New Orleans Run

Chapter Eight

“What in the world is voo-boo?” Lynx asked.

“It’s voodoo, dummy. A religion to many people, a religion laced with sorcery, a religion where powerful spirit forces control the lives of everyday people,” Eleanore detailed. “There’s good voodoo and there’s bad voodoo, and by bad voodoo I mean the dark side where black magic is practiced.”

Lynx considered her words for a few seconds. “So this Black Snake Society is a voodoo cult?”

Eleanore nodded. “From what I’ve learned, the Black Snake Society got its start many years ago, way before the war. It was just one of several secret voodoo societies in the United States, based right here in New Orleans. After the world almost came to an end, after the government fell apart, the Black Snake Society grew stronger and stronger. Then, when Damballah appeared, they were able to take control of this whole region.”

“Hold it. Are you tellin’ me their snake god actually appeared to them?

Showed up as flesh and blood?”

“Yep. Damballah disposed of all their enemies for them, one by one, and before too long the Black Snake Society ruled the entire city.”

“And people have actually seen this snake god?” Lynx inquired in disbelief.

“Quite a few. Just the other night I was talking to a man who saw it.”

“Amazing,” was all Lynx could think to say. He headed for the trees again, pulling her along. “Wait until Blade hears this.”

“Who’s this Blade?”

“A pal of mine. We’re here to close the Black Snake Society down.”

“Then we’re on the same side!”

“We are if you’re tellin’ the truth.”

Eleanore tried to stop but he yanked her forward. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“There’s always that possibility.”

“But I’ve been perfectly honest with you.”

The hybrid glanced at her. “How do I know that? Until I have more proof, I’m treatin’ you like I would any bimbo who might haul off and stab me in the back.”

“Will you please stop calling me that?”

Lynx smirked. “Why not? I’m gettin’ tired of you nagging me.” He stared thoughtfully at her. “If you want to earn my trust, you can start by tellin’ me why you were traipsing around in the middle of a friggin’ swamp.”

“I’ve been sneaking around for almost two days trying to evade being captured by the tonton macoute. The night before last I came out here with another member of the Resistance, a guy named Jerry Price. We were bringing supplies to Adrien Dessalines, our radio operator.”

“The Resistance has a radio?” Lynx asked innocently to elicit more information.

“Yep. A shortwave radio.” Eleanore frowned. “At least we did have one.

Somehow the Baron found out about our operation. He was waiting for us with a bunch of his goons. Jerry drew his knife and tried to stab Laveau, but the tonton macoutes were all over him like barracuda on a minnow, they pinned him down and disarmed him, then held him down while the Baron kicked him a few times just for the hell of it.”

A strange scent reached Lynx and he sniffed the air in an attempt to identify the source. Distracted, he covered ten yards before the significance of her statements occurred to him. He regarded her suspiciously, then faced front to avoid alerting her. “How is it that you managed to get away?” he casually asked.

“I was just lucky, I guess. Two of the tonton macoutes grabbed me, but when Jerry pulled his survival knife they let me go and pounced on him.

None of them paid any attention to me while they were fighting Jerry, so I took advantage of it and ran.”

“And you were able to elude them. My compliments.”

Eleanore detected a slight tinge of sarcasm in his tone, which puzzled her. “It wasn’t easy. They took off after me. Thank God it was night. In broad daylight they would have easily caught me. As it was, I just barely escaped them.”

“Lucky you.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, I hid in this thicket until they called off the search and went back to the cabin where Adrien had been doing his broadcasting. I snuck to within twenty yards of the front door and saw the Baron and some of his goons taking Jerry, Adrien, and the shortwave.”

“They didn’t keep hunting you?”

“I was surprised too. I guess the Baron didn’t figure I was much of a threat. Maybe he figured hunger would make me give up. I haven’t eaten since. Besides, they posted guards at the boats, and there’s no way anyone can make it through the bayou without one. There’s too many gators and snakes and other things. Horrible things.”

Lynx walked in silence for the next 30 feet, contemplating her disclosure and striving to decide whether he could count her as an ally or an enemy. Although she sounded sincere, any accomplished liar could do so and maintain a straight face. Personally, he wanted to believe her. But her story contained a few glaring inconsistencies. For instance, how likely was it that the tonton whatever-they-were would up and release her when there must have been enough of them on hand to deal with the other members of the Resistance? And how feasible was her assertion that she had eluded her pursuers when she’d had maybe 60 seconds head start at the most? Another objection presented itself. “How did the Baron know about the cabin?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Sounds to me like he knew all about your shortwave and set a neat little trap.”

“That’s the way I read it.”

“And you have no idea how he knew?”

Eleanore glanced at the hybrid. “I told you I don’t. Why do you keep asking?”

“No reason.”

“Liar. You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Again the peculiar odor tantalized Lynx’s nostrils, and he cocked his head, his nose flaring, stumped. What in the world was it? He vaguely recalled having encountered such a scent before.

“Is something wrong?” Eleanore asked, gazing nervously at the forest.

“No.”

“Then why were you smelling the air like that?”

“I like to exercise my nose once an hour whether it needs the workout or not.”

“Come on. Be honest with me.”

“Why should I buck the trend?”

Eleanore clenched her fists, then nodded to herself. “I knew you didn’t believe me. Well, screw you. I’m not telling you another damn thing.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll do my best to survive the shock.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a smart-ass?”

