A Woman of the Swamp 2-1 [2 of 2]

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“Before we get there, you’re here to help us stop a rogue necromancer.” Shirley passed Nick a packed manilla folder. “They’ve been going by the name Red Death.”

            “Dark arts users and their clever fucking names.” Nick took the folder and leafed through it. The first page showed a map covered in small dots with dates above them. “Let me guess, these represent corpses that have turned up where they’re not supposed to be.”

            Shirley’s eyebrows raised. “Yes, they are. Over the past few months, we’ve been seeing a rash of John and Jane Does winding up miles from their grave sites.”

            Nick nodded. “A hallmark of someone in the first stages of necromancy, but usually nothing to be concerned about.”

“Nothing to be concerned about?”

Nick shrugged. “There are plenty of people with a passing interest in the dark arts that never do anything truly dangerous. Have you considered this person might just be going through a phase?” He knew that if they had called him in, it wasn’t a phase, but any chance he could end the job early and go home was worth a shot.

“Unfortunately, no. Turn to the next page.”

Nick flipped through and tried not to gag. The next page was a high-quality image of what looked to be a massive yarn ball of corpses, rotting in the midday sun. “Oh, good, they’ve moved on to abominations. Where did you find this one?”

“Just on the outskirts of New Orleans.”

Nick nodded. “Lucky that didn’t get near any population centers. Undead on their own are only dangerous if they can bite people, but an abomination…”

“Is something else entirely, believe me, I know. That’s when we got called in. The rise in corpses getting out of their graves is concerning, but whoever’s bringing them back is getting bolder. That picture is from a few days ago. Ordinarily, one zombie isn’t something we’d call a professional about.” She hitched on the word ‘professional’, struggling to say it without smirking.

“Oh, come on, Shirley, is it that bad to be working together again? I hate The Sixth Side, but I think we do well together.”

“Last time, I ended up watching a prominent television personality disemboweled atop a frigid mountain and nearly died in an avalanche.”

“You make it sound like it wasn’t any fun at all.” Nick smiled at the memory. Despite the death, dismemberment, and other inconveniences, it had been a damned good adventure. “Did you ever stop to think about the irony that an ex-tabloid reporter is now a government agent and is probably one of the few people to have actually seen Big Foot?”

Shirley’s resolve broke and genuine joy spread across her face.

Nick nodded. “You don’t need to say anything. Just checking to make sure you’re still human under there.” He continued to flip through the file. There were a few break-ins at notable voodoo shops and places of power, followed by a bizarre arrest. “Let me guess, we’re flying in to cover this up?”

“To stop a dangerous necromancer,” corrected Shirley.

Nick wasn’t taking it for an answer. “And then cover it up?”

Shirley sighed. “When the alternative is an entire city suddenly concerned about zombies and an outbreak of the living dead, you bet a cover-up is our top priority. Do you have any idea what happens when people get word of shit like this?”

            “Jonestown,” commented Nick.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Jonestown, the suicide cult. Leader saw too much decided to protect his followers from the worst of it. People think he was cracked out of his mind on LSD, but the reality is he saw the work of someone exactly like this.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. He never liked necromancers, or necromancy for that matter. “Don’t get me wrong, the guy was still a sociopath and a bit of a prick. Situations like this add fuel to the fire for people who are already on the edge.” Nick sighed. “I really can’t stand necromancers.”

            “Ironic given your traveling companion, don’t you think.”

            Nick let out a small laugh. “James? That’s not necromancy. If you steal someone from the Land of the Dead fair and square, I’m all for it, but so far as I know, we’re the only ones that have done that. James is alive and well. Whatever this ‘Red Death’ is raising has only a shell of what it means to be human.”

            “Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

            “About condemning necromancy? Sure. But here’s what I’m trying to figure out. What exactly do you want me to do about it?”

            Shirley shrugged. “You’re one of the few people with contacts in the community.”

            “Contacts? You mean Martin? I don’t think he’s going to give me a good reference. The last time we spoke, it was seconds after I had thrown him into a fighting pit against his own creations. Friendships aren’t really mended after something like that.”

            “Well, you’re going to have to try.”

            “I’m pretty sure he’s no longer with us.” Nick hadn’t stayed around to watch the aftermath of the fighting pit, but Martin had never been one for displays of physical strength.

            “What if I told you he’s operating out of New Orleans?”

