“Do not go out tonight. The moon is full. The zombies will get you!”
“Better watch they don’t get you first,” Harry said, reaching toward the hotel maid as if he’d suddenly become the Frankenstein Monster.
“You must take these things seriously, Mr. Stone. More goes on in Haiti than any man knows—except the Prince of Darkness.”
“I’m just going to the café. It’s only three blocks away. What can happen in three blocks?”
“Bad things happen in the blink of an eye in Haiti. My neighbor’s chickens died last night. All four. One minute alive, the next—poof! A very bad omen. Listen…the drums speak of doom.”
Harry forced himself not to give in to the creepy feeling that suddenly struck him. “Zombies don’t exist. They’re an invention of Hollywood.”
“Is that what they teach in America? If so, they teach lies.”
“I must go. Thanks for bringing tea and turning my bed down.”
“Take this for good juju,” she said. Within her palm was an inch-long, black statue with three red eyes. She blew on it and mumbled some mumbo jumbo. Giving it to Harry, she said it was blessed and would protect him.
Amused, He dropped it in his shirt pocket and left.
Harry had made arrangements to meet a shaman. From there they’d head for a jungle village where the shaman would demonstrate his powers.
Harry looked forward to the foolishness. If it were entertaining enough, it might end up as a paragraph or two in his book on Haitian folk rituals.
Following the shaman’s instructions, he stopped at a vendor’s hovel and bought three fresh chicken eggs for the demonstration.
The shaman was waiting at the café. If Harry didn’t have the willies before, he sure had them now. The man had a malevolent presence with laser eyes that seemed to penetrate Harry’s psyche. Trying to look directly into them made Harry woozy.
The shaman asked him for a hundred dollars. Then he told Harry to pick a small object and it would be magically replicated within one of the eggs. Harry passed the maid’s statue. The shaman waved his hand over it and said, “It is done. A duplicate is now inside one of your eggs.”
Yeah, sure, Harry thought, returning the statue to his pocket. Pull that one off, and I’ll give you a whole chapter in my book. Especially since you ain’t getting near these eggs until the ritual begins.
Minutes later, they left by rickety jeep for the shaman’s village.
The ceremony was spectacular. The shaman danced like a crazed man to invoke a voodoo spirit god. When the god possessed him, Harry noticed a remarkable physical transformation.
With blazing eyes, roaring voice, and quivering body, the shaman’s new persona demanded the eggs. Someone took them from Harry and placed them on an altar drenched with blood. The shaman filled his mouth with rum, then spat the liquid onto the eggs three times. The drumming, chanting, and frantic dancing became more intense.
Dozens of worshippers collapsed signaling the end of the ceremony.
“Pick up an egg and break it with your hands,” the shaman commanded in a voice not his own.
Harry complied, letting the slippery mess fall to the ground.
“Pick up the next egg and break it with your hands.”
Harry found he couldn’t break it.
“You cannot break it, because I have moved the strength from your body to the egg. Take it with you. Upon arising tomorrow, have someone break it open for you. Eat it raw, and all your strength will return. Do not lose or break the egg before then, or your strength will be lost forever. Now, I will break the third egg and pour it into your palm.
When the shaman broke the third egg, Harry almost jumped out of his skin. Within the slimy yolk was a tiny replica of the black, red-eyed statue. He’d seen enough. He wanted to leave immediately.
“Luzu will drive you to the hotel.” The shaman clapped his hands. “Luzu! Come!”
A native woman in tattering clothes came out of the jungle. She walked slowly, as if in a stupor.
“She looks drunk,” Harry said. “I never ride with drunk drivers.”
“Luzu is not drunk. She is a zombie. Tell him, Luzu.”
“I…am…zombie,” the woman said.
“I ain’t going anywhere with somebody who’s in a hypnotic trance.”
“She’s not in a trance. Luzu is one of the living dead.”
“Nonsense. There’s no such thing. She’s one your brainwashed robots. I’ll walk back.”
“Do not be foolish. Evil things prowl the jungle at night,” said the shaman. “You could be eaten alive. Besides, you are too weak to walk. Have you forgotten I have put all your strength into the egg?”
“You’re full of crap!” Harry slipped the egg into his pocket. After taking three steps, he collapsed. He found himself so weak, he couldn’t get up.
“I told you I put all your strength in the egg,” said the shaman. “For a hundred dollars, I will return it to your body. Wait…your trousers are wet. You fool! You’ve smashed the egg!”
“Help me,” Harry gasped. “I’ll pay whatever you want.”
“Too late. It cannot be done at any price. Your strength has spilled into the soil and cannot be returned. Soon, your eyes will darken, your body will turn to dust.”
Luzu lay on the ground next to Harry. Embracing him, she kissed his mouth with cold, fetid lips. “Give…him…to…me…Master. Make…him…a… zombie.”
* * *
During the next full moon, hundreds of zombies gathered to feast on jungle rot and witness the abominable yoking of Luzu and Harry by a possessed shaman.
* * *
Every time the moon is full, a white zombie digs his fingers into a solitary patch of soil deep in the Haitian jungle.
Some say he moans horribly. Others say he keeps repeating the word egg.
Nobody knows why.
—
©2005 Michael A. Kechula
Michael A. Kechula is a retired tech writer. His fiction has won first place in seven contests and placed in six others. He’s also won Editor’s Choice awards four times. His stories have been published by 103 magazines and 30 anthologies in Australia, Canada, England, India, Scotland, and US. He’s authored a book of flash and micro-fiction stories: “A Full Deck of Zombies–61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” eBook available at www.BooksForABuck.com and www.fictionwise.com. Paperback available at www.amazon.com.
Tags: Michael A. Kechula
May 1st, 2009 at 9:40 am
Good and Creepy, Micheal. Liked this one.
–dj
May 2nd, 2009 at 11:34 am
Thanks for reading my tale and for your comments.
May 2nd, 2009 at 1:39 pm
A good story Micheal - especially nice to see Voodoo zombies being used instead of the George A Romero type. I especially liked the ending. Looking forward to your next one