Voodoo Train

Maurice Breaux tried to hide his smile behind his cards. He was sitting on two sevens. Spades and hearts. He could work with this, but he wanted to eliminate Morgan from the table. He was still rather new to the game but was riding on a freight train of luck tonight. He gulped a bit of his ‘medicine’ from the flask in his jacket pocket. Morgan and Duncan each put in their blinds. The dealer looked at Maurice from behind darkened glasses.

“You’re under the gun, Mister Breaux.”

Maurice thought for a moment and met the blinds. The dealer casually looked at the other two players in turn who met and called the bet. After another moment, the dealer pressed on to the next stage of the game. The flop produced another seven, clubs, as well as a five and three of spades. Sweat dripped down Maurice’s dark skin illuminated by the one lantern they dared shine in the alleys of Houston.

“I thought we were playing for some old-fashioned fun! What in tarnation are these cards, son?” Morgan blasted at the dealer. His chips were nearly depleted. The dealer, Sam, was a tall, black man. Skinny and more handsome than the lot still crowding his small table. He wore a dark fitted suit, rimmed with black and purple colors and a top hat to match. His slender fingers carefully removed the cigar from his mouth and revealed a toothy grin.

“Oh, come now, Mister Morgan,” the dealer’s gravelly voice bounced within the room. “My dealing is to die for. You scarcely complained but an hour ago when Mister Breaux’s mountain of coins were your own.” Morgan grumbled in response after tapping the table. “Your bet, Mister Duncan.”

Duncan had barely shown his face all night. A drabby hood hid him from the others. His pale hands rolled nervously on the table. He flicked up the corner of his cards for but a moment and covered the cards again.

“Raise.” Duncan pushed forward a small pile of chips.

“Call.” Maurice quickly matched the pile. “Maybe I called too soon!” he thought. Duncan briefly stopped tapping his fingers after the call before continuing. Sam puffed on his cigar which illuminated his darkened spectacles and pointed his wide smile back to Morgan.

“I know, I know,” Morgan looked at his chips. He only had enough to call. “Y’all workin’ together I tells ya. I was doin’ just fine earlier, Sam!”

“I reckon you’ll do just fine after, too,” Sam replied. “I know a businessman like yourself wouldn’t come to this side of Houston and risk anything of real value.” Smoke escaped his nostrils and calmly floated to the edges of the game table. Morgan shook his head in minor frustration and threw his last chips on the pile. Duncan tapped the table twice to call, as did Maurice.

“Gentlemen. The turn.” Sam discarded a card and turned over a fourth card.

“Queen of Diamonds?” Maurice thought. “I’m still good. I can win this.”

“Finally, some royalty, Sam!” Morgan called out. Maurice eyed his sevens and took a deep breath. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the lid and downed a quick swig. Sam’s eyes rolled over to the flask.

“I might need some of that after this, Maurice,” Morgan sighed.

“Sorry,” Maurice capped and tucked away his flask. “Not much on sharing.”

“Ya don’t say,” Morgan looked back at his own empty pile. Sam clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“That is a shame, Mister Breaux. Mister Morgan is all in. Mister Duncan, your call.” Duncan tapped the table as did Maurice and they let the game continue. Sam discarded a card and put a fifth into position beside the other four.

“The moment has arrived, gentlemen.” All three players were fixated on Sam’s bony fingers as they flipped the card and all three players fidgeted to hide a smile. A seven of spades. Maurice was looking at four of a kind.

“Once again we come to a pivotal decision,” Sam declared.

Duncan leaned in close to his cards and muttered something under his breath. Sam adjusted his glasses, but Maurice could see his eyebrows furrow at Duncan’s muttering. The more nonsense Duncan uttered the more visibly frustrated Sam became. “Mister Dunc—”

“All in.”

“What do you think you have with these cards, son?” Morgan asked in bewilderment.

“The bet is made,” Sam created a separate pile with the new chips. “Mister Breaux?”

“What DOES he think he has?” Maurice asked himself. “Surely, I can beat it, right?” Maurice looked up to see Sam puff on his cigar and for a moment the illumination between the lantern and the cigar with the shadows of the room created a gaunt, ghastly visage that encompassed Sam’s face. Sam’s grin slowly stretched across his face while meeting Maurice’s gaze. The image unsettled Maurice and he shook his head of it. “Why not!” Maurice thought. “Call,” he replied aloud in a calm, measured voice though he immediately reached for his flask afterwards.

