A “Captain Scarlet” story for Halloween By Chris Bishop PART 2:
SNAKES AND RAINBOWS
Other
military and security organisations have called Captain Scarlet ‘the luckiest
man on Earth’, after having witnessing him run straight into deadly danger and
coming out of it unscathed. That
was, of course, a flawed perception. They didn’t know about Captain Scarlet
being indestructible, and didn’t know it was the main reason behind his
continuous survival. He would argue that he wasn’t that ‘damned lucky’ to begin
with, that being retrometabolic wasn’t in any way an indication of good fortune.
On the contrary, he considered that Fate had dealt him a cruel hand, by making
him so different from the rest of us. He was the one taking most of the risks on
missions, keeping for himself the deadliest assignments, which meant that the
rest of us wouldn’t have to die. He never complained about it; he just knew that
it was what he needed to do to get the job done, and he was doing it. In
retrospect, that made the Spectrum organisation the lucky party. But
still, Scarlet’s perceived ‘luck’ often rubbed off on all of us, and we would
find ourselves rather surprised, in the aftermath of a mission, that we had
survived circumstances we truly thought would be our last moments on this Earth. That’s
how I felt when I woke up in that dumpster, aching everywhere, and smelling like
I had indeed died. I
realised the many garbage bags filling the container had burst under the shock
of my rough landing and had actually served to cushion the worst of my fall. But
I had been unconscious for a long time – hours – as night had fallen, and I was
now looking up at the dark sky, dotted with brilliant stars. Obviously nobody
had seen my fall from the roof into that dumpster – or nobody cared enough to
contact the authorities about it. I
didn’t seem to have broken anything, but I hurt like hell. I had no way to tell
at the moment, but I was pretty sure I was several very interesting shades of
black, yellow and blue. I had cuts on my arms and face, but fortunately, nothing
very deep, and there was no risk of me bleeding to death. My uniform was a mess, torn, dirty and
soaked in various places, and there was such an awful smell pervading it, it was
making me sick. Not that anyone would have noticed it, if I had thrown up in the
middle of the surrounding garbage. As fast
as my present condition would allow, I extricated myself from the dumpster. The
alley was dark, and there was no one in the immediate vicinity; I could hear
cars passing by in the main street, beyond the nearby corner, and the talk and
laughter of late bystanders. Nothing to indicate that there was any danger
nearby. The
first thing I did after I regained my focus was to return to the roof I had
fallen from, using the escape ladder I had seen earlier, and gritting my teeth
all the way up. My back was killing me, but the worry I felt for Caleb was
pushing me on. I wondered what could have happened to him, during all that time
I had been unconscious. He
wasn’t on the roof. The only thing I found of him was his broken pair of
glasses, lying not that far from where I had fallen. There were signs of a
struggle, but fortunately, no trace of blood on the surface of the roof, as far
as I was able to see. This might sound strange enough, but it was a relief in
itself. It meant that there was a good chance that my brother was alive –
although he had been taken to some unknown location by that weird-looking guy
who had attacked me. Across
the rooftops, I traced my tracks back to where I had last seen Captain Scarlet,
and went down into that now empty and silent alley where he had been overrun by
so many aggressors. Like on the roof where my brother had disappeared, there had
been a struggle there – much more violent, as I expected Scarlet to have
fiercely defended himself. I found a few traces of blood there, but nothing to
indicate that someone had been seriously injured, either Scarlet or his
aggressors. The bullet from that gunshot I had heard when he was attacked
obviously hadn’t found anyone in its path. That
meant that Scarlet had been taken too. I
wondered why our assailants had not taken me as well. Unless, that guy
who threw me from the roof had not seen exactly where I fell, or he thought me
dead – or he couldn’t be bothered to even look for me. Or maybe he wasn’t just
bright
enough to decide to go down to check on me. I had seen his eyes, and there
didn’t seem to be any will, or intelligence behind them. Those
eyes had the same expression I had seen in the other men down in the alley… Who were
they exactly – or rather, what were they? The description given to us by
Caleb earlier that day wasn’t that far from my mind, and although I didn’t want
to contemplate the very idea, I couldn’t help myself thinking what these
emotionless-looking and haggard-eyed men might actually be.
Zombies. Well,
it shouldn’t have been
so difficult to imagine they could be zombies, rather than Mysteron
agents; but when someone had lived my kind of life for the past two years or so,
‘Mysteron’ is certainly more common in my vocabulary than ‘zombie’. I believed
Mysteron agents existed, I had seen them before, interacted with them at
times, and seen them in action. I’m even working daily with a man who had
escaped Mysteron control. Zombies… well, that’s different. I’d heard about the
phenomenon well before Caleb explained to me what they were exactly, but I’d
never been confronted with them. Until
today. There was no doubt in my mind that the men I’d encountered were not
Mysterons, but could very well be zombies. I’ve never seen Mysteron agents
travelling in pack – not as large as this gang, anyway. And truly, these guys
didn’t fit the descriptive bill you would apply to Mysteron agents. Strangely
enough, Mysteron agents, despite their macabre origins, were… livelier. You
couldn’t distinguish them from ordinary human beings – until it might be too
late. These
other guys, with their haggard expressions and the way they moved could be
spotted in a crowd instantly. This
was giving me the creeps. So what
did I do after having found all this? I didn’t have much choice in the matter,
really. I didn’t have my cap, which I’d lost during my fall from the roof. I had
quickly looked around for it when I had woken up, but I couldn’t find it. That
meant I couldn’t call either Cloudbase or the WAAF base. I didn’t think it was a
good idea to knock on any door and ask to use the phone. At the moment, I looked
dreadfully frightening, and I didn’t expect anyone would open their door, at
this hour of the night, to a complete stranger. The jeep was gone – I returned
to where we had parked it and it had disappeared too – stolen, and it was a toss
up as to whether it was by a street gang or by some of the guys who attacked us.
The only option left to me was to return to base – on foot, while trying to
attract as little attention to myself as possible. I was
fortunate that it wasn’t that far, so about an hour later I arrived at the gate.
The night sentry looked at me with a suspicious eye, and wasn’t that sure he
would let me go through; I looked the worse for wear, tattered, dirty and
smelly. I showed him my Spectrum I.D. and used the most authoritative voice I
could muster under the circumstances. He seemed to understand that I had gone
through very harrowing moments, and agreed to call General Metcalfe to check me
out. When the general confirmed my identity, the sentry let me enter the
compound. I was
on my way to the main building when I saw General Metcalfe walking out of a door
and coming towards me. Behind him, followed a man wearing a pale Spectrum
uniform. It took me a while in the semi-darkness to recognise Doctor Fawn and I
smiled with relief. I felt so sore all over that the sight of the best doctor I
knew, and the prospect of being treated by him, was almost enough to make me
feel better. The
general was the first to talk to me. And quite frankly, I should have expected
what he’d say.
“Lieutenant, where have you been?” he asked, standing in front of me, forcing me
to stop. Fawn, visibly worried by my appearance, strode to me and started
assessing me quickly. “You and Captain Scarlet have been gone for hours, and
haven’t made any reports, except for that one you sent Doctor Fawn and that was
a long time ago! We were about to contact your base.” The general looked beyond
me and around. “Where is Captain Scarlet? Isn’t he with you?”
“General,” Fawn interrupted him before he could continue or I could answer,
“surely, you can see the lieutenant is exhausted, and that he needs medical
help. We have to at least get him inside and give him some care – then you’ll be
able to interrogate him.” General
Metcalfe hesitated. He gave but one look at me; I was in a sorry-looking
state and he must have taken pity on me. “Of course,” he agreed quickly. “How
thoughtless of me… Forgive me,
Lieutenant. We’ll go to the medical centre. I’m sure Doctor LaSalle will give us
space for you to take care of him, Doctor.” I was
grateful for Fawn’s intervention, but at the same time, I could understand
General Metcalfe’s worry about the absence of his son; and he had good reasons
to be concerned. I was worried too. “I’m
sorry, General,” I said as I hobbled between the two of them on our way to the
main building. “I don’t know where Captain Scarlet is. We were victims of an
attack from an unknown party. I fell from a roof, and I think I was left for
dead. Your son and my brother were taken away.” I
glanced in the general’s direction; there was no emotion apparent on his face.
He was looking straight ahead, towards the building we were approaching, his
eyes almost hidden under his cap, and lips drawn a straight line. He simply
nodded slowly at my quick preliminary report, and he gave me an encouraging pat
on the shoulder. “You
can tell us all about it inside, Lieutenant,” he said with an even voice. “I’m
coming to the medical centre with you. I want to know the details of what
happened to you and my son.”
I felt
somehow elated at the prospect of seeing Doctor LaSalle’s beautiful face again,
thinking that it would act like some kind of a balm on my multiple aches and
pains. However, I was rather put off when I discovered that she wasn’t even
present at the medical centre when we arrived. A nurse told us she had been
called away to the barracks at the other end of the base to treat a few cases of
bellyache which had emerged amongst the military personnel shortly after dinner.
Apparently, the cook wasn’t much good, and indigestion happened on base on a
regular basis. Doctor LaSalle was expected to return later in the evening.
Despite my disappointment, I had to admit that her absence was making things
easier for us: we could be more at ease to discuss the case, without worrying
about saying too much in front of her. While
Doctor Fawn requisitioned a room, I made a quick visit to the shower; he had
agreed because I didn’t, at first glance, appear to have anything seriously
wrong that would prevent me from getting a thorough clean up. Additionally, it
would rid me of any nasty germs he suspected might have been in that dumpster.
He didn’t mention anything about the smell, but I could easily guess what he
thought about that just by the way he was scowling.
Although swift, the shower did me a lot of good, and soon after, wearing a large
towel around my hips, I was in the room where Doctor Fawn and General Metcalfe
were waiting for me. As the good doctor examined me and treated my various –
luckily relatively minor – injuries, I made a full report of what had happened
to us. Fawn was too busy to comment at first, and the general preferred to keep
silent, simply nodding once or twice to acknowledge the information. “When I
came to,” I finally concluded, “everyone was gone. I searched for both my
brother and Captain Scarlet, but they had disappeared – no doubt, taken away by
our assailants. The jeep had been stolen, so I had to come back to base on foot.
I couldn’t radio for a pick up – my communication cap was lost in the fight.” “You’ve
been lucky to survive that fall with nothing but bumps and cuts, Lieutenant,”
Fawn told me as he finished patching me up.
“You could have broken your neck.” “I
figured I had been left behind, because they thought I was dead,” I said.
“Possibly,” General Metcalfe commented, pensively rubbing his chin. It was a
gesture that was very similar to his son’s when he was in deep reflection.
“We’ll have to send people down there and search the area, to try to find these
people – and your brother and my son.” He gave a low grunt. “I’ll have to inform
Major Perrin about these new developments. He’ll provide personnel for a search
party – I presume that since it doesn’t appear to be a Mysteron incident,
Spectrum won’t mind the help.” “We
won’t mind, no,” Doctor Fawn confirmed, before I could answer. “One of our men
is missing, after all – and a civilian as well.” He exchanged glances with me.
“The men from this base probably know every inch of this island better than any
Spectrum members. So their collaboration will be appreciated.” I
nodded my agreement. “I have to report this to Colonel White, as well,” I said
gloomily. “He won’t be very happy to hear I’ve lost his best man.” I lowered my
eyes, so as not to meet General Metcalfe’s probing gaze. “Would you call
Cloudbase for me, Doctor?” “Of
course, Lieutenant.” Fawn went to fetch his cap that he had put down on a table
at the other end of the room and put it on. I watched as he lowered the
microphone in order to contact Cloudbase; at that moment, I felt a hand clasping
my shoulder. I looked up to encounter General Metcalfe’s deep blue gaze. He was
looking at me with concern. “Are
you all right, son?” I
lowered my eyes again. “Yes… no. Well, under the circumstances, I would say that
physically I’m as good as I could be.
But…” Hesitantly, I looked up at him again, genuinely apologetic. “I’m
sorry, General. I shouldn’t have left your son behind…” “He
gave you a direct order, Lieutenant,” General Metcalfe reasoned. “I know my son
and how he is. Considering what he’s able to do, he would never have allowed you
to come to any harm. He did what he had to do.” He paused a second. “And you had
to protect your brother,” he added quietly. “A lot
of good that did Caleb, sir, considering he’s been taken too.” “From
what you told us, you did the best you could.” I
nodded. That was true; but whatever I had done, it still wasn’t good enough, and
I couldn’t help feeling guilty about this. Now my brother was in danger – and
might even be dead, as far as I knew. And the man I was talking to might have
lost his son too. He knew less
about the extent of Scarlet’s powers of recovery than those of us in Spectrum
who were in on the secret. In
situations like this, when he was missing, it was always a worrying time for us,
until we found him, and was sure that he was all right – more or less. I
imagined that when Colonel White had my report, he would send down someone else
from Cloudbase to take the assignment over; either Captain Blue, or Captain
Ochre, or whoever else was available.
Frankly, I didn’t care that much that I would be sidelined. At least, all this would be taken out of my hands and into theirs –
they were certainly more capable than me. They were better trained than I was,
better suited to face this kind of situation. All I’d need to do then, would be
to step aside and wait, while worrying about the safety of my disappeared
brother. And friend. “How
odd,” I suddenly heard Doctor Fawn say as he was coming back towards us. I
looked in his direction and saw the perplexed look on his face. “I can’t make
contact with Cloudbase.”
“Defective radio?” General Metcalfe asked, with a frown. “No… I
don’t think so. It was working well enough earlier, when I reported my arrival
in Haiti to Cloudbase. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be working now.” “Give
it to me,” I asked. Fawn handed me his cap, and I put it on my head. For a
moment, I fiddled with the controls hidden under the black edge, and listened to
the distortion coming from the inbuilt speakers. I tested the connectivity of
Fawn’s epaulettes with the cap, by pressing the buttons in a certain sequence. I
saw the epaulettes flash the same colour as Fawn’s uniform. I knew
what all this meant. And I was more than happy to be able to make use of my
real
expertise in this damnable assignment.
“The
equipment is working fine,” I explained. “It simply doesn’t seem to be able to
make a connection with the base comm.link.” “I
thought Spectrum had his own communication system,” General Metcalfe observed. “We do,
but the cap will first link any World Government system in the vicinity to then
establish a secure and encrypted access to our own,” I explained. “Well, the
caps were built that way at the start, to cut down on expense and increase speed
of access, but gradually, we upgraded our communication systems and the caps for
more direct access.” I gave his cap back to Fawn. “You haven’t made the latest
required software updates on the cap, have you?” He
frowned. “Green, I do not leave Cloudbase on assignment often enough to think
about that. And the cap works fine on base.” “It
would, even without any updates,” I reasoned, “since it accesses our own
comm.link there.” I frowned. “But we should be able to make contact
anyway. I don’t understand why it can’t connect. It’s like the whole base system is down. Have you tried your
portable?” Fawn
turned around and went to pick up his small portable computer from the same
table he had taken his cap earlier. He pressed a few buttons, looking at the
screen, but shook his head after a few seconds. “No contact,” he said. “It was also working fine earlier when I
received your report, Lieutenant.” “It
does
look like the base’s network is down,” I confirmed. “I’ll
inform Major Perrin of that as well,” General Metcalfe said. “He should still be
in the command centre. He told me he had some important business to attend to
tonight.” He reached for his own cap, and then turned to me. “I think you should
get some rest, Lieutenant. You look like you need it. If we find anything
concerning the whereabouts of these people who attacked you, we’ll inform you.”
