by David Wood
The visitor stared at Abbe for a second, as if considering something, but then said, “I suppose we have no more business. I will be back when you’ve had time to contemplate.”
“I’ve already told you…”
The man held up a big hand, palm facing outward. “Not the exorcism. Take time to reflect upon your own mortality.”
He turned and walked out of the church without so much as a glance back, but something about the way the man spoke the words unnerved Abbe. The voice was very cold, brimming with a negative energy the priest was unable to place yet at the same time was unable to deny.
He waited for a couple of minutes to be sure the man had truly left, that he was not loitering outside the church, composing his thoughts only to return with a new angle of attack. When Abbe felt certain the visitor had departed the premises, he turned and strode to the front of the church. He climbed the short stairway to the elevated platform on which the podium was situated. A woven mat covered the platform behind the podium. He slid it aside, revealing a handle set into a cutout section of wood.
Looking up once at the doorway, Abbe lifted the wood panel out of the platform and set it aside. He reached into the space below the platform where he kept a few items that others need not know about. A loaded pistol. A knife. A small cache of emergency canned food and water. Abbe was a man of God but also a man who believed that God helped those who helped themselves. When he reached even further into the concealed space, past these contingency items, his fingers passed over a weathered, wooden cigar box.
He removed the box and opened its lid, rejoicing in the familiar, sweet smells, odors that lingered even though the box had not held cigars for many years. He carefully lifted a sheaf of brittle, yellowed papers from the container and eyed them with a mix of promise and trepidation. Words written in longhand filled the pages, some in Spanish, others in French.
Abbe read over some of them, not for the first time, his heart racing. He looked up at the empty doorway and a thought overtook his senses, slowly at first but gathering momentum by the second. The priest smiled as he tucked the box beneath his cassock and replaced the section of wood back into the platform. He needed to get these somewhere safe, and he knew just what to do with them.
Abbe stepped out of the church and into the warm, humid night air. Though still unnerved by the strange visitor early in the day, he took comfort in the fact that his research was on the way to somewhere safe, and the rest of the day had passed without incident. He locked the door, descended the short flight of wooden steps and began to walk the familiar quarter-mile or so to his residence. He had gone no more than a few steps when a ragged man with unkempt hair, threadbare clothes, and a gap-toothed leer, staggered toward him out of the bushes.
Abbe gave him a glance and frowned. Under a different set of circumstances he would offer assistance, but tonight was not that night. “I am sorry, church is closed for the night. Come back in the morning there will be a simple breakfast and prayer.” He was accustomed to helping those in need, but in Haiti, the poor were, as the scriptures said, always among him, and even the most faithful servant had to rest.
The man kept coming.
“Please, come back tomorrow and the church will see to your needs.”
But still he approached. Abbe took a closer look at him now. Was the man in need of medical attention? There were no street lights in this part of the village, and so Abbe could make out little detail of the man. But something was definitely off about him—the way he said nothing, his odd movements. Abbe decided he could be in danger—the individual could be on drugs—so he speed-walked down the road. At the first intersection he reached he turned left ...
...only to be confronted with a similar, ambling figure.
At first Abbe questioned whether this could be the same man he had seen a block back—that he had somehow beaten him to this spot, even with his ragged gait. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? It had been a long day, after all. But then, as his eyesight adjusted to the low light, he realized that the clothes this person wore were different. Not the same man.
Yet he acted like the other man, stumbling, not speaking even though he had clearly seen Abbe. What kind of man said absolutely nothing to another when passing by on the street at night? Not a simple hello, hey, good evening....nothing to assure the other that he harbored no ill intentions. Very strange for the village.
And then another individual stepped onto the road out of the trees, and still another after him.
Abbe stopped in his tracks. This must be some kind of gang, doped up on God knows what. He would report it tomorrow to the police and offer his church’s assistance. For right now, though, he needed to get out of here and back home safely. This way wasn’t going to work, so he turned around to go back the way he came. He’d rather deal with a single one of these freaks than a whole gang of them.
But as soon as he faced the opposite direction he was stunned to see no fewer than four more of the figures coming his way.
“What is it you want?” he called to them, repeating himself as he spun in a circle. None of them answered, but all of them continued to close in on him. The figures now blocked the road in both directions, leaving the thick jungle on either side as his only option for escape.
He ran for it, more than willing to take his chances with the spiders and snakes and whichever of God’s creatures lurked inside, but as he stepped off the road onto the wet, high grass that bordered the trees, two more of the men emerged from the forest, arms outstretched toward him.
Flabbergasted, Abbe spun around to bolt for the woods on the opposite side, but three more of them were upon him, hands tearing at his clothes, scratching and clawing at his exposed skin with long, dirty fingernails. He could hear and feel their ragged breathing, but even in the throes of their physicality they remained wordless, violence their only language.
“Please, I serve the Lord. Have mercy...”
But apparently these were not men of God, nor were they men of words, for just as they didn’t use them, they didn’t respond to them, either. The weight of his attackers pushed Abbe to the ground. Hands clutched him, nails dug into his skin. Hot breath assaulted his nostrils. His scream drowned in a gurgle of blood as teeth tore through his throat.
