Tapestry of Whispers - Scene 7
Death of a Loading Dock Man
“We're gonna get in our car
We're gonna go, go, go
We're gonna drive to a neighborhood
Kill someone we don't know”
-Rollins Band, “Drive By Shooting”
On Wednesday, the Garden District was transformed into a sauna, with the evening providing little respite from the relentless heat. With the first glimpse of sunrise, the warmth returned, as though it had never left.
Daniel prepared for a day's work, starting with the online news before logging into his job. The first item that caught his attention was a report on the shooting at Taken For Granted. Although Officer Chance Galicinao was interviewed by the police, the article made no mention of Daniel or Zarellon Drellassi. As of yet, the police had neither suspects nor motives for the crime.
The individual who was shot at Taken For Granted was identified as Elliott Riley. His family was uncertain if anything was taken from the store, and they did not appear to