Chapter 18 Creepy and Crawly
CREEPY AND CRAWLY
Artur
I couldn’t have estimated how long I had spent sitting in the cold and dark, but I knew it had to have been several hours. The time spent alone withered away my confidence and self-esteem. I knew Cesar would have performed the reanimation by now.
Part of me had resigned myself to whatever fate awaited me, however gruesome it might be.
Nothing good had ever come my way. Why should that change now?
But another part of me raged. I was supposed to help Cesar.
I was going to save him from his disease, if only for a little while.
Obviously he wouldn’t be able to stave off the dementia forever, but I had allowed myself a small morsel of hope that Cesar and I might share something—however brief—before his brain gave up on him.
The cold damp air and darker thoughts in the dungeon had turned my flesh pale, and my mood sour.
The dank rot of the prison settled a chill into my bones unlike anything I’d ever experienced, having lived my entire life in the hot, sweltering tropics. Or perhaps the uncontrolled shivers resided in the notion of never seeing Cesar again.
I couldn’t tell, and frankly, at this point, it didn’t matter.
I heard what sounded like nails scraping along the cement.
Fantastic, now I’d have to deal with rats.
The scraping grew louder and was accompanied by a shuffle.
Then there were a couple of thuds.
“Hello?” I yelled out into the dark.
Within moments, I could see eyes—dead eyes, illuminated by the ethereal, cold white glow of those brought back to life.
But it wasn’t a single pair of shining orbs; it was an entire horde.
Some eyes blinked, others stared, but pair after pair of ghostly white glares crawled up from the depths of the dungeon until all of them were fixed on me.
“Come on, Artur. We’ve got you,” a familiar voice called from the shadows.
A key clinked as it slid into the lock securing the bars that held me.
“But how?” I asked, unsure of what was happening.
“Well, Elena called and said you needed help—that everyone did. And I couldn’t possibly let Luana’s family rule over the city again.
The Hurtados are bad news. So, the dead did some digging—literally—and these old friends crawled out of their graves when I sent out the alarm for help.
It’s amazing how many people this family has pissed off, hurt, or double-crossed. ”
Tom smiled at me as he finally came close enough for me to make out his facial features.
“You’re breaking me out of jail? Tom, once she finds out, there’ll be consequences!” I couldn’t let him do it. It was far too dangerous.
“Fuck that. Your man needs you,” Tom said, chastising me.
“But how did you get in?”
“Oh, the dead have their ways. But in all fairness, it wasn’t too hard.
Luana and her entire family line are out, awaiting the arrival of the resurrected Mistress Magdalena.
The placement onto her dais on the Malecón will be a spectacle.
She left her imp platoon at the ready, but those creatures hate our kind.
They try to stay clear of us, and they’d never tell Luana they abandoned their post because a pack of us came to rescue you. ” Tom winked.
“Devious, but I love it. But who reanimated all these people?” I glanced around at the sheer number of undead. There had to be at least fifty or more.
“Funny thing. Over the years, there have been many reanimations for the Día de los Muertos celebrations. Cesar and his kin would like to think that once the herbs burn out, we return to the afterlife. Truth is, once we are ripped through the veil, getting back is near impossible. We’re trapped here.
Most of the resurrected are so consumed with the knowledge they cannot return, they slip into a deep depression so dark we call it the Dead Sleep.
With a little encouragement, we can be awoken. ”
“Did you go to the cemetery and raise the dead?” I asked Tom, memories of my visions coming back to me.
“I might have done just that. Now, enough with all the questions. Let’s go see what’s become of Mistress Magdalena.”
A horde of corpses walking down the streets of Puerto Vallarta on any other day of the year might have caused some concern, but considering the current festivities and the Revelation, such a sight didn’t turn many heads.
Which was just as well, because I wasn’t sure that my leading the procession meant I was in control or held responsibility over the horde of corpses. If anything, people thought we were part of the holiday season, and in some respect, I guess we were.
It didn’t take too long to reach Cesar’s house.
After a few knocks without an answer, though, I started to worry.
I was just about to knock a third time when the door opened, and Elena’s tear-stained face appeared in the crack of the doorway.
“Elena, let me in.”
As soon as she heard my voice, she threw open the door, then flung herself around me and wept openly.
“This isn’t a good sign. What happened?” I asked.
“Artur, I’m so sorry. I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough.” Elena led me into the living room, where Cesar sat sipping a cup of tea. “Wait…how? Who? Did Luana let you go?”