Chapter 2
Cherokee, North Carolina
Dane Maddock crinkled his nose as he passed through the cloud of blue smoke that greeted him as he entered Crazy Charlie’s Cherokee Casino. He navigated the throng of gamblers bathed in the dull neon light of slot machines, sidestepping the scantily clad serving girls, bypassed the blackjack tables, and managed to reach the bar without anyone spilling a drink on him. That was a rarity in this place, where few customers stayed sober for long.
“It’s about time.” A beautiful young woman greeted him. She smiled at him and gave a wink.
As Maddock tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at her perfect cheekbones, big brown eyes, glossy hair, and trim, athletic figure, he marveled that Angel Bonebrake shared DNA with his best friend, Bones.
“Sorry. Flight was delayed out of Atlanta. You know how it is.”
Angel rolled her eyes at the mention of the Atlanta airport. She waved to the bartender, who hurried over to her. The gleam in his eyes said he was at her beck and call. Angel had that effect on men. That is, when she wasn’t punching them in the throat or kneeing them in the groin as a professional mixed martial arts fighter.
“Dos Equis, right?”
Maddock had let his eyes drift to Angel’s tight jeans and it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. “That’s right. I’m surprised you remembered.”
Angel flashed a knowing smile. “I pay as much attention to you as you do to me. You know I’m a sucker for a blue-eyed blond.”
Maddock wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but a warm, uncomfortable feeling washed over him as she passed him a bottle of beer.
“To getting my brother straightened out.” She raised her bottle.
&n
bsp; “Cheers,” Maddock said. The clink of glass on glass seemed to sharpen his focus, and he managed to dismiss thoughts of Angel. Those were thoughts that could get him into serious trouble. She was his friend’s sister. Besides, Maddock had a girlfriend, albeit a long-distance one.
Angel took a long drink, sighed, and let out a loud belch. Beneath that flawless exterior, she was a Bonebrake through and through. “I need to warn you, it’s bad.”
“That’s what you said when you called.” Since leaving the SEALs several months before, Maddock had found the adjustment to civilian life difficult, and according to Angel, Bones was having an even harder time.
“I didn’t tell you the worst of it. It’s not just that he’s been lying around drinking, but he’s started roughing up the customers.” She made a sweeping gesture that took in the entire casino floor.
“He is a bouncer,” Maddock pointed out.
“But he’s not a hit man for the mafia.” Angel took another drink, appearing to consider her words. “His job is to de-escalate situations, and if necessary, to escort patrons from the premises. Call the cops if needed. But he’s not doing that.”
Maddock nodded. A quick scan of the casino revealed a customer base comprised largely of what Bones would consider rednecks—his least favorite social class.
“I imagine the John Deere caps get on his nerves.”
Angel’s laugh was as lovely as the rest of her, and Maddock forcefully redirected his thoughts to Bones as she continued.
“I wish that were the only problem. I don’t want to say he’s changed, Maddock, but he’s like… I’ll sound like a drama queen if I say he’s like a caged animal, but it’s something like that. He’s got a skill set he can’t really use in civilian life, and he has no outlet for all his bottled-up energy. I tried to get him to go to the gym with me but he says he only fights for real, not in a cage for money. He hasn’t even gone climbing since he got out.” She cast a reproving look at Maddock.
“I know. I’ve been meaning to get together with him, but frankly, I’ve had my own problems figuring things out.” He took a swallow of his Dos Equis, savoring the cool drink as it sluiced down his throat, already irritated from all the smoke in the air.
“And you’ve been making trips to D.C., I gather?” Angel playfully punched his shoulder. “I hear you met a girl.”
“I did.” He took another drink so he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Thinking about Melissa made having drinks with Angel feel almost like cheating.
“I did,” Angel deadpanned in a dull voice. “I’m sure she appreciates how excited you are about your relationship.”
Maddock managed a sheepish grin. “You know me. I’m all about the job.”
“You and Bones are different in the particulars, but at heart, you two are a lot alike. You both need to loosen up and have some fun.” She drained her bottle, slammed it on the counter, and belched again. “And you need a new purpose in life.” She slid off her barstool and looked around. “My idiot brother’s over by the roulette wheel. Let’s go talk to him.”
Even in an Armani suit and with hair that now hung down to his shoulders, Bones was recognizable by his sheer size. He towered over everyone else and customers gave him a wide berth. He stood, powerful arms folded across his chest, staring disapprovingly at a boisterous group of young men who appeared to be having a blast while losing prodigious amounts of money. His head snapped around and his eyes locked immediately on Maddock.
“Screw you, Maddock,” Bones rumbled.
“He hasn’t even said anything, you assclown.”
“Screw you too, Angel.”
Angel stepped forward, grabbed her brother by his bolo tie, and yanked his head down. “Bones, if you want to keep all those pretty teeth, you’d best remember that I’m a lady.”
Bones guffawed and Maddock turned his head to hide his laughter.
