Diana's Writing Blog

Nick Powell gazed at the carpeting of clouds from his seat on the plane. His assistant, Don McGinnis, was asleep in the seat next to him. Nick got up as quietly as he could and reached into the compartment above Don’s head. He slid out his laptop, careful not to make a sound, and sat back down.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Don said, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Uhhh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nick said innocently.

“I’m talking about the bet we made this morning. The one where I bet that you couldn’t go for the entire flight without your laptop.” Don smiled, “I won.”

“Fine!” Nick said, digging into his pocket for his wallet. “Then you don’t get to read any of this new information Captain Belatt posted.”

“What’s to know?” Don asked. “I mean, graves opened from the inside? It’s obviously vampires, right?”

“Nope, not necessarily,” Nick said.

“What else could it be?” Don asked.

“I’ll tell you–for ten bucks.”

“No way!”

“Then figure it out on your own.” Nick took Don’s pillow and put it against the wall. He knew Don wouldn’t be able to sleep in the face of the mystery. “I’m going to get some sleep,” he said. “Have a nice flight.”

Don was already lost in thought, mentally reviewing all the possibilities. They disembarked from the plane. Don went to get the luggage and Nick went to see if there was anywhere to grab a quick bite to eat. He was starved.

He ate quickly and went looking for Don. He stopped outside a strange looking shop called “Mystical Bayou”. The windows were blacked with paint so that no one could see in.

Stepping inside, he glanced around. There were tables and racks lining the walls of the small store. On them were many different kinds of herbs, charms, and other voodoo tools. A woman appeared from the backroom. She wore a red dress that accented her dark skin and hair. Around her neck was a pouch made of leather. “Can I help you?” she asked smiling.

“Is that gris-gris?” He pointed to the pouch around her neck.

“Yes,” she said surprised. “Do you practice voodoo?”

“No. I’m a paranormal investigator, actually.”

“Oh. To tell you the truth, I’m not really into voodoo either.” She gestured around. “It’s just a tourist trap.”

“But you know how to mix spells?”

“My grandmother taught me. Voodoo was passed down in my family all the way from the slave days. Are you investigating the missing bodies?”

“How did you know that?” he asked surprised.

“I run a magic shop,” she said. “I hear things.”

He grew interested, “Like what?”

“That there might be zombies running around.”

“What else did you hear?”

She shook her head, “Not much, I’m afraid.”

He handed her a card. “If you hear anything else, please call me or e-mail me.”

“Sure,” she smiled and looked at the card. “Nick Powell,” she read. “My name’s Marie Mallant.”

“There you are!” came a voice from behind Nick. Don walked up to him. “Hi,” he said to Marie.

“Marie, this is my assistant, Don,” Nick said.

“Nice to meet you,” Don said, smiling.

“Well, we better get going,” Nick said. He dragged Don to the door.

“Nick,” Marie called. “Here,” She undid the string around her neck and handed him the gris-gris bag. “this will bring you luck.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, fastening it around his neck.

“Stop by again,” Marie called as he left.

“She was nice,” Don said as they headed for the exit.

“Yep.”

“Did you get her number?”

Nick gave him a look.

“No? Oh well, at least you know where she works. I mean, she definitely likes you. She even gave you her bag of, whatever it is.”

Nick handed him the bag.

“Gris-gris?” Don read.

“It’s pronounced gree-gree. It’s a voodoo charm. It can be good or bad depending on what the giver intends.”

“Oh yeah, we studied voodoo magic briefly in Professor Stilgate’s class. Uh, lets see, good magic is called juju and bad magic is called mojo.” He opened the bag. “What’s this stuff made of?” he asked taking a pinch out.

“It can be made of lots of different things; fingernails, human hair, animal skin, brick.”

“Oh gross! You couldn’t have told me that before I touched it?” He wiped his hands on his pants and closed the bag. “Why are fingernails, human hair, and animal skin good luck?”

Nick laughed and put it back around his neck. “Couldn’t hurt,” he said as they exited the airport and looked around for their ride. “Now let’s find this Detective Michaels guy.”

“Hey, There he is,” Don said.

