Julie Dawson - Water is Thicker than Blood

Hank had ordered everyone to run, and so they ran. They left Paul’s corpse there for the surviving cannibals to do with what they wanted. They did manage to salvage most of the containers they had filled.

Mr. Horton was good to his word and paid them when they delivered the containers of papers. A whole $100 each. When they told him what had happened to Paul, he gave them Paul’s share to give to his widow.

One hundred dollars, Rue thought. The equivalent of four gallons of clean water. That’s what Paul’s wife got for losing her husband to a bunch of cannibals. A hundred dollars wasn’t enough to treat that infection growing in Vale’s wound, either. It probably didn’t even cover the cost of the ammo Brice spent trying to save their hides and keep them from getting killed. No wonder Hank was in a mood.

After Vale left, she went looking for Hank. He was sitting on the back stoop. “Not now, woman,” he said as she opened the screen door.

“Then when? Vale told me what happened. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“But Paul was! And Vale ain’t long for this world if he don’t get that infection cured.”

“Now you just carrying on like a woman.”

“And you just carrying on like a man.”

“So what would you have me do?”

“You could apply over at the Recycling Center. You know people there and you sold them plenty of scrap in the past. They know you’re a good worker.”

“I’m my own man. I ain’t gonna work for slave wages for Samedi.”

“Lawd! Listen to you. You were gone almost a week, nearly got yourself killed, lost one of your friends, and earned a grand total of $100. Only thing you a slave to is your damn pride!”

“Pride is all a man has when the world don’t give him nothing.”

“I guess I’m nothing to you, then?”

“Don’t start, woman.”

“It’s done been started. We ain’t got nothing because you more concerned about your pride than surviving. They got good jobs at the Recycling Center and the Salt Processing plant. Good jobs that have regular pay and don’t require you fighting off cannibals or ferals or getting yourself irradiated. But you hate on the Baron too much to do anything you think will help him look good. So instead you would rather run off and risk getting yourself killed.

“You been sulking about for days when you could have been fixing things around the house, leaving me to depend on the kindness of neighbors just to have water to drink. Does your pride got any room for me? Do you even know what tomorrow is?”

Hank looked up at her and scowled. “Now all the sudden you want to do something for your birthday?”

“Maybe. Maybe just once I’d like to. Even if it was just a card. Card wouldn’t be going too much out of your way for your wife.”

“Where am I supposed to find a card?”

“That bookbinder fella down the way.”

“The mute? Don’t he work for the Circle of Magi?”

“He just makes paper and binds books for them. He ain’t no wizard ‘cause he can’t talk to cast spells from what I understand. He makes cards for special occasions, too. Folks been getting them for loved ones. He makes all kinds of cards.”

“Yeah, and how much are they?”

“I think Lorraine said she spent ten dollars for one she got her parents for their anniversary.”

“Ten dollars! Ain’t no piece of paper worth that.”

“It ain’t just a piece of paper.”

“Ain’t no card worth that, either.”

Rue slumped her shoulders and went back into the house.

Open sessions at the Old Courthouse were a sight to behold.

When Baron Samedi arrived in New Orleans all those years ago, the only people with the zombie affliction locals had ever seen were ferals that you shot straight in the head before they attacked you. But the Baron had a way about him despite looking like a corpse. Where a person would think a victim of the zombification would be either completely crazy or always depressed, Baron Samedi wore his affliction like a blessing from God. He often said that the Lord saw fit to preserve him so that he could restore New Orleans to her proper glory and create a community worthy of the people who lived there.

The Baron had been a civil engineer before Doomsday, so he knew all sorts of things about what the city would need to make itself whole. He and his Chevaliers didn’t just bring their knowledge and skill with them. They brought a sense of self-worth and hope. Sure, there were petty political squabbles between the Zombi Court and the Queen’s Circle, mostly because Lady Rae felt it disrespectful for the Baron to call after himself with the name of one of her revered voodoo loas instead of using the name his mama had given him. But even the Voodoo Queen couldn’t deny the effectiveness of the Court.

Once a month, the Baron opened the Old Courthouse to the general public so that he and his Chevaliers could give a full accounting of things and hear any problems folks had. People took these sessions seriously and dressed accordingly. Those who could afford it would buy new outfits to wear for the occasions. But everyone made sure their clothes were cleaned and mended even if they weren’t new. Nobody wanted to insult the efforts of the Baron by showing up before him in filthy rags.

Rue felt a bit like a princess as she walked up the courthouse steps with Lula and Joseph. Joseph had gone to the expense of buying both Rue and his mother corsages. Corsages! It was such a luxury. Each was made of freshly picked crimson-eyed rose-mallow. Joseph said the Circle of Magi cultivated the flowers for various alchemy purposes. She was suspicious of that at first, but Joseph said alchemy was just a more scientific form of the apothecary work folks like Ms. Joleene did to make her remedies. And if God created all plants, then He created them with all of the powers they had inside them. Wasn’t no sin to access that which God put there Himself.

Her opinion of Joseph, and his friends at the Circle, had changed a bit. He was still the same good son he had always been. He took good care of his mama and by all appearances was using his magic for good. He had taken it upon himself to help Rue in her time of need when nobody would have expected him to do so or blamed him if he didn’t. If his power was coming from the Devil, Satan must have been furious that Joseph was doing God’s work with it.

Several women in the assembly stopped them to comment on the corsages. It was a nice change to be the one people looked on with admiration instead of being the one doing the admiring. She was glad to be here with her friend and Joseph instead of Hank. Hank would have just made her feel guilty for enjoying the attention.

Chevalier Armand, the only member of the Zombi Court who was not afflicted with zombification, stepped onto the stage and asked everyone to take their seats so that the open session could begin. A few women hooted at him, causing a contagious giggle to spread throughout the assembly. Armand was a handsome man; a type of handsome that belonged to another time. Like the type of handsome hinted at on the worn movie posters or in mildewed magazines that occasionally turned up in the city. Even Rue made a mental note to ask the Lord for forgiveness later for the sin of wondering what that man looked like naked.

He went through the ritual of presenting each Chevalier one at a time. When the entire Zombi Court was on the stage, only then did he introduce Baron Samedi. The assembly stood and cheered as he walked toward his chair. He turned to the audience, removed his purple top hat, and bowed before taking his seat.

“My dear brothers and sisters of this Blessed City, I thank you for extending me the kindness of your presence this evening,” began Samedi. “My heart is filled with joy seeing you all here to lend your voices to ours, so that we may together decide on the future of Nola not only for ourselves, but for our children and our children’s children.