Angel wasn’t fooled. “You both suck, you know that?” She turned and stalked away.
Maddock found himself choosing between admiring her as she walked away and facing his angry friend. He chose the latter.
“What are you doing here?” Bones asked, only a little of the chill absent from his tone.
“I came to talk to you. I’ve got something cooking and I want you to go in on it with me.”
Bones smirked. “If it’s not a strip club, I’ll pass. But you wouldn’t do anything that interesting, would you? What is it?”
“Marine archaeology. I mean, treasure hunting,” Maddock added. “You know, finding shipwrecks and gold?”
Bones stared down at him for a long moment and then shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Come on, Bones. We did plenty of treasure hunting when we were in the service. This is a chance to do it again, and without people shooting at us.”
“That was the fun part.” Bones’ countenance fell. He looked sadder than Maddock had ever seen him.
Just then, one of the young men at the roulette wheel threw up his hands and began shouting about “cheating Indians.”
Bones closed the distance between them in two strides, grabbed the young man by the wrist, and spun him about.
“Are we going to have a problem?”
The young man winced as Bones squeezed his wrist. “No, sir,” he squeaked.
Still maintaining his grip, Bones turned to the rest of the group. “Are we all going to have a good time or do we all need to take a walk?”
The frightened looks in their eyes and their stammered assurances that they were just there to gamble were all Bones needed. He released the young man, who immediately began rubbing his wrist.
“Walk with me, Maddock.” Bones strode away, and Maddock had to double-time it to keep up with the six foot-five Cherokee. “I’m bored,” Bones said to no one in particular. “There’s nothing here to do, and my one friend disappeared on me.”
Maddock sensed this wasn’t the time to argue, so he kept his silence.
“But you know the real problem?” Bones continued. “The only thing I know how to do is kill people, and that’s not a skill set anyone needs in civilian life. I invested years in the SEALs and now I’m useless.”
“You’re wrong,” Maddock said. “You’d be great at treasure hunting. We’d be at sea again, diving all day, sitting on deck drinking beer at sunset, meeting girls in all the ports.”
Bones laughed. “I’d be meeting girls. You’d be on the boat writing love letters to Melissa. How is she, by the way?”’
“She’s good. But seriously, I want you to work with me.”
“Treasure hunting sucks, Maddock. Reading maps, working a grid all freaking day long, hoping to get a hit on sonar. It’s not for me.”
“Hey, Bones! Who’s your friend?” A curvy waitress sidled up to them and cast a predatory glance at Maddock.
“Don’t bother,” Bones said. “He’s gay.”
The girl laughed. “Yeah, right. Some of us are meeting up later if you two want to join?”
“He’s leaving first thing in the morning.” Bones inclined his head toward Maddock. “But I might give you a call.”
The girl thrust out her lower lip, vowed to hunt Bones down if she didn’t hear from him, and slinked away.
“I’m not leaving in the morning,” Maddock said. “Matter of fact, I’m sticking around until you agree to at least give treasure hunting a try. Look, I know I haven’t been a good friend. It took me a while to figure things out for myself. I’m still not sure I’m cut out to be a civilian, but at least I’ve got a direction. You could use one too.”
“You shouldn’t have talked me into leaving the SEALs,” Bones said. “It was the only thing I was ever good at.”
Maddock privately thought he hadn’t convinced Bones of anything, but he knew that protest would fall on deaf ears. “You’re selling yourself short, you know? You’ve got a lot more to offer than that.”
Bones rounded on him. “Oh yeah? Like what?” Before Maddock could answer, he held up a big hand. “Never mind. I don�
��t want to hear your Mister Rogers crap.”
“Fine. How about we go climbing tomorrow?”
“I’ve got to work.” Bones frowned and slowly scanned the room. “Dude, you wouldn’t believe how many chicks are checking you out right now.”
“I’m sure they’re looking at you.”
“Nope. You’re something we never see in North Carolina—a white guy with all his teeth.”
They shared a laugh, a genuine one, and Maddock sensed a lightening of the tension.
“You really need to get out of here before a gap-toothed woman in a tube top makes you her boy toy.”
Maddock nodded. “How about my offer?”
Bones sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 3
Jacmel, Haiti
They called him Odelin, and no one knew if that was his first or last name. No one cared, either, because he was the boss, at least as far as those here with him were concerned. They had heard him on occasion talking on the phone with someone he obviously had to answer to, but that was not their problem.
Odelin looked over at the remains of the priest he had visited earlier. His men wrangled the blood-soaked corpse into the panel van they’d parked in an alleyway here at the edge of the worst part of town. As soon as they had stowed the whole messy bundle inside, Odelin told the driver to wait and stepped inside the vehicle. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and knelt before the mangled deceased. One of his men asked if he would like help searching the body, but Odelin refused. The matter was too sensitive and critical for that level of help. “I’ll handle it. Just keep watch and alert me if anyone approaches by any means.”
The man nodded and left him alone. Odelin proceeded to search Abbe’s body, a disgusting task given the nature of his demise, but one that was wholly necessary.
Come on, preacher man, make this easy on us.