“Where?” Nick looked around. “Oh, I see him.” He spotted the man that would be working with them on the case, Detective Michaels. They hadn’t met, but Captain Belatt had e-mailed the man’s picture to them.

Detective Michaels groaned as the two men approached. The younger one looked fairly normal; jeans and a shirt. The other one was dressed in all black. He wore leather pants, a matching jacket, boots and a silver cross. “Why me?” he asked under his breath as they walked up. He nodded at them and got in. Captain Belatt had ordered him to get along with his new partners. Or else!

“We’re going to the station first, then I’ll take you to your hotel,” he said starting the car.

They arrived at the police station ten minutes later. Michaels got out and steeled himself for what he knew was coming. He led the men past the rows of desks towards the Captain’s door. The detectives at the coffee machine snickered as he passed them. Michaels knew he’d be teased about this for months.

He knocked on Captain Belatt’s door. “Come in,” came the reply.

As they entered, Captain smiled and shook Nick’s hand. “You must be Mr. Powell,” he said.

“Call me Nick, please. This is my assistant, Don McGinnis,” he indicated Don.

Captain nodded and shook his hand as well. “Well, you’ve met Detective Michaels, he’s the one handling the case. I’ll let him fill you in.”

“In the past month, thirty-five bodies have gone missing, fifteen from the cemetery outside of town. There were no signs of forced entry. However, some of the doors had damage on the inside. I figure somehow, someone’s getting inside and stealing the bodies and trying to make it look like it was some sort of zombie–”

“Zombies!” Don exclaimed, slapping his forehead. “Of course!”

Michaels cleared his throat and continued, “There are no connections between the corpses stolen: they were of both genders, varying races, all different ages, and from every level of society. They had nothing in common.”

“I want to check the files myself,” Nick said.

“I just told you, there’s nothing there,” Michaels said forcefully.

“You were looking for common factors in life. I’m more concerned with when and how they died.”

“Here,” Belatt handed him the files. “Now go get settled in and tomorrow Detective Michaels will take you out to our latest crime scene.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Nick said.

Hours later at the hotel, Nick finished inputting the data from the files into his computer and clicked ‘Compile Data’. His program converted all the data on the corpses into a chart. “Hmmm,” Nick said as he looked at it.

“What is it?” Don asked, coming over to look.

“I’m not sure yet,” Nick said. “I’ll need to see the crime scenes.”

“Well, we can’t do anything tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because, uh,” Don ticked off the points on his fingers, “Detective Michaels isn’t with us, we don’t have a car, we don’t know where the crime scenes are, and it’s too dark,”

“We don’t need Detective Michaels, we can take a cab, it says right in the reports where the crime scenes are, and I brought flashlights,” Nick answered, pulling the aforementioned flashlights out of his duffle bag out.

“Okay, how about the fact that we’re going to be walking, unarmed, through a cemetery where zombies hang out?”

“I’ve got this.” Nick held up his bag of gris-gris.

“What do I get?” Don asked.

Nick handed him a flashlight. “You’ll be fine.”

Don whimpered, but followed.

They arrived at the cemetery around ten o’ clock. It was on the outskirts of town. There was no light in the cemetery except from the moon. All around them, the dreary mausoleums holding the bodies rose up, menacingly. Nick switched on his flashlight and headed for the first crime scene.

“Why did they put mausoleums up?” Don demanded as they weaved through the rows of buildings.

“The water table’s too high to bury people,” Nick answered, distractedly.

“Well, it’s stupid. At least with graves, you can see when someone’s coming.”

“That works both ways, you know,” Nick pointed out. “At least here the zombies can’t see you coming, either.”

“Well, that’s great. If you wanna sneak up on flesh eating monsters.”

“No chance of that happening with you along,” Nick retorted.

“Oh good.” Don thought for a minute. “Hey!” he exclaimed.

Nick stopped suddenly.

“What?” Don asked ready to clobber something with his flashlight. “Do you see something?”

“We’re here,” Nick said.

“Oh,” Don lowered his flashlight. “What are we looking for anyway?”

Nick ducked under the police tape and entered the mausoleum.

