by Debra Kristi
James’s dad answers the phone.
“It’s late on a school night,” he says. “Make this call short.”
“Yes, sir,” I say and I’m left to hold while he retrieves James.
“Hey,” James says, picking up the line. “What’s up?”
“Luna and I could use your and Jeanna’s help tomorrow after school. Do you think you could be here by five o’clock?”
“What’s happening?” his voice rises.
“We’re going to go save Luna’s dad.” I glance at Luna. Her eyes are wide and her muscles, frozen.
“But, how? Where? I haven’t yet gotten any solid information from John regarding the green car used to transport Luna’s dad,” he says.
“Your brother isn’t our only source, and we think the info we just received is dependable.” I give Luna a look, inferring I’d like to give James more information, and she nods, giving me the go ahead. “Luna’s uncle says he’s partly to blame for the situation. His guilt led him to investigate through his sources, and he says he now knows where to find Mr. Flores.”
“Okay. We have a location,” he says. “So, we’re doing this tomorrow then?”
“That’s the plan.” I fill him in on the few details I know, and we agree to meet tomorrow. I then repeat the process with Jeanna.
After ending the call with Jeanna, Luna and I stand in the dark dinette with the phone between us.
My head is buzzing and my stomach, churning. Are we really going to kidnap one of the bokor’s zombies out from under his sharp nose? Yes. Yes, we are. And we’ll succeed.
Because… we can do this. We can do anything we set our minds and hearts upon. With our desire and support system, nothing will hold us back.
We’ve totally got this, I tell myself.
We go to bed with wavering confidence, and it fills our night with disjointed sleep and uncomfortable dreams.
Come Friday morning, as I stand at the window, watching the swirl of fog outside, trying to envision what adventures await, I listen to Luna’s conversation taking place behind me.
She leans against the wall, separating the kitchen and dining area, talking on the phone to the hospital.
Today is the day. Release day. And a part of me selfishly wishes Luna’s mom would require a longer hospital visit. I’m not ready for Luna to leave the comfort of my grandma’s home… or my company.
Today is also rescue-Luna’s-dad day.
Picking up her mom, rescuing her dad; the two important events lead to a rather conflicted schedule. How will Luna save her dad if she is dutifully collecting and caring for her mom?
The hour is still early, and the weather blooms within me the desire to fall back onto the sofa and sleep longer. Prolong this day as much as possible. But Luna wants to be prepared, and I can’t say I blame her.
“They can’t give me a time yet,” Luna says, hanging up the phone. I spin away from the window and turn to face her. “It depends on the doctor. He needs to discharge her. Sign the paperwork or some such stuff, and he’s not currently on duty. They don’t even know when he’ll be there or if he’ll be there.” She drops into one of the dining chairs. “There’s a chance it might not even happen today.”
I take the seat at her side. “If she doesn’t get released today, would that be so bad?” Her face falls and her muscles slacken. “It would make the schedule a heck of a lot easier on you.”
“True.” With a slight nod of the head, she manages to tug a meager smile across her lips.
“Welp.” I slap the table and stand. “Now, it’s my turn at the phone. Need to wrangle my brother’s support for tonight’s mission.” He’d been less than certain when I’d asked for his promised support on Tuesday.
Good luck, Luna mouths.
I call the school, wishing Michael had his own phone. Not that anyone in my family has money for one of those cell phones that some people have. Maybe at least a pager, like Phillip has for work
The communal school line is answered, and I ask for my brother.
“Michael can’t come to the phone,” a guy says. “He’s indisposed.”
In other words, he’s in the shower or on the pot.
“It’s extremely important I talk to him,” I press.
“Leave a message, or call back later,” the guy on the other end deadpans.
“If I leave a message, can you promise me, he’ll get it as soon as possible?” I chew on the inside of my lip and wonder about the message system at Michael’s curious school
“All I can do is tack the message to his door and hope for the best.”