“Well, I suppose we ought to reveal them. Wouldn’t ya say, gentlemen?” Sam asked.

“Now hold up.” Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I want in on this. You two have clearly lost your mind in the wanin’ hours of the evenin’.”

“What have ya there, Mister Morgan?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got a first-class ticket on my newest rail line. Meals and service included. I think it’s more than enough to call this lot.”

“When’s it leave?” Maurice asked.

“Saturday, September fifth.”

“That’s tomorrow!”

“Destination?” Duncan’s voice rattled from under his hood. Maurice picked up the ticket.

Morgan’s Louisiana and Texas Railroad

Inaugural Week First Class

To New Orleans and Return

Good only until Saturday, September 5th, 1880

“New Orleans? I ain’t goin’ back there!” Maurice let the ticket drop back to the table.

“What’s the matter, Mister Breaux?” Sam asked. “Too many skeletons in your closet to enjoy a fancy train ride?”

“What about occupancy?” Duncan asked quickly. Sam narrowed his eyes from behind his glasses and turned to Morgan.

“For everything? I don’t look at those numbers, son. That’s what my clerks are for. If I recall, the Children’s Aid Society is taking a bunch of orphans down the line, but they won’t be a bother. I reckon the whole lot of the other cabins are pretty full.”

“I accept.” Duncan said decisively. Morgan, Sam, and Duncan looked at Maurice. Maurice found his answer in his flask. He took another swig and slammed it down.

“Fine. Maybe I can sell it!”

“You won’t be sellin’ nothin’,” Morgan turned over pocket queens, hearts and clubs. “Full house.”

“Not full enough, Morgan,” Maurice revealed his sevens. “My four of a kind beats that, no?” Morgan’s shoulders slumped and he dipped his head.

“Why you lucky little…”

Maurice grinned and picked up the paper. He fanned his face and laughed. “Oh, I’ll be sellin’ this to some desperate chap for a nice little sum I bet.”

“Mister Breaux, I dare say selling such a ticket is not in your future,” Sam directed Morgan and Maurice’s eyes to Duncan’s four and six of spades.

“What is that?” Maurice took a moment to think. Duncan encircled his winning pot and pulled it in. “A straight flush?” Maurice exclaimed.

“What’s going on down here?” another voice called out in the darkness. The four men quickly turned to a light down a ways making its way to them.

“It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” Morgan tipped his hat. “I can only afford so many run-ins with the sheriff.” With that, Morgan was gone but Maurice was still looking at the last cards.

“Let me help with that!” Maurice tried to pick up some of the money but Duncan’s cold, clammy hand ripped Maurice’s from the pile. Sam stayed seated and shuffled his cards.

“Back off, Breaux!” Duncan hissed. Maurice caught a glimpse of Duncan’s unnaturally sharp teeth and froze.

“What in God’s name is wrong with you?”

Duncan pocketed the last of the money and the ticket. The sheriff’s lantern was nearly at the front door.

“In here, boys!” someone yelled. “All sorts of illegal business!”

“It was nice playin with ya,” Duncan snarled. He pulled out a small pistol and aimed it next to Maurice’s head. The door opened and, from behind the cover of Maurice, Duncan shot the first person to walk through. Maurice’s ears rang and deafened nearly everything else as the victim fell to the floor while the sheriff and his deputy yelled and pointed at Maurice. Maurice spun around. Duncan was gone. Only Sam remained, seated and shuffling cards between his hands as if nothing else were happening. Sam tilted his head up to Maurice and grinned his big toothy grin. The sheriff tackled Maurice. The ringing in his ear gradually subsided.

“—urderer! You’ll be lucky to survive to mornin’!” the sheriff threatened. He pulled his Colt Army revolver and pressed it against Maurice’s head while the deputy checked the downed man.

“Sam!” Maurice reached out. “Help me!”

“No one’s helping you, scumbag,” the sheriff pressed on Maurice’s head.

