Treasure of the Dead

Chapter 16

“I think this is it.” Maddock put the old Jeep in park and looked up at the house.

“This is it?” Bones eyed the humble abode with disbelief.

Maddock nodded while pointing a finger. “She said, ‘three houses down on the right side after you turn on to the dirt road off De La Republique.’”

Willis nodded from the back seat. “This should be it. Let’s check it out.”

The three ex-Navy men got out of the vehicle and walked across the road past a few roosters over to the property. Somewhere on the street they could hear a baby crying and a dog barking, but other than that there didn’t seem to be a lot of activity. A crude fence made of corrugated sheet metal surrounded the lot, but there was a section removed for a gateway. The yard wasn’t landscaped, but looked nice enough with a few natural palm trees and flowering shrubs.

They mounted a shaded porch area in front and Maddock knocked at the screen door leading into the dark dwelling. He called out, “Hello? Ms. Beaublanc? Are you there?”

Fabi had given them the name of Roseline Beaublanc, a longtime local friend who was knowledgeable about Haitian folklore. While they waited for a response, Bones leaned in to examine an animal skull of some kind sitting atop a rusty 55-gallon drum. He was about to remark on it when they heard the sound of jingling bells approaching the door.

A heavyset, middle aged woman filled the doorway. She smiled, her teeth and skin almost the same shade of yellowish-brown. Her watery gaze quickly travelled from Maddock to Willis, where it lingered for an extra second or two, to Bones, who turned away from the skull and smiled sheepishly.

“A goat,” the woman said, now opening the screen door. “Was one of my favorite milkers. You must be the friends Fabi told me about. I am Roseline Beaublanc. You can call me Rose. Please do come in.”

They filed through the door into the house, which, as far as Maddock could tell, did not have electricity, but once they were inside and walked to the right, he could see that the back of the shack was open to a rear porch area which let light inside. A few candles and pungent incense also burned in the living area, where a couch sat against one wall with a simple table in front of it. Rose indicated it and asked them to please have a seat. They did, Bones and Willis scuffling momentarily over who would get the middle spot, with Willis winning that battle.

Rose sat in an overstuffed recliner to the side of the couch. While she seated herself, Maddock marveled at some of the interesting knick-knacks she had on display in the home. Besides a number of paintings of saints, there were lots of natural items — feathers hanging from the wall, seashells on shelves, a turtle shell being used as a bowl on a table… Musical instruments, too — an acoustic guitar hung on the wall, an assortment of hand drums lay about. In one corner an altar of sorts occupied a table, with a sculpture of a saint and various bottles filled with liquids whose contents Maddock could only guess at. There was too much to take in before Rose began the conversation.

“My dear friend Fabi tells me you three are interested in learning about some of our Haitian religion, folklore and spirits, yes?”

Bones and Willis exchanged glances. “Spirits?” Bones blurted.

“Not the kind you drink, sweetheart.”

Bones nodded and Rose went on. “You will find a number of religions and spiritual practices in Haiti. I myself am a practitioner of Vodou, meaning that I am what you would call a spirit servant. I give a voice to those who no longer have one.”

Bones’ eyes widened while Willis sat openly slackjawed.

“Wait a minute,” Bones said. “You mean, voodoo is real?”

Rose smiled at him. “Vodou is as real as you or me. As real as the Earth itself. What we cannot see is still there, friends. You need only to learn how to call it.”

“Can you make me a little doll of this guy?” Bones indicated Willis, then stabbed at his palm with his pointer finger. Maddock gave him a disapproving stare, but Rose seemed unfazed by the question.

“The power of vodou is real, but you must not take it lightly.” She gave him a stern look for a moment but then transformed it into a warm smile. “I know you are good people. I can feel it.”

Bones nodded. “Thanks. So what about zombii? Are they as real as vodou?”

Rose stayed quiet for a moment, her warm look transforming back into a hard stare. “Zombii are not, and never have been, a part of vodou.”

It didn’t escape any of them that she hadn’t answered the second part of Bones’ question. Maddock focused the line of inquiry by asking Rose if she could tell them anything else about zombii. “Perhaps the source of the legends, if the legends are more common to one part of the island than others…” Maddock trailed off suggestively, and she took the bait, raising a finger.

“I will tell you about it. Zombii, as well as your vodou dolls…” She paused to look right at Bones, who actually flinched under her gaze. “… are conjured by those we call ‘bokor’. You might call them sorcerers. But never by vodou priests, because only someone very, very evil will intentionally create a zombii.”

Maddock looked to Bones and Willis. Neither of them seemed to have anything to add, so he thanked the vodou priestess for her time. They got up to leave but she waved them back down.

“I have more to tell you, but first I would like to read your future. Will you let me do that?”

Willis shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but that just ain’t my thing.”

Rose gave him a long, level look. “You may go, then.” She held her arm out, palm up, toward the porch. “Besides,” she said, turning to Maddock and Bones. “It is these two whose souls are troubled.”

“I’ll wait outside, guys.” Willis left the abode and then Maddock and Bones sat back down on the couch. Rose pulled her chair over so that she sat directly in front of them.

“Take my hands.” Maddock held one and Bones the other. Then Rose took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to chant softly. Maddock was less than comfortable with the scenario, but the woman had helped him and so he didn’t want to be a spoil sport. He looked briefly over at Bones, who seemed to go right along with it, closing his eyes and relaxing.

Maddock forced himself to do the same, but soon he felt a cool breeze and opened his eyes in time to see the candles flicker. Rose was swaying back and forth, eyes closed, trance-like. After a time, the priestess released their hands and picked up a wooden bowl. She shook it gently and Maddock swore he could feel her whispered chant and the rattling of the bowl washing over him.

Rose dumped the contents of the bowl onto the table, spilling chicken bones, shells, and pebbles onto the rough surface. She gazed at them through glassy eyes until Maddock and Bones exchange puzzled glances. Had she gone into some kind of psychotic trance? What if she didn’t snap out of it? Just as Maddock was about to express these very concerns, her head snapped up, her eyes clear.

Rose turned first to Bones. “The man is not lost; he is trapped. Release him.”

Then she faced Maddock. “Tragedy waits at the end of every path. Harden your heart but do not turn to stone.” Then she lowered her head as if in prayer.

After a long silence, Maddock cleared his throat. “Thank you for that, Rose. You said there was more you had to tell us about zombii.”

She slowly raised her head, a smile that Bones would later describe as “creepy, dude” spreading across her face.

“Yes, there is only one more thing. Before you called the zombii a legend. That is wrong. They are very real.”