Voodoo Island Nightmare

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CHAPTER

1

Motoring out from a private marina just north of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, two couples were looking for a fun time camping and getting high on one of the countless uncharted Berry Islands found between South Florida and the two larger islands of the Bahamas. Captaining his newly bought 1986 Sea Ray Sundance Express Cruiser, Frank Anthony Russo was accompanied by his girlfriend Jane Mitchell and their friends Brad Horowitz and Cindy Westinghouse.

Frank bought the thirty-four-foot boat after his cut-throat business tycoon father back in New York City made a killing when his company bought up a small failing outboard engine manufacturer in the rust belt to outsource the roughly thousand jobs and sell off the assets for profit. This was the easiest way to make money at the time… as long as you had the funds to invest. 

Frank, who came from a wealthy New York family, moved to South Florida in 1985 to enjoy the sun and sand as most residents of the northern states were doing. But, the joke to the locals was the only way to tell the change in the seasons was the change in colors of the license plates when they were inundated with New York, New Jersey, or other northern tags. 

Being only twenty-three and with his wealthy upbringing, he was a bit arrogant and looked at the locals as savages beneath him with their southern accents and lack of funds. With his father’s money in his pocket, he knew how to spend it on anything he wanted. This included everything from his, or in reality, his father’s, three-bedroom penthouse condo overlooking the Atlantic in Pompano Beach, his closet full of designer clothes, and the powerful small yacht they were now on.

Even his girlfriend Jane was nothing more than the flavor of the month for him. She had big breasts, a small backside, long blond hair, and suntanned skin. However, she was from Davie, Florida, west of Fort Lauderdale, and had a southern accent that drove Frank crazy. But, with her body and how he hoped she was willing to use it, he could deal with her voice, or at least until he met someone even sexier. 

His best friend, Brad, also came from New York, only he lived in Florida since 1982 when his Jewish parents picked up roots and moved down to Boca Raton. They wanted to be closer to their parents, who had retired and moved to an adult community in West Boca. Since Brad’s father was an accountant and nobody was safe from the scourge of income taxes, they could move wherever they wanted, so why not be close to the grandparents, where they could enjoy the heat while suffering through the humidity. 

Turning to Jane, Frank stared at her breasts that were popping out of her tiny bikini top, and over Wang Chung’s party anthem “Everyone Have Fun Tonight,” blasting on the radio, said, “Yo sexy… you want to try and take the wheel?”

Looking back at Frank, she said, “Sure… like, I’ve never got to drive a boat before.”

Sitting on the boat’s rear bench with his arm around Cindy, Brad was busy moving his hand ever so slowly to the main fabric of her top before looking up and replying, “Dude, what the hell… are you trying to kill us?”

With his left hand manning the helm and his right one planted on Cindy’s ass, Frank laughed while looking over his shoulder before saying, “Hey man, it’ll be fine. It ain’t like having her drive down 95.”

Scoffing at Frank and Brad, she retorted, “You guys are such jerks. How many accidents have y’all had between you? My Fiero doesn’t have a scratch on it.”

Brad laughed and said, “that’s because that little piece of shit can’t get out of its own way.”

Looking back at Brad, turning the helm with her motion, causing the boat to take a roll to the port side, she said, “Yeah, whatever. You’re the dumbass who banged up your 944 racing up A1A.”

Taking control back from Jane, Frank righted the vessel back in the direction he wanted to go. Being a bit of a control freak, not keeping the boat on the right course would usually cause him to blow his top. Yet, he was willing to overlook his anal tendencies when he looked over at Jane’s perfect body.

After about an hour, they had cleared the shoreline and had a full three-sixty view of nothing but the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. He was familiar with this area from the multiple Discovery cruises he had taken to the Bahamas. Loving the one or two-day trips to Freeport was evident by the baby-blue “I Survived the Devil’s Triangle” shirt he wore, which he picked up on his last trip there. 

But, unlike those trips that took him north to Freeport, this time, he was heading between the two main islands to a group of tropical ones that he had heard about a few weeks ago while partying at a nightclub down on Broward Blvd in the heart of Fort Lauderdale. He was told there was no flag over the islands, and they could do whatever they wanted on the warm white sandy beaches. 