“General, I don’t think I’ll be able to get any rest,” I replied gravely. “Of
course.” The general nodded. “I understand perfectly.” He put his cap on. “I’ll
let you know when you’ll be able to contact Cloudbase again.” With
that, he left the room, and closed the door behind him, leaving Fawn and myself
alone. “So you
received my report?” I asked. “What do you make of it?” “I’m
not sure,” Fawn said, rubbing his chin. “I found it fascinating, and I‘ve heard
about those Haitian zombies and the theories about how powders were used to
create them.” “You
knew
about this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I should have figured that. If Scarlet
and I had had any inkling that Fawn already knew, we might not have gone to my
brother to get information. That could have avoided a lot of problems in the
first place. “Only
very little,” Fawn added quickly, with a shake of his head, as if he had guessed
my thoughts. “Your report was very thorough, Lieutenant. It could be helpful in
trying to explain what is currently going on here.” He nodded quietly. “Those
guys who attacked you and you described to us…” “They
did look like zombies, Doctor.” “If
indeed zombies exist.” “You
still doubt that?” I frowned. “Even after what Caleb told us about them?” “Well,
zombies are still pretty much part of folklore,” Fawn replied. “In Haiti, more
than anywhere else on the globe. There has been talk about them for over the
past two or three centuries, but there’s never really been a reliable
first-line witness account of their existence. And that’s really the crux of
it.” He leaned against the table behind him, and crossed his arms on his chest,
thoughtfully chewing on his lower lip. “Now, knowledge of herbology, and other
such pharmacognosis, especially for medicinal purposes, has existed since the
very beginning of humanity. You find it on every continent. Some of these
ancient and obscure wisdoms are still in use today, fine-tuned to an art that
only a few initiates are able to master. So admittedly, it is conceivable
that Haitian medicine men, for their own dark purposes, have been using some
ancient knowledge, probably passed on by African so-called witch doctors, to
create powders or potions that could create a form of stupor so deep that it
gives the appearance of death. And of course, to also concoct whatever drugs
they need to keep an innocent victim under their control.” He
marked a short pause, obviously to put his thoughts into order, before
continuing: “Now let’s consider that all this is possible. The question would
then be to find out if indeed we’re currently faced with a genuine case
of zombification. It could be something else entirely – and I’m not talking
about Mysteronisation. It could be some kind of brainwashing method.
Unfortunately, we know that exists too.” I
nodded thoughtfully. “Have you been checking Lieutenant Simon’s body?” “I made
a full autopsy of it.” Now
that was surprising. “Didn’t Doctor LaSalle do one herself, when he… well…
‘died’ the first time around?”
“Apparently not. She saw no point in it. The cause of death seemed pretty
obvious at the time. Besides, apparently, the family was against it. So she
humoured their religious beliefs.” I nodded again,
remembering that she hadn’t clearly mentioned an autopsy as such – but simply,
that she had checked the body. That didn’t specifically mean an autopsy. “And
what did he die of exactly?” I asked Fawn. He
shrugged. “Upon examination, it seems pretty clear that he died from multiple
gunshot wounds.” I
rolled my eyes. “That would be from his ‘second death’, Doctor.” “Well,”
sighed Fawn, “as far as I’m concerned, it was his one and only death. I could
see no traces that he might have died of a fever before being shot – I know that
sounds strange to say. There was no trace of drugs in his bloodstream either.
Oh, his blood was rather low in sodium, but that was about all. I imagine that
the kind of drugs needed to give someone the appearance of death, and to then
turn him into a zombie, must be extraordinary powerful. And as such, I expect it
would leave some kind of a trace. Although, it is conceivable to create drugs
that will quickly and completely disappear from a body after a certain amount of
time.” “Well,
the drug mixed in Scarlet’s water did seem pretty powerful,” I said pensively.
“You know better than me how drugs can’t get hold of him – at least, not for
long. He was still feeling the effects of that one after many minutes – and even
after a rush of adrenaline.” “In
that case, Lieutenant, you should consider yourself very lucky that you didn’t
drink any of it,” Fawn told me gravely. “If you had, you could have suffered
serious consequences. You don’t have Scarlet’s resilience to drugs. Who knows,
maybe it was meant to be fatal? And Scarlet only survived because of his unique
condition.”
“Somehow, I doubt it,” I murmured. “There’s still what that false waiter said,
when we caught up with him. A bokor wanted Scarlet… Him, but apparently
not me. But my glass was probably drugged as well... Well, actually, I can’t be
sure of that, since Scarlet sent flying off the table before I could drink from
it.” “Maybe
they didn’t ‘want’ you, since you had not drunk the water after all?” “I
don’t know. Maybe. But you must admit, after what Caleb told us about zombies
and bokors, what this guy said was rather unsettling. I know Scarlet
was upset.” “By any
chance, could anyone have heard the two of you talking with your
brother?” Fawn asked. “Maybe someone was using that bokor story just to
try to impress you in some way.” “That’s
possible. The walls of Caleb’s apartment must be like paper – and it’s right
next to his landlady’s store. I guess anyone from there could have heard all of
what we talked about.” I frowned. “That still doesn’t explain those strange men
who attacked us.” “Whom
you said looked like zombies. Maybe they just wanted to make believe they
were, Green,” Fawn suggested. “They could have been faking.” “So it
would be nothing but a gigantic hoax?” I shook my head at the idea. “No, I don’t
think so, Doctor. The guy who attacked me on the roof was inhumanly strong and
when I hit him, he gave no reaction at all. It was as if I was hitting a
brick wall. Extraordinary strength and no pain. That does fit what is said about
how zombies are – added to the rest, that is. And there’s the case of Lieutenant
Simon to consider as well.” Fawn
nodded slowly, taking a mental note of this information; then he looked at me
the way he looked at any of his other patients. “Well, I think we might argue
all night and won’t come up with answers for the moment. You look exhausted,
Seymour. You should get some rest. Sleep the rest of the night.” Fawn
had a point; although I hated to admit it, I really felt bushed. The events of
the day had tired me more than I expected. “Maybe you’re right,” I murmured.
“But I won’t sleep here in sickbay. Not with Lieutenant Simon lying next door on
a slab.” “He’s
unlikely to stand up and walk, Green,” Fawn replied with a faint smile.
“Certainly not after the autopsy I gave him.” “Well,
nevertheless… I’d prefer to get quarters for the night.” I looked down at
myself. I didn’t really feel comfortable in this towel I was wearing and with
the ambient air-conditioning, I was shivering. I gave a glance in the direction
of my dirty uniform, laid in a heap next to the door leading to the adjoining
bathroom. “I hope
they have a good dry cleaning service on base,” I said gloomily. “In the
meantime, I should find some clothes that fit me, so I don’t have to go around
base in nothing but this towel, or a medical gown.” “I’ll
go ask the sentry at the door,” Fawn replied. “Maybe he’ll be able to find
something to accommodate you.” He left
his cap on the corner of the examination table and went through the door, not
completely closing it behind him. Pensively, I looked at the cap, wondering why
the comm.link wasn’t working on base. Perhaps I could offer my assistance to
Major Perrin in checking that out; that would give me something to do, while the
search operations were proceeding. Anything would do, to keep my mind off this
mess. I
returned my attention to my uniform, and decided I might as well empty my
pockets before it was sent to the laundry. I jumped down from the table, and
grimaced when I felt the pang of pain that reverberated through my spine. Doctor
Fawn was right in saying I was lucky to have survived that fall: it sure did a
number on my back. Grumbling, I
went to my uniform and leaned to pick it up, between my fingers; it really smelt
awful, and was in the worst possible state. It wasn’t only dirty: there were
multiple tears through it. The green vest was a total loss – it wasn’t green
anymore, but a sick mix of colours, roughly reminiscent of a camouflage uniform.
One side was torn from under the arm to the seam of the belt. One of the
epaulettes was broken, hanging loosely on the shoulder pad. I grunted in
disgust, opened the vest’s sole pocket, and got my Spectrum I.D. and my personal
wallet out, before tossing the thing aside. The
shirt had suffered less from the ordeal, but the trousers were not any better
than the vest. Quite frankly, about
the only thing intact were my boots and they certainly wouldn’t be that
difficult to clean up. I
checked the pockets of my trousers, grimacing as I did, wondering in what state
I would find the effects I was keeping in them.
Fortunately, there was nothing of real importance. I only found the paper on
which I had written Caleb’s address earlier, a handful of coins, and the two
talismans that my brother’s landlady had given to me back at her shop. I
tossed the trousers onto my vest. Holding the talismans by the leather laces
attached to them, I raised them to eye level and looked at them with some
bitterness. Jujus, Mama Leona had called them. I snorted with derision.
They didn’t do such a good job at protecting us. I mean, I didn’t actually
believe
in that stuff, and when you considered it, the saddest thing was that some
people did believe. I had the impression that Mama Leona herself
genuinely believed in them. She had to, I imagine, with her supposedly being a ‘mambo’,
as Caleb had told us. If ever
I saw her again, I would tell her these jujus of hers were highly
overrated. Doctor
Fawn returned at that moment; closing the door, he came right to me, carrying a
pile of clothing neatly folded in his arms. I put the talismans on the side of
the counter.
“General Metcalfe had already made arrangements for you,” he said with a smile.
“I saw a corporal arrive with these, as I was talking to the sentry. I hope you
don’t mind the fact that it’s a WAAF private’s uniform.”
“That’ll do just fine until I’m back on Cloudbase.” I started putting the
trousers on under my towel. “Quite frankly, I have other more important concerns
in my mind than the worry about the rank of uniform I’m wearing.” “Your
brother, of course,” Fawn noted. I didn’t answer; it was so obvious that I
didn’t need to confirm. Losing my brother while he was under my protection was a
sore subject, never mind that he had showed up when he shouldn’t have. And I
also felt responsible for Scarlet’s disappearance as well. We were partners in
this assignment; I should have been able to back him more proficiently than I
did. Sensing
that I would rather not talk about it now, Fawn cleared his throat and pointed
to the small objects I had left on the counter. “What are those?” I shook
my head as I discarded the towel and unfolded the shirt lent to me. “Talismans,
given to us by Caleb’s landlady,” I explained with a dismissive shrug.
“They were supposed to keep ‘the evil eye’ at bay. You saw how efficient they
were…” “Well,
I can see what this is,” Fawn said, taking the shiny stone painted in the
likeness of an eye and looking closely at it. “Very artistic. They even painted
tiny veins into the white.”
“Whatever.” I shrugged again. “It’s too real for my taste. It’s giving me the
creeps.” “And
what is this supposed to be?” Fawn had turned his attention to the pouch and
took it as well. “I
don’t know exactly,” I answered as I put the shirt on. “It contains some kind of
protective powder, I guess.” Fawn
opened the pouch, and carefully poured some of the contents into the open palm
of his hand. I looked with curiosity at the small quantity of tiny, translucent
white grains he was now examining. “That’s
no powder,” I said. “No,”
Fawn confirmed. “It looks like –” I
dipped my fingers into his palm, making some of the particles stick to the skin
and before Fawn could stop me, I tasted them. “Salt,”
I said. “You
shouldn’t have done that,” Fawn replied with a frown. “We didn’t know for sure
that it was salt, to begin with.” That didn’t stop him from tasting the sample
himself. “Salt,” he confirmed with
a nod. “And there doesn’t seem to be anything peculiar about it. It’s just
plain, ordinary table salt.” “Why
would Mama Leona give me a small pouch of table salt?” I wondered out loud, as I
buttoned my shirt. “That doesn’t seem to make any sense.” “I
wonder…” Fawn seemed pensive, as he often was when he had something on his mind.
He was obviously trying to sort his thoughts out. “Green, remember what I told
you earlier? About Lieutenant Simon’s blood having a low level of sodium?” I
nodded. I was actually coming around to that. “Could there be a link there
somewhere?” I asked. “Just
thinking,” Fawn said thoughtfully. “Salt is often considered an important and
powerful magical element. You can use it to repel evil, curses, counter
witchcraft – many supernatural threats that may come to you. And that’s in many
traditional cultures, not only African or Haitian. Now, scientifically speaking,
a low content of sodium in a body might result in many symptoms: confusion,
dizziness, nausea – lethargy. Of course, if we take the problem in reverse,
something might cause low content of sodium in the blood… Something like
illness, bad nutrition –”
“Drugs,” I quickly added. “Doctor, Captain Scarlet felt similar symptoms when he
drank that drugged water.” “Many
drugs might cause the same kind of effects, Green – without also causing a low
level of sodium. But you might be on to something…” “And
what if salt, while considered as a talisman, might actually be used as a
possible way to counter that something?” I suggested. Fawn
nodded slowly. “If the drug used to achieve the zombification effect causes a
low level of sodium, you’re thinking that restoring the level of sodium in the
blood might prove successful to draw the zombie from his lethargic state.” “Right
– well, maybe not in so many words. But that might be helpful?” Fawn
frowned. “Restoring sodium to its proper level in a human body is relatively
easy to do. Unfortunately, we don’t have a living zombie on whom we might try
this. No pun intended.” “Maybe
we’ll be able to capture one or more of them when the search for Scarlet and my
brother begins,” I reflected gloomily. “Oh, we should tell Major Perrin that his
troops should not shoot at them, like they did with Lieutenant Simon. It’s
likely that they’re mainly innocent victims – of that bokor that the
false waiter mentioned or whoever else. I don’t see anyone wanting to volunteer
to become a zombie.” Fawn
nodded again in agreement. He reached for his cap, and put it on his head,
lowering his microphone to try and contact the base command centre. I heard the
static from where I was standing and saw him grimace in frustration. “Still
nothing,” he said. “Which also
means we still can’t contact Cloudbase.” “That
doesn’t seem right,” I reflected. “No WAAF base worthy of that name would allow
a communication system to be out of action for such a long time.” “This
is Haiti, Lieutenant – not London. Or even Trinidad, for that matter. I suspect
that this base’s equipment might not be the most reliable you can find on the
market.” “Just
as the commanders are probably not the best you can find either,” I muttered,
remembering about what General Metcalfe had told us on the subject. Fawn pushed his microphone back onto his
visor. “How about we go to the command centre directly then, and tell Major
Perrin about our finds?” I
grabbed my nearest boot and pulled it on. “I agree. And I might as well offer my
expertise to help repair this deficient communication system, while I’m at it.” Fawn
scowled at the suggestion. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You should go
directly to bed after talking to Perrin, Lieutenant. I thought you agreed to
that?” I gave
a half-hearted laugh as I put the second boot on. “I know. “I’m sorry, but I probably won’t be able
to sleep at all tonight. So I might as well make myself useful. Believe it or
not, working on the communication system will help me relax.” “Oh, I
do believe it,” Fawn replied, rolling his eyes. “The
sooner this system is back online, the better. We still have to contact
Cloudbase to make our reports and request backup, remember? Then I might
be able to get some sleep.” Fawn
considered this and finally conceded I was right. We left
the room, and asked our sentry the way to the command centre; it was, he told
us, located at the other end of the compound, in a building of three storeys
high, with its walls all covered with windows, and brightly lit, night or day.
He was starting to give us directions, and then finally offered to guide us
there. He
preceded us, as we left the medical centre in the main building and started
walking across the courtyard, our steps echoing on the asphalted surface. It was
a very gloomy night, hot and uncomfortable. Parts of the compound were floodlit
by powerful spotlights, which seemed to make those dark places where no light
shone appear even darker than they really were. It was an ominous atmosphere if
ever there was one – one of those nights when you feel edgy for no particular
reason. Like somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew there was something
bad waiting to happen. That
was how I felt that night; I didn’t know why I had that distressing feeling; it
was as if I was observed. And
suddenly, I knew why. I heard
low moaning coming from my right and I jumpily turned in that direction. The
gate giving access to the base was about thirty meters from us; it was wide
open, and the sentry normally keeping guard there was gone. There was no light
in the entrance, but as I narrowed my eyes to see better, I suddenly
distinguished shadowy silhouettes moving.
