Tortured Spirits (42 page)

“No,” Catoute said in a strangled voice.

Jorge prodded her forward with his gun.

Maria opened the cupboards and searched their contents. There were no magic herbs, human baby skeletons, or spell books inside, just cleaning chemicals, loose hardware, half-empty paint cans, and dirty rags. She pulled out box after box: a sander, a circular saw blade, a level, a mallet, dried-up paint rollers …

“I'll remember you for this,” Catoute said.

“And I'll remember you,” Jorge said.

Found it!

Maria stood up with a blowtorch and twisted the valve that controlled the gas. “Anybody got a light?”

Through the canvas covering the truck bed, Jake heard the suppressed gunfire of Louider and his gangsters. He also heard the unsuppressed gunfire of the zonbies, which tore through the canvas, whizzed overhead, and punched into the truck's side. A man screamed. The horses whinnied. Another man screamed. One wheel on the truck blew out, and the rear left side lowered. A third man screamed.

“They're taking a beating out there.” Jake leapt to his feet, drew his Glock from its holster, and ran to the truck's gate.

Andre sat up. “Jake!”

A figure lumbered before the gate. Stephane pointed a flashlight at it, revealing milky white eyes and hardened gums. The zonbie aimed his machine gun at Jake, who shot it in the head. The corpse dropped from view, and Jake's personal light show began.

Jake hopped out of the truck and landed on both feet. Andre hopped out next, followed by Stephane.

“Under the truck,” Jake said over the gunfire.

All three of them crawled under the truck. Stephane leveled his machine gun and opened fire, and Andre imitated him.

My Glock's useless down here,
Jake thought as he watched zonbies shuffling in their direction.

“They're too close!” Andre said. “I can't even see their heads.”

Stephane blasted his weapon, exploding half a dozen kneecaps. Immobilized zonbies fell over like chopped trees. “Mow them down! Either you'll stop them so they can't get to our men, or you'll force them to expose their heads.”

The zonbies who had just collapsed rose on their hands and arms, as if doing push-ups, and crawled toward the truck, dragging their legs behind them. Glowing red dots appeared on two foreheads, which promptly disintegrated.

Afraid to wiggle out from beneath the truck backwards, Jake crouched low and duckwalked, then sprang up and threw his back against the truck's gate. Peering around the corner, he counted five different muzzle flashes around the front of the truck, accompanied by the sound of suppressed action.

Three men down,
he thought. One for each scream he'd heard.

In the other direction, a dozen zonbies were dead on the ground, and another dozen marched forward, guns blazing.

Not a good sign.

Bullet holes appeared along the truck. A horse collapsed, leaving the remaining three kicking and whinnying.

Jake shouted under the truck, “Hold your fire!”

Looking at him as if he was crazy, Stephane stopped firing, then Andre.

Holstering his Glock, Jake sprinted over to one of the horses, planted one foot into a stirrup, and threw the other over the saddle. Using his only hand, he untied the reins and guided the horse to the road they had used to enter the compound. He had learned to ride horseback at camp one summer, and twenty years later wondered if he still remembered the basics. He circled the zonbie brigade and waited for Louider and his men to stop firing.

When they did, Jake wrapped the reins around his stump, drew his Glock, and took a slow ride in a straight line behind the zonbies. He dropped four of them before the rest even realized it and did his best to ignore the golden souls rising from the deactivated corpses.

The horse bucked, and Jake tried to get the animal under control while continuing to fire at the zonbies. The horse refused to cooperate, and the zonbies refused to die. Instead, two of them fired at the horse, which whinnied and fell back with a cry, its body riddled with bullet wounds.

Jake managed to roll free of the carcass, but the reins
tied him to it. Rising on one knee, he took out three more zonbies at close range, then ducked behind the dead horse as the remaining zonbies opened fire. The horse's carcass shook and spewed blood. Jake heard suppressed gunfire and knew his companions had come out from cover. Then silence.