With that said, he was ready to party with his new girl and best friend. So, he bought a full ounce of weed from his local Haitian dealer and picked up four twelve-packs of Corona for the trip. He also packed up just a bare minimum amount of food, a couple of tents, and a few sleeping bags for their little forty-eight-hour hedonistic excursion to whatever uninhabited island they came across first.

Cindy looked at Brad and said, “So you know I’m not going all the way, right?”

Brad turned to her and replied, “That’s funny… considering you did last night.”

Grinning, she responded, “Yeah, well… that’s cause you got me so freaking stoned.”

Turning to Frank, Brad said, “Dude, break out that bag of weed. There ain’t no Coasties around here.”

Nodding his head, Frank smiled as he thought it was time to get the party started. Then, handing the helm to Jane, who swore up and down that she would not take them off course again, he went down below and returned with the bag of weed and a pack of rolling papers. Giving their stash to Brad, he told him, “There you go, man… roll us up some fatties.”

Opening the bag, Brad pulled out enough to roll a couple joints while Frank cracked open a few bottles of Corona and passed them out. After he gave Jane hers, she asked, “Where’s the lime?”

With a look of shock, Frank said, “Shit! I knew I forgot something.”

As Brad finished rolling a few joints, he looked at Frank and said, “Dude, party foul.” 

Frank replied, “Really, whatever. Who’s taking you assholes out for an awesome weekend? I can turn this boat around, and we can waste time going to get some limes… or you can shut the fuck up and just have fun.”

Another few hours passed until a sliver of land appeared in front of the vessel. Off in the distance, Frank knew this was one of the uninhabited islands they were looking for. This was because his Haitian dealer, Pierre, who Frank bought from at his favorite nightclub, gave him the exact coordinates.

Already stoned and a bit drunk, they looked on with excitement as the boat motored closer. First, the outline of palm trees became apparent, and then after a few more moments, the beach's white sands appeared as the water turned a light teal blue… so clear they could see the ocean floor beneath them. 

Aboard his cruiser, Frank had a small lifeboat they could use to take them to the white sands of the beach after anchoring out as far as his vessel could make it without running aground. That seemed to be the only problem with traveling to these uncharted islands, actually making it to the beaches with supplies unless you were just swimming to the shore for a day of sunbathing under the warm subtropical sky. 

As the boat approached the island, it seemed pretty large and not one of the smaller keys they were used to in this area. However, it appeared to be completely deserted as there were no other boats, no people, or nothing other than the palm trees lining the beach in both directions.

At around 60 feet from the shoreline, Frank’s Sea Ray could not venture any closer to the beach as the waters became too shallow for the hull. But, from their close-up vantage point of the island, they could see the dense vegetation hidden behind the hurricane-swept palm trees that were home to a wide variety of tropical bird species they could hear singing their joys of living in such a paradise. 

Dropping the boat’s anchor, Frank threw the lifeboat into the water. Once the inflatable was afloat, he jumped in and had Brad pass him the supplies. After loading the gear, the other three looked at Frank and laughed. They had devised a prank that morning when they met up earlier. Planning on having Frank do all the heavy lifting, they would jump into the island's warm, crystal-clear waters and swim to shore, leaving it to Frank to row the small lifeboat full of supplies to the beach. 

Then once they arrived and Frank was in the lifeboat with the supplies, it was time to pull the trigger. So, they jumped in the water, which must have been close to 90 degrees, and slowly swam to the beach while Frank looked on, aiming a long string of profanities in their direction. Yet, he knew he would have taken part in the same joke on someone else if given the opportunity.

Rowing the lifeboat to the island, he looked on at the others who had already made it. In reality, it did not take that much longer because he jumped out of the boat, less than halfway there in waist-high water, pulling the boat to the shore. And what a fantastic beach it was, covered with nothing but white sand, seashells, and coconuts. There were no signs of humans ever being here, such as the litter scattered all over the beaches of Florida from the inconsiderate tourists. 

While Jane and Cindy looked at Frank pulling the boat ashore, Brad jokingly said, “Dude, what the fuck took you so long… I almost sobered up waiting on your greasy ass.”