“Please! You got the wrong man!” Maurice yelled. Sam, illuminated by the swinging lantern above, pulled out a cane from behind his chair and stood up. He leaned on the cane which was topped with a small skull. Each swing of the lantern placed a new and permanent shadow on the wall from Sam’s figure. The deputy shook his head to the sheriff. The sheriff yanked Maurice to his feet, pistol still pressed against his temple.

“Walk, maggot!”

“Sam! Please!”

Sam reached for his cigar and flicked the end of it.

“Only if you help me, monsieur. I reckon I could use it tomorrow.”

“Anything!” Maurice was yanked closer to the door. Either side of which had a shadow looking down at it with long slender arms and fingers. Sam puffed one more time on the cigar. The skeletal visage returned to his face.

“That’s the spirit, Mister Breaux!” Sam moved forward, as did every shadow in the building and the lantern blew out. Maurice Breaux blacked out.

*

*

*

Maurice’s head gently bumped up and down. He could feel his hand hanging freely over some ledge. Then a rock kicked up and smacked his hand which jerked him awake.

“What in the name—” Maurice held his aching hand and peered up to trees racing by. The methodical thudding of the train became apparent. He reached for the railing he was under and pulled himself to his feet. He was in the caboose of a train already well on its way. “What happened to the sheriff?” Maurice thought aloud. “Sam?... Duncan?” Maurice felt his ear. He turned and was met by a motionless body laying facedown in a pool of blood. “Good lord!” Maurice slid next to the body and heaved it over. It was a railway worker who showed no signs of life, but he was covered in some sort of slime. “This can’t be…” Maurice was inspecting the slime when the caboose violently shook and nearly jumped the tracks. Despite not outright flying off the track, the caboose continued to rattle uncontrollably. “Why is this happening here?”

Maurice steadied himself on a vertical grip and managed his way to the door. Before he could open it, he heard a moaning from behind. The worker’s body convulsed and slammed a palm onto the deck. It’s back lurched upwards then back down.

“You’re alive!” Maurice called. “I thought you were—” Its head snapped upwards. The slime now covered its face and the skin bubbled. Purple pus poured forth from its skin. It bared its teeth and growled at Maurice who slowly held up his hands to keep distance. “No, no, no. Why is this happening here? I thought I ended this in New Orleans!”

The caboose vaulted again, and the creature landed next to Maurice who had fallen. At the same time, Maurice spotted something outside the caboose windows wrap around the exterior of the train. The creature reached for Maurice’s boots as he shuffled backwards while the back half of the caboose was squeezed. The sound of metal squealing and popping and wood snapping and crumpling overtook the already thunderous cacophony of train rattling and creature moans. Maurice kicked the creature and pulled himself up at the door. The back half of the caboose was ripped from the train and Maurice could clearly see giant tentacles with suckers wrapping along the rest of the caboose.

“She’s here!” Maurice screamed and pulled open the door to the connecting corridor. Before he could close the door, the railway worker’s claw grabbed his leg. Maurice slammed the door multiple times to release the grip though his leg was now covered in slime.

Maurice opened the next door and entered the first-class cabin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask to take a drink. Meanwhile, the occupants continued with their previous conversation.

“Mister Edi, I find your lewd speech highly inappropriate!” a woman called out. “This is neither the time nor the place for such scandalous activities!”

“Hear, hear!” a man seconded. “You call yourself a baron and carry on as you do?”

“Oh, come now,” Sam’s gravelly voice rang. “You take yourselves far too seriously. I’m just lookin’ for a little fun with the ladies!” At that moment, the train rocked from side to side, causing the passengers to scream and hold onto the seats that weren’t already tossed around.

“Sam?” Maurice called. “Sam, what are you doing here? What am I doing here?” Sam was still dressed in his fitted suit to accent his slender figure. He maintained his top hat and dark glasses and hooked his skull-topped cane around a bar above so he could rock freely with the motion of the train while he smoked a cigar.

“Sam?” the woman asked. “You said your name was Edi. Surely, I can call you a liar to boot.” Sam slid down the grip of his cane so he could come face to face with the woman and smiled at her.

“Sam, Edi… I have plenty of names but only one adventurous style with which I am ready to acquaint you.” Sam lowered his glasses and winked at the woman.

“Good heavens,” she fanned herself.