Jake looked over the dead animal at Louider and his four surviving men as Stephane and Andre joined them. Jake approached the men, then froze when they all aimed their machine guns at him. Dropping facedown to the earth, he covered his head with his hand. Team Louider opened fire and stopped. Jake looked behind him. Another six zonbies littered the ground, their souls flickering and fading.

Almost fifty,
he thought. Many more than he had hoped to put down. As his teammates approached him, Jake pointed past them in the opposite direction. With fearful expressions, the men turned around.

The hundreds of zonbies in the poppy fields had already covered more than half the distance separating them. Jake saw the men stiffen and felt his own heart pound. He had never seen so many zonbies in his life, their machetes reflecting moonlight.

“Everyone, get back to the truck!” Louider said.

“We'll never make it. Follow me!” Jake sprinted in the direction of the empty drug den. He didn't turn around to see who followed him but pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could.

Hurdling over the two steps leading to the building's entrance, he jerked the screen door open, flipped on the light, and seized the open inside metal door. Two of Louider's men ran inside, followed by Stephane and Andre.

Machine gun fire from three different weapons erupted in the night: long, continuous bursts that came to a sudden stop, replaced by screams.

Pressing his eye against the screen, Jake saw half a dozen machetes rising and falling. Then a hideous face with dripping flesh leaned forward, mashing its bulging eye
against the screen where Jake stood. He snapped his head back, aimed his Glock at the thing's head, and fired. The zonbie fell, and Jake slammed and locked the door before he had a chance to see its soul rise.

“Louider?” Andre said.

Jake shook his head.

Outside, fists pounded on the metal door. They sounded soft and squishy, like rotten apples.

“That door should hold them,” Jake said to the two remaining gangsters dressed as soldiers. “You two watch it just to be safe.
Only shoot at their heads.
We can't spare the ammo.” He entered the empty drug parlor. “These walls are made out of cinder blocks. They aren't coming through them. That leaves only the windows, six of them.”

“Too bad there are only five of us,” Stephane said.

“And a good thing that all of you have these fancy ATAC machine guns.” Jake flipped off the overhead light.

Light from the work lights shone through the windows, casting moving shadows on the ceiling.

At the door, one of the gangsters switched on his flashlight. “Cross your fingers that Pharah comes through for us.”

Rotting fists continued to hammer at the door.

Maria ran from candle to candle, igniting their wicks with the blue flame from the blowtorch. Jorge, Pharah, the other man, and the two women used matches to light the candles
on one half of the chamber while she worked the other half. When she had completed half of one row, she continued at the next highest row and reversed direction. In ten minutes, she doubled the efforts of the other five people.

This will take an hour,
she thought.

Chained in the middle of her summoning circle, Catoute laughed. “You're like ants, scurrying around a dead dog!”

Ignoring her, Maria finished her second row and started on her third.

This is taking too long!

Keeping her hands steady, she aimed the blue flame at the wicks, ignoring the sweat the heat produced on her face. She hoped Jake was having an easier time.

A large rock crashed through one window and thudded on the floor.

“Stephane!” Jake called out. “Fire a grenade into them.”

A ratcheting sound cracked the darkness, and a silhouette filled the window.

Stephane fired a grenade from his ATAC, and the window disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Jake raced to the window in time to see an explosion that scattered, chopped, and incinerated half a dozen bodies.

Too much damage,
he thought. They were defeating their reason for coming.

Footsteps thumped on the roof.

“They're climbing!” Andre said.

Machetes rained down on the corrugated roof.

Halfway finished lighting the candles on her side of the chamber, Maria cast a concerned look at her partners, who were only one-quarter finished between the five of them.

Just worry about yourself,
she thought.

Catoute continued to cackle. “You're on a fool's mission, Daughter!”

At least the old witch isn't talking to me.

Jake shone his flashlight at the ceiling, silhouetting the feet of the zonbies standing up there. “Maybe a dozen.”