Treasure of the Dead

Chapter 24

An old man hobbled around the corner. Maddock, after checking his hands to see that they were free of weapons, signaled Bones to stand down. Bones exhaled heavily and sheathed his knife.

The man, a local Haitian by the look of him, merely nodded and set about continuing on his way, giving the two Americans a wide berth. Maddock watched him walk for a few seconds but then decided he might know something about this place that could help them.

“Excuse me, sir?” He didn’t know if the man spoke English, but it was worth a try.

The elderly person shuffled to a stop and slowly turned around, shaking his head. “Leave me be. I got nothing you want.”

Maddock held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, please. We’re not going to hurt you. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about this place…” He swept an arm up at Fort de Rocher, then decided he better follow up quick with something specific to engage the man.

“We’re looking into some of the legends that have been told about this island, the fort.”

The man’s look softened somewhat. “There are many legends.”

Bones, who had been looking more and more impatient, blurted out, “What about zombii?”

The old man moved to a lichen-covered rock and sat down. “I tell you what. There have always been instances of zombii, and not only humans. Animal zombii, too. But at some point in the last ten years they all disappeared. The human ones, anyway.”

Bones sat on the ground cross-legged in front of the man so as to be eye-to-eye. “Why did they disappear?”

The longtime local shrugged. “Folks disappear all the time. Tortuga is and has always been a hub for illegal migration, so it's expected that people will come and go, and sometimes disappear.”

To Maddock, the answer seemed too simple. “Could anything else have affected it? Any other changes?”

Again, the local shook his head. “No. The only thing that was different at all was that people came in and started exporting lots of a particular local plant, a kind of fern — very primitive — that releases spores that appear to have some medicinal effect.”

Bones smirked, and the old man went on. “Not long after that began, airplanes started crop-dusting regularly. Weekly at first, then monthly, until now it's twice a year. Some people take ill after the crop dusters pass by, and the government has been petitioned for answers, but they always deny they are behind it. They say they have launched an investigation, but nothing ever comes of it.”

Maddock nodded, then shifted tack. “What about a legend of a lost shipwreck treasure, or a lost Spanish sailor?”

The old local cackled with gusto. “This island of Tortuga was a hotbed for piracy.” He threw his hands up in the air. “One legend is much like another and ships wreck all the time.”

Maddock tried a few more questions but it was clear the old man had already offered what he knew, and so they thanked him and asked him if he needed any assistance.

“I’ll be fine,” the oldster said as he pushed himself onto his feet from the rock. “But you boys… .” His eyes took on a faraway look, as though seeing something related to their future. “You boys be careful.”