Frank said, sarcastically laughing, “Look at that shit, I got us here… you assholes.”

Jane then walked up and hugged Frank before she made him cringe with her accent, “Yes, you did, baby.”
 

CHAPTER 

2

Within a few minutes, their tents were set up, sleeping bags rolled out, and the gear stowed. Then, with a couple of fold-up beach chairs on the outside, and a heavy cooler full of ice, beer, and burgers, they were ready for some fun. 

Running back down to the water, Brad and Cindy jumped in while Frank and Jane decided to explore some of the beach. Walking north along the endless shoreline, Jane looked for any plunder Blackbeard may have buried long ago as Frank just imagined burying his own. Yet, all they found were perfectly pristine seashells and more sand. 

After a while, strolling along the white sands, without discovering any bounty buried under it, Frank had the idea to explore the treasures hidden under Jane’s bikini top. Taking her hand and pulling her close, he started kissing her as she returned the gesture. Then, with hands that seemed to have a mind of their own, he massaged her every curve before he was stopped by a slightly hard slap to his cheek. 

Pulling back from the embrace, he said, “Damn… you’re so hot you got me on fire! Why are you doing me like that?”

With a smile, she replied, “I know I am, but we should be getting back. I’m hungry, and those burgers aren’t going to cook themselves. So, we need to build a campfire or something before we worry about that fire swinging between your legs.”

Frank smiled and said, “I thought of that and brought a small grill and some briquettes. I got them stored down below on the boat. I just got to go back and get them.”

With a laugh, “Well, ain’t you my sexy Robinson Crusoe.”

Seeming puzzled, he asked, “Who the hell is Robinson Crusoe?”

Then, taking his hand, she responded, “Thank god you got the looks and the money because you definitely don’t have the brains… Come on, let's head back and see what the others are up to.” 

Turning back, they started walking to the campsite. Frank was slightly annoyed as some of the blood used to fuel his brain had worked its way to other areas of his body. Yet, it seemed that she was not ready to help him relieve some of the mounting pressure he was feeling this early in the day. 

The fact of the matter was that Frank would not keep dating a girl who was playing hard to get after a month or so. As much as he had tried to, he had not seen her anymore exposed than he did right now in her bikini. The thought of what was hidden underneath the material was driving him insane, and he could not get her off his mind, which was the only thing that kept him from breaking it off. 

Yes, he cringed every time she spoke, but she was just so drop-dead gorgeous he did not know what to do. Sure, he could have any woman in Broward County, but he wanted this one. She may have sounded like a redneck, but she looked like one of the blonde bombshells he had only seen in the movies. 

Finally, deciding that if they did not have sex on this trip, he would end his pursuit of her. Wanting the finest woman, he had the best of everything else, from his Guess jeans to all the newest technology, like compact discs and his latest and greatest computer… which he never figured out how to use. 

With the grandest condo a young twenty-something had ever seen, he would throw the wildest parties, with the sounds of bands like Duran Duran thundering through the crowd. He had all the women throwing themselves at him during these bashes, or rolling up to the clubs in his newer Porsche 911, or even because of his Italian good looks. So, he was beginning to feel like getting Jane between the sheets might be a challenge that was not worth the effort, meaning it was time to move on to the next target of lust.

On the other hand, Jane liked him and wanted to have sex with him, even with his egotistical attitude. However, the problem was that so many mitigating circumstances in her life were causing her not to go all the way with her young beau. One was his big mouth and knowing that he would tell everyone about it, leading to a real problem.

Yes, the real problem happened to be her father, Jimmy “Hades” Mitchell, the brutal leader of the Disciples FLA, a local biker gang out of Davie. He was at war with the Haitians as they were attempting to take control of the marijuana industry of South Florida from the Disciples. She knew that even with all of Frank's money, if her father found out she slept with Frank, he would end up gator bait somewhere out in the Everglades. 

It was not that Jimmy would not let her date men, he was well aware of how the world worked and did not care about her being sexually active. The problem was Frank had three strikes against him. First, he was from New York. Second, he was Italian. Third, he was a Catholic. 

