Lights led him down a stairway. At the bottom little white dogs flooded the corridor, leaping at his legs and yapping. “Jesus!” They relented when he kicked one yipping through the bulkhead and out through the hull. Then they retreated to safe distances behind and ahead of him and growled.
Before him a hatch stood open into the yacht’s cargo hold. An unmistakable shape stood before him in a spill of dim amber light. Big head, slight body, uncharacteristically dressed in shirtsleeves. The dull yellow gleam beyond the President-for-Life told all.
“Checking the ballast?” he asked.
Kitengi Nshombo spun. His fine hard features went slack and took on a grey matte tone. “Tom, it isn’t what you think. I had nothing to do-”
“Yeah,” Tom said. “Yeah, it is. Exactly what I think.” He nodded toward the gold ingots stacked neatly on a tarpaulin. “You’re stealing from the People, comrade. That’s what you’re doing. You’re a traitor to the People’s Paradise and the Revolution.”
“No!” Nshombo cried. Spittle flew from his mouth. “You must listen to me. I did not do this. I received a curious telephone call-from Alicia, I thought-telling me to come to the yacht. When I arrived I found”-he gestured at the piled plunder-“this. I was as surprised as you are. And quite as displeased. Surely you can see I’ve been set up.”
“Sure,” Tom said, smiling. The president’s taut shoulders relaxed. “Sure, the gold just teleported here all by its fucking self!” He shook his head. “You got too rich and powerful, man. You forgot the Revolution. You forgot your roots.”
“No, no, it’s a lie, I’ve been framed-”
Tom reached out and grabbed that big head with both hands. Lifted the president right up off the deck by it so his legs kicked futilely in the air. “Tom! Put me down! Please -”
He tried to say more. It soared into wild screaming as Tom increased the pressure on the sides of his head.
President Nshombo’s head burst like a zit.
Wet clumps hit Tom’s face and clung.
He wiped his face and spat out something that tasted of salt and iron. “I shoulda known better than to trust the Man. Even when I fucking helped make him the Man.”
32
Sunday,
December 27
Kisangani, Congo
People’s Paradise of Africa
The orgy lasted almost through the night.
After Alicia left, Michelle faced her chair away from the fire. She was afraid of what Alicia might do to Joey if she left.
Near dawn, it started raining and doused the fire. That seemed to dampen everything else. The drummers disappeared back into the jungle, and some of the new Leopard Men resumed human form and began gathering up their torn clothing as the sun came up.
Michelle stood up and stretched. As she looked at the neat little compound buildings, she jerked back. Staring out of several windows were the faces of children. None of them could have been older than nine.
“Jesus,” she whispered. How long had they been there? What had they seen?
Alicia strolled into the clearing followed by a little girl. The girl was wrapped in bandages. Her melonlike head was impossibly large for her tiny body, and she didn’t walk so much as stagger.
“I know you appreciated my survivor hospitals,” Alicia said. “I’ve been working on many things for my people. I’ve even been working on a little project for children.”
“For children.” Michelle was at a loss.
Alicia gave a belly laugh. “These children are building our nation. My project is making us strong. Some of my babies were born of rape, and abandoned in orphanages because they were the product of the mother’s shame. Instead of being outcasts they will be the defenders of the People’s Paradise. This is a great honor for them.”
“What you did last night…”
“A sacred rite. The children saw me bestow my gift. I give my Leopard Men power. I give my babies power.”
“You give them the virus.” Michelle was horrified.
“The gift. Not all of them are worthy, sad to say. But those who are…” Alicia beamed at the little girl in the bandages. “This is the Mummy. Would you like to see what she can do?”
A bubble began to form in Michelle’s hand. Take this insane bitch out. The world will be a better place.
“May I have your answer about Tom, please?”
“If you want him dead, kill him yourself,” Michelle answered.
Alicia pouted. “You disappoint me, Michelle. We could have been such friends. Baby, do her for me.”
The Mummy ran to Michelle and seized her arm. Her hands were tiny, her fingers wrapped in rags as dry as parchment. What is this? Michelle thought.
Then the pain hit.
Her body began to wither. Her throat felt as if it were closing up. And the Mummy’s bandages began to fill out, the fabric darkening with moisture, stretching.
Jesus, Michelle thought, suddenly frightened. She tried to yank her arm away, but the little girl held on like a terrier. Michelle kicked backward, sending her chair toppling over. There was a squishy thud as the Mummy hit the ground beside her, but she didn’t let go. Michelle grew thinner, weaker. My precious bodily fluids, she thought, giggling hysterically. The Mummy was growing as she shrank. She’ll outweigh me soon, she realized.
Michelle kept shrinking, her precious water draining away into the blobby monster on her arm.
A terrified shriek pierced through her fear.
Michelle sat up, and the world tilted. A corpse came lurching out of the building where Joey was being kept; a child, no older than the Mummy. Two more zombies followed. She recognized the guards who’d been posted at Joey’s bedside. Joey appeared in the doorway behind them. She looked wobbly, but her zombies were moving just fine.
Michelle heard Alicia Nshombo scream. She was staring down the road with horror on her face.
Michelle pressed her palm against the Mummy’s head. “Let go, kid,” she said in French, and then again in English. “I have no intention of dying today. Either we both get up, or I’ll be the only one getting up. Got it?”
The Mummy squeezed tighter. Michelle slid a wizened hand down her bandaged cheek and under her chin, then raised her face to look into the child’s eyes. They were black, shiny, devoid of any sign of humanity.
“I’m sorry,” Michelle said.
Then she loosed a stream of bubbles.
Water, blood, and brains burst over Michelle. She yanked the Mummy’s hand from her arm and pushed the tiny corpse away. Where she fell a puddle formed around her.
Alicia Nshombo was still screaming. Michelle struggled to her feet. Joey was staring into space with a beatific smile on her face. Hoodoo Mama was in the house.
Michelle’s arms were withered and wrinkled as an old woman’s. She was dizzy and shaking from the water loss. All she could do was watch. Shambling into the center of the camp were zombies. All of them were children. Dozens of them, scores of them, hundreds of them, green and grey and rotting. More were coming up around them, little fingers clawing up from the ground like rain lilies after a storm. The earth sprouted small heads and shoulders.
Leopards leapt upon the zombies, snarling, clawing, growling. They ripped the dead children apart, but for every one that fell there were a dozen more. The soldiers were emptying their guns, but bullets can’t kill the dead.
Waves of dizziness poured over Michelle. She was so thirsty. Dazed, she had trouble trying to remember what she needed to do now.
Adesina. She staggered to her feet.
Some of the soldiers dropped their guns and fled into the jungle. Michelle held her palms up. She thought about Adesina in the pit. All the dead children. About how horrible it must have been for them to be torn away from their families, dragged to this place, and injected with the virus that would kill most of them, maim some, and leave only a few… like her.