“We need to move, people!” Maurice yelled. “There is something ripping up this train as we speak, and we need to go. Now!”

“And just who do you think you are?” another man asked. “What is that disgusting smell?” Maurice looked at his clothes. The slime was giving off a pungent odor.

“This is my friend, Mister Breaux!” Sam replied for him. “I was wondering when you would awaken.”

“The company you keep seems about as shady you as you, Baron,” a man commented and adjusted his own monocle.

The train rocked again with something slamming into the roof of their car. The caboose was visibly ripped from the backend and tumbled to the wayside. The train only seemed to be getting faster. The passengers started to panic and clamor, shifting towards the next car.

“Everyone needs to move!” Maurice tried directing them. Something pounded on the back door. Everyone looked back and the boiled hand of the worker hit the window and slid down, leaving behind a trail of slime.

“You left someone back there!” a man accused Maurice. “If we’re going to leave, we can at least bring with us some decency!”

“You can’t! That man is dead!”

The man opened the door to the exposed gangway and the creature was instantly upon him. Sam unhooked his cane and sauntered over to the pair wrestling on the ground.

“Sam, be careful!”

Sam squatted beside the two. The creature’s hands inched closer to the man’s exposed skin, slime falling from its mouth and pus dripping uncontrollably. Sam reached up to his glasses and poked out the right lens.

“Help me, Baron!” the man cried. “Get this thing off of me!”

“Dis one is free, my friend,” Sam replied, a Creole accent suddenly shining through. “If d’ere is one d’ing I cannot stand, it is a zonbi! No matta da origin!” The man was able to shove the creature onto his side and Sam’s cane instantly slammed down onto its skull. “Your jacket. Leave it.”

Maurice hurried the man back to the group as they prepared to leave the car. Sam continued his sauntering. The group poured through the gangway connection as the train rocked and jumped and the first-class car crumpled in its entirety before being ripped off the tracks. The group was now in the sleeper car.

“Ah the beds,” Sam’s Creole accent disappeared but retained his gravelly voice. “What a perfect location to see how much more rocking we can add to this locomotive!” He stepped by a couple women and smelled their hair.

“A man just died!” a woman complained.

“What better time than at the end to give in to your primal instincts!” Sam smiled. “Mister Breaux, I believe you were leading us?”

“Me? I don’t even know how I got here! Where are we going? How did all of this happen?”

“Oh, you know where we are going.”

“Is this Morgan’s train to New Orleans?” Sam confirmed Maurice’s thought with a snap and point of his finger. “We can’t go there!” The train jolted and the mysterious tentacles darkened the window which terrified the passengers and they crowded the next door. Maurice dropped his questioning and pulled on the door. He couldn’t get it to budge, and the sleeper car started to constrict.

“Out of the way, you!” a burlier man shoved Maurice aside. A tentacle burst through a window and the bunkroom wall, throwing a bed into some of the well-dressed people. “Come on!” the burly man slowly made progress on the door. A woman was wrapped up in a tentacle and extracted with great force. The rest of the car continued to be squeezed. Maurice helped the man at the door and Sam nonchalantly puffed on his cigar while a tentacle waved in front of his face. Sam rolled his one visible eye through his glasses and used his cane to redirect the tentacle to someone else. The wood started to splinter and send shrapnel throughout the condensed car which knocked a few more people aside.

Maurice and the burly man made progress on the door. With one last concentrated effort, they pulled open the door and inadvertently pulled apart a tentacle that was holding the door. The door slid open with ease put revealed a larger tentacle that wrapped around the big man and slammed him through the passageway and to the top of the car.

“Move!” Maurice cautiously ducked onto the gangway connection and opened the next door before waving in whoever remained. A couple men rushed in behind Maurice. Sam offered a hand for the last couple ladies to pass and strutted behind them into the next car. A tentacle swiped in front of Sam but missed him. Just as Sam’s foot left the sleeper car, the car was ripped from the tracks and the creature heaved onto the next car.

Maurice pushed one of the men aside and saw why they had stopped moving. Inside the wrecked dining car were several zonbi, all of which turned in unison to the crowd of living people. Tentacles slithered onto the windows. The car rocked again. Sam grabbed a woman’s hand to keep her from falling forward while the zonbi pounced on the men. Their claws dug into the men and transferred the slime to the wounds. They soon started convulsing. Their skin boiled and popped out purple pus and they joined the ranks of the undead. Meanwhile the car started to constrict.