I
suddenly stopped in my tracks, and Fawn and the security guard did the same. People
were passing through the open gate, and were walking towards the middle of the
courtyard – straight in our direction. They were totally silent, and were
walking very slowly, dragging their feet. The light from a nearby spotlight
shone onto their faces; they were slack-jawed, and their eyes were haggard. I felt
the short hair on the back of my head standing up straight. “I
can’t believe this…” I glanced in Fawn’s direction; he was watching the
approaching crowd with eyes wide-open with incredulity and obvious horror. There
were twenty, maybe thirty, of these people, all men. A handful of them wore rags
or civilian clothes; most were dressed in WAAF uniforms – and a white man, in
the very first line, towering a full head over his nearest companions, was
wearing a distinctive red uniform. That forced a cry of recognition out of Doctor
Fawn’s lips:
“Scarlet!” But
Captain Scarlet didn’t react to the sound of his name; he kept walking that slow
zombie walk, his blue eyes dead of any expression, like those of all the men
surrounding him. He wasn’t seeing us; he wasn’t recognising us. But he
was marching towards us with the others. The
guard with us knew a moment of panic and raised his gun, turning it on the
approaching zombies and getting ready to fire. “No!” I
reacted quickly, grabbed the barrel, and pushed it up. The shot lost itself in
the sky, harming no one. The
guard was too afraid to argue. He let go of his weapon, which clattered to the
ground, and turned around and ran away as fast as his feet would allow. The last
thing I saw of him was the terrified expression on his face as he glanced one
last time over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows. So much
for the much-vaunted bravery of WAAF soldiers. But then again, I couldn’t really
blame him; he was obviously Haitian and the fear of zombies was probably
ingrained into his being from the moment he was born. And even if he had not
believed in them before, tonight might have changed his mind on the matter. I
couldn’t deny that I was myself really freaked out. “You
wanted a zombie specimen, Doctor,” I said with a catch in my throat. “I guess
someone heard you… You only need to take your pick.”
“Scarlet is amongst them,” Fawn said. “Maybe we can…” He took a step towards the
zombies, but I caught him by the arm and stopped him. “I
think the guard had a better idea,” I replied quickly. “We’d better get the hell
out of here.” Fawn
didn’t find any argument against that; despite the fact that they were moving
slowly, the ‘zombies’ were getting dangerously near to us. We
turned on our heels and started running towards the three storey building where
we knew we would find the command centre.
“Where’s the rest of the base’s personnel?” Fawn asked me as we ran. “Didn’t
they hear that shot? The courtyard should be crawling with WAAF soldiers!”
“Haven’t you noticed?” I sharply retorted. “Most of these guys are WAAF soldiers!” “They’re the base personnel?” “Most
of them, perhaps.” We reached the main door of the building. Behind us, the
zombies were slowly but surely following, Scarlet still in the first line. I
pressed the opening button of the door and we barely waited for the opening to
be wide enough to let us through. We slipped in and I punched the button from
inside. The door slid closed, a little too slowly for my taste, as the zombies
were nearly on it. Doctor Fawn and I didn’t need to consult each other to decide
it was safer not to hang around. We rushed down the corridor, following the
indications on the wall in order to reach the command centre.
Something suddenly came back to my mind, and I stifled a curse. “What
is it?” asked Fawn, panting. “The
dreadlocked waiter. How could I have forgotten?” We
turned into a new corridor and I stopped, forcing Fawn to do the same. I was
nearly out of breath; it wasn’t that we had been running for long, but I guess
the high anxiety we presently felt was making our hearts pump a little faster
than they really should. It wasn’t every day you were chased by walking zombies.
Even considering that, by now, we ought to be used to the idea because of the
Mysterons’ incredible powers of recreating dead people… “I
mean, the false dreadlocked waiter,” I specified, as I was trying to
catch my breath. “The one that gave Scarlet that glass rubbed with poison?” I heard
low moans, and the sound of dragging feet approaching from the main corridor
nearby. I didn’t need to look round the corner to be sure that the zombies had
entered the building. I urged Fawn to start running again as I continued my
explanation: “When we caught him – he was wearing soldier dog tags around his
neck. WAAF dog tags. Scarlet said that either he’d taken them from a WAAF
soldier, or…” “… He
was
a WAAF soldier?” Fawn finished for me. I
nodded. “But he wasn’t a zombie, that I’m sure of. Doctor, there is
something definitely going wrong on this base. And it’s not its inefficiency.” Fawn
understood straight away what I meant. “Someone here has his own agenda.” “And I
have a pretty good idea who it might be,” I said darkly. “Do you
think there’s a possible involvement from the Mysterons?” Fawn asked. “I
don’t know, but I aim to find out.” We
reached a door, on which was posted the sign ‘Command Centre – Authorised
personnel only’. I looked back. The zombies were turning the corner behind and
coming straight at us, Scarlet leading the pack. I
turned the handle, and pushed the door open wide. Fawn and I hurried inside and
I closed behind us instantly, slamming the door loudly. I locked it and let a
deep breath out, trying to regain my calm. My heart was thumping against my
ribcage, as if it wanted to escape my chest. Doctor
Fawn was leaning against the wall by the door, breathing hard. I turned around
to see that our sudden and loud entrance had attracted the attention of the four
people inside the room. A young communications officer, with earphones on, was
seated on a revolving chair in front of her station, and was watching us with
obvious surprise. The three men standing by a work-table, Major Perrin,
Lieutenant Saturnin and General Metcalfe, were also looking fixedly at us,
obviously stunned by our presence – but there was also a trace of annoyance
visible in their eyes.
“Lieutenant Green, Doctor Fawn,” General Metcalfe asked, his brow deeply
furrowed, “would you mind telling us the meaning of this?” “I
suggest you ask Major Perrin, General,” I replied, and the intonation of my
voice probably conveyed enough vexation to make the general believe I was being
overtly insolent. I had to admit I was myself very surprised by my own audacity. “You’re
out of order, Lieutenant,” he said with irritation. “No,”
Doctor Fawn replied, still breathing hard, and shaking his head. “No, he’s not.”
He pointed Perrin with an accusing finger. “Do ask the major, General. He’s got
a lot of explaining to do.” “For
example,” I continued, “ask him why the comm.link suddenly went off line
recently – and hasn’t been fixed yet? This isn’t a coincidence. It can only be sabotage.”
Metcalfe turned to the major, who was rolling bothered and angry eyes. “Well?”
he asked in a commanding voice, very similar to his son’s when he was annoyed. “I
don’t know what they’re talking about!” Perrin protested loudly. “And if they
don’t explain themselves shortly – ” “There
are more than two dozens zombies approaching on the other side of this door!” I
interrupted suddenly, leaving my position to stride in the direction of the
three men, who looked at me with astonishment. Doctor Fawn followed me quickly,
as if he didn’t want to be left alone by the door. “And very soon, they will
break into this room!”
“Zombies?” General Metcalfe scoffed, opening his eyes wide. “Are you insane,
Lieutenant?” “I wish
we both were,” Doctor Fawn replied. “What Green says is true. This room is about
to get invaded by people who appeared to have been zombified.” He hesitated.
“And Captain Scarlet is amongst them, General.” The
general blinked in shock at the news and paled horribly. I don’t know if he
managed to keep his emotions in check – or if he was simply interrupted by
Perrin’s sudden explosion, as the latter addressed me with vitriolic fury: “Even
if what you say is the truth, however ludicrous it sounds, what makes you
believe I’ve got anything to do with their presence here? In any case, my men
will –” “Most
of these zombies are your men, Major,” I interrupted abruptly, icily
staring straight into his face. I saw
his expression change instantly, from anger to apparently complete disbelief.
His voice dropped down to a murmur: “What are you saying?” He
really didn’t seem like he was faking it; he genuinely looked shocked. I
frowned, suddenly doubtful: “You mean you really didn’t know about this?” Before
he could answer, there was a loud crack from the door, and that made all of us
jump and turn around. The panicked shriek of the female communications officer
shrilled into my ears, as she jumped to her feet, watching with horror as the
door burst open under the irresistible force of many strong shoulders pushing
into it. We
stood there rooted to the spot. The
powerful frame of Captain Scarlet stood in the opening, the other zombies
gathered in a close pack behind him. His glassy eyes looked unemotionally in our
direction, without recognising any of us. I heard
the gasp of dismay and horror coming from General Metcalfe at the sight of his
son, and the low prayer in Creole coming from Major Perrin’s lips. Scarlet
stepped into the room, and the others followed, silently. Taking me by complete
surprise, General Metcalfe made a dash in the direction of his son, I imagine in
a foolhardy attempt to try and reason with him. I was very concerned that it
would not work, and that it might have dire consequences, so instinctively, I
darted after the general, caught him by the arm and forcefully pulled him back
before he reached Scarlet. I had, this way, put myself in the first line in
front of everyone, and for the second time that day, I froze as I faced a
zombified adversary – feeling even more overwhelmed this time around, because
this man now standing menacingly over me was Captain Scarlet. I never truly
realised before that moment how much taller and stronger than me he was. I
didn’t stand more than a second; with a swipe of his arm, he slapped me across
the face, so violently that I staggered, half-stunned. I stepped back to avoid
his hands that were trying to grab me by the throat, and I attempted to rejoin
the others, as the rest of the zombies filled the room and spread around. As I
was preparing myself to face the zombies’ approach, something hit me violently
on the back of my head and my knees buckled underneath me; I couldn’t keep my
balance and I fell face first onto the floor. Multiple hands grasped at me; as
incapacitated as I was, I attempted to resist, but it was in vain. I could hear
the communications officer still screaming in terror, and the shouts and
scuffles made by my companions as they desperately fought back. I caught a
glimpse of Doctor Fawn, who was driven to the floor by three zombies. He quickly
disappeared from my view. Then as
I was turned onto my back and lay there on the floor, restrained by so many
hands that I couldn’t keep count of them and barely able to move, I saw someone
approach casually, oblivious to the crowd of surrounding zombies; that someone
was wearing a WAAF uniform, and came to stand over me. I looked up, and the eyes
that I found glaring down at me with such conceit in them were definitely not
those of a zombie. I felt
a shiver coming up and down my spine. “So it
was you…” I gasped. I saw
the loathing smile appearing on his thin lips. “You
really
thought you knew what was going on, Lieutenant Green?” he asked disdainfully
in his irksome nasal voice. “You still don’t know how wrong you are…” The
booted foot of Lieutenant Arturo Saturnin came right into my face and I
instantly lost consciousness.
|
I was
annoyed with myself. I
should have seen this coming. Really, I should have considered that the quiet
one was the culprit. In whodunits and thriller novels, it was always the quiet
one, the person you never suspected, who always kept in the background. Colonel
White told me that often enough and he was some kind of an expert on the
subject. He loved mystery novels, and had even followed a writing course in that
genre, some years ago, before joining Spectrum, with the hope that one day he
would be able to pen his own bestseller – a revelation that stunned me when he
confided it to me one Sunday at tea, on the Promenade Deck. I
supposed that considering how bad this assignment was going, he would chide me
for not seeing the obvious. I woke
up lying on the cold marble floor of a semi-dark room, with my hands tied behind
my back. My head was pounding painfully, and the sound of chanting and drums not
really beating in unison wasn’t helping in the matter. I
wasn’t alone. I could hear Doctor Fawn’s low voice, gently encouraging me to
emerge. When I opened my eyes, I saw him seated on the floor, by my side; he too
was tied up. Beyond him, I could
see General Metcalfe, also seated on the floor and tied up as well, and leaning
against a stone wall behind him. He was looking towards me with a grave
expression. “How
are you, Lieutenant?” he asked in a voice as low as Fawn’s. I
frowned, trying to clear my mind of the fog it was still in. “I… I’ll be better
when I’m able to sit up…” My voice was a slur; I could barely recognise it. I
struggled to get into a seated position; Fawn did his best to help, shouldering
me up. My head was threatening to split; the chanting and drums were now clearer
as my brain started to focus. At least, I noticed, my feet were free; not that
it would help me get very far from this place. I was
now leaning against the same wall as my two companions; in front of me, I could
see the side of an altar made of solid wood, set in the middle of the large
room. Beside it, on a high table, which seemed made of stone, there were a
multitude of heteroclite objects, some of which I couldn’t even recognise. There
were ceremonial rattles, bells, and coloured stones, talismans attached to
leather laces, painted chicken feet and even an old bottle of rum, with the
imprints of hands in the dust covering its surface. There were also candles, of
all colours, shapes and sizes, on that stone table and all around the room, all
of them lit and throwing an eerie light on a series of skulls – human and
animals – lined at the altar’s foot. Men
were standing in a semi-circle around the altar and stone table, in several
lines, their eyes glazed as they watched the burning candles. Most of them were
wearing WAAF uniforms – and amongst them, on the first line, as mesmerised as
all of them, stood Captain Scarlet. Right next to him, there was the man who
threw me off that roof in Port-au-Prince. I felt
my heart rate increase, as I realised they were all zombies. “Where
the hell are we?” I whispered. “The
base chapel, I believe.” The voice coming from my immediate left made my heart
jump and I turned my head in that direction – far too quickly, as my headache
suddenly became too vivid and almost made me throw up. I closed my eyes against
the pain for a second or two, resting my head against the wall behind me, and
composed myself before looking again. My
brother Caleb was seated by my side; his hands were obviously tied behind his
back too, and he was now looking at me with a deep frown of concern.
“Seymour, are you all right?” “I am,”
I answered with a weak voice and a forced smile. I felt a surge of relief to
have found him – but at the same time, I was also deeply alarmed that he was a
prisoner as well. “Caleb, I’m so glad you’re okay. You don’t know how worried I
was for you!” “Well,
I wouldn’t say I’m exactly okay,” he muttered under his breath. “But at least
I’m alive. And I was worried for you too. The last I knew, you were falling from
that roof, and I thought the fall might have killed you – or injured you
seriously.” “I was
lucky. I landed on garbage bags. They cushioned my fall.” I nodded in the
direction of the two men on my right. “You’ve met Doctor Fawn, a colleague of
mine – and General Metcalfe?” “We’ve
met, yes,” Fawn replied tersely. “While you were out of it.” I looked around, trying to get a better
understanding of our situation. The constant pounding in my head wasn’t helping
any. “Where do these drumbeats and chanting come from?” I asked, frowning. “Speakers,” Fawn
said, nodding in the direction of the wall behind the altar. “They probably put
some kind of recording into a player somewhere… Sounds like tribal drumming of some kind…” “I hate
drums,” I muttered. “Reminds me of the alert system we had in Marineville. It
used to give me such headaches… You say this is the base chapel?” “It
is,” General Metcalfe said in his deep voice. “Those men grabbed us in the
command centre, and before we knew it, we were trussed up like pigs. Lieutenant
Saturnin had them brought us here.” “What
did they do with Major Perrin?” I asked. “And that communications officer who
was with us?” I was searching around with my eyes and couldn’t see any of them
with us. “We
don’t know,” General Metcalfe answered. “They were alive when they separated us,
though Major Perrin received a hard knock on the head and was unconscious. We’re
hoping they simply took them somewhere else and that they are being held
prisoners. If not…” He let the sentence hang. We all knew what the alternative
was.