“I’ll wait out here,” Don said, nervously shining his flashlight around.

Nick shone his flashlight around the tomb. The coffin was against the far wall. He opened it. It was pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. He moved on to the door. There was only a little damage evident on the back of it. “Hmmm,” he walked out. “Don,” he tapped the man on the shoulder.

Don jumped and whirled. “Don’t do that!” he exclaimed.

“We’ve only got one more to check,” Nick informed him, leading the way.

The second crime scene wasn’t too far away from the first. Nick entered the tomb and walked up to the coffin. He gagged from the smell; the first grave had been much newer. He looked around inside the coffin and was about to leave when something caught his eye.

There were small marks on the lid. Taking a deep breath, he got in and pulled the lid shut. He felt for the marks on the lid. Finding them, he matched his fingers up to the marks. They’d been made by human fingernails. And they could only have been made from inside the coffin!

“Nick?” He heard Don calling and pushed the coffin open. “Ahhh!” Don screamed, jumping back and dropping his flashlight.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Nick said climbing out of the coffin.

“Oh sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to pop out of a casket!” Don yelled.

“I was just checking something.”

Don was instantly interested. “Really? What?” Don walked over to the coffin. “Something the cops–whoo! That’s a bad smell.” Don recoiled. “And you got in that thing? We are riding back in separate cars.”

“I had to get inside to check something. There are scratches on the inside of the lid. From their size and position, I’d say they were made from inside the coffin.”

“So, it’s not a hoax? Cause I heard about this guy who could make people into zombies by giving them this mixture of puffer fish venom.”

“No, it’s not possible. See, that’s what I thought at first, but the person in that coffin was dead for almost twenty years and no living person would have enough strength to make marks that deep.

“So, we’re talking real zombies?”

“Guess so.” Nick’s head snapped up as the faint sound of footprints drifted to them on the night air. “Hey, did you hear that?”

Don glanced fearfully around. “Race you to the car.”

“We didn’t bring a car.”

“Yeah, that was stupid.”

“Shhh,” Nick said forcefully. They heard it again. “Quiet. I’m going to go see what it is.”

“Bad idea!” Don whispered, shaking his head.

“You wanna go instead?”

Don shook his head quickly. “Have fun. Don’t get your flesh eaten.”

Nick crept out of the mausoleum and headed for the sound. He saw a figure move and ducked behind one of the buildings. He waited, holding his breath and not making a sound as the figure passed. When it had made its way past him, he tackled it from behind.

It gave a surprisingly human yell: “Get off of me!”

Nick caught sight of his face. It was Detective Michaels! “Michaels?” he asked.

“Powell?” the Detective said, recognizing him.

Nick let the man up. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Michaels said, crossing his arms. “I’m responding to a call about a disturbance in the graveyard. People saw lights and heard strange noises.”

“I was checking something out. I­-” They both turned as they heard yelling. “Don!” Nick exclaimed and broke into a run. Michaels followed him, drawing his gun.

They arrived just in time to see three men hauling Don from the tomb. Their clothes were tattered and they had rotting skin. Zombies!

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Michaels yelled.

The creatures turned and two started towards Nick and Michaels. The detective fired his gun directly at them. They jerked, but kept advancing. One reached Michaels and smacked his gun away. He punched it, but it grabbed hold of him anyway.

The other one reached Nick. It grabbed for him, but backed away suddenly. It ran the other way. Nick hurried to Michaels; the zombie holding him backed away, immediately releasing Michaels. The third dropped Don and all three took off into the darkness.

“You all right?” Nick asked Don as he helped him up.

“I think so,” Don said.

“Were those–zombies?” Michaels asked.

“Afraid so.” Nick said.

“What do we do?” Michaels asked. “Bullets aren’t very effective. How do we stop them?”

“First of all, lets get outta here before those three come back with twelve of their friends,” Don said.

“Good idea,” Nick said.

The next morning, Michaels met Nick at the hotel. “Figure out what we’re going to do yet?”

“Not yet. Can you drive me to the airport?”

“You can’t just leave!” Michaels exclaimed.