“Time’s a wastin’, Mister Breaux,” Sam whispered.

The zonbi clamored to their feet and faced the remaining survivors: Maurice, Sam, two ladies and one other man. Maurice reached into his pocket to take a swig from his flask before returning it. He wrapped his hands up from a nearby tablecloth. Sam guided the others behind him, had them hold hands to not get separated and urged Maurice forward.

Maurice let out a scream and charged into the bubbling mess before him. The first few fell to the wayside and tripped over dilapidated tables. Sam quickly followed the path, holding the hand of the lady behind him and pulling her through the mess. The next couple zonbi queued up on Maurice’s forearms, chomping away at the cloth. Maurice heaved them to the side and slammed the next one into a couple stumbling forward. The train car became crunched behind Sam’s posse as they moved in Maurice’s wake. The last zonbi fell on to a tiring Maurice and pinned him against the wall. The ladies and remaining man made a dash for the door and exited the collapsing car. The zonbi inched closer and closer to Maurice’s face. Maurice tried to push it away to no avail. Suddenly, Sam’s cane hooked the zonbi in the mouth and it was violently pulled away and tossed into the opposing wall. Maurice panted and looked up to see Sam cleaning his cane and puffing on a new cigar.

“Let’s go, Mister Breaux. You still must kill da source.” Sam offered the cane down which Maurice grabbed and was pulled to his feet. The ceiling continued to crumble, and Maurice ran into the next car through the gangway. Once again, the car nearly crushed Sam. It was then flung from the railway, zonbi and all.

The coach car seats were packed with children and few adults.

“The Children’s Aid Society…” Maurice whispered. The ceiling creaked.

“Ah the blood of da young and innocent,” Sam breathed in heavily. “Savored by d’ose who would do most terrible deeds. Dis you cannot allow, Mister Breaux.”

“What do we do?”

“You must go forward. Stop dis train. Draw the creature away from da children.”

Maurice looked at all the faces locked on him. Some were half hidden behind seats. Others moved to get a better view. Maurice slowly moved through the crowd. He ruffled the hair of one child. An adult held another child closer as Maurice passed. Sam pulled the two original ladies closer and smiled. Wood creaked within the car.

“Hurry, Mister Breaux!” Sam called with pleasure.

Maurice left the coach car and moved on into the baggage car. Nearly every piece of luggage was opened and rifled through. Maurice climbed over the bags and holding areas. The ceiling buckled when he crested the pile and he slid down. He was being followed. Maurice regained his footing and reached the end of the car.

He pushed through the doors and entered the mail car. As with the baggage, most letters and packages were slashed open and tossed aside. The far door closed. Whoever did this was close. Maurice rushed through the car though he could hear the creature above moving with him. Maurice opened the door and saw the hooded culprit climbing onto the coal cart.

“Hey!” Maurice yelled. He climbed up the ladder and his quarry stopped at the far side. The racing train was even more deafening outside. The engine sputtered and coughed out horrible black smoke. Maurice recognized the figure’s attire. “D…Duncan? What in God’s name have you done?”

“God’s name?” Duncan turned around. The open book he held was old and pulsating with a dark aura. His skin was pale and sickening. His pupils were vertical slits and he still had razer sharp teeth. “You won’t find God here, Maurice! I have succeeded where you failed in New Orleans!”

“I didn’t fail. I quit!”

“Same thing!”

“This is wrong! It’s unnatural!”

“It’s necessary! We must submit to the true gods if we ever want a place in their new world!”

“I can’t let you do this, Duncan.”

“What you want doesn’t matter anymore. Our old friend misses you. She’s upset that you ‘quit’ last time.”

Maurice turned around as a tentacle slammed into his side and knocked him down. He looked to the top of the mail car and saw a massive creature made of hundreds of tentacles. It was connected to some sort of portal hovering above the train.

“Once she’s done with you, the kids will sustain her until she gets through,” Duncan started to climb down on the engine side. “No one will miss a few orphans. Then she’ll be ready to devour the so-called spirits and gods that infest this world and truly claim dominion! And only I will reap the benefits because you found a heart.”