“They’ve obviously done some redecorating of the place,” Doctor Fawn said,
looking around. “They’ve removed all benches and ceremonial Christian objects.
Looks like they’re preparing for a pagan ceremony or something…”
“They’ve transformed the chapel into a hounfort,” Caleb then explained.
“A ‘voodoo church’, if you will.” “We
should have guessed,” Fawn replied with a gloomy expression on his face. “With
that altar in the middle…” But
Caleb shook his head at these words. “No, you have it wrong. This is not the
regular altar of the voodoo religion. That high stone table over there,” he
added, nodding towards the said object, “that’s a voodoo altar.” “Then
what about that wooden table, in the middle of the room?” I asked. “It looks
like a regular Christian altar…” “It
is,” Caleb agreed. “The one from this chapel, probably. Why they had pushed it
there next to the pé, I have no idea…” “The
pé?” Fawn asked. “The
voodoo altar. The stone table. That’s what it’s called. That’s where they put
their most precious ceremonial talismans.” “A
bottle of rum is a ceremonial talisman?” General Metcalfe asked acerbically. “I
wouldn’t mind getting a sip of it right now…” “I
wouldn’t recommend it,” Caleb replied. “If it does contain rum, it’s more than
likely spiked with some hallucinogenic substance – the likes of which they
probably fed these men. And Captain Scarlet.”
He nodded in the direction of Scarlet, who wasn’t even paying us any
attention, so engrossed was he in gazing in apparently deep contemplation at the
burning candles on the altar. “If you don’t want to end up like him…” “We tried to call
to him,” Fawn said. “He’s so deep under the control of whatever they gave him
that he doesn’t know who we are. Not even…” He looked to his right at General
Metcalfe. I saw the latter give a furtive glance to his son, before quickly
looking the other way. It probably wasn’t easy for him to see his own flesh and
blood like this. “He didn’t even
recognise me,” he said with a catch in his voice. “He even helped in
tying us up…” “Green,
here…” Fawn was leaning heavily on my shoulder, and the whisper he addressed to
me was barely audible; I frowned when I felt a cold object being slipped into
the palm of my hand. When I closed my fingers around it, I found that it had a
jagged edge that might actually be sharp enough to go through the ropes binding
my wrists. I surreptitiously looked at Fawn who gave me a curt nod. I got a
glimpse at his moving arm as he returned his left hand behind his back. I
understood instantly: he had somehow successfully freed himself using this
object he had given me. It was up to me to do the same now. Hope flared in me. Fawn
slightly moved his position. “Be quick about it,” he said from the corner of his
mouth, in a voice lower than before. I
answered with a nod and started working on my ropes, nicking both my hands in
the process. I bit my lip to stifle a grunt of pain. “Are
you okay?” Caleb asked in concern. “Still
a bit sore,” I answered. I made believe I was trying to get myself into a more
comfortable position. I didn’t want to tell Caleb anything of my attempts to get
free yet, so as not to give him false hopes if I should not succeed. “What
happened exactly?” I asked him instead. “I mean, after I fell from that roof?
What happened to you?” Caleb
kept silent a short moment, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Seymour, I couldn’t
help you,” he said in a very low voice. “I could only watch when that zombie
threw you off the roof. I was frozen with fear – I couldn’t move.” “Easy,
Caleb,” I said soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t expect you would be
able to help. You’re not trained for that.” I was inwardly adding that neither
was I. Not as well as I wanted to be, anyway. Caleb
stifled a sob and looked away. “I thought… I really thought you were dead,
Seymour.” “Well,
I’m not,” I replied in a firm voice. “And I don’t intend to die easily.” “You
already have a plan to save us all?” Caleb asked me with a faint smile. “I
might have,” I answered calmly. I still didn’t want to commit myself. At least,
my apparent confidence seemed to give some courage to Caleb; I could see the
start of some hope in his eyes as he looked straight at me. “You’re always
playing the hero, Seymour,” he said. “Even as a child, you were always there,
looking out for us. It’s no surprise you’re a Spectrum officer now. I just hope
that won’t cost your life one day…” I didn’t reply. The ropes restraining my hands
were difficult to cut through, and so far, the only thing I was absolutely sure
of was that I had inflicted on myself a series of painful cuts, and that the
sharp object I was holding was threatening to slip from my blood-covered palm.
There was no way to know for sure if I had made some progress. It didn’t feel
like it; on the contrary, my bonds seemed to have tightened around my wrists. I
carried on nevertheless, not wanting to give up hope. “Tell me the rest,” I asked quietly, ignoring
my brother’s comments. “Caleb, I need to know what happened.” He
nodded. “The zombie came after me,” he answered in little more than a whisper.
“I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong and I didn’t have a chance. He
hit me only once – I guess I must have lost consciousness then, because I don’t
remember much from there. When I came to, I was already here – trussed up like
this.” The expression in his eyes became distant, as he looked in the direction
of the zombies standing not that far away from us. They were still not taking
any interest in us, or what we might be talking about. They were far too busy
staring straight at the burning candles – like moths, they seemed to be
fascinated by the fire. “There
weren’t as many of these guys in here when I woke up,” Caleb continued. “There
were about six, or seven – half of those who attacked us in the alley. Not all
of them are zombies.” “No?” I
asked curiously. Caleb
shook his head, and nodded in the direction of the group of men standing around
the altar. “Look, you can see them. Those guys, with white paint over their
faces? Like tribal markings?” I
narrowed my eyes and saw the men he described. They were standing at the end of
each line, and their bearing was quite different from that of the zombies beside
them. They wore no shirts, had their head and chest shaved completely, and wore
what I would call ‘war paint’ on their faces. They had their arms crossed
against their chests and each of them held a wooden staff. Their eyes had
nothing of the glazed expression seen in zombies. There’s
at least three, maybe four of these men here,” Caleb explained. “They seem to be
the ‘guardians’ of the zombies. They control them – boss them around.” He
scoffed derisively, with some nervousness. “They cheekily called themselves ‘hounsis
kanzo.’” “Hounsis
what?” I repeated with a frown. “A hounsi kanzo is a fully initiated
member of the Voodoo church… Someone who has followed an initiation to
participate in the ceremony. But these guys… they’re not really hounsis –
their main purpose seems to be to keep the zombies in line. But they’re not
their real masters. That I know.” “The
bokor?” I asked. Caleb shivered at the question, and I could see he was
hesitating. “Please, continue, Caleb,” I encouraged him gently. He
nodded and swallowed hard. “When I woke up, your friend was here too. But he
wasn’t… like them yet.” He nodded in the direction of the zombies. “He was with
me, on the floor where you are. But he was barely conscious, and delirious. He
was hallucinating. A couple of zombies were watching us. Then the bokor
came…” I heard
my brother take a shaky and sharp intake of breath, and in the semi-darkness, I
saw him shiver. “The
zombies were ordered to take your friend to the altar; he wasn’t in any position
to resist, and they dragged him there. I watched as the bokor
administered some kind of drug…” His voice broke and he turned away. “When the
bokor
had finished with him, he dropped to the floor. He stayed there for a moment,
not moving. Then they pulled him to his feet, in front of the bokor… And
I could see his eyes… Glassy, dead – without any expression. He didn’t speak,
nor react when the hounsis, instructed by the bokor, took him
away. He simply followed submissively. He was just like the other
zombies.” “I’ll
make them pay for this.” General Metcalfe’s voice was now hollow, and was
dripping with anger and hatred. He had been listening to Caleb’s explanation up
until now in complete silence. Now as I turned to him, I could see the hard,
determined expression on his face. It was an expression I had seen often on
Captain Scarlet’s face, when he had set himself to carry out a task, whatever
the price might be for him – even when it meant his own death. “I swear, when I
get my hands on this bokor, I’ll make him undo what he did to my son, or
I’ll wring his miserable neck.” “He’s your son?”
Caleb asked, turning a horrified look to General Metcalfe. The older man
hesitated, probably wondering how much he could reveal in front of this civilian
he didn’t know. But then, he probably figured out that if he was my brother, he
could probably be trusted with the identity of his son. “He is,” he
answered, lowering his head. “I… didn’t
realise,” Caleb said. “I’m sorry, General. I shouldn’t… have told this story,
I…” “You
don’t have to feel sorry for anything, son,” General Metcalfe grunted. “It’s not
as if you were responsible for what happened to him. We have to get out of this
and free him from this trance before he does something he is likely to regret
when he regains his senses…” “Maybe
I am responsible. If I had not revealed all I know about zombies, and bokors
and…” “Stop this,” I
ordered in a stern voice, hearing my brother’s voice break in panic. “You are
not responsible, Caleb. This would have happened regardless. Pull yourself
together, please. Now is not the time to lose your nerve.” “I…
You’re right, Seymour. I’m sorry,” Caleb said, his voice still catching, but
obviously calming down. “It’s just… It’s hard, you know? Recalling all that
happened. You don’t have any idea how afraid I was. I thought they would turn me into one of these zombies too.” As if
in answer, a high-pitched laugh echoed through the room, covering the chanting
and the beating drums. And then a voice attracted our attention; it was mocking
and taunting us. “You
didn’t really think we would need a weakling like you?” Someone
had approached us silently during our conversation and was standing in the
shadows, apart from the zombies, a short distance from us. He stepped out of the
gloom and came closer, followed by another, shorter, silhouette, who came to
stand by his side as they stopped directly in front of us. I
recognised the latter man instantly: it was the false waiter who had spiked
Captain Scarlet’s glass of water. Like the hounsis that Caleb had
indicated to us, he had no shirt on, but he was wearing the trousers, boots and
gun belt of a WAAF soldier and around his neck hung the two dog tags that I was
sure were the same Captain Scarlet had taken from him earlier that day. He had a
red bandana on his head and was looking down at us with hatred in his eyes. The
taller man by his side was a rather impressive – and surprising – sight. He too
was dressed in WAAF trousers and boots, and he also wore an open jacket, that
looked like the upper half of an old, tatty tuxedo. There was a skeleton’s torso
painted on his upper body. The pattern went up to his neck with false vertebrae,
and a skull was painted over his face, which was white all over, with precise
drawings of teeth, and black patches over his nose and around his very bright
eyes. He had a top hat on his head and was holding a six feet high wooden staff. It took
me a few seconds to recognise who this man was. “So,
Lieutenant Saturnin,” I said bitterly. “You are the bokor, then.” That
earned me a vicious kick right into my exposed abdomen from the false waiter. I
couldn’t avoid it, and it took my breath away; it nearly sent me sprawling on
Fawn. The sharp object in my hand slipped and cut deeply into my palm. I gritted
my teeth to stifle a cry. On the
plus side, however, I felt one of the ropes give; I wasn’t free yet, but I was
making progress. “Be
silent, dog!” the little man yelled at me. “Show some respect in the presence of
Baron Samedi!” I
blinked in surprise. “Baron Samedi?” I wheezed. I felt
some alarm when I heard my brother speak then: “Baron Samedi – loa of the
dead and cemeteries… Bokors need his permission to create zombies… so
during ceremonies, someone dresses up as Baron Samedi so that the loa’s
presence will be felt.” I
didn’t need my brother to attract attention to himself like this. I shot him a
cross glance. “Shut up, Caleb…” I warned him. “Your
brother knows his voodoo, Lieutenant Green,” Saturnin told me in his nasal
voice. “You should listen to what he has to say, it could be instructive.” “I know
quite enough to be sure you have a sick sense of humour,” I replied, as I
struggled to get back into a seated position, while trying to cut through my
bonds again. “ ‘Samedi’ in French means ‘Saturday’ – Day of Saturn… Saturnin?” I raised a brow. “So that was
an early calling for you?” The
false waiter lashed out at me again. This time, I braced myself, expecting it,
and I went with the kick. That last jerk permitted me to slash through the knots
holding my wrists together, cutting deep into my flesh as the same time.
My hands were now free. But I didn’t make a move yet; I thought
the best thing was to just do like Fawn and bide my time, until the best moment
to strike came. “From
the moment I was born, Lieutenant,” Saturnin said quietly, “I just knew I
was special – different from everybody else.” “Yeah, I know,” I
said bitterly. “Houngans are chosen at birth, are they not? You became a
bokor later, when you chose to use ‘dark magic’.” “He is not the
bokor,” my brother then said. This revelation
surprised me. I frowned and looked at Caleb. “He’s not?” My brother simply
shook his head, and I returned my attention to Saturnin. The latter smiled
at me, with a tiger’s sneer, and nodded in confirmation. “I am not. I’ve told
you already that you don’t know everything that is going on, Lieutenant. Now
you’re just starting to realise how little you know.” I shot
an incensed look at Saturnin. “You said you’re different?” I repeated angrily.
“You’re not that much different from other thugs I’ve had the displeasure to
encounter. Except that maybe, you like to keep your hands clean, and you need
hired help to do the dirty work for you. Am I wrong, Lieutenant?”
Saturnin smiled evilly; under his make-up, it looked as if he had four lines of
teeth. “If it was the case, Lieutenant, I wouldn’t have knocked you down
myself at the command centre. I would have left my zombies to tear you apart.
It’s still not too late for that.” “What
have you done with Major Perrin?” General Metcalfe asked sternly. “And the
communications officer? You’ve had them killed?”
“They’re safe for now,” Saturnin answered quietly. “Don’t worry about them. You
should rather worry about yourselves. I have a special treat for the four of
you.” “You
will ask your bokor to turn us into zombies?” I commented dully. I looked
directly to the shorter man by his side. “I believe I’m right. You are indeed
the hired help. But I don’t think you could be the bokor.” The
‘waiter’ made a third attempt to strike at me, but Saturnin stopped him, calmly
pushing him back. “Indeed, Alain is not the bokor, Lieutenant Green. But
he is no ‘ordinary help’ either. He is the houngenikon.” “What
the hell is that gibberish supposed to mean?” I grumbled. “The
hougenikon
is the houngan’s – or bokor’s – assistant,” my brother specified.
“He assists the high priest in his rituals.”
Saturnin nodded slowly. “Alain is brother to the bokor. So that makes him
the ideal choice for this highly exalted position.” He smiled again as he put a
protective hand on the shoulder of the young man who was still looking with
anger at me. “I arranged it so that he would be stationed at the base, with us,
so we’d have the help when the time came to put our plans into motion.” My
frown deepened as I was trying to make sense of all this. “Who are ‘we’?” I
asked. “Who is this bokor who helped you create this… army of zombies?”
“Frankly,
mon cher Lieutenant Green, you have no idea at all?” That
soft voice coming from behind both Saturnin and Alain made me shiver from head
to toes. Suddenly I understood completely; the last piece of the puzzle was
falling into place. Maybe I suspected already, but my mind was refusing the
obvious. I heard
General Metcalfe uttering a low curse behind me, as he recognised the voice too.
Fawn kept silent, but I could guess what he was thinking; as for my brother – he
had shivered at the sound of this voice, as if he was expecting the worst from
it.
