Jumbee’s Revenge

The Black Magnolia plantation stood rotting near the cypress forest at the edge of LaFourche parish. It's huge iron gates and cold stone construction made it a creepy place even during the prime of it's opulence. Since the Civil War it's gothic majesty decayed to a foreboding monstrosity. Strangely, it had not been abandoned after the emancipation of the slaves. Many other estates up and down the river vanished with the lives and toils of many generations. But even as the great house of the old plantation crumbled, workers slowly combed the fields tending the lush crops that grew from the rich, dark peat of Antoine Richelieu's land.

The field workers were overseen by a thin, giant of a man called Jumbee, a voodoo priest brought straight from Haiti. Jumbee had no friends. Everyone was afraid of him, both white and black, because they fully believed he could do the dark deeds he claimed. He said he could bring back the dead; create zombies that didn't need to eat or sleep. Indeed, there were scores of the undead subject to Jumbee's command. After the war, those were the only workers who could tend the fields and still allow Antoine a profit. Antoine and Jumbee became partners.

Only Antoine didn't think it was fair to give half the profits to Jumbee after it had taken his family generations to acquire the land that made up the Black Magnolia. But there was only one way to make it without Jumbee's help.

Antoine desperately wanted the secret to making zombies. He spent hours creeping about the house, trying to divine the ingredients to Jumbee's potions. But Jumbee never made his powders all in one sitting. Maybe it was part of the ritual, but some ingredients were always brought to his old wooden mortar already mixed. Others were in unmarked vials and Antoine could only guess at the contents. About all he learned was that Jumbee liked to have a glass of Antoine's best brandy at his elbow as he rhythmically pounded on the wooden bowl.

He also spent a miserable night in the little cemetery outside town waiting for Jumbee to begin his ritual. A young boy of eighteen had died of a ruptured appendix and would be of great help in the fields. Jumbee could not resist such a prize. But after Antoine faced a close brush with a water moccasin and an army of blood-sucking mosquitoes, he fell asleep as if suddenly drugged and missed the resurrection ceremony. Jumbee knew of Antoine's desires, and foiled him at every turn, guarding his secrets jealously. Jumbee was very careful.

Finally Antoine could take no more.

Tonight Antoine would prepare a sumptuous feast. There would be shrimp and mutton and delicious pastries. He would invite Jumbee to join him in the celebration of a wonderful crop and share a brandy after dinner. He hoped Jumbee would be off his guard after such a huge meal and careless faced by the temptation of fine brandy. Antoine would not sip of tonight's libation - it was poisoned.

As Jumbee felt his throat tighten, he knew what Antoine had done. He had removed a number of his enemies in similar fashion. He hadn't thought Antoine would risk losing everything. Jumbee was angry at his miscalculation. Antoine was raving wildly, eyes afire with madness. He promised the antidote for the poison in exchange for the secret of zombification.

Jumbee showed no fear of death. Antoine thought he had lost his gamble. He was startled when Jumbee started to recite the ancient, sacred instructions. Antoine eagerly wrote down every last detail as Jumbee agonized through the ordeal struggling for every breath. By morning, Jumbee was dead - there was no antidote.

By the light of the harvest moon Antoine went to the little cemetery behind the house where Jumbee was buried. He entwined a lock of his hair with a lock cut from Jumbee's corpse and poured the blood of a kid goat into a silver bowl. He made incantations as he soaked the hair in the blood and anointed the dirt over Jumbee's grave. Then he took a pinch of Jumbee's special powder behind his lip and spit it onto the grave. Suddenly his head began to swim as he got sick to his stomach. A sharp pain coursed through him and Antoine passed out.

As the stars gradually swam into focus, Antoine felt as though he'd been kicked in the belly by a horse. He stood momentarily on wobbly legs before he crumpled to a seat on a mound of freshly turned earth. Over the din of his ringing ears his brain finally came to the realization that the spell had worked! Big as life, Jumbee stood erect over his own headstone.

"Congratulations, Master Richelieu!" greeted Jumbee. "Few men have enjoyed such power over death. You have stolen my soul from the devil. I will never again feel pain or fear, and I cannot be killed. But I'm afraid I may have given you the wrong magic." Antoine's heart was stabbed with an icy fear. "Not all zombies are harmless; some have an insatiable desire to consume raw human flesh. Now I crave more than revenge. The warm scent of your entrails is making me VERY hungry..."