Memoirs Of Murder: A prequel to the 1932 classic, White Zombie by Brad A. Braddock

Author:Brad A. Braddock [Braddock, Brad A.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: ARCANE SHADOWS PRESS
Published: 2019-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

WEDDING DAY

The next morning, while Mergena was preparing for our wedding, I decided to check on things at my mill. My zombies perfectly continued their mindless labor, and as they did, I set a platter filled with bread and cheese for them in the water room. I took a stance on the second floor to overlook my men and then telepathically told them that food was laid out.

After doing that, I made my way out the front door. Locking it behind me, I turned to see three Haitian women approaching me.

“Sir,” they called out.

I turned to meet them, not to greet them. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

They looked at each other rather somber and then turned back to me and asked, “Where are our husbands?”

I chuckled, “How am I to know the answer to your question? I’m not the one they come home to at night.”

The short woman to my left spoke first. She was an attractive young woman, with ebony flesh and short-cropped hair. Her dark brown eyes stared into mine, piercing me like two sharp blades. “My husband’s name is Heddou Marco. He is very thin and very tall. Do you know of him?”

My head nod indicated that I knew the man she spoke of, though not by name, “Yes, your husband is a very mannered man. However, that does not change the fact that I do not know where he is.” I paused for a moment as if I was thinking about him, “Ah, yes,” I continued, as if suddenly remembering, “He left with a few other men last evening when their shift had ended. Actually, I was expecting them back this morning to continue with their work, but they never showed and their absence has caused me to be shorthanded.” I studied the women with a look of concern on my face and worry in my eyes, “My God, I hope these men are all right.”

The women in the center spoke next. She was a fat, ugly woman, “I want to talk to Silver,” she demanded. Her tone of voice told me that she felt I wasn’t telling the truth.

That angered me and it reflected in my tone, “Silver no longer works here, he has retired.”

“Retired?” she questioned, “Silver always said that he was never going to retire.”

“Well, he did. And as for your husbands, I’m truly sorry but I have no idea where they are. All I know is that their absence has left me in a bind. If they return, they will be reprimanded for their actions. And if it ever happens again, they will be fired,” I said.”

The last of the women squinted her eyes; she was tall, lanky and plain. A scowl grew on her face as she said, “I don’t trust you. Look at his eyes.” She pointed her index finger at my face and said, “They’re the eyes of the devil.”

My inner outrage was continuing to grow wilder and my thoughts went to Ledot. In the catacombs, his eyes opened and he walked out of the shadows to the foot of the steps.

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