“That doesn’t sound super promising.” I sigh. But then, what choice do I have? “Okay. Write the message exactly as I give it to you,” I say. “In dire need. A must mission. Meet me at the house by three thirty, unless you’re okay with me maybe dying tonight.”
“Got it.”
“Please see that he gets that message as soon as he’s no longer indisposed.” I glance at Luna. A semi-supportive smile pulls into place across her features.
“We do our best. Good luck to you.” The line disconnects.
“That was some message you left,” Luna says, pushing to a stand.
“It was, wasn’t it? I’m fairly confident we’ll see him semi soon. Once he sees the letter, of course. I’m guessing he doesn’t want me to die trying to do something he’d likely deem reckless.”
Only, three thirty arrives, as do James and Jeanna, but there is no big brother Michael in sight. The four of us are dressed in dark, cold-weather attire and wearing shoes with tread. I am also sporting my multi-pocketed apron Luna made me, and I have it fully stocked with magickal herbs. I even included a few crystals. James brought small flashlights for everyone, and both James and Jeanna brought their magickal go bags… or tins. My stocked apron is my magickal go kit.
Prepared as we will ever be, James and Jeanna leave their bikes in the back courtyard, and we all head for the cemetery to meet Luna’s uncle, no big brother in the mix to back me… us… up.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We’ve got this. Good over evil any day.
The air is still, the earth quiet even though the fog from this morning has dissipated. We arrive early and position ourselves along the outer cemetery wall, near the corner. Take a seat with our backs against the brick and our butts on the cold cement. There we wait.
“I am so going to be busted when my mom finds out I ditched P.E. today,” Jeanna says, dropping her head back against the wall.
“This day is going to be like no other.” James twists one of the flashlights in his hand, turning the light on and off and on and off. “You’ll be glad you didn’t wimp out. Who wants to go through their life filling their moments with could haves and what ifs.”
“Fair point,” Jeanna replies.
I half-smile at their exchange, and I stare into the street beyond, not really seeing it, or the people. I grab Luna’s hand and hold tight. Like me, she isn’t talking, but staring into the void laid out before us. Her legs fidget, bouncing on the pads of her feet.
“If I die today, trying to save my dad,” Luna whispers. “At least I die in the company of people I care about.”
“No one is going to die today.” I squeeze her hand with all my might.
“I’m definitely not dying today,” James adds.
“Die?” Jeanna’s voice squeaks. “What’s all this talk about dying? We’re four witches with magickal kits, magickal bloodlines…” she thrusts a point in my direction. “And mini Maglite.”
“You’re right.” I lean forward to see past Luna to Jeanna. “We are totally geared up for success.”
A disorganized response of the word “totally” bubbles around me, the accord of my friends and coven members that tonight, although scary, will be a divine success.
A dark SUV pulls to a stop along the curb, and the passenger window rolls down. Luna jumps up and peers into the cab. “Uncle Andy?”
“I see you’ve brought a few fri
ends with you this evening,” he says.
“Power in numbers.” I jump to a stand.
“Right you are,” he says. “All pile in, then.”
Luna climbs into the front seat, and the rest of us huddle into the back. Uncle Andy takes the car to the highway, and we head toward Baton Rouge and beyond. There is little talk
We drive until the sun slips below the horizon and sky tints to grey, then black. Among the trees and endless sugarcane fields, Luna’s uncle pulls the car to a stop, off the side of the road.
He kills the engine and turns to face the rest of us sitting in the car. “From here, we go on foot. I’ll be leading you in through the back to a farm owned and operated by Chuks. I don’t know what we’ll find there…” His attention swings to Luna. “But it’s my understanding that this is where your father is being kept.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Luna presses the handle and opens the door just enough to trigger the interior dome light.
“Not so quick.” Luna’s uncle drops his hand on hers and motions for her to tug the door shut. She does. Then stares at him, clear expectation shimmering in her gaze. “Keep quiet and stay out of sight. Got it?” We all nod.
“We’re going to locate Luna’s dad, grab him, and get out before anyone takes notice of us,” I say.
