Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men by Regan Wolfrom Page A

us. They’d pulled Arty down, and Julia had gone down with him. Arty was kicking and punching one of the men, but he was losing. I couldn’t see Julia.
    I reached down and grabbed the biggest stick I could find. I wasn’t sure what I was doing.
    I ran toward them.
    I shoved it at the nearest of the two men, aiming for his chest. It struck him and cracked. He punched me in the neck and I fell into the needles of an evergreen, slamming my head against the trunk.
    Julia started screaming.
    “ Rete trankil! ” a voice called out.
    The screaming stopped.
    I found my way out of the pine tree, pulling needles out of my hands. They’d impaled me with such force that my skin was broken and bleeding in places.
    The two men were still, standing over Arty and Julia.
    Behind them was Pouchon. His face was torn and bloody, but it seemed like he hadn’t noticed.
    “ Pati ,” Pouchon said.
    The two men walked into the trees and soon they were gone.
    “What the hell?” I said.
    “The escaped zombies,” Pouchon said. “Hopefully they’ll leave you alone now.”
    I knelt down beside Julia.
    “I don’t think I can walk,” she said. “But that’s nothing new. Oh... but the broken ribs are.”
    “I think Arty’s dead,” Cadance said. She was standing over him, not close enough to help or anything.
    “Nice of you to come back,” I said.
    “I thought we were all going to run. Sorry.”
    Sayra came over and knelt alongside me. She gently put her finger to Arty’s wrist.
    She didn’t say anything.
    “Of course he’s dead,” Pouchon said. “The macoutes attacked him first because he was the biggest threat.”
    “Smart macoutes ,” I said.
    “Not your grandpappy’s zombies.”
    “We need to get out of here,” Cadance said.
    “We can’t move her,” I said.
    “We’ll need to split up,” Pouchon said.
    “How are you part of the ‘we’ on this?” I asked. “Don’t you remember wanting to eat me?”
    “Oh, so you’ve got a choice all of the sudden? Unless you have the power to control the macoutes , you’re pretty much stuck with me.”
    “You’re more dangerous than the macoutes ,” Cadance said.
    “I’m not a killing machine,” Pouchon said. “People change. And I’m more than willing to come to an understanding.”
    “Not interested,” I said.
    “Why not?”
    “Because we can’t trust you.”
    “Fine. I’ll call my friends back over here for breakfast.” He cupped his hand over his bloody mouth. “ Vini macoutes mwen ,” he called. “ Vini .”
    I couldn’t see them yet, but I heard their footsteps.
    “What do you want us to do?” I asked.
    “Just you,” Pouchon said. “I need you to go back with me.”
    “Why?”
    “The money.”
    “Are you serious?” I asked. “You want to walk back to a place where there are two guys with assault weapons and a woman who apparently won’t die... and all for a little bit of walking around money?”
    “That money cannot be left behind for Kathleen Shannard,” he said. “And I do what I’m told.”
    “By who?”
    “By whom, you mean. By my master, Amanda. By our master.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “You’re a zombie, Amanda... a bokor macoute , a sorcerer in service... just like me.”
    “I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was a zombie.”
    He grinned. “That’s the best part. You don’t know. I didn’t know either until I got the call.” He looked over to Cadance. “That was thanks to you.”
    “I guess eating people’s made you a wee bit insane,” I said.
    “I need to take your ear.”
    “What?”
    “ Mwen santi Bondye vire do ban mwen .” He grabbed me by the neck. “ Tout bagay pa la pou lontan .”
    “Please...” I said. I jabbed him in the eye.
    He didn’t seem to notice.
    “ Tout koumansman genyen yon fen .”
    He bit down on the lobe.
    I screamed. I felt like I would pass out from the pain, but I didn’t. I was there. I was feeling it.
    And Pouchon was in no hurry. “ Nou renmen ou ,”