These were all real problems for Jimmy, as he could be considered a bit of a white supremacist type by some, even though he would do business with any race that was profitable. So, those three strikes meant that Frank was a “dago bastard” who took advantage of his beautiful young daughter… whether she was a willing partner or not. 

Furthermore, there was no question of what Jimmy was capable of doing. He had completed hard-time upstate for a triple homicide that would have normally doomed him to life in prison or even the chair, but the prosecutor was paid off, and his charges were lowered to manslaughter. Yet, he still had the prison ink covering his arms and face, which proved he was someone not to be trifled with. 

So, to Jane, Frank was a forbidden love, an authentic Romeo and Juliet story for her. Just the thought of the danger they were in whenever they were together made her heart race. The peril for Frank, if he was seen with her, made her ever the more attracted to the young Italian. She just had to keep the romance secret as the Disciples had eyes and ears everywhere throughout the tri-counties. 

After they finally returned to their section of beach, they saw Brad and a topless Cindy still in the water passionately kissing. They, too, had only been together for about a month, but unlike Jane’s parental predicament, Cindy was free to explore every desire she had with the shorter and thinner Brad. 

Seeing the two standing on the beach looking at him and Cindy, Brad said, “Get your asses in the water.”

Frank replied, “Hey man… I’ve got to get back to the boat and get the grill.”

Brad laughed, “Dude, you’d forget your dick if it wasn’t attached.”

Pulling the tiny lifeboat back into the water, Frank started dragging it to the other two. Passing by them, Frank looked at Cindy, who turned from Brad towards him, giving him a quick peepshow while smiling. It was clear to everyone, including the man she had been kissing, that she was with Brad only as a fling until she could get her hands on Frank and his money.

Also, a pretty blonde, Cindy tried hard, but she was still what Frank considered average. She did not have the large breasts of Jane nor her perfectly sculpted ass. However, she may have been plain compared to the knockout the other girl was, but she was willing to do whatever Frank wanted her to… if she could only get him alone. The only problem with her plan was that Frank never seemed to notice her as he was much more interested in appearance than substance. 

Still, substance was something she did not have either, as she suffered from something as bad as Frank. She was more interested in wealth than appearance. In his case, he had both, but she probably would not have suffered her attraction to him if he did not have his family’s money to throw around without a care in the world.

Brad seemed to know about Cindy’s attraction to his best friend, but it did not seem to faze him. He had so many girls after him for the same reason Cindy was with him. Believing that as long as he could play up his friendship with Frank, why not get the first taste before sharing with his buddy.

Making it back to the boat, Frank clumsily climbed up the ladder. Disappearing below for a few minutes, he retrieved the grill and a few other forgotten items needed to cook up the burgers. Returning to the deck, he threw a bag of buns on the lifeboat before climbing down and retrieving the rest.

After making it back to the beach, he started setting up his little beachside barbeque station. Cindy came out of the water dripping wet, still topless, and walked over to Frank, hoping to get him to notice her as she pushed her breasts out as far as her back could arch. She asked if he needed any help with the food, yet to her horror, he did not notice her even with her upper body on full display. 

No, instead, he popped in a cassette of George Michael’s latest release titled Faith into the small boombox he brought, and cranked it up. Brad saw what she was doing but thought “whatever” as he too walked over to them, as did Jane when she exited the tent she was sharing with Frank.

Jane looked at Cindy while Brad was rolling a few more joints and said, “Hey girlfriend, maybe you should put your top back on.”

Cindy replied, “Don’t be such a prude! There’s like no one around.”

Turning from Cindy to retrieve a joint from Brad, Jane said, “Whatever.”

Smiling, Cindy saw her opportunity and grabbed the tied string holding Jane’s assets hidden behind their fabric prison. Then, pulling the bowtie as Jane began to walk away, she freed them from their bondage. Jane’s breasts were now directly in Brad’s face, so close she could feel his breath on them, while he rose from his seat to pass out the weed. Turning from Brad back to Cindy, she had a look of playful shock instead of anger. 

Jane then laughingly said, “Oh, you bitch.”