Saturnin and Alain drew apart and gave way to the third member of their evil
team of conspirators. The slender figure of Doctor Henriette LaSalle walked
between them, in an enticing way. She no longer looked like the composed and
dedicated WAAF doctor I had met the day before, who had entranced me with her
beauty. Her long, curly hair was now loose on her shoulders, and she was dressed
in revealing attire with a neckline so low it reached to her navel, and a long
skirt split up high on her hip where a long, pointed dagger hung. A multitude of
pearl necklaces, chains and talismans decorated her neck and rested on her
half-displayed breast, and rings hung from her ears; her make-up was outrageous. She was still
strikingly gorgeous, but it was a different beauty now. It was vile, and evil –
not really attractive anymore. There was a definite air of danger radiating from
her that was sending a shiver down my spine. I
looked at her with incredulity. “Doctor LaSalle,” I whispered. “You are
the bokor?” She
smiled, a distressing scornful expression twisting her beautiful face. “Of
course I am. Did you think I could not be because I’m a woman? Mambos
are more powerful than houngans, you fool – or didn’t your brother tell
you?” “And
you are her brother?” I said to Alain with disbelief. There was very little
resemblance between the two of them. While Henriette LaSalle was a very
beautiful woman – a fact that was accentuated by the clothes she was wearing –
her brother wasn’t that good-looking; not really ugly – but certainly very
plain-looking. He was obviously many years younger than his sister; so I
imagined that she probably held a strong influence over him. A very
strong and bad influence. “That
should have been obvious,” Fawn said in a dark voice. “I should have realised it
sooner, when you reported you didn’t find anything strange in Lieutenant Simon’s
body. You should at least have discovered the low level of sodium in his blood.
And then you didn’t perform an autopsy on him… You were covering yourself!” “Of
course, Doctor,” she said quietly. “We didn’t want Spectrum to get too
interested in our business… We wanted to keep this quiet until we were ready to
strike.” “And what is your business, exactly?” I asked
angrily. “Why are you doing all this?” I hesitated. “Does it have anything to do
with the Mysterons?” “The
Mysterons?” Saturnin frowned deeply at my question, before shaking his head.
“The Mysterons have nothing to do with this, Lieutenant. Actually, you
did guess what it was all about earlier. We have indeed been building an army…
an army of zombies.” “You
are kidding!” General Metcalfe grumbled. “How can that be possible?” “It was
done before,” my brother then said. We all looked at him; he seemed to have
found some renewed courage, but still looked pretty much ill-at-ease with our
situation. I couldn’t blame him, actually. It was looking pretty precarious. Of
course, he didn’t know that Fawn and I were free, and even if he knew, our
situation wouldn’t appear any less desperate, with these armed people
surrounding us and the zombies following their every whim. I wasn’t losing hope,
but now was still not the time to react. I wanted to know what was going on
exactly. “Or it
might have been done,” Caleb swiftly corrected himself. “In the 20th
century. Haitian President François ‘Papa Doc’ Duvalier ruled the country
through state-sponsored terrorism and mass murders, with a private militia under
his orders called the ‘Tonton Macoutes’. They wore dark glasses and
carried machetes as weapons and were totally ruthless. Rumour has it that they
were actually zombies – doing Duvalier’s work without asking questions.” He
looked at me. “But that’s probably only rumour… maybe even spread by Duvalier
and the Tonton Macoutes themselves to spread terror amongst the
populace.” “I’m
willing to believe anything right now,” I said darkly, keeping my eyes on the
trio standing over us. “So you’re building an army of zombies… using the WAAF
soldiers of this base. That’s what you did to Lieutenant Simon…” “How
could you?” Fawn asked in disgust. “You, a doctor, doing such atrocities…
Doesn’t your oath mean anything to you? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Henriette LaSalle scoffed. “Oh, please, Doctor… You really think these
arguments are going to affect me in any way?” She turned to me. “Lieutenant
Simon was a problem,” she explained. “Early on, he suspected that the apparent
illness of the base’s previous commanders was not really that natural.” “You
were behind that, too?” General Metcalfe exclaimed with indignation. “Of
course we were,” Doctor LaSalle said with no concealed pride. “You would be
surprised at the large assortment of drugs, powders and potions a bokor
possesses the secret of, General. It was child’s play for me to create a powder
that would give each of our previous commanders all the symptoms of a burn-out,
or breakdown. And nobody would
suspect anything at all.”
“Nobody, except Lieutenant Simon, that is,” I replied. “Simon
was too clever for his own good. He suspected foul play early on, and made his
own little investigation. He discovered what we were up to, and wanted to warn
Major Perrin. We had to get rid of him. As we didn’t want a good soldier to go
to waste, we decided we would be better served to… ‘turn him to our cause’.” My expression
became hard at her far too aloof tone. She noticed, but she actually seemed to
take pleasure in seeing me getting angrier by the second. She heaved a deep
sigh.
“Unfortunately, he escaped the vigilance of the hounsi charged to keep an
eye on him. I supposed his subverted mind at the time only remembered his last
lucid thought, which was about warning Major Perrin – so he came here in his
zombie state. Not that he could have said anything to anyone in that
state…” “He was
walking towards the command centre,” I recalled. “But was killed before he could
reach it.” “What did you expect?” Saturnin asked with a
shrug. “The sentries saw a zombie coming towards them… They ordered him to stop,
but he didn’t. So they shot him dead.” I
nodded. “But his death didn’t solve your problem, is it? On the contrary – it
added a great deal to it.”
Saturnin frowned. “Damn right it did. If it were not for Simon getting himself
killed like he did, nobody would have suspected what was going on here. We were
not supposed to make our move for some time. In the meantime, we would slowly
have turned the soldiers to our cause – only a few at a time…” “But
after the incident with Simon, we had to act quickly, and change our plans
accordingly,” Doctor LaSalle agreed. “Fortunately, it proved far easier than we
expected… And actually, it gave much more satisfying results than our initial
plans.” “You witch!” General Metcalfe snarled at her.
“How did you actually turn them all to your bidding – and so quickly?” “Don’t
insult my sister, you old goat!” Alain raged, taking a threatening step in the
direction of the general. “That’s
all right, Alain,” she interrupted, stopping him before he reached his target. “He’s a non-initiate. He
doesn’t know any better.” She chuckled and smiled evilly. Then,
in a very quiet voice, she started her explanation, as if all of this was the
most normal of subjects to discuss: “Actually, that was surprisingly easy,
General. We had free access to the base drinking water reserve. I only needed to
add the first drug of the zombification process to it. It’s a very concentrated
powder; only a couple of sachets were enough to contaminate the whole reserve.” “Then,
once most of the personnel on base had drunk the spiked water,” Saturnin
continued in a equally calm voice, “and started coming down with various
symptoms associated with the process, the good doctor, quite naturally, gave
them her tender care… and administered the second drug needed to complete the
process. It didn’t take that much time at all to get results – and in a few
hours only, we had at our disposal a whole army of zombies.” “You’re nothing
but monsters!” Metcalfe snapped angrily.
Saturnin simply smiled again. “Obviously, not everybody on base was
affected by the first drug – like yourselves, for example. I disabled the base’s
communication system to make sure the alarm couldn’t be raised within the base
or to the exterior. Yes, you were right, Lieutenant Green: the comm.link indeed
was sabotaged. You just made a mistake in the identity of your saboteur.” “I
guess I’ll have to apologise to Major Perrin,” I groused, “for thinking he was a
low, conniving rat. Obviously you are, Saturnin.” “Our
hounsis – who had already infiltrated the base personnel and were waiting
for our signal to act – quickly put our new zombies to use, and rounded up those
who had not been affected by the drug,” Saturnin continued, ignoring my
intervention. “And they were put under lock and key. We have put Major Perrin
with them. They will be dealt with shortly.” “This
is insane,” Doctor Fawn then said. “Why did you transform all these men
into this vegetative and degrading state? What do you need them for?” “Don’t
you get it, Doctor?” Saturnin replied harshly. “They make the best foot soldiers
you can imagine. Obeying our every order, never asking any questions, feeling no
emotions or remorse, whatever atrocities they are asked to commit. They’re
nearly unstoppable, do not feel pain, and each of them is as strong as three
men. They would even die for us. That’s the perfect army that we need to
finally bring this island back into the hands of those who are meant to hold
control and power over it.” “And
who would that be?” I asked with a derisive scoff. “Certainly not you?” “Who else, but
us?” Doctor LaSalle retorted defiantly. “With
us,” Saturnin added, raising his head high with pride, “the Bizango Sect will
revive and regain control of Haiti. As it was always meant to be.”
“Bizango?” Caleb repeated, frowning. “You claim to be Bizango?” “So the
Bizango Sect is not a myth?” I asked, remembering my brother’s lessons. “They
are not,” Saturnin snapped sharply. “They might have been dormant for a time,
but they never disappeared. Their spirit lived within those who are willing to
pursue and uphold their vision.” “Like
you, I suppose?” I sarcastically asked. “For
centuries, the Bizango Sect secretly held control and power over Haitian
society,” Saturnin continued. “Unknown, or with the assent of this island’s many
regimes, they pulled strings behind closed doors, so that their ideals would
always prevail. As you demonstrated yourselves, to the world at large, when
their name was mentioned, they were thought to be a myth, a legend. And
especially to the World Government. But the Bizango Sect is not a myth. And it
will be reborn from its ashes – to reclaim its rights.” “For
too long, Haiti has been dependant on the rest of the world to survive,”
Henriette LaSalle added. “We cannot permit the World Government to keep control
on this island much longer.” “What
are you talking about?” Metcalfe retorted angrily. “The World Government is
helping your people! Chaos reigned on this island for far too many years,
and we are on the verge of bringing you out of it. How can you possibly not want
that kind of help?” “Chaos
is needed to keep order,” Saturnin curtly replied. “Only through chaos and fear
can we hope to achieve power and impose control. That is why we need an army
that will strike terror into the heart of our enemies.” “You
are
insane,” I stated. This earned me a third kick from Alain LaSalle. I curled
myself into a ball to absorb the shock as much as possible. I clenched my jaws
against the pain reverberating through my right side. I raised my head to glare
at LaSalle. “That is the last time you strike me, handsome,” I said between my
teeth. He scoffed at me, filled with contempt for
what he probably considered as pathetic boasting on my part, and stepped back. “Indeed, that was the last time,” Saturnin
said with an evil smile. “For you have probably guessed that, now that you know
what is going on, we can’t let any of you go.” “You
cannot
hope to succeed in whatever you’re planning,” Metcalfe lashed at him. “When
the World Government knows what happened on this base –” “And
who will tell them, General?” Saturnin scoffed. “You? I think not. The only
thing the World Government will know for sure is that you and your Spectrum
friends have disappeared. As well as all the personnel of this base. We’ll go
underground and take all the zombies with us. The WAAF will send new troops –
who will also drink from the base water reserve, and we’ll gain new soldiers for
our army.” “You
don’t expect you’d be able to do that very long before someone finally realises
your little game?” Metcalfe replied. “Of
course not,” answered Saturnin. “But we’ve already made plans to take over the
Haitian government shortly. You see, we also have faithful followers,
impatiently waiting for our signal to march on the presidential palace with our
army of zombies. Nobody will be able to stop us and we’ll take control, and
impose our new order to the people.”
“General Metcalfe is right: if you think this plan of yours will work, you’re
deluding yourself,” I said harshly. “When Spectrum doesn’t hear from Captain
Scarlet, Doctor Fawn and myself, they will send someone to investigate. Our
commander will want to know what happened to us.” Doctor
LaSalle crouched in front of me and teasingly caressed my cheek with her
fingers, which now were adorned with impossibly long nails, painted a vivid red.
She gave me a wicked smile. “That’ll be all the more interesting,” she said in a
husky voice. “New Spectrum officers to zombify and put under my… our… command.” I
gritted my teeth and looked into her eyes with barely contained rage. “Is that
what you have in store for me?” I asked tersely. “I am to become a zombie too,
like Captain Scarlet?” “You?”
She laughed out loud; it was an annoying cackle, which was obviously meant to
ridicule me. “My poor, sweet, innocent Lieutenant Green… What would we do with
you? You’re not a field agent. You told me so yourself. And I think you proved
that you’re not fit to be a soldier. None of you are.” Keeping
her hand around my chin, she looked at my companions. “We have no use for an old
man, a doctor, a puny little scholar – and a communications officer.” Her eyes
returned to me, lit with a cruelty I had never seen in them before. “I guess
that makes you perfect candidates for the sacrificial ceremony.” There
was a short moment during which silence followed Doctor LaSalle’s words. I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing. And obviously, I wasn’t alone. Caleb
let out a loud incredulous exclamation. “You mean to use us as human sacrifices?
You must be kidding! There have never been any documented proofs that human
sacrifices were performed during voodoo ceremonies! Those were only rumours,
born out of ignorance and misunderstanding – and lies told by detractors and
government officials who hated everything that was Haitian.” “All
this is true, Mister Griffiths,” Saturnin declared in a cold voice. “And so we
will strike terror into the heart of our enemies – by becoming everything they
wrongfully accused us of being.” He made a beckoning gesture and a nearby
hounsi approached, followed by two zombies. Saturnin returned his attention
directly to my brother. I started feeling terribly worried, and with the next
words he pronounced, I knew exactly why: “And unfortunately for you, my far too
clever friend, you will have the honour of becoming our first human sacrifice.” I had the
impression that my heart missed a beat. “No!” I protested loudly. A
devilish smile spread on Alain LaSalle’s face as he moved forwards and seized my
brother by the shoulder to pull him up. Caleb gave a frightened gasp, and that
was my cue to finally act; I had waited more than enough. I just hoped I hadn’t
waited too long. My arms
left my back and I curled one of them around Doctor LaSalle’s throat, before she
could even rise to her feet. I held tight to her, threatening her with the sharp
object I was holding in my free hand. Only then did I see that it actually was a
large shard of glass, apparently from the bottom of a bottle. “Now,
Doctor!” I yelled. The hounsi and the two zombies beckoned by Saturnin
were almost on us, but they were taken by surprise when Fawn uncoiled his legs
and hit the first zombie right in the knees; he fell without making a single
sound. The hounsi was already leaning over General Metcalfe; I realised
then that the general too had been able to free himself, when I saw him lending
a spectacular punch into the face of the man, which sent him sprawling right
into the second zombie who had been standing behind him. Both
Fawn and Metcalfe jumped to their feet, ready to defend their lives. Now all the
zombies, as if answering a call, were making their way in our direction. I
quickly stood, forcing Doctor LaSalle up as well, pressing the glass shard near
her face. Seeing his sister in danger, Alain LaSalle quickly let go of Caleb who
stumbled back to my side. LaSalle took one step back, giving me a murderous
look. I
ignored him, and I glared at Saturnin. “Call them off!” I said with urgency as
the zombies were approaching. “Or I swear, I’ll kill her!” He
crossed his arms upon his chest and looked at me with a defiant smile. “Do kill
her,” he said tauntingly and that cool statement took me by surprise. “She holds
control over the zombies. If you kill her, there will be no control over them,
and they will tear you to pieces.” I
hesitated. I wasn’t expecting this; I couldn’t say if he was telling the truth
or bluffing. Alain
LaSalle probably wasn’t expecting this either, and he seemed to like it even
less than I did, because he gave a coarse roar of anger and pushed Caleb aside
to throw himself at me in a way that indicated that he wanted to tear me apart.
“Let go
of my sister!” I did,
and pushed her away from me, so I would be free to deal with him. Alain arrived
on me at full speed and seized me. I simply reacted to the attack, and I jabbed
at him with my clenched fist; unfortunately for him, it was the same fist that
was holding the shard of glass. It buried deeply in his chest, and he let out a
muffled moan of pain. His whole body tensed, and so did his hold
on me. I saw his eyes becoming glassy, and his head pulled back
to look at the ceiling with a disbelieving expression. His grip relaxed and he
let me go, before starting to slide towards the floor. Out of another impulse,
my hand reached for his gun and snatched it from its holster. I made
a step back towards Fawn and General Metcalfe, pulling Caleb behind me, just as
Doctor LaSalle, at the sight of her brother lying at my feet, filled the room
with her horrified scream. For a
short moment, as I looked down at the dead body, I felt petrified. I wasn’t a
killer; I rarely needed to go to the extreme of killing in the course of my
duty. I mean, I knew that by pressing a button, or relaying an order, I might
condemn someone to death. I accepted the result of my actions, on those
occasions, but to actually do it with my own hands… that was totally different.
