of Rex Rain’s biggest hits and the title of their Grammy winning album. The pounding of the drums grew louder and then softer as Emma drove upward around the curves.