A Woman of the Swamp

2. Return to Congo Square

Marie didn’t sneak out, she simply walked through the suite’s main door and out into the hallway. Sometimes, actions carried out with an overwhelming air of normalcy go undetected, even if they are truly aberrant; a lesson Marie learned from her mother. It was the gift of invisibility without requiring a single drop of magic. She did not doubt that there would be Sixth Side goons after her in short order, but she didn’t need long. Marie stepped into the elevator and rode it to the bottom floor. As it dropped, so did the pit of her stomach.

Nick’s words echoed, unable to show their true meaning, but Marie felt their implication. It’s Ray. Nick had couched it with ‘never trust a vampire’, but it didn’t make a difference. Ray is Red Death. It made all the sense in the world and none at the same time. A final send-off from The Baron, not content with merely taking away her freedom.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime and Marie walked into the hotel’s lavish lobby. Chandeliers hung in a row down a wood-paneled hallway and the evening chatter of an expensive bar carried through the hotel. A group of men sitting on a bench looked up at her as she passed but made no motion to follow. Run-of-the-mill lechers. The words weren’t reassuring. Every pair of eyes felt like a telescope trained directly on her.

Miraculously, Marie walked out the glass double doors and into the humid night air of the city. She could see the lights of the French Quarter not too distant, laid out before her. She had no plan beyond leaving. Now, staring out at the city, there was only one logical place to go. Marie set off in the direction of Congo Square, trying to walk with mundanity. Either she managed, or no one cared to notice. She supposed without her cloak and staff, she looked just like anyone else headed out for an evening stroll.

Several times, she thought she saw someone duck into an alley, or a woman suddenly start reading a magazine, but paranoia took all types. For once, Marie stuck to Bourbon Street most of the way. The crowds were out in force, partying like there was no tomorrow. Never mind the fact that a ‘nerve agent’ had been released less than ten miles away. Walking through the bustling street reminded her of her first night with the staff so many years ago. So much had changed, and yet she felt mostly the same. The world had continued on without her.

Marie turned down the same street she escaped down three years earlier. The temptation to pass by the Museum of Voodoo was strong, but it felt like tempting fate. While her deal with The Baron was done, she had no doubt he would be hanging around to watch the chaos he sowed. The once-dark street bore new lamps, casting brighter halos that illuminated even the alcoves between buildings. Light threw the street into stark relief, revealing trash, broken bottles, and questionable puddles. Marie preferred the dark.

She exited the French Quarter and saw the gates to Louis Armstrong Park. It was after dark, but the gates still hung open. She watched a couple walk through them, looking for a quiet place to do something loud. Despite herself, Marie laughed. It was good to see reminders of normal human life. Years had passed since the last normal moment Marie enjoyed. The closest she had come was coffee with Nick and Shirley, but even that was marred with talk of world-ending necromancy. Normal is boring, she reminded herself, not feeling the sentiment behind the mantra.

Marie crossed the street and passed through the park’s gate. Across the ponds, she heard the giggling that preceded whatever plans the young couple had. She turned toward Congo Square and left them in peace. As she walked, Marie felt a deep yearning in her chest. She expected it to be for the staff but found it was for Ray.

Marie found her way to a bench beneath a sprawling oak that had been there since the 1800s. Its dark bows blotted out even the bright light of the moon, leaving her well and truly alone for the first time in years. “Oh, you old fool. Should have enjoyed the time you had with him and let it pass.” The words ended with a choked sob. Hindsight always left the past so clear. If what Nick said was true, where Ray ended up was her fault and her fault alone. Sweet, kind, Ray was now in possession of her staff and all tied up with The Baron.

Marie put her head in her hands and stared at the cobbled stones beneath her feet. The color went out of the world in a snap and cold air washed through her in a silent wave. Before she even looked up, Marie knew they would be there. She took a deep breath and raised her head to look out at the spirits. Even with the staff far away, they were still there, as they had always been, waiting for the right person to step between worlds. She could feel that even if she didn’t fully understand it.