I had done it only once before, and it was in self-defence. And I had only
reacted by instinct, following the harsh training I had received. Exactly like
now. I didn’t care for it the first time around, and I certainly didn’t care for
it right now either. It felt just necessary to do so. Maybe I
really wasn’t meant for field assignments; I was better off in front of my
console, on Cloudbase. My
hesitation, I realised almost instantly, however short it had been, seemed to
have cost me and my companions much more than I truly expected, as suddenly, a
tall silhouette appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and a grip of iron clutched
at my throat, and squeezed so tight that I nearly didn’t have time to gulp for
air before it was too late. I was
bewildered to see Captain Scarlet standing in front of me, his two hands now
around my throat. His eyes were cold, as dead as before, and seemed to look
straight through me, as if he wasn’t even seeing me; he held me tight, intending
to strangle me right there, on my feet. I seized his arm with my free hand and
tried to make him let go; he wouldn’t budge. “Paul!”
General Metcalfe suddenly appeared in my line of vision, and tried to pull his
son’s hands off my throat. “Let him go! You don’t want to kill him!” Scarlet
didn’t even give one look at his father; he removed one single hand from my
throat and struck at him, swatting him away as if he were an annoying fly.
General Metcalfe stepped back, obviously stunned that his son would hit him. He
tripped over the still body of Alain LaSalle, and fell to the floor. Scarlet
was still holding me firmly with one hand, and his hold weakened, if only
slightly. However, I didn’t even have time to use this momentary reprieve to get
some much needed air and make an attempt to free myself; both hands were back on
my throat the next second, squeezing me even tighter than before. I was
choking. From
the corner of my eyes, I saw Fawn making an attempt to reach Scarlet, only to be
intercepted by two zombies who proceeded to restrain him. Even Caleb, with his
hands still tied, was trying to get to me, struggling against a hounsi
who was pulling him back, while General Metcalfe was picked up from the floor,
fighting to escape the hands that were trying to hold him. I knew I was in
deep trouble, and that I couldn’t expect any help from anyone. As I
looked into Scarlet’s emotionless features, my vision started to blur. He was
going to kill me; I knew he was going to hate himself for it once he was back to
normal. If he ever got back to normal. He was obviously under the
influence of an incredibly powerful drug, if he couldn’t shake free from its
control. And if they were continuously feeding him this drug, he might very well
never be able to regain his freedom.
“Captain…” His thumbs ruthlessly pressed against my windpipe, and I strangled on
the word. I was completely unable to breathe now. I had no choice; I didn’t want
to do it, but I didn’t want to die either. I was still holding in my right hand
the gun I had taken from Alain LaSalle’s belt; I raised it and pressed the
muzzle against Scarlet’s abdomen. “I’m
sorry, Paul…” I managed to utter, the words dying on my lips. I
closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. The
loud thunder of the gun filled the echoing room; it took four bullets before I
felt Scarlet’s hands relaxing their grasp from my throat to at last let me go.
Gasping for much-needed air, I stumbled back and slumped against the wall behind
me. I opened my eyes only at that moment, just in time to see Scarlet collapse
in a heap on the floor, in front of me. But it
was only to be a short reprieve, and I didn’t have time to congratulate myself
on this narrow escape. I was
still trying to pull myself together when the other zombies came at me, and
seized me; multiple hands roughly pulled me up and before I could make use of it
again, the still-smoking gun was snatched from my hand. I was too weak to offer
a good enough resistance, and too dazed to fully understand what their exact
intentions might be, as they dragged me away from where they had picked me up. “Bring
him to the altar!” I heard the enraged voice of Doctor LaSalle echoing through
the room. “He will pay for killing my brother! I will make him suffer!” Pulling
and pushing, they took me to the wooden Christian altar, and effortlessly heaved
me up and laid me on my back. I tried to break free, but no amount of fighting
was enough: they were inhumanly strong. As the zombies kept me in place, their
hounsis tied my wrists to two corners of the altar, while my ankles were
bound to the feet at the other end, the altar not being long enough for my body
to lie at full stretch on it. I was in an awkward position. I strained against
the ropes holding me, but they held tight; even if I had the time to work on
them, I wouldn’t be able to free myself. And I
just knew I wouldn’t have the time. From my
position, I could see Doctor Fawn and my brother Caleb trying to escape the
zombies holding them back; they were shouting, objecting against whatever
treatment our enemies were planning for me, and trying hard to reach me. Even
General Metcalfe, who was restrained on the floor by the strong hands of his
zombie guards, was protesting. His eyes were going from me to Captain Scarlet,
who had not moved from where he had fallen. I could see on his face the
expression of total dismay and loathing for those whom he knew were responsible
for this. He probably regretted having left behind the quiet retirement of his
home in Winchester, to accept this assignment; it would have saved him the
horror of seeing his son shot in front of his eyes. I lost sight of my
companions when Lieutenant Saturnin came to stand next to Scarlet, his back
turned on me, and his full frame, with his arms extended into the air blocked
the others from my view. “Silence these
unbelievers!” HE ordered in a strong commanding voice. “They must not disturb
the ceremony! Gag them, but don’t hurt them. They must stay alive, until the
moment when they will follow their friend to the sacrificial altar…” I imagined that
his order was carried out swiftly, because I soon didn’t hear anything but
protesting and angry moans from my companions. Saturnin turned around to look in
my direction; even from this distance, I could only see on his painted face the
loathing and deep satisfaction he felt at the notion of my approaching death. I glowered back at
him with barely-contained fury and pulled on my restraints once more. If only I
could bring about this repugnant man’s death, I would die happy. I saw
Doctor LaSalle approach from the other side of the altar, her eyes set on me and
filled with hatred. She was holding the dagger she had taken from her belt in
her slender hand. At her
command, one of her hounsis tore my shirt wide open. As she came to stand
close by the altar, the woman I once felt so attracted to spat into my face; I
gritted my teeth, stifling my own anger, and glared at her with disgust and
resentment as the hounsis helped her climb onto the altar, and she knelt
astride me. She leant down over me, and started to caress my cheek with the
point of her knife, while the fingernails of her other hand were scraping my
exposed chest. She
leaned closer, until her face was barely two inches away from mine. “You
will suffer, mon petit Lieutenant,” she promised. “I will make this very
slow and painful for you…” If she
thought I was going to break down in fear, she was much mistaken. I couldn’t
deny I was afraid, but my anger was stronger and gave me a courage I didn’t know
I possessed. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a fully-trained field agent; I was
still a Spectrum officer. If I was to die by the hands of this mad woman during
an absurd pagan ceremony, I would die as a Spectrum officer. “Go on,
then, bitch…” I said between my teeth. “Do it and stop yapping…” She
offered me a contemptuous smile and straightened up slowly; almost gently, the
knife followed my cheekbone, then the outline of my jaw, before sliding down my
neck. I shuddered at the thought that she would slit my throat without an
afterthought. But then, she would probably consider that to be too quick a death
for me; she had said she wanted me to suffer. The
knife nicked me as it slid over my collarbone, and she stopped suddenly; she
smiled and drew a deep shaky breath, as if the sight of my spilled blood was
giving her great pleasure. Very
slowly, she started to extend the cut; it wasn’t very deep, but it was painful,
and I had to clench my jaws not to give her the satisfaction of hearing me utter
a single sound. She tilted her head to the side, watching me, and her evil smile
widened. She leaned against me again, even closer than before, her breasts
resting on my chest. “You
will
scream,” she said in a voluptuous voice. “You certainly will, when I start to
skin you alive… And then, you will
beg for a swift death.” Keeping
close to me, she pressed the knife a little more firmly against my chest and I
grunted, bracing myself against the coming pain.
Suddenly, there were shouts from nearby, and that made her stop before she would
go further. “Look!
Look! It’s a miracle!” We both
turned our heads towards the voices; we saw one of the hounsis, his eyes
wide open with bewilderment and jumping with agitation, pointing at
something that was so astonishing to him, as the surprise spread to his
companions. Captain
Scarlet was rising to his knees, supporting himself on one arm, while pressing
the other against his bleeding abdomen. Lieutenant Saturnin was still by his
side and was now watching him with disbelief plain on his painted face. I heard
the gasp of surprise escaping Henriette LaSalle’s lips as she straightened up,
suddenly forgetting all about me. Scarlet
struggled to his feet, leaning on the nearby wall to help himself; everyone in
the room who was not a zombie was watching in wonder. Even Scarlet’s father,
Doctor Fawn and my brother Caleb, gagged and restrained by their zombie guards,
were wide-eyed at the scene. From
the distance, I could see the confusion in Scarlet’s face, as he looked down at
the blood covering his abdomen and dripping to the floor at his feet; his eyes
were still sunken, and surrounded with black circles, and he looked weak – or
tired, it was impossible to say. But I would be damned if I was totally sure if
he was himself once again – or still under the influence of the zombifying drug.
Suddenly, rising over the stunned silence that had fallen into the room, we
heard the high-pitched laugh of Lieutenant Saturnin. His head thrown back, his
arms raised in triumph, he was waving his staff excitedly; he crossed the short
distance separating him from Scarlet, and started walking around him, watching
him in a way that reminded me of a mad scientist admiring the creation to which
he had given life, as it took its first steps. And I
realised it was exactly the way Saturnin was seeing himself, when I heard
his victorious cry: “Yes! Yes, this is a sign! This is a sign!
See the power we hold! Greater even than any bokor ever held through all
Haitian history! We are the chosen ones! We can truly raise the dead! Henriette,
the loas have spoken! They have spoken!” “I
didn’t do anything…” Doctor LaSalle started in a murmur, her eyes wide, almost
horrified, and shaking her head in disbelief. “The
loas
gave you the power! They gave us the power!” Saturnin replied, turning to
face her with an expression in which we could clearly read the almost endless
fanaticism. “Don’t you see? We are indeed the chosen masters of this island!
Nothing will stop us now!
NOTHING! We wield the power to make invincible warriors – such as this
one!” He
turned his attention back to Scarlet, who was now reaching for his head with his
hand, as if attempting to regain his focus; I felt my heartbeat increase, as I
didn’t dare speculate on what this hopeful gesture could mean. “Yes!
Rise, my soldier!” Saturnin said encouragingly, raising his arms high towards
the sky. “Rise and stand, and show these non-believers! Show them the extent of
the power we have over the dead! Show them how death now holds no power over
you!” Scarlet
was swift as a cobra – so fast, that nobody even had time to blink. His arm
suddenly uncoiled, and caught Saturnin by the throat, choking his next words and
throwing him off-balance. The next second, the so-called ‘Baron Samedi’ was
roughly thrown against the wall, his staff escaping from his hand, and found
himself staring with stunned shock into the eyes of the man he thought he had
totally under his control. “I’ll
show you power, you despicable bastard!” Scarlet’s voice was a shaky rumble, and
even from where I was lying, I was able to see the fear in Saturnin’s eyes, now
so wide that the whites were contrasting deeply with the dark make-up of his
orbits. The
hounsis
were in a state of semi-panic, but even so, they attempted to dash to the rescue
of their master, the zombies automatically following them. Those who were
holding my brother, Doctor Fawn and General Metcalfe let go of their charges,
tagging along as well. The prisoners quickly removed their gags, still watching
with morbid enthralment, uncertain of what they could do to help.
Scarlet’s free hand drew the gun from Saturnin’s belt; still holding his
prisoner against the wall, he shot three of his closest adversaries in the legs
– one hounsi and two zombies – one after the other, in one fluid
movement. They fell to the floor, the hounsi crying in pain and clutching
his injured leg, the zombies in complete silence. Their fall hindered the other
zombies’ approach, and the remaining hounsis hesitated, unsure if they
wanted to risk taking a bullet. “Stay
where you are!” Scarlet roared brusquely, putting the gun under Saturnin’s jaw.
The hounsis froze completely, and the zombies stopped their approach, as
if they somehow understood the threat to their master. Scarlet
turned an enraged look towards Doctor LaSalle, who was still seated astride me,
holding the knife close to my chest. For a moment, she seemed petrified as she
was now watching him. I didn’t dare even breathe, as I wondered what she was
going to do. Then I saw her
expression change suddenly, into one of pure rage. She gave a blood-curdling
yell as she raised the knife high in the air, holding it with both hands. My
heart started racing as she prepared to drive it down. I distinctly heard
Scarlet utter a loud curse as he swiftly turned the gun on her, letting go of
Saturnin. The gun
thundered again, and a fraction of a second before the knife reached my chest,
the bullet rammed into Henriette LaSalle’s shoulder; she cried out in pain and
was driven back by the force of the impact; she fell from the altar and onto the
floor, the dagger escaping her hand. The point drove itself into the wood of the
altar, nicking my arm in the process. I
thought my heart would stop beating, so close had I been to seeing my death.
However, I knew we still weren’t out of the woods yet, when I heard the
unexpected and enraged cry of Arturo Saturnin filling the room next: “Kill them! Kill them all!” Scarlet
turned to him, with the obvious intention of silencing him once and for all,
when the zombies started moving again, answering their master’s call and urged
by the hounsis kanzo. Scarlet backed away towards his father, Fawn and
Caleb, raising the gun again, and preparing to defend his own life and protect
those behind him against the approaching zombies. It did
look like it would be the end of it – when suddenly, something unexpected
happened: “Stop!” a loud female voice ordered firmly,
echoing from the far end of the room. “I order this insanity to stop
right this instant!”
Everyone froze. Even the zombies stopped their advance and stood still on their
spots; they were the only ones not to turn around, and wonder who could have
suddenly spoken with such an authoritative voice. I looked about, pricking my
eyes at the gloom beyond the crowd. At first, just over the heads of the zombies
standing in lines, I only saw a high staff, the top of which was decorated with
rattles and painted and feathered chicken feet. Then I saw half-a-dozen tall,
broad-shouldered men wearing white shirts, and grave expressions on their faces,
advancing between the zombies, splitting the ranks apart to clear a path, as the
person holding the staff approached. We
finally saw her; still wearing her large straw hat, that almost hid her
features, and a different flower-patterned dress, the short but imposing Mama
Leona was making her way towards us, walking tall, and unbothered by the
surrounding zombies who didn’t make a single move to stop her. Behind her, the
young man that we had seen at her store was following proudly and with
assurance; he didn’t look anymore like the sleepy teenager who had manned the
shop counter. Mama
Leona reached the altar; the men in white shirts – obviously her followers –
spread around her. She spun around, and struck the floor with the end of her
staff; the sound echoed through the room. “Let
there be an end to this madness!” she exclaimed in a loud voice. There was cold
anger in her eyes when she glared at the hounsis kanzo who were quite
easy to recognise amongst the silent and rigid zombies. She pointed at each and
every one of them, in an accusing way: “You all know me and you know the power I
hold! Do as I say or you will all regret ever being born! And you know I don’t
make idle threats!” She
gestured in the direction of my companions who now seemed as fascinated as
everyone else by her timely arrival. “These people are now under my protection!
They shall come to no harm! You must let them go!”