Looking on, Frank thought, holy shit! Finally, after a month, this is what he had been waiting to see, and maybe it might be worth it to wait just a little bit longer if, for some reason, he still could not get her to sleep with him on this little excursion. Yes, his ultimate goal was to have those silver dollars in his mouth and c-cups in his hands after sunset, which was beginning to approach rapidly.

Then, while Jane tried to retrieve her top from Cindy, Frank said, “Damn girl, don’t put those away… let them breathe.”

Jane wasn’t having it as she finally recovered her top and said, “If you want to see these again… you better make sure those burgers are freaking killer.”

With a look of disappointment as Jane covered her girls, Frank said, “Those reminded me of Ray Charles's new wife. Have you seen her? I mean… his new wife?”

“No, I don't think I have.”

With a smirk, “Neither has he.”

“Wow, that’s just so wrong on so many levels. He’s like one of the best singers ever.”

Frank went back to cooking the food, with the vision of what he had just seen playing over and over in his head as they watched the sky turn pink as the sun reached the horizon line. This was a sight to see considering where they lived because they could only watch the sunrise after a full night of partying… and since, at their age, they would never suffer the agony of waking up early enough to see it rise. 

Within a few minutes, Frank took the burgers off the grill and placed them in their buns while Brad passed out some of the ice-cold beers from the cooler. After they all had their food and drinks in hand, they took their seats while Frank turned on the lanterns for light as it was just too hard to build and just too hot for a bonfire. 

Once they were finished eating but far from done drinking, Brad heard a noise come from the undergrowth behind the palm trees. He stood up and said to his noisy friends, “Shut the fuck up! Did anyone else just hear that?”

Looking at Brad, Frank responded, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Rising to his feet, Brad stumbled closer to the undergrowth to have a better look at what was causing the noise. Then, after taking a long hit from his joint and a drink from his bottle of beer, he finally screamed, “Holy shit!”

Out of the darkness, he saw a group of black men, who appeared to be Haitians from their extremely dark complexion, coming at him with machetes in their hands. As they approached closer, he could see their eyes which appeared lifeless, as they were solid white without any noticeable pupils. They were shirtless, wearing ripped to shreds blue jeans, with their bare feet stomping through the tropical forest.

One of the Haitians drew back his machete and struck Brad on the top of his head with such power he sank the blade almost to the bridge of his nose as he fell to the ground, dead from the fatal strike. The Haitian then stepped on Brad’s jaw for leverage to remove his jungle knife, which he had buried deep in his skull. Three others began chopping at his lifeless body, severing his limbs while the rest closed in on the terrified three remaining. 

As they surrounded the others, another one of the attackers raised his machete and struck Cindy in the neck, killing her where she stood. Then, the three men who decimated Brad began the same process of cutting up her body into little bloody stumps on the sand. 

Another one of the Haitians reared his weapon to Frank, who stood there too petrified to move, when a heavy French accent pierced the air out of the darkness, “Stop… and seize them.”

The men rushed Frank and Jane, forced them to the ground, and held them face down in the sand as a much older Haitian man in full white linens appeared on the beach. The man looked them over and said, “Do not kill them. Bring them.”

Looking at the men destroying Cindy’s torso, he ordered them to stop as well. The stranger who led the attack told the others to collect the body parts and place them in a burlap sack. The order from him was followed without hesitation before he said, “You there, curse the boat away… and you there, drag the bag to the kitchen… and you there, bring these two to the circle.”

The older Haitian man looked down at the two survivors, who were in complete terror, and said, “Welcome to my island of your worst nightmare.”
 

CHAPTER

3

The strange, almost zombie-like men did not speak, show emotion, or even seem to breathe while dragging Frank and Jane deeper into the broadleaf forest. Instead, with wanton disregard, they dragged them over rocks, large protruding tree roots, and every other razor-sharp plant growing on the Kay. 

After about an hour or so of unending horror of what awaited, they entered a large clearing where there stood an ancient southern-style mansion that seemed to be in extreme disrepair, surrounded by slave quarters on either side. The massive complex was shocking to see, even though this was one of the larger uncharted Berry Islands. However, there had never been any plantations built on these atolls due to the lack of nutrients in the sandy soil. 