Crowds of spirits milled about, speaking to each other in static whispers. Marie couldn’t catch a word of the conversation. The chatter was animated as if she had interrupted a good party. There were men, women, and children, all going about their daily business, whatever that was. Their clothes ranged from old to nearly modern. Spirits from across time were all bound to the square in some way or another. As the figures moved past each other, they created a macabre, misty swirl that painted the scene like an ethereal watercolor.

A woman in a headwrap stepped out of the crowd toward Marie and stared. Her lips were pursed in a look Marie knew all too well. It was a look her mother had given her over the kitchen table that conveyed both disappointment and barely concealed pride. Marie’s mother had always been a fan of mischief and it meant her punishments usually carried a tone of halfhearted approval.

“Hello.” Marie’s voice echoed and distorted, picking up static as it moved away from her.

The woman spoke, but no true words came through, only the emotion behind them. There was a sober realization in the sound. Without a single word, it conveyed the notion that everyone made mistakes and some were worse than others, but once they had been made, they became the will of the world.

The static feeling hit Marie in the chest with the strength of a boxer’s haymaker. She crumpled inward and felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “It’s all gone so wrong, and every step of the way, it gets worse.” She couldn’t put a finger on why she was speaking with the dead, only that it felt right.

The woman stepped forward and knelt in front of Marie. Her eyes came sharply into focus, glowing brightly white at the edges and swallowing light at the iris. They were kind eyes, full of understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness. She spoke again. This time, the quiet hum of what once was a word floated through the air, carrying resonance before it too died to static. Marie felt the woman’s love radiating through the air. It was unconditional and understood the exact degree to which Marie had made mistakes, and yet it was there.

Marie wept. Her body shook with remorseful sobs. In an instant, she was back in the square, watching the spirits tilt the officer’s gun. In the next, she saw the vampire ripping through flesh and bone at the top of The Old Ursuline Convent. Four walls closed around her forming a cell that she barely left for three years. The sound of her cellmate’s tennis ball bouncing off the wall repeatedly echoed through the years, keeping time. Then, she saw Ray, smiling as easy as he always had, but with a tight purple fire behind his eyes.

Color came back to the world in a flood and Marie jumped. Ray was indeed standing before her, staff in one hand, silver mask in the other. “Hey there, long time,” he said with a sad smile.

“What in the hell have you been up to?” she asked.

“Surviving. I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

The unreality of it all spun Marie’s head like a child’s top. The present, past, and imagined all converged together in a single oil canvas that bled realism. She tried not to focus on the purple fire just behind Ray’s eyes. The silver glinted off his mask, reflecting pinpricks of moonlight against the cobblestones. “What happened to you, Ray?”

A twinge of familiar annoyance crossed Ray’s face. “I should be asking you the same question. One minute I’m dying of cancer, the next you’ve got me drinking strange herbal remedies and I’m baffling every doctor in the greater New Orleans area.” He ran a hand across his chin. “Sneaking off all hours of the night, and then suddenly, one day I get a call that you’re not coming back because you’re being tried for murder.”

Marie recoiled at the genuine hurt in Ray’s voice. “I’m sorry, Ray. Look, I had nothing to do with killing—”

“I know, HE told me all about it.”

Marie’s heart dropped like a stone. She had suspicions, but the outright confirmation was too much. “When you say HE.”

“I mean The Baron. Me getting this staff was no accident.” He sighed heavily. “Much like you, I made a deal with the devil, and now I’m paying for it.” He winced as a line of purple fire briefly lanced across his face, revealing a patchwork of cracks in his skin.

“Ray, that staff is bad news. Throw it away, let’s get out of here and never come back.” Marie’s hand curled into a fist, wanting to take the staff for herself. The motion was involuntary, but Ray noticed it.

“Yes, he warned me you’d want it back.” He took a step back. A pang of regret flickered in his expression. He clutched the staff so tightly that his knuckles went white. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” His voice was softer again, returning to the Ray Marie had known all those years ago. “What were you thinking making a deal with The Baron?”

Tears welled behind Marie’s eyes and fire welled in her chest. “I was thinking I could save you, Ray!”