Saturnin uttered a curse, before taking a step towards Mama Leona. He found in
his path three of her followers, who simply stood as a wall between them. “Who
are you to interrupt this ceremony?” he snarled, pointing a finger at her. Again,
she pounded the floor with her staff, this time in anger. “Blasphemy and
sacrilege! You dare call this travesty a ceremony?” She walked
purposefully to him, pushing two of her men aside to get through. “I know
exactly who I am! Who do you think you are?” “I am
Baron Samedi, and I am to return order to the island of Haiti,” he replied,
raising his head and looking down at her with arrogance. “I order you –” “You
would
order me? You, who used the dark magic of the left hand to hurt
people and bend them under your control?” Mama Leona proclaimed forcefully. “You
are not Baron Samedi. You are but an impostor, and I order you
to cease this sinister farce and to release your prisoners!” She glanced in
my direction for a very brief second, and added, with a grandiloquent gesture:
“All of them!” It was
as if this last command gave an invisible and unknown signal; the zombies who
surrounded my brother, Doctor Fawn, General Metcalfe and Captain Scarlet slowly
stepped back. Fawn and Caleb – whose hands were now free – rushed towards me,
while General Metcalfe hurried to his son’s side. Up until now, Scarlet had been
able to keep on his feet by making use of outwardly superhuman reserves of
energy, but now that the danger was dissipating, his strength seemed to betray
him and he suddenly looked so tired that he found the need to lean against the
wall behind him. His father reached for him, and gently helped him to sit down
on the floor. As my
brother and Fawn hastily untied me from my precarious position, I looked at Mama
Leona, who was standing nearby, watching in silence; she looked incredibly
serene, but I could see a trace of concern in her dark eyes. “Mama
Leona,” I asked in a hushed voice, smiling with gratitude, “how –” “Hush,
child. I still have work to do.” “No!”
Saturnin suddenly lashed out, attracting Mama Leona’s attention back to him.
“They must not go!” He grabbed the nearest of his hounsis by his
shoulders and shook him as if he had been a kitten, trying to force him to
listen to him. “Don’t let them go! They know too much! They have to die!” He let
go of the man who didn’t seem to react to his words and tried to catch another
one. But the latter quickly turned away from him.
“They’ll ruin everything!” Saturnin shouted furiously. He faced Mama Leona
again. “YOU will ruin everything. It’s all your fault!” He made a
threatening step forwards, but he never reached her; Mama Leona’s followers had
swiftly caught him by the arms and pulled him back. “No! Let go of me! How dare
you put your hands on me? Don’t you know who I am? I am to return the Bizango
order to this land!” “You
are but an arrogant fool!” Mama Leona replied with cold anger. “You would
unashamedly lay claim to the Bizango name? You, who want to rule this land
through chaos and terror, for your own purposes? The Bizango Sect is about
upholding morality and ethical conduct for the people. This…” she waved her hand
around angrily, “…has nothing to do with the Bizango!” She came closer to
the restrained Saturnin. “The Bizango Sect does not approve of your
sinful ways,” she stated gravely, “and does not appreciate that you act in its
name. You will have to answer for your actions!” “Wait,”
Saturnin protested, a quiver of fear suddenly appearing in his voice, as he
suddenly understood the full meaning of Mama Leona’s words. “You do not
understand… I was only doing this for our people…” “No,” Mama Leona
interrupted him with disgust. “You were only doing this for yourself.” She
turned her back on him and waved impatiently. Her men pulled Saturnin back, and
dragged him, kicking and protesting, out of the room. In the
meantime, Caleb and Fawn freed me of my bonds, and helped me into a seated
position on the altar; I grimaced and reached for my injured chest; the cuts
Doctor LaSalle had inflicted me were burning like crazy. I felt for sure they
would leave scars. “Are
you all right?” Fawn asked with concern, quickly assessing me. I
nodded. “I will be, Doctor,” I said with a renewed grimace when he gently
examined my cuts with his fingers. “They’re only flesh wounds…” I
looked as Mama Leona rounded the altar to stand behind it; she gazed down with a
dark, ominous, expression at the moaning Henriette LaSalle who, sprawled on the
floor, was nursing a bleeding injured shoulder. I
didn’t feel a single ounce of compassion for her. She was easily, and by far,
the most evil, deceitful and manipulative woman I had ever met. And to think I
had been attracted to her. I should probably feel ashamed of myself for feeling
disappointed, even for a brief instant, that Scarlet had not killed her. That
she was still alive didn’t surprise me that much, though. That was Scarlet for
you: he couldn’t easily bring himself to kill a woman in cold blood, even
someone as thoroughly rotten as Henriette LaSalle, and never mind that she had
turned him into a zombie. That’s probably part of his English ‘officer
and gentleman’ upbringing. Quite frankly, I sometimes wish he would be less of a
‘decent guy’; it would be far easier to be unsociable towards him, in those
moments when he exasperated me. But
right now, I didn’t feel that way towards him; he had been through Hell with
this zombie experience, and if I knew him, he’d feel guilty over what he had
been forced to do while not in control; and I had shot him – and he had saved my
life. It would be very difficult to act in other way but friendly towards
him in the days – even weeks – to come. He was
in a rather sorry state now, seated on the hard floor, leaning against the
shoulder of his father who was cradling him and tending to his wounds, by
pressing a piece of cloth against his bleeding abdomen. General Metcalfe
suddenly looked older to me – on his face there were mixed feelings of relief
and concern. He knew his son would eventually heal from his injuries, however
serious they looked, and that he would be as good as new, as if nothing had
happened to him. He simply didn’t know how to deal with it at the moment. I
glanced in the direction of my brother. Caleb would not know how to deal with it
either; as a matter of fact, it occurred to me that he shouldn’t learn
about Captain Scarlet’s powers of recovery – Spectrum’s most jealously kept
secret. “You’d
better check on Captain Scarlet instead, Doctor,” I said to Fawn. “He’s surely
in a worse state than I am…” Doctor
Fawn exchanged glances with me; it only took a second for him to understand
exactly what I meant. He patted my shoulder encouragingly, muttered something
about returning shortly, and left my side to stride in the direction of Scarlet.
I followed him with my eyes, and Caleb did the same. We watched as Fawn leaned
over his patient. “I
genuinely thought you had killed him,” my brother said, and I could hear the
awkwardness in his voice. “I mean… you had no choice, you had to save your
life…” “It’s
the vest,” I answered, trying to sound casual about it. I didn’t want Caleb to
think I was grossly lying to him. “It’s kind of bullet-proof…” “‘Kind
of’?” Caleb seemed sceptical. “But… I saw the holes… And what about all the
blood?” “Well,
at point-blank range, it’s not as effective as it should be. The bullets would
have gone through, but would not cause as much damage as you think,” I said,
weaving the story as I went along. “And I shot to wound only…” “You’re
good, then,” Caleb remarked. “I wouldn’t know where to shoot to cause only minor
injuries. Although I have to admit, they don’t look like minor injuries
to me. He lost quite a lot of blood.” I
shrugged, trying to be dismissive. “I had to make it convincing. Don’t worry,
Caleb, Captain Scarlet is one of the toughest men I know. And Doctor Fawn is the
best doctor you can find. He’ll get
over it very quickly.” Maybe I
appeared incredibly aloof in my brother’s eyes, but I don’t think that at this
point, I could avoid it. It was on these occasions that I truly disliked Captain
Scarlet’s retrometabolic abilities; while he would throw himself in the thick of
things, knowing that he would recover where we couldn’t, he would typically
emerge like the fearless hero – while those of us left to pick up the pieces
afterwards, looked like heartless sods. I had
to be fair to Scarlet – he didn’t like it any more than we did, and he knew as
well as we did how necessary it was. But he was about the only one not living
with a sour taste over the bad impression that our apparent indifference made on
witnesses. Behind
me, two of Mama Leona’s companions were pulling Henriette LaSalle to her feet,
taking no care for her wounded shoulder. She stood in front of Mama Leona who
was glaring coldly at her. “I
expected better of you, child,” she told her in a dark tone. “You had the gift,
but you chose to use it for your own personal evil gains.” She waved in the
direction of the now silent and immobile zombies, who now seemed to have turned
into living statues, waiting orders to simply make the merest of moves. “You
used the magic of the left hand to turn innocent people into zombies. They did
not deserve such a fate.” She glanced at me. “And you prepared to do the
unspeakable by sacrificing a human life to the dark forces, in a Voodoo ceremony
– and this for vengeance?” Her voice had dropped an octave and taken an
incredulous timbre, as she uttered these last words, as if she couldn’t believe
any of it.
Henriette LaSalle shot me a murdering look. “He killed my brother,” she stated,
with poison dripping from her every word. “And
you were planning to do no less to him and his friends, before your brother was
killed,” Mama Leona icily replied. “Your brother merely received just
retribution for his sins. You shall receive yours as well.” She shook her head
in disgust. “One cannot do what you did in all impunity.” She
turned her back on LaSalle, and her men pulled the young woman away; At this
point, I had understood that they were Mama Leona’s own hounsis. LaSalle
addressed a last venomous stare in the direction of Mama Leona, before passively
letting the men take her towards the exit. I followed her with my eyes,
wondering if I should intervene or not. “She
has to answer for her crimes,” I finally said gravely, attracting Mama Leona’s
attention to me. I jumped off the altar and came to stand in front of her, Caleb
following behind. “To both civilian and military authorities. That goes as well
for Saturnin – and all their accomplices.” “Do not
worry,” Mama Leona replied. “They will be properly punished for what they did.” I
raised my eyebrow, looking solemnly at her. “So I take it the Bizango Sect is
not very tolerant of people using its name to commit atrocities?” She
offered a thin smile. “Why, child – you should know the Bizango Sect does not
exist. It is but a legend.” She marked a short pause. “But if the Bizango Sect did exist, it would
certainly not approve of the actions of these two sinners.” I
didn’t want to ask further questions on this subject; nor to argue with a woman
who obviously had enough power – whatever kind of power that might be – to
impose her authority on people prepared to kill us without blinking, and who
also seemed able to make herself obeyed by the zombies Henriette LaSalle had
previously controlled. I remembered my brother telling me that Mama Leona was
said to be a powerful mambo. She was probably some kind of a bokor
as well, if she made use of the ‘magic from the left hand’. I imagine that
however ‘dark’ this magic was, the use one person would make of it would decide
if it was good or bad. I
didn’t think Mama Leona was a bad person – but she certainly wasn’t someone I
wanted to cross swords with. Whatever justice Henriette LaSalle, Arturo Saturnin
and their hounsis were going to meet, I wasn’t going to dispute it. So I
let Mama Leona’s men take the witch away, without any more recriminations. I
looked around, searching for a change of subject. It wasn’t that difficult to
find one. “Is
there a way to draw those poor people out of this zombie state?” I asked Mama
Leona, giving a curt nod in the direction of the zombies who still stood silent
and immobile all over the room. “Of
course there is,” she answered quietly. “Only those deserving the fate will
forever remain zombies. Those are innocent souls. I already offered you the
means to save them.” I gave
it some thought. “The salt,” I said, nodding slowly. “You mean to tell us that
in order to ‘wake’ them, we have to give them salt? Or to adjust the level of
sodium in their blood?” “There
are many ways to do that. I’m sure your doctor will find the solution.” Mama
Leona looked in the direction of Fawn, who was crouched in front of Scarlet,
patting his shoulder with satisfaction, and addressing a reassuring smile to
General Metcalfe. “Your
friend is a remarkable man,” she noted. “He seems to be getting better.” “No
thanks to you,” I responded curtly.
“Seymour,” Caleb whispered to me, “I don’t think it’s a good idea –” “You
sound angry, boy,” Mama Leona said, with a smile that she wanted to be
appeasing. “I did give you talismans to protect you against the evil eye… And
they worked, didn’t they? You and your brother – and all your friends – are
alive.” This
argument wasn’t really working on me. “A lot of good your talismans were to us,”
I replied. “It didn’t stop my colleague from falling under the spell of that
witch to begin with! It’s only by some miracle that he escaped from her.” “So you
do believe in miracles,” she said with a warm smile. “You see the talismans
did work.” I
scowled, more than annoyed by her insistence. “Am I mistaken when I think you
knew about these bastards’ plans all along?” “Knew,
no… suspected that something was going on, yes,” she answered
truthfully. “But one cannot act on suspicions alone, child. In your line of
work, you certainly know that.” “You
should at least have warned us. That might have saved us a lot of grief.” “I
could not. The loas were not very specific in their warnings and they
would not permit me to confide in a non-believer.” “The
loas, really?” I asked, with a doubtful frown. “I
understand your scepticism. I cannot hold this against you. And it serves only
to prove my point: would you or your friend have believed me?”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t about to admit that she might have been right in her
assumption. “You might be surprised what we are liable to believe, Mama Leona.” At
these words, she openly laughed at me. But her laugh had something benevolent in
it; she no longer sounded like the harsh mambo I had seen in action only
a few minutes ago. She gave me an encouraging thump on the shoulder – so strong
that it nearly knocked me over. “Give
these poor souls plenty of isotonic drinks,” she said with a twinkle in her
eyes, pointing in the direction of the zombies. “That should help them recover
from their condition.”
“Isotonic drinks?” I repeated with disbelief. “As
much as they can drink,” she answered, as she started walking towards the exit.
The remainder of her men followed, gathering LaSalle and Saturnin’s hounsis
on the way. “And don’t be surprised if they look confused at first. That should
clear up completely in a few days.” She stopped after a few feet, before she
looked over her shoulder and smiled at me again. “You are a good man, Seymour
Griffiths,” she said, and I wasn’t even surprised that she would know my name.
“You have won Mama Leona’s respect and admiration.” She
briefly glanced in Scarlet’s direction. My colleague, still under the care of
his father and Doctor Fawn, seemed to have drifted into his usual rejuvenating
and peaceful-looking sleep. “And so
did your friend,” Mama Leona added, turning on her heels and resuming her walk.
“Tell him that when he wakes up. And tell him that you both have my blessings.
May the good spirits assist you both, and all of Spectrum, in your good fight
against evil. And give you victory.” With
that, she crossed the exit’s threshold, her followers behind her, walking in
reverent silence. We all watched them disappear into the shadows, almost as
mysteriously as they had appeared, taking their prisoners with them. We
didn’t try to stop them.