Duncan climbed down as another tentacle slammed into Maurice and pinned him against the coal. More of the creature slid out of the portal and there was no end in sight while it amassed in the sky. The tentacles wrapped around Maurice’s legs and up his body, contracting as it went. The suckers latched onto his body and bit him. Maurice tried to pull his legs free or pull the tentacles off but it only brought more pain. The struggling caused the coal to shift, and a shovel drifted next to Maurice. He quickly readied the shovel and brought it down on the tentacles. The creature let out a shrill cry as Maurice repeatedly cut into the tentacles with his newfound weapon. The tentacles slithered loose, spraying a foamy blood over Maurice as it pulled away. Maurice watched countless tentacles pull up to the side of the creature and he knew he had to move.

Maurice struggled to his feet, shovel in hand and ran for the edge of the coal cart as those numerous tentacles shot through the sky for the one who harmed them. He leapt from the coal car down to the engine room as coal rocketed into the sky and the top of the engine became dented and malformed from the impacts. Maurice used the shovel to help him to his feet and looked up at Duncan.

*BANG*

Maurice looked at Duncan’s smoking barrel. He slowly peered down to the hole in his jacket. Maurice’s hand drifted up to feel the wound. If he hadn’t already abandoned his freight train of luck from the poker match before, he disembarked now. The bullet missed his flask and punctured his heart. Blood soaked his shirt and he fell backwards. His vision blurred while Duncan still held him at gunpoint.

“Goodbye, Maurice.”

Maurice slowly blinked. The tentacles retreated from the engine, and he could hear it move down the train. Duncan read from his book and threw something into the furnace.

“I’m so close. I can stop this.” Maurice thought.

“Den why don’t you?” Sam asked. Maurice turned his head and saw Sam squatting over him. He still had his top hat and cigar. He was balancing his hands on his cane and looking at Maurice through his dark glasses, right lens still removed.

“I can’t… move. I’m… dying,” Maurice coughed.

“Dying, yes. But not dead.” Sam rocked his head. “Not yet anyways. Tell ya what. You share what’s left in dat flask and I’ll give ya da time ya need.”

Maurice’s shaky hand crawled towards his jacket pocket. He pulled out the flask and looked at it. Blood continued to soak his jacket and seep out of his mouth. He offered the flask to Sam. Sam snatched the flask, removed his cigar and relished the alcohol.

“Dat’s da spirit, Mister Breaux! Come on now! Dance wit ‘im! I ain’t digging no graves yet.”

Maurice, while still in immense pain, shifted to his knees. Duncan turned at the mess behind him.

“Stay down!”

*BANG BANG*

Maurice cringed from the shots, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he stood up. Sam smacked his lips together.

*BANG*

Maurice brought up his shovel. Sam switched to his cigar.

*BANG*

Maurice swung the shovel with everything he had left and clapped an astounded Duncan across the temple. His last shot went wide and the two struggled against one another. In their fight, the book slid around, and Maurice found an opportunity to grab it. He pushed Duncan away with the shovel and tossed the book in the furnace.

“No!” Duncan screamed, purple blood oozing from his wounds. “What have you done?”

The monster screamed above and ripped the roof off the engine. It wrapped around Duncan and Maurice and pulled them away. Sam’s cane caught Maurice’s leg before he could get too far, and he landed back atop the coal. The portal was closing and severing tentacles of the retreating monster, Duncan in tow. Breathing was no longer an easy task for Maurice. His vision blurred and Sam appeared, this time carrying a shovel.

“Thank you, my friend,” Sam offered. “But it’s time for you to go.” He squatted and whispered. “I’ll put ya someplace nice.”

*

*

*

A crowd of people dressed in black left the newly christened cemetery. A black cross was placed at an intersection in the newly broken earth.

MAURICE BREAUX

1842 – 1880

Sam approached the grave. He took off his hat and bowed before placing his hat on the cross. He then placed a newspaper at the base of it. A woman with red hair hooked Sam’s arm and they walked away.

THE WEEKLY LOUISIANIAN

RUNAWAY TRAIN STOPPED, ORPHANS SAVED

Newest railway from Houston was recently hijacked by deranged vagrant. Local man Maurice Breaux was luckily aboard and knew what to do…