            “I’d tell you turn the plane around and drop me back in Midway.”

            At that moment, James and Lopsang walked through a curtain from the front of the plane. Both had rosy cheeks and were clutching tumblers full of brown liquid.

            “Oh good, he’s awake.” James swirled the glass in his right hand, sliding the ice around the glass edge. “Didn’t we agree on no more witch’s brew after last week?”

“Witch’s brew.” He groaned. “Now this makes sense.” Witch’s brew was a powerful drink that completely sobered the mind but neglected the body in the process. It was a wonderful feat of chemical engineering, and a horrible blight for those who drank it at the end of a night. Nick looked into James’s eyes, still amazed that the kid was there at all. They had been back from the Land of the Dead almost a full year, but the novelty hadn’t worn off.

“He’s doing the thing again.” James took a drink.

Nick cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Screw off kid, I’m just making eyes at your drink.” To cement the statement, Nick made a futile grab for it.

James pulled the drink back.

            “How’s he taking it?” asked Lopsang, mercifully changing the subject. He popped open a bag of mixed nuts and started eating noisily. After losing his immortality, Lopsang had started to really experience food for the first time. Before, he had never understood hunger, and now, the new sensation resulted in constant snacking. His newfound love for food had been a small solace in an otherwise painful year. Dark circles ringed his eyes, resulting from a mix of learning to sleep right and drinking heavily to forget the deal he had made with an undead king.

            Shirley shrugged. “Nick told me to turn the plane around.”

            “Wait, you two already know? And to think I keep you both on the payroll.”

            “Payroll is a very loose term when we haven’t had a good job in months.”  Lopsang popped another nut in his mouth. “At least this way we’re getting fed consistently.”

For the past year, the three of them had been sharing a two-bedroom apartment in Midway and even that had been the result of heavy coercion on the part of James and Lopsang.  Nick had quite liked keeping the two-bedroom for himself. Rent control meant it stayed at the same affordable price it had always been. Sure, the landlord had tried to kill them multiple times to keep them from renewing the lease, but that was just realty. Now, the small apartment felt overcrowded.

Nick sighed. “I’ve been doing my best.” It was partially true. Under normal circumstances, he would have sat in his apartment waiting for business to come to them, but recently, he’d taken to asking any and every drunk for work. Nick wanted his peace and quiet back. Drowning his past mistakes at the bottom of a bottle wasn’t the same when there were two others doing the same or staring judgmentally from a corner.

            “Trying his best.” James laughed. “And yet somehow you still passed out for the pre-mission briefing.” The ice cubes in his drink clacked together as the plane hit a patch of rough air.    

            Nick seized the opportunity and lunged for it again.

            Despite being recently dead, James’s reflexes were still sharp. He pulled the cup back, sloshing the drink violently. “Ah, ah, ah.” He waggled a boozy finger at Nick. Precious brown liquid dripped from the bottom of the glass onto the carpet. “This is for people who listen to the nice lady that’s keeping us off the streets. I know you hate government contracts, but the money is good. The advance already cleared.”

            Lopsang tilted the remainder of the bag of nuts into his mouth and crunched them loudly. “Perks aren’t bad either,” he said, not bothering to finish chewing.

            “And to think you get on me for being a miserable drunk.” Nick turned his attention back to Shirley. “Fine, let’s skip to the end then. So, Martin is in New Orleans, we’ve got a rogue necromancer, and you think he’s going to know something about it.”

            “Yes, now, we’re wheels on the ground in twenty, so I suggest you get yourself ready.”

            “Ready for what? Ready better involve a few drinks from the aforementioned bar.”

            “Password is 1,2,3,4.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me. To think I listened to a briefing for this. Now, what am I getting ready for?” He had the sinking feeling that whatever they were doing was going to be unpleasant. Shirley’s nervous glance to the others confirmed it.

            James saved him the trouble. “We’re going to a fight club!” He jumped for joy, forgetting the plane’s low ceiling. A crack filled the cabin as James’s head collided with a plastic overhead luggage container. The rest of his drink spilled on the floor.

            Nick shook his head. “Apprentices, they can’t hold their liquor. Now, what kind of fight club?”

            No one replied.

            Nick’s heart sunk. “No.” Despite his best effort, a pleading note crept into the rejection.

Lopsang finished his drink.

Shirley stood up to leave.

James winced at the pain in his head.

Nick’s stomach turned. “What kind of fight club?!”