James Axler – Starfall

Mildred turned her dark gaze on him, anger burning in her eyes. “I could have conducted forty of them before now. It doesn’t mean it would work on Krysty now. An exorcism doesn’t require me believing in it. It requires her believing in it.”

Ryan curbed his anger, and the red mist in his vision cleared somewhat. He glanced back at Krysty, seeing that she still slept.

“What bona fides do you have in this endeavor, ma­dam?” Doc persisted.

“One of the college papers I did involved the creation of zombies in voodoo practices,” she replied.

Doc shook his head. “More false mysticism.”

“Ryan, listen to me.” Mildred focused her attention on the one-eyed man. “Voodoo was very powerful in Haiti, New Orleans and other pockets of civilizations where the religion flourished. The darker side of voodoo involved blood sacrifices. We’ve seen muties who still practice it, and other things as we’ve knocked around. There were cases of zombie creation in the 1990s. They were docu­mented studies. Pharmacological corporations sent teams down into South America and Haiti looking for the zombie powder. They were hoping to find a new anesthetic that was more potent than anything that had been found up to that date. Instead, they proved the existence of zombies.”

“Dead men walking,” Jak commented, approaching the group.

“You’ve heard of such things?” Ryan asked the albino.

Jak shook his head. “Seen ’em. Dead men crawl out graves in swamps. Made protect sacred areas, bokor’s se­crets.”

“Bokor?” Doc asked.

“Sort of a voodoo evil magician,” Mildred said. “Bokors raised the dead. Only they weren’t really dead. The voodoo religion was so strong that the zombie powder con­vinced people it was given to that they were dead. What it really did was put them into a coma that lasted days. Then they were buried.”

“Alive?” Ryan asked.

“Not so that you could tell it,” Mildred replied. “There wasn’t enough respiration to fog a mirror. No heartbeat that could be heard. For all intents and purposes, they were dead.”

“Only they were truly in a coma,” Doc said.

“Yeah. There was the belief among medical profession­als, physicians and psychologists, that the afflicted person could still hear.”

“While they were pronounced dead?” Doc queried.

“Right. It strengthened their belief that they would return as a zombie, that they were really dead. A funeral was held to further convince not only that individual, but also the community, that person was chilled. A few days later, the person was dug up and another drug was administered, or maybe the effects of the zombie powder wore off.”

“Why didn’t these people just go back to their lives?” Ryan asked.

“Because they believed they were zombies,” Mildred answered. “That’s what I’m telling you, Ryan. And it’s one of the major differences between the Western practice of medicine versus the Eastern practice. Homeopathic medi­cine requires more belief on part of the patient than the Western style. But the success rates are on a par. Or were. Even Western doctors were convinced that after surgeries patients usually got better because they believed they would. Belief is a very strong thing.”

“So if Krysty believes enough in this exorcism, mebbe it’ll erase this woman from her head?” he asked.

“Perhaps it’ll give her a better chance against that woman,” Mildred commented. “We’re still dealing with something we’ve had no experience in. We find this Don­ovan, maybe we’ll know more.”

“You talk to her first?”

Mildred nodded. “Get her thinking along the lines we need her to first. Do the exorcism tonight when we have time to put on a show, do it right.”

“Only if she’s got the strength,” Ryan cautioned. He glanced down the river, shifting his body with the pitch of the sailboat. “Even getting to the trading post, we’re going to be on condition red. Don’t trust Morse not to run us into a trap. Everybody keep your eyes peeled.”

“HOW MUCH FARTHER?” Ryan demanded.

Morse called out sail changes to his sons and held on to the wheel. The river was swollen more now with the spring rains than before. “Another ten, fifteen minutes should see us there.”

Ryan studied the riverbank. That morning, he’d been able to see where the waterline had been in weeks past. Dead grass and the clutter of broken branches and other debris had lined both banks, creating a definite line of de­marcation. Now, the water was up against the green again.