He looked into her eyes, the same way he always had. “But did you think of what it meant?”

Marie shook her head. “I assumed the consequences were bad.”

“Well isn’t that the understatement.” Another wave of purple fire coursed through Ray’s body, causing him to momentarily glow with thick cracks of light.” He grimaced and gripped the staff, steadying himself.

“What deal did you make with him?”

Ray smiled sadly. “I wanted to stay alive for you. I thought I could be there when you got back. The Baron explained what happened to you in the convent…”

“That he sold me out?”

“It’s kind of his bag, Marie. Even I knew that when I took the deal.” The staff jumped in Ray’s hand, raising to eye level. Fire burned in the skull’s vacant eyes. “Someone’s here. You were followed.”

“God damned Sixth Side goons.” Turns out run-of-the-mill paranoia had some truth to it after all.

“Who?”

“Big bad government.”

“Well, they’re here. We don’t have much time. I’ll cut to the chase, Marie. The Baron wants you to join us. He says if you do, he’ll count my contract as paid.”

Marie scoffed. “Join you? What exactly does he have in mind? Decimate the rest of New Orleans?”

“Nothing so bad as that.” A nervous tick crept at the corner of Ray’s mouth. “You’re going to have to raise a few more undead, sure, but this is all a publicity play. He just wants people to respect his power.”

“Then he’s going to step back into the shadows? I highly doubt it. No one gives up power once they have it. That weapon in your hand is living proof.”

Calling me a weapon, Marie? That hurts, echoed the dusty voice. She flinched.

“Oh, good, I’m not the only one it talks to.”

A green laser cut across the square, painting a small dot on Ray’s chest.

“Ray, down!” shouted Marie.

A shot fired and Ray turned reflexively toward the noise. The bullet struck his right side, sending a spray of blood onto the cobblestones.

“Oh, they really shouldn’t have done that,” hissed Ray, getting to his feet. He pointed the staff in the direction of the gunfire. Several more lasers cut across the square and came to bear on him. Ray grinned. “Abracadabra, friends.” In a smooth motion, he pulled the silver mask over his face and conjured a cloud of purple smoke that rolled across the square.

A cacophony of gunfire erupted from the trees.

Marie ducked beneath the bench and listened to the alternating sounds of rifle cracks and ricocheting bullets. The smoke was thick enough that she could barely see a few inches in front of her face.

“Man down!” yelled a stern military voice.

“Fan out, don’t fire unless you’ve got a positive ID.” The voice was Shirley’s. “You’re more likely to hit each other in the smoke than the target.”

The target, thought Marie bitterly.

A flash of orange fire illuminated the darkness and a man screamed. The sound of crackling flesh burning filled the courtyard, followed by a muted thump as a man hit the ground. Purple energy arched in lightning bolts through the gloom, seeking something beyond Marie’s vision. Screams, gunfire, and heavy footfalls filled the gloom. Marie kept her hands clapped over her head and tried to calm down. She needed to act but had to be smart about it.

The sound of shuffling footsteps caught her attention, rhythmic and slow. The dead aren’t staying dead. A bloody foot passed by close enough that she could make it out through the fog. The creature stopped moving and let out a long moan filled that gurgled into the night air. Marie felt around on her person and found nothing of use. She regretted not taking any weapons.

The corpse got awkwardly to its knees, nearly falling. It tilted its head down to look under the bench. The undead woman was in tactical armor and burn marks covered the better part of her face. Her jaw barely hung on, tied to her skull by charred bits of flesh in danger of rotting away at any second. Her eyes were white, pockmarked with burst veins, leaving bloody tears to run down her cheeks.

Marie took a deep breath, trying not to panic, and smelled only burnt flesh. Acting on instinct, she shuffled out from under her bench and got to her feet.

The zombie grunted and stood up, moving steadily around the bench toward her.

Marie balled up her fists. Don’t hit it in the mouth, or anywhere else sharp. Whatever kind of necromancy the staff spun up came with a fast infection time. There was no time for mistakes.

The zombie took a shambling step forward, picking up momentum. A barely audible groan escaped its throat, followed by the horrible sound of the creature’s gnashing teeth.