“But if we are noticed,” Jeanna adds.
“We’ve come prepared,” Jeanna and James say in unison. James holds up a small flashlight and magickal on-the-go kit.
“Okay, good. But let’s avoid the need for any defensive magick.” He opens the car door and gets out. Closes it quietly. We all slip out of the car with as little sound as possible and dash into the tall grass at the car’s side, keeping our heads low. We move into and past the tree line, where the land opens into a vast sugarcane field.
The plants are taller than any of us standing on our tippy toes. Tall, thin beige stocks shot from the ground and blossom above our heads into spread blades of green. We are dwarfs in the sugar forest. James puts his trusty flashlight to use, lighting the way, and we maneuver through the field, following the sound of voices and whistles.
It sounds like a roundup of some sort or an end-of-the-work-day ringing of the bell.
A musty, sweet smell accompanies our press through the sugarcane. It’s the scent of brown sugar. The rustle of brush marks our passage between the plants and our progress slows to avoid a heavy crush and crinkle signaling our location.
The tall sugarcane gives way to a crop of younger, shorter harvest, and Andy throws out his arm in a stop signal, halting our forward motion. James and Jeanna switch off their flashlights and scrunch lower to the ground.
From between the tall crops, we scan the nearby open area. Four men direct workers from the field, moving them into a lineup. I’m reminded of elementary school and lining up for class after the end-of-recess bell. Only, there are no children, and it doesn’t appear any fun was being had.
The men and women lining up move with zero energy or personality. They move like zombies… like Luna’s dad had moved. The men in charge blow whistles and swing clubs to signal directions. None of the workers talk. They merely follow orders.
One of the men leads the first group of workers away from the fields, walking them toward a compound visible in the distance. The remaining men continue to get the attention and line up zombie workers still actively harvesting the sugarcane.
“Over there.” Luna points in the opposite direction of the compound to a small group of people still working the field. “That looks like my dad.”
Andy shifts, drops beside her, and narrows his gaze on the man Luna indicated. “Yep. That’s Adolfo, alright.”
We all crouch low to the ground, assessing the bokor’s men and their many zombified servants. There are close to ten enslaved workers to each one of the bokor’s henchmen.
“The plan, quickly,” Uncle Andy says.
“He’s at the edge of the field,” James says. Jeanna agrees with a yeah.
“I say we grab him and pull him into the cover of the crop, before any of the men notice,” I say. “Then we hall butt out of here before they become wise to his absence.”
Luna’s uncle nods twice to our suggestion.
“What if he yells?” Jeanna asks of Luna’s dad.
“He’s not going to yell,” Luna answers, then points to the workers being lined up. “Look at them. They are all but dead.”
“Right,” Jeanna agrees. “Silly of me to question.”
Agreeing on a course of action, we slide between the stalks of sugarcane, making our way closer to Luna’s dad. A few of the workers turn their gazes toward the higher standing crop but make no motions in our direction. I believe our presence goes undetected.
When we are as close as we can possibly get to Luna’s dad, while remaining hidden within the thick of growth, Luna cups her hands around her mouth and whispers to her dad. He shows no signs of hearing her, much less recognizing her voice or the call of his name.
Her uncle takes stock of the area beyond our hiding place, glancing left then right. “Have your magick ready, just in case.”
“What are you going to do?” Luna asks. But her question comes too late. Her uncle jets from cover, grabs his brother, and rushes back to where we wait. In one seamlessly flowing action, he runs at Luna’s father, grabs him, tosses him over his shoulder, and races back into the cover of the crops.
No one, other than the nabbed Mr. Flores, makes any unexpected motions.
Uncle Andy sets his brother on his feet in the middle of our circle.
“Zombie bite,” James exclaims.
“I can’t believe we did it,” Jeanna adds. “And unseen.”
My insides are twisting, tightening, and I glance toward the growing lineup of zombie-minded workers. My skin is prickling, prickling, prickling.