“Huh? No. I’m not leaving. There’s a shop there I need to stop at.”
“Oh. Where’s Don?”

“I sent him to do some research at the library.”

Nick entered Mystic Bayou and looked around. There was no one there. “Marie?” he called.

“I’m in the back,” came her reply.

Nick went through the curtain behind the counter. The back room was filled with all sorts of herbs and potions as well as mixing bowls and test tubes.

“I mix all of my potions from here,” Marie explained. “Nice to see you again, Nick. But why so soon? No luck finding zombies?”

“Too much actually.”

“You actually saw zombies?” she asked, surprised.

“I was attacked last night in the cemetery. Do you know who in town is capable of making zombies?” Nick asked.

“No, but my grandma might. She’s really into voodoo.”

“Will you take me to see her?”

“Sure, we can go now. No one really comes in here on Tuesdays,” Marie said. “You’ll have to drive me. I don’t own a car.”
“I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes, okay?” Nick asked.

“Sure.” Marie said, starting for the door.

Nick quickly located Michaels and said, “I need your car.”

“No.”

“Look, I promise I’ll take good care of it. My source is waiting out front and she’ll really only talk to me. Please?” Nick pleaded.

“His source,” Michaels mumbled. “He’s been in town two days and he’s already got sources.” He tossed Nick the keys.

“I’ll be back in a little while.”

He followed Marie’s directions to a small cabin on the outskirts of town. They parked and walked up the high porch to the old, rundown door. Marie knocked. “It’s open,” came a gravely voice.

“Grandma Lucia? It’s me, Marie. I’ve brought someone to see you,” Marie called, entering the house. Her grandmother was sitting on the back porch, slowly rocking in her rocking chair. “This is Nick,” Marie said. “He wants to ask you about your friends.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mallant,” Nick said holding out his hand.

The woman clasped it. “Call me Mama Lucia, please. What do you want to ask me, child?” she asked, still holding his hand.

“Do you know anyone who can make zombies?”

The woman snatched her hand away. “What?” she gasped.

“Zombies? Is there anyone you know of who can make dead people live?”

The woman glanced away. “No,”

Nick could tell that she was lying. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, now get out!” she yelled.

“Grandma! There’s no need to be rude.” She looked at Nick. “You’ve upset her, you had better go. I’ll stay with her until she calms down.”

Nick headed for the door, but Lucia grabbed his hand. “Stay away or you’ll die. Hear me?” she said.

Marie pulled her grandmother’s hand away and Nick left.

When Nick got back to the airport, Michaels rushed up. “How’d it go?” he demanded.

“Not very well. Let’s go find Don.” They drove down town to the library. It was in a large stone building in the heart of the city.

“What’d you find out?” Nick asked Don when they found him buried behind a stack of books at one of the tables.

Don rifled through his notes. “Zombies can only be stopped by their master’s magic.”

“So we have to find the person who made them?”

“Or someone who learned magic from them. What I can’t figure out is why those zombies let us go,” Don said.

Nick pondered this for a moment, fingering his gris-gris bag. “That’s it!” Nick exclaimed, suddenly.

“What?” Don asked.

“It’s gotta be Lucia Mallant,” Nick said, excited.

“Who?” Don asked.

“Marie’s grandmother,” Nick explained.
“Who’s Marie?” Michaels asked.

“My source,” Nick replied. “Her grandmother is an expert on voodoo and Marie’s gris-gris bag stopped the zombies because–”

“She learned magic from her grandmother,” Don finished.

“Exactly!” Nick said, growing more excited.

“Where is she now?” Michaels asked.

“I left Marie at her Grandmother’s house.”
“Then she may be in danger,” Michaels exclaimed. “Give me directions to that house.”

On the way, Nick booted up his laptop. “All of the crimes occurred within three miles of Lucia’s house,” he said reviewing his chart. “This is strange. All of the bodies stolen were recently deceased, except three. I wonder why.”

“She probably just picked at random,” Don answered.

“Maybe,” Nick said, not quite accepting that answer.

“What the–” Michaels came to a halt suddenly. Nick looked up; there was a swarm of people blocking the driveway. They didn’t move as the car approached, not even as Michaels honked the horn. “What is this?” Michaels demanded.