“Nope. No one.”

“There you go lying again. How does your wife put up with you? She must have the patience of a saint.” Lynx abruptly halted and turned.

“Keep your mouth off of my squeeze, lady. She’s got more brass than any ten broads I know.”

The fiery passion in the hybrid’s eyes subdued Eleanore’s anger.

“Sorry,” she blurted out. “I wasn’t trying to insult your woman.”

“You’d better not,” Lynx warned, and resumed hiking to the west. “And technically speaking, she’s not exactly a woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Melody is a hybrid like me. We were bred in test tubes by sons of bitches who were tryin’ to play God.”

“I never heard of such a thing. What’s a test tube?”

“A little glass container shaped like your finger.”

“Are you putting me on?”

“Look at me, stupid. Do you think I hatched from an egg? Or came from Mars?”

“I know you didn’t come from Mars,” Eleanore stated.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I talked to an oldster once who told me all about this book that his grandfather had told him about. It was all about the war between Earth and Mars.”

Lynx stopped again, his brow creased in confusion. “What are you babbling about?”

“So you don’t know everything, huh? I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the war. It took place a couple of hundred years ago. Started in a country called England.”

“Mars and the Earth never fought a war, you dingbat.”

“Says you. I prefer to believe the oldster. He supplied all the details he remembered. How the Martians came to Earth in these cylinders that resembled meteors, and how they landed in England and wiped out thousands of people with their death rays. They built these huge machines and roamed the land wiping out the population. According to the old man, the Martians nearly ruled the world.”

“Do you expect me to buy this fairy tale of yours?”

“I didn’t invent the story. The old man heard the details from his grandfather,” Eleanore reiterated.

“The old man must have been stoned out of his gourd.”

“He was sober.”

“Idiot,” Lynx muttered, and kept going.

“Listen to the history expert. How many books on history have you read?”

“None, but—” Lynx began.

“Then how do you know it’s not the truth?”

“If it was, you’d think more folks would know about a war between us and some geeks from Mars. How come I haven’t heard about this great war before?”

“No one talks about it much anymore. Why should they? Everyone with half a brain knows it happened.”

“Bet me.”

“And they weren’t geeks from Mars. They were octopuses from Mars.”

“Octopuses!” Lynx exploded in exasperation, and inadvertently released her wrist. “You mean those things in the ocean with all the tentacles?”

“Yep.”

“Let me tell you something, sister. That old man saw you coming a mile off and decided to jerk your G-string. You almost had me believing you until now. Octopuses from Mars!” Lynx snorted contemptuously, grabbed her arm, and stalked in the direction of the treeline.

“Check with somebody else if you don’t believe me.”

“If you think I’m going to waltz up to someone else and ask them if this planet was ever invaded by a bunch of geek octopuses from Mars, you’re crazy.”

“Find the book. Then you’ll know I told you the truth.”

Lynx thought of the enormous Family library with its hundreds of thousands of volumes stocked by the Founder of the Home, Kurt Carpenter, and speculated on whether the book she mentioned might be included. Carpenter had accumulated half a million books, shelf after shelf of reference books, history books, geography books, books on military tactics, books on gardening, hunting, and fishing. Blade had told Lynx that the library contained the greatest collection in existence, including all the classics, humorous books, scientific tomes, photographic volumes, and many, many more. He had taken the giant’s word for it. Lynx wasn’t much of a reader, primarily because he could seldom sit still long enough to finish an entire book.

“And here I thought you were Mr. Know-It-All,” Eleanore remarked scornfully.

“Not that I believe your garbage for a second, but you’ve got me curious. Whatever happened to all these invader octopuses? There’s none around now.”

“They were all killed off by germs.”

“Great. Here we go again.”

“I’m serious. Do you know how when you have a cold and you cough, you spread all these tiny germs in the air?”

“I know you’ve got a germ for a brain.”

“Look do you want to know the answer or not?”

Lynx sighed. “Sure. Why not? I’ve listened to this much B.S. Why not give me the rest of it?”

“Okay. The old man told me that the germs in our atmosphere killed the Martians because they don’t have the same kind of germs on their planet as we do on ours. So germs that would just affect you and me with a sore throat or a runny nose will wipe out a Martian.”

“That’s some imagination you’ve got there, sweetcheeks. One of these days you should write a book of your own. Call it War of the Geeks.”

“What’s with you and geeks?” Eleanore asked, men did a double take.

“Hey. What did you just call me?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes you do. You called me sweetcheeks.”

“Don’t take it personally. I call chipmunks sweetcheeks, too,” Lynx told her. They were now 20 feet from the woods, and for the third time his sensitive nose registered the unknown scent. Only this time the odor sparked a memory. “Do you have pigs in Louisiana?”

“Wild pigs, you mean?”

“I smell pig,” Lynx declared. “I don’t know if it’s wild or tame.”

“There wouldn’t be any domestic pigs here,” Eleanore stated, and suddenly her visage reflected budding shock. “Oh, no!”

Lynx drew up short and glanced at her. “Oh no, what?”

“Boars . A lot of wild boars have spread across the bayous since the war.”

A flash of chilling insight electrified the hybrid, and he looked at the gloomy forest just as a 400-pound mass of primal fury hurtled from the undergrowth directly at them, its nine-inch upswept tusks glinting wickedly in the bright sunlight.