“Dad, it’s me, Luna.” Luna grabs her dad’s hands and begs for his recognition.
A whistle blows. I startle. Another whistle blows. We all spin toward the open field beyond our location. A third whistle blows, followed by shouts… and shouted orders.
“Oh, crap,” Luna says.
The bokor’s men study the wall of sugarcane concealing us. A moment later, they pivot and run toward the taller field, shouting and pointing in our general vicinity.
I spin toward Luna. “Get your dad to safety.” I toss her uncle a tight, meaningful stare. “We’ll hold back a bit so maybe they don’t notice you, but hold their attention on us. We’ll meet you at the car.”
“But,” Luna says. “I don’t want to…” her gaze locks on mine.
“Don’t question; just do it,” Jeanna orders.
Luna shifts her gaze between James, Jeanna, and me. I turn my attention to Luna’s uncle. “Get them out of here,” I say.
He glances over me and must decide that I am not one he wants to mess with. He tosses Mr. Flores over his shoulder once more and starts running through the sugarcane, back toward the car.
“Uncle Andy…” Luna calls.
“Don’t argue. Just go. Take care of your dad,” I blurt. “He’s the whole reason we came this far.” Luna stares at me, skims toward the rustle of her uncle, racing away from us. “Go,” I order.
Clear indecision bounces over her for a moment. Then she turns and dashes after her uncle and dad.
James, Jeanna, and I back away from the coming argument, back deeper into the shadowy cover of sugarcane stock.
“This isn’t good,” Jeanna murmurs.
“Remember,” I say. “We’ve got this.”
“Sure do,” James adds.
My attention bounces between the vanishing swoosh and crackle of Luna’s exit and the louder thump and trample of the approaching men. A shiver races across my skin, and the pungent fragrance of brown sugar twists my stomach into knots. I rub my arms against the falling temperature and then direct my friends with a point at an angle away from Luna’s departure.
“Come on,” I say. “The men are getting clo
ser, and we want to get moving, camouflage the racket Luna and her uncle are making.” With a nod of agreeance, we run deeper into the crops.
We push and shove the tall stock to the side, allowing a wider berth through which to pass.
“This way,” someone at our back says, marking the location of the men in our pursuit.
“This is like a scene from a horror movie,” Jeanna says, keeping close at my back.
“As in Children of the Corn?” James wiggles between us. Jeanna nods. “Well, unlike all the unluckies in such flicks, I plan to get out of this situation unscathed.”
“We all are getting out of this unscathed.” I grab James’s arm, yanking him into a zig moving the opposite direction.
“What are you doing,” Jeanna asks, keeping close at our heels.
“Hopefully… confusing their pursuit.” I glance back at the army of sugarcane stock. In the not-so-far distance, the harvest shifts about wildly. They’re getting close. “You guys might want to get your magickal go-kits ready to use.”
“Crap. Crap. Crap,” Jeanna says and shoves a thick sugarcane plant to the side.
“Magick could be handy right now,” James says, a hint of breathlessness in his voice. “But fire may work best.”
“Fire?” I glance over my shoulder at him, and he is shaking a matchbook in the air. Brilliant. I slow to a stop, and they follow my lead. Huddle. “Do it,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. A wicked grin tugs firmly at his lips.
He spins to face the unseen danger weaving toward us through the thick of sugarcane. Jeanna and I flank his sides, stand a foot back.
“I feel so powerful.” He tugs a match free from the set and drags it across the striker strip. A tiny flame ignites. “Element of feisty fire protect us now with your power. Erect a wall of blaze to shield us from thy enemy’s gaze,” he whispers to the dancing inferno held within his fingertips.
He pulls his hand back, preparing to toss the match into the surrounding crop. Jeanna and I take a measured step back.
“James!”
In unison, we all shift toward the sound. John rushes forward, his sights set on his younger brother, James. James yelps and jumps back, dropping the match. Embers break into a rush of flames, swirling up the nearest sugarcane stock. With a pop of combustion, the burning spreads like wildfire.