“I’m guessing Lucia’s zombies,” Don said.

“Come on,” Nick said, opening his door. They abandoned the car and made their way warily through the motionless crowd.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Don asked.

“Organizing an army,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

Michaels drew his gun. “How do we stop her?”

“You can only stop her by killing her,” Nick said.

“Are you sure?” Don asked. “I thought I read that–”

“I’m sure!” Nick interrupted, angrily.

“Alright, alright, sorry!” Don said. As they approached, Nick caught sight of Marie standing on the porch in front of the zombies. In one hand, she held a pouch high above her head. Lucia appeared from the woods leading another swarm of zombies. These were older and decayed.

“She’s bringing more. Shoot her now, Michaels,” Nick said

Michaels raised his gun, but faltered. “Are you sure–” Nick suddenly belted him in the mouth and grabbed the gun. He aimed it at Lucia. By then, both women had turned to watch him.

“That’s right, Nick, kill her. End this!” Marie called, still holding the charm up.

“No! You are being controlled,” Lucia yelled.

Realization struck Don and he quickly grabbed the gris-gris from Nick’s neck and tossed it into the woods. Nick lowered the gun, shaking off the spell. Michaels grabbed it from Nick’s hand, but faltered not sure who to aim at. “What is going on here!?!” he demanded.

“She has been changing living people into zombies,” Lucia said. “I only raised mine to stop her. I sent them to the cemetery to warn him,” she pointed to Nick, “but when they saw the gris-gris, they knew it was too late. He was already under her power. Just like the bag in her hand gives her control over these poor souls.”

“I can fix that,” Michaels said, turning the gun on Marie and firing. The bullet punctured the bag she held and scattered its contents.

“No!” Nick, Lucia, and Marie yelled simultaneously.

“The zombies are out of control now,” Nick exclaimed.

The closest zombies whirled and started toward Nick, Don, and Detective Michaels. Others went for Lucia and more headed towards Marie. Lucia motioned her zombies forward to fend off the others. “The gris-gris, where is it?” she yelled to Nick.

Nick looked to Don who threw up his hands. “I chucked it in the woods!” He jumped out of the way as two zombies lunged for him. Nick ducked past the nearest zombie and sprinted off in the direction Don had thrown the gris-gris. Most of Marie’s zombies were now occupied fighting Lucia’s.

Nick knelt in the brush and felt around with his hands, but jumped back as a rotting corpse lumbered up next to him. He relaxed a little when he realized that it was one of Lucia’s. Two more joined in the search. One was so old that it was almost all bone with only a few patches of stringy muscle hanging off in places. The second zombie had one eye hanging down on its cheek, the other was missing altogether. Nick swallowed and knelt down next to one of the creatures. It ignored him and kept searching.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Don and Nick looked up to see Marie overtaken by a mob of her own zombies. One of the zombies approached Nick. It held out a rotting hand containing the gris-gris pouch. Nick grabbed it and hurried to Lucia. “We must spread it over the zombies,” Lucia said as he handed it to her. “It will release the spell on them.” She dumped a pile into his hands and took the rest herself.

“Nick!” Don’s yell drew Nick’s attention as two zombies dragged Don down. Nick raced over and tossed some of the gris-gris over the zombies holding Don. They immediately fell to the ground. Nick gave some of the gris-gris to Don, and then headed into the crowd, scattering gris-gris as he went. He accidentally sprinkled some on one of Lucia’s. Instead of falling, the creature dissolved into a steaming pile of green goo. Nick gagged but continued on.

He caught a glimpse of someone on the roof and looked up. Lucia was standing on top of the house, chanting. A breeze kicked up, unexpectedly. Lucia emptied the gris-gris pouch over the clearing below. The breeze seemed almost alive as it spread the gris-gris over every zombie.

“She was using an old potion to enslave living people,” Lucia explained. “Her own gris-gris released them because of the intent with which she made it.” The officer taking her statement just nodded and walked away. The police had transported all of the unconscious people to the hospital and had taken samples of the green goo for analysis. Marie was missing and presumed dead.

End