“Not quite.” I didn’t answer her completely. I wanted to be with my man.
Funny how quickly you become someone else’s. It had only been days and here I was, thinking Cesar was mine.
I ran over to him and gripped his shoulders, then brought him up for a rough hug.
“Oh, Cesar, I’m so sorry. Luana, that bitch, held me captive. I couldn’t get to you, or deliver the herbs I had bought,” I babbled on. “I hope the ceremony went okay. Where is Mistress Magdalena? If you need help getting her to the correct podium I can assist.”
Cesar pulled back with clear but innocent eyes, smiled at me and then with some slight confusion addressed me.
“Good evening! And thank you for that hug. I haven’t had such a greeting from a young handsome man like yourself in years.
” Cesar smiled, then leaned in closer as he whispered, “I’d make myself free for you. ”
I glanced back at Elena as my world collapsed.
Cesar’s best friend in the entire world broke down into sobs and it was then I knew, I was too late. Cesar was gone.
I closed my eyes and breathed in. So many emotions ran through my head. I didn’t even know how to pull them apart, process them, or make sense of my world.
But as much as I wanted to feel bad, wallow in my own sadness, we still had to deal with the Hurtados, or we’d all suffer much worse fates. We needed to get Mistress Magdalena positioned. I became as stoic as I could and braced myself. “Did he finish the ritual?” I asked Elena.
She nodded.
“Where is she?”
Elena held one finger up and jabbed it toward the ceiling.
The workroom.
I turned back to Cesar
“I have to get a very special package down to the Nocturnus Festival for tonight’s and tomorrow’s celebrations. But then I’ll make all the time you want with me. How does that sound?” I asked him.
“I’m not sure of all of what you’re saying, but I remember the festival from my younger days. Loved it! All those beautiful Catrinas dolled up in their finery. I think I sure would love to see it all again. Would you take me down to the Malecón for the walk of the dead,? I’d be forever grateful!”
I glanced at Elena.
The severity of Cesar’s words dropped like the blade of a guillotine. He remembered his youth. Cesar was still in there somewhere, but he didn’t remember me.
“I did everything, Artur. I promise. I wasn’t enough. He doesn’t even know who I am and we’ve known each other for decades.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. I know you would never let Cesar fall.
I think we have to make the best of this shitty situation.
We have to get the oracle down to the Malecón.
I brought some help,” —I corrected myself— “More like the help brought me.” I waved Elena to come with me and took her to the front door, opened it wide and then showed her the numerous undead waiting patiently on the street.
Tom stepped up, “Well, handsome, what’s next?”
“Tom!?” Elena cried out.
“Hello pretty girl. After your phone call I couldn’t very well sit back and let Cesar and Artur down. I’m rooting for these two.”
That made Elena cry, and I let out a heavy sigh as my gaze shifted downward to Tom’s feet.
“I take it the ceremony didn’t go well.”
“Mistress Magdalena is ready, but Cesar is in full-blown magical dementia,” I said in hushed words.
Tom came up to me, “I’m so sorry, son.” He put a cold hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle pat, “but don’t give up just quite yet. I have sinking feeling that things are not quite as dire as they seem.
“I believe we have an important package to deliver?” Tom said.
“We do. Can we rely on you for help?”
“That’s why I brought the calvary. All right ghouls, let’s do this.” Tom then turned to me, “Where is she?”
“Upstairs in the workroom.”
The sight of a gaggle of undead, with the moonlit death glow in their eyes, walking down the Malecón and carting a coffin above their heads made the crowds part. It was an ominous exhibition, but the crowds loved it.
Not only did we have a thunderous roar of applause, but the number of “oohs!” and “ahhs!” that could be heard made my heart swell in pride for what we had managed to accomplish.
But then my gaze would shift to Cesar who was by my side and that pride turned to sadness.
As we strolled down the Malecón the sight of dozens of reanimated dead hoisted up onto their platforms, decked out in their finest dresses and suits, surrounded by cempasúchil in bright colours of yellow, orange, and rust red, complete with sugar skulls, streamers, mugs of beer, thimbles of whiskey, pictures of past lives, and a myriad of other trinkets and tokens of fond memories decorated the sea walk.
It was a dazzling display, complete with blinking fairy lights and the sounds of various mariachi playing.
The smell of elotes and carnitas filled the heavy ocean air.