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Before
we did anything else, we took Captain Scarlet to the base medical centre, where
we found a quiet room for him; Doctor Fawn stayed with him to clean and dress
his wounds, dismissing all offers of help from General Metcalfe and Caleb. The
important thing now was to keep my brother away from Scarlet, so he would not
witness his powers of recovery – which had probably already kicked in just as
Fawn was bandaging his torso. I could
see that Caleb was irate with me for my apparent coldness when confronted by my
colleague’s condition, so I didn’t need the aggravation of him discovering that
I had lied to him on top of that. I needed to occupy him, to distract him in the
meantime – and General Metcalfe as well, so he would not worry needlessly about
his son. So the three of us went in search of Major Perrin and the rest of the
WAAF personnel whom we knew had not fallen victim to the drugged water. We
easily found them – all ten of them – detained in the base prison, all waiting
with various degrees of trepidation to know what would happen to them. The
majority of these people had seen their zombified comrades-in-arms suddenly turn
against them, attack and capture them under the orders of the hounsis
who, with the help of Saturnin, had infiltrated the base. One hounsi and
two zombies had been left to guard the prison, but the hounsi had
disappeared before we arrived. We were told he had fled only a few minutes ago,
and that the zombies, left with no-one to control them, had simply stood rooted
in place, in complete silence, waiting vainly for orders that would not come. Helped
by the personnel, we rounded up all the zombie victims and guided them to the
clinic; they were quite docile now, and followed us like faithful dogs. Those
who had not fallen prey to the drug didn’t look quite comfortable with the
situation, and I really couldn’t blame them. You didn’t need to be Haitian to
feel at the same time impressed and shocked by the situation. These people who
had acted with hostility towards them – and who now didn’t even react to any
presence or contact – were colleagues and friends, people on whom they normally
could count. I could
certainly relate to their feelings. I felt the same. Not only recently when
Scarlet had been turned to a zombie too, but also not that many years ago, when
the Mysterons had taken him over. Although in this particular case, I considered
the experience far worse: a Mysteron agent is certainly more deceitful and
difficult to detect than a zombie. And considering that he could hide in plain
sight before making his move, he’s potentially much more deadly. Having
finished with Scarlet – whose condition, he assured just for show, was less
worrying than it appeared as he was improving considerably – Doctor Fawn started
busying himself with freeing the zombies from their miserable condition. He took
to heart Mama Leona’s advice that I relayed to him, and found all the isotonic
drinks he could from the base to give his patients. He didn’t stop there, and
also worked on concocting a special saline solution that he proceeded to feed
them through I.V. tubes. He
expected that in just a few hours, results would be starting to show, and that
the zombies would slowly emerge from their lethargic state, once their sodium
levels had stabilised and their system were cleaned of the drugs. He didn’t
refuse Caleb or General Metcalfe’s offer of help in this matter. As a matter of
fact, he needed all the hands he could find to take care of so many patients all
at once. As for
me, after the cuts I suffered from Henriette LaSalle’s dagger had been tended
to, I kept busy in the command centre, working to put the communication system
that Lieutenant Saturnin had sabotaged back online. To say
that Major Perrin was absolutely furious was putting it mildly. He now knew that
his aide, a compatriot, a man he had fully trusted and confided in, had totally
deceived him, with the complicity of the base’s medical officer. And when we
told him that they had both been preparing this for a very long time, and that
they admitted they had a hand in the apparent illness of the base’s previous
commanders, his anger knew no limits. He
didn’t doubt this for a second. For him, it made perfect sense: it couldn’t have
been a coincidence that all of his predecessors had resigned one after the other
for almost the same reason, so it was easy for him to imagine that Doctor
LaSalle had fed them some kind of drug that could have affected their health and
mental condition. Major
Perrin swore he would find the culprits – extract from them full confessions of
their multiple crimes, and make them pay for all they had done to his personnel.
As soon as I was able to repair the communication system, he made contact with
the WAAF continental HQ in Caracas, and requested new troops to come over and
help search for the fugitives. I could have told him I thought it was useless,
as I felt pretty sure that we would never see LaSalle or Saturnin again.
But I had my own problems to attend to at the moment: I needed to contact
Cloudbase, as soon as possible, and make a full and detailed report on all that
had been happening in the last twenty-four hours. As I
expected, Colonel White had grown concerned about our prolonged silence and had
already considered sending a new team to find out what was going on. I actually
called him just in time before he did so. He listened to my report in complete
silence, only asking a few judicious questions here and there. I could almost
visualise his mounting apprehension, as the story slowly unravelled, and I told
him first about Captain Scarlet’s disappearance, then his becoming a zombie, and
finally, his being shot in front of witnesses – although only one could have
been considered a reliable witness, and therefore a serious liability – namely,
my own brother, Caleb. However
concerned White was about this distressing fact, it felt flattering somehow that
his worry seemed even more tangible when I made mention of my almost becoming a
human sacrifice in a pagan ceremony. He stopped me from being too thorough when
I mentioned the dagger cutting me. As I had obviously survived, he said, he
didn’t need to be told about all the gory details. “Good
God, man – you’re not even a fully trained field agent. I should really say that
I have too much need of you at your station here on Cloudbase, without running
the risk of losing you at the hands of some homicidal lunatic! But you did a
damn fine job during this assignment, Lieutenant, so obviously, you must have
some talents…” That
was rather gratifying, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Although I tried to reassure the colonel that we had done our best to hide
Scarlet’s extraordinary powers of recovery from further revelation, he still
didn’t sound that convinced that it was safe to leave him on the ground, and
said it would be far better to get him back on Cloudbase as soon as possible,
before his ‘suspiciously good health’ attracted unwanted attention. I
couldn’t agree more. Fawn
was true to his word, and it didn’t take that long before the first victims of
the zombification process started emerging from their condition. According to
his prognosis, they would make a full recovery – albeit a slow one. So he
suggested to Colonel White that he be allowed to stay a few days in
Port-au-Prince, until he could be sure that all his patients would be well taken
care of after his departure. The WAAF base in Caracas had sent troops to take
over from the recovering personnel, and two military doctors had come as well,
to work under Fawn’s direction and help with the treatment. Colonel
White decided to let Captain Scarlet and myself stay another full day, just to
keep up the appearances that Scarlet needed to recuperate a little before being
allowed to be flown back to base. That was under the strict condition that he
would stay in seclusion in his own room, and that there would be no one else
from the medical personnel but Fawn to attend to him. I was to make sure he
didn’t receive any visitor that might want to ask too many questions and risk
discovering his secret. That included my own brother, but, of course, excluded
General Metcalfe – who spent most of his time with his son. I thought that
Scarlet would certainly appreciate the time alone with his father; quite
naturally, he had healed from his wounds in no time, but he was physically and
mentally spent, and did need the additional recovery time given to him to allow
for a thorough recovery. As for
myself – staying in Haiti for another full day gave me a little more time to
pass with my brother. I felt
somewhat relieved, on the morning of the day we were to leave, when Caleb
announced to me that he had vacated his apartment in the back of Mama Leona’s
shop, to rent a room at a hotel, and that he would be returning to
Port-of-Spain, shortly after my own departure. I was
wearing my Spectrum uniform, freshly cleaned from the dryer, minus my cap and my
destroyed vest, and we were sharing a coffee in the waiting room of the medical
centre, waiting for Captain Scarlet to join us, when he gave me the news. “It’s
not the same now, anyway,” he said, “since Mama Leona’s gone…” “And I’m sure it’s not your only reason,”
I replied, before taking a sip of my coffee. I marked a pause. “She’s not at the
shop, then?” I wasn’t that surprised. I knew that the
fresh troops from Caracas had been looking for her as well, as they did for
LaSalle and Saturnin, in the vain hope that she would lead them to their
whereabouts – or to at least learn from her what could have happened to them. But Mama Leona had disappeared too, just
like LaSalle and Saturnin had – and even their hounsis were nowhere to be
found. And no one would be willing to tell where they might have gone. Caleb
answered my question with a dismissive shrug. “She left her nephew Joseph to
tend her business at the shop,” he explained. “At least that’s what he told me,
after I returned to pick up my stuff.” “Joseph… That’s
the young man we saw there?” I asked.
“And who was with her when she made that dazzling rescue operation at the
base chapel?” “No,
that would be his brother, Samuel. I think that Samuel was actually Mama Leona’s
houngenikon… as far as I can guess, anyway. Joseph would never divulge that
information to me, considering all that happened.” “What else has Joseph told you?” Caleb shrugged. “The same he told the
military who came to the shop searching for Mama Leona: that she’s gone on a
retreat somewhere, to a secret place in the country. He didn’t know when she’ll
come back.” “Will
she?” I asked, taking another sip.
“I mean, come back?” Caleb
shook his head. “I don’t know. Possibly. She will probably wait until everything
settles down and people start forgetting about it.” “I
doubt if Perrin will ever forget,” I reasoned. “He will never rest until
he gets his hands on Saturnin and LaSalle.”
“Perhaps, but even Perrin could get a transfer and be assigned elsewhere,” Caleb
remarked. “Isn’t that how it works
in the military?” “It
is,” I admitted. “But the WAAF has a notoriously long memory as well. The next
commander might want to continue the search. What Saturnin and LaSalle did
cannot go unpunished.” Caleb
shrugged again. “I don’t think they will go unpunished,” he said sombrely. “If
Mama Leona is indeed part of the Bizango Sect… Then they’re likely to have
already met their just fate.” He paused for a few seconds, turning his cup
between his hands, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’t think the WAAF
would pose that much of a problem for Mama Leona. This is Haiti. If need be,
it’ll be easy for her to move and settle her shop elsewhere, and no one will be
the wiser. She’s obviously a very powerful mambo and people will likely
be more than honoured to help her.” “More
than likely,” I said pensively. “As for
myself, I thought it would be safer if I returned home,” my brother continued. “And am
I glad you decided to go,” I said with an approving nod. “I made
arrangements with Virginia to stay at her place, until I go back to Kingston
University, in a couple of months. I have amassed enough material here to write
my next thesis anyway, so I don’t really need to stay around. And I imagine I
attracted a little too much attention to myself with this experience.” I
rolled my eyes, and didn’t deign make a comment. “This
was as close to death as I ever want to be,” my brother continued. “At least for
a long time.” He smiled at me, almost shyly.
“How do you do it?” I gave
it some thought. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I guess I do what I can.
As my commander often tells me: I’m not a field agent, and I’m not as well
trained as I ought to be for this kind of assignment. It might be a long time
now before I‘ll ask him again to let me go on a mission. I too, have had enough
excitement to last me a long time.” Caleb
laughed. “I bet!”
“Promises, promises!” a jovial voice suddenly said from behind. “I’m pretty sure
that before long, you will beg the old man to let you go on assignment
again, Lieutenant.” We
turned around; Captain Scarlet, fully dressed in his uniform, was coming our
way, his father following behind. We stood up from our table, leaving our
coffees, and Caleb went to clasp my partner’s hand.
“Captain Scarlet, it’s so good to see you on your feet,” my brother said,
genuinely pleased. “Quite frankly, I didn’t expect you to make so quick a
recovery.” “Oh,
I’m not quite finished yet,” Scarlet said in a non-committal tone. “I will still
need a few more days to make a complete recovery. I’ll do that on
Cloudbase.” He pulled on the collar of his shirt. “The climate here is not
quite
to my liking, you will understand.” “You’re
quite welcome to come back home for your convalescence,” General Metcalfe
offered warmly. “I’m sure your mother will be happy to fret over you for the
next few days.” “I
doubt I’ll be able to, Dad,” Scarlet answered kindly. “But I’ll try to see if I
can manage a visit soon.” “You
would only need a few more days?” Caleb repeated with a frown. “You should
probably get a few weeks!” He smiled. “You’re even more remarkable than I
thought, Captain. Seymour did say you were a tough man to keep down.” “He
said that, did he?” Scarlet asked, raising a brow in my direction. “I do
admit, I was a bit cross at him for seemingly acting so cold towards you, when I
thought you were seriously injured,” Caleb continued. “But then, I saw how much
devotion he showed watching over you while you were recovering…” I
opened my mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. After all, I couldn’t
very well tell Caleb that I was just following Colonel White’s orders to stay
close to Scarlet and keep nosy people away. And yes, I have to admit – I was a
bit concerned about Scarlet as well. But
right then, Captain Scarlet just imagined he needed to add something. And that
didn’t help to ease my growing embarrassment. “Well,
you have no reason to be angry with your brother, Caleb,” he said gravely. “I
don’t hold a grudge at him for having shot me. If he had not done so – maybe I
would still be under the control of that witch.” “And we
might all be dead, as a result,” General Metcalfe added gruffly, nodding his
approval. As far as we knew,
there was some truth in this assumption. Doctor Fawn theorised that my shooting
him might have caused Scarlet’s retrometabolism to ‘kick in’, which served to
clear his system of the drug that kept him in the zombie trance. It was pure
luck that he regained his senses when he did – pure luck for me, specifically,
as I was about to get killed. And Caleb knew
that if Scarlet had not intervened at that precise moment, I would be dead. “I have to thank
you, Captain,” he said. “You saved my brother’s life.” “It was
the least I could do,” Scarlet replied with a smile. “I owed him that much. I
wasn’t really looking forward to spending the rest of my life as a zombie slave,
and he saved me from that. It’s your brother who’s the remarkable man, Caleb.
He’s one of the best people I have had the pleasure to work with.” I felt
myself reddening violently. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to stop there, as my
brother found the need to add his own two cents’ worth, in turn: “I
know. I guess I had forgotten that. I should have realised my big brother
couldn’t have become such a cold-hearted individual. Not when you think about
what he did for us all, keeping the family together in Port-of-Spain like he
did…” At this point, I
suspected that they were leading me on; just seeing the smile on both my
brother’s and Scarlet’s face was enough to convince me of that. “Oh, go
on, you two,” I muttered a little grumpily. I seized the rucksack containing the
C38, that I had left at the foot of my chair, and turned to Scarlet. “Maybe it’s
time we took our leave of Major Perrin now, sir?” Scarlet
seemed greatly amused by my obvious embarrassment and by my eagerness to go, and
so, he gave his assent with a slow nod. He was obviously struggling to hide a
smile. “Doctor
Fawn released me,” he finally said, keeping as straight a face as he could.
“So we are free to go… Lieutenant.” We left
the medical centre, with my brother and General Metcalfe following us.
Our
meeting with Major Perrin was brief; not really ‘short and sweet’, as Captain
Scarlet described it afterwards, as it was plainly obvious that the major was
still as eager to get rid of us now as he had been at our first meeting. Quite
frankly, he probably viewed us as two birds of ill omen, with all that happened
since our arrival, and he couldn’t get us off his base and far away from Haiti
fast enough. General
Metcalfe and my brother decided to come with us by jeep to the airport; we were
to make our farewells there, before taking the SPJ back to Cloudbase. As agreed,
Doctor Fawn would stay an additional day or two, before returning to base. Our
chauffeur drove the jeep through Port-au-Prince, taking in reverse a route quite
similar to the one we had taken when we had arrived only two days ago. It was
difficult to get through the streets, which were as full of people as always; a
few curious pedestrians were watching the military vehicle pass by. I
distractedly watched the crowd, and found myself waving back at a little girl in
braids who held a scruffy-looking doll. Behind
the little girl, I suddenly saw Mama Leona.
She was
standing by a little stall, similar to the one I had seen in front of her shop,
busy trying to sell one of her good-luck charms to a customer. Then she saw the
jeep, and she left stall and customer to come amongst the numerous bystanders
who were obviously wondering about these two Spectrum officers who were
travelling aboard this military jeep. She was looking solemn and grave, and
there was no smile on her jovial face, half shadowed by her large straw hat. I
could see her eyes, and she was looking straight at me. Captain
Scarlet saw her too. He said nothing, but gave her a thankful and reserved nod,
while I waved discreetly in her direction. She answered with a nod of her own,
barely more noticeable than Scarlet’s. As she
turned back to return to her stand, I noticed a couple in the crowd, standing
only a foot or two behind her; a short, black woman, in a dirty shirt, and a
tall, thin, black man, who seemed to be wearing the trousers of a military
uniform. They had an awful pallor to their features, almost grey under the sun,
and they were looking haggardly in front of them, their eyes emotionless,
seemingly seeing nothing, and their lower jaws hanging loosely. I only
caught a glimpse of their faces, but I froze, as I recognised them. Mama
Leona walked away, and I thought I saw her signalling the couple with a vague
hand gesture. They turned around, side by side, and followed her mechanically,
in slow motion. I was
left staring at the crowd they had disappeared into, with a cold, uncomfortable
feeling gripping my heart. I remembered Mama Leona’s words to me: ‘Only
those deserving the fate will forever remain zombies’. I
believe in poetic justice. But I
also believe that there are such terrible fates that not even the most evil of
people deserve to live it.
THE END
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