Marie was about to attack when she noticed the pistol still hanging from the woman’s belt. Small miracles. Without thinking, Marie leveled a kick at the creature’s midsection. It caught the woman in the chest, but unfortunately, her arms reflexively closed around Marie’s leg. Marie’s momentum carried her forward. The zombie fell, gripping her leg and pulling her to the ground.

Marie fell with a heavy thud, landing with one knee on the zombie’s chest. Bones broke beneath the impact, giving the creature’s sternum an unpleasant, squishy feeling. Her knee sagged through flesh and bone, crushing the organs beneath. The zombie moaned, not so much in pain as frustration. It gripped Marie’s leg firmly between its hands and tried to bite it

Marie punched it in the forehead without thinking, cracking the creature’s skull against the pavement. “Could you fuck off for a minute?” She reached with her free hand for the dead woman’s pistol. She fumbled with the clasp and pulled it free.

The creature was lifting its head for a second attempt when Marie swung the pistol around and shot it in the head. Immediately, the zombie’s arms fell slack, releasing her leg.

Marie sat, panting with her knee in the creature’s chest. What in the hell was happening? Even her attempt to find one normal minute in a chaotic world had apparently been too much. The sound of footsteps behind her broke Marie from her self-pity. She stood quickly, bringing the pistol to firing position.

“Marie, is that you?” asked Shirley, stepping out of the gloom. Her pistol was leveled and her fingers rested around the trigger.

Marie moved slowly. “Yes, it’s me.” She lowered the pistol and held her hands out at her sides. “Pretty sure we’ve got bigger problems than whatever bone you’ve got to pick right about now.”

Shirley crouched, listening for any other sounds. The square had gone deathly silent. “That your husband out there?” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Marie didn’t have time to think about her response. “Yes.” She supposed despite it all, Ray was still her husband.

“Alright, then I need you to tell me, whose side you’re on, and remember, I’m holding a gun.” Shirley’s voice was pained. She didn’t want to shoot Marie, but it was clear that she would if it came to it.

“I’m on the side of what’s right. That,” Marie pointed to the dead woman at her feet. “That isn’t right.”

On cue, the sound of shuffling footsteps approached them.

Marie shook the gun in her hand. “You going to let me use this?”

Shirley kept her pistol trained on Marie, but then reluctantly dropped it. “Only because I don’t have a choice. Stay tight, this fog limits visibility to a few feet.”

“No shit.”

A zombie in a full riot suit and helmet walked out of the fog, an assault rifle slung around its neck. The metal weapon banged against its knees with every shuffling step.

Without much thought, Marie raised her pistol and fired. The bullet grazed the edge of the zombie's helmet and ricocheted off the square.

“Going to have to try a little harder than that.” Shirley charged forward and put her foot into the creature’s chest. It toppled over backward, landing with a heavy thud on the cobblestone. Shirley followed her momentum forward and pulled the riot helmet’s face plate up. “Sorry about this, Jack.” She stuck the pistol in the helmet and pulled the trigger twice. There were loud clacks as the bullets stuck in the back of the man’s helmet.

Shirley stood, immediately returning to firing position and watching the fog. There were no more footsteps. The distant wail of sirens echoed from somewhere deeper in the city. Slowly, the fog faded, revealing an empty Congo Square, aside from the two bodies.

Shirley and Marie stood in silence, watching, waiting for the next attack to come. It didn’t. The square remained, nothing more than a mere memory of the former place of congregation it used to be.

“Where the hell did they go?”

“I’m assuming he’s been hiding in the quarantine zone.”

“Not Ray, my people. I didn’t come here with two, I came here with twelve.”

While she couldn’t be sure, Marie had the distinct feeling that the park was empty other than them. Waste not. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage. There weren’t words for a situation where your supposedly dead husband took government agents prisoner to turn them into an undead army.

“Me too.” A deep sadness hung in Shirley’s voice. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting much sleep tonight. Want to get a cup of coffee?”

Shirley’s shoulders relaxed. “Why not? Let me guess, I’m buying?”