The men who appeared to be slaves to whoever owned the plantation continued dragging their two prisoners to a large round area that had been cleared of all vegetation and was nothing more than black soil. Then, they tied them down with ropes that were secured with stakes hammered deep into the ground. No matter how hard they fought to get free, the riggings only seemed to get tighter and tighter over their mostly exposed and scratched-up skin.

Frank and Jane lay there for what seemed like hours, unable to move or scream due to the ropes pressing down firmly on their diaphragms. All they could do was lay there in silent agony as they both had tears running down their dirt-covered faces with the thoughts of what was yet to come. 

Finally, a group of Haitian women in all white formfitting dresses came out of the slave quarters rhythmically banging makeshift drums. Without speaking, they circled Frank and Jane, continuing to pound on the barrels as they spun around and stomped their feet in some form of ritualistic dance. As they moved their bodies to the beat, Frank could see the same lifeless white eyes on all the women that the men who attacked them had.

So scared by the events, Frank ended up urinating on himself as he realized that this was one time his father would not be able to bail him out. No, he knew this was real, and he did not know if he or Jane, or both, were about to be sacrificed to some weird voodoo cult hidden away from the world.

As he lay there with the thoughts of what was yet to come, Jane had the same visions. After the women beat the drums faster to a crescendo, they dropped to their knees around the circle, lying face down with their arms stretched out to the center where the two were held hostage. With this act, all noise stopped, and the night became terrifyingly quiet.

The older Haitian male then approached the circle carrying a large and small bag in his hands. Entering the ritual circle, he stood above Frank and Jane and said, “Welcome to your new home, my home, from which you shall never leave. For you may call me Papa Kochma, and I am now your master as you are now my slaves.” 

Turning from his prisoners to the quarters, Papa Kochma signaled for more slave women to come and continue the drumming of the original females, who surrounded the two like a demonic giant daisy. Once the music began, he signaled another to bring two chickens to the circle while he reached into the bigger bag, pulled out a handful of cornmeal, and began to form a thin line encompassing his victims. 

After completing the circle, he began to draw out symbols of his ancient gods at the four corners of the ring with the cornmeal. He formed the signs for Papa Legba, the emissary to the spirit realm, Baron Samedi, the keeper of the dead, Maman Brigitte, the keeper of the underworld, and Bondye, the creator of the universe.

With his symbolism complete, a slave woman handed him one of the chickens, which he raised above his head and began praying, “Oh, Bondye, great spirit of all. Oh, great spirit of my ancestors. I make this offering to you. This sacrifice on this day. To give me power over will. To give me power over life. To give me power over spirit. I beseech of you, oh great Baron Samedi, thy keeper of the dead, give me your power here in this realm over this man.” 

Completing his prayer, he handed the chicken back to two kneeling women who stretched the fowl out directly over Frank’s head. Then, bending down, Papa Kochma was given a dagger. With evil in his eyes, he smiled as he slit the bird’s throat, severing the head from the body. The dead hen’s blood began gushing all over Frank, causing him to choke as it covered his mouth and nostrils. Papa Kochma then moved the dead animal's corpse around other areas of Frank’s upper body, saturating him. 

When every bit of blood had been spilled on Frank, Papa Kochma threw the dead chicken outside the circle and began rubbing the blood into the skin of the terrified man beneath him. Turning Frank’s deep tan into a wet mess of gore as some of the parts of plasma seemed to be thicker in consistency than others. 

With the sacrament complete, Papa Kochma rose and stepped over to Jane, who looked on with sheer terror in her eyes. Able to turn her head ever so slightly, she witnessed the hellish ritual that had just happened to Frank. With her heart racing so fast, it thumped the ground beneath her, she knew this evil voodoo priest was about to perform the same rites on her.

Now standing over Jane, Papa Kochma was handed the second chicken. Again, he lifted the animal above his head to the night sky. Then, looking down at Jane with his evil smile of perfect teeth, he said, “You… you shall be one of my brides.”

Attempting to scream again, but she could not as his words sent chills to her very soul. What hell was he planning on putting her through? Finally, she was able to get out a slight whimper of, “No!”

The old man laughed before he began the prayer again, “Oh, Bondye, great spirit of all. Oh, great spirit of my ancestors. I make this offering to you. This sacrifice on this day. To give me power over will. To give me power over life. To give me power over spirit. I beseech of you, oh great, Maman Brigitte, thy keeper of the underworld, give me your power here in this realm over the body of this woman.” 

Handed the knife again, he slit the bird’s throat before performing the same sacred rite of anointing the girl's body, from her face to her breasts and down to her stomach, with the blood of the dead chicken. There seemed to be so much more to rub in as Jane was smaller than Frank. As blood continued to spread, it pooled in all of her valleys, including her eyes, which turned her vision red. 

Standing back up, Papa Kochma wiped the blood off his hands with a pure white cloth that one of his male slaves offered him. He made sure that every bit was cleaned off, even giving attention to under his fingernails. Then, he handed the bloody rag back to the male before picking up his smaller bag. Looking down at the two who lay there covered in rapidly drying blood, he smiled while reaching into the bag where he removed a handful of a white powdery substance.

Turning to Frank, he said, “You shall be first.”

Stepping back over Frank, he knelt again with his hand just under the man’s lips. With a sinister grin, he blew the powder over his face, causing Frank to begin seizing. His body moved uncontrollably for a moment as he started to foam at the mouth from whatever the substance was, which made its way into his bloodstream after being inhaled through his blood-crusted nose and mouth.

After what seemed a painful death, Frank’s body stopped seizing and went limp, terrifying Jane worse than anything she had ever seen in her life or even on a movie screen. Trying to call for someone, anyone, to come and save her from this hell she was being put through, yet no one could save her now.

Retrieving another handful of his white powder, Papa Kochma knelt down over Jane. Then, with his devious smile, he placed his hand in the exact location under her face, “Don’t worry, my beautiful bride. I have so many things to show you after your death. For you shall live again only in bondage to me as my most beautiful creation, my zonbi.”

Exhaling his breath, he blew the powder over her face, which also caused her to begin convulsing uncontrollably. She foamed at the mouth, as did Frank a moment before, causing the red blood and white powder to mix into a vomitous mixture of pinkish fluids that ran down the sides of her face and began pooling on the ground.

Within a mere moment, her body appeared to die as well. The torture had finally ceased for the two young lovers who were just out looking for a good time in the warm waters of these forgotten Bahamian islands. The instant death and dismemberment of their traveling companions paled in comparison to the hell they had lived through before the mercy of death finally came. 

Once Papa Kochma was sure that his ritual was finished and that they were indeed dead, he ordered six male slaves to dig two shallow graves in the soft earth. Then, turning to the rest of his servants, he ordered others to go to the supply building and retrieve two of the pine coffins stored there. 

While they were doing his bidding, he retrieved his knife from the woman he had handed it to during the ritual and made sure it was clean. When he was confident that every blood particle from the chickens was removed, he knelt over his two victims again. First was Frank as he grabbed hold of his lower jaw and forced his mouth open before saying, “You shall never speak of this again.”

Papa Kochma then began slowly slicing Frank’s tongue from his mouth. Holding the severed tongue in his hand, he ordered a woman holding a jar of other tongues to approach. She handed it to him, and he opened it, placing Frank’s tongue in with the countless others who suffered the same fate. 

Moving over to Jane, he knelt beside her. First, wiping them clean, he kissed her lips before grabbing her jaw and pulling her tongue out as far as it could reach. Then with one powerful slice, he held her tongue in his hands. Noticing it was clean of any white powder, he brought it to his mouth and touched her tongue to his before laughing and placing it in the jar. 

Rising back to his feet, Papa Kochma ordered them to bury the bodies as soon as the almost finished graves were dug. He then turned back to his house for the evening before looking back at Jane one last time and saying, “Oh, my bride, you shall make me so very happy. I will see you again… so very soon.”

Finally, he turned to his home and ordered his servants to do his bidding as his work for the evening was complete. Then, for fear of his great strength, they collected the two bodies, placed them in the pine boxes, dragged them to the freshly dug holes, and dropped them in. Covering them up, now came the waiting game for their rebirth. Because soon, they would wake up in their new lives of unending torture at the hands of the powerful witch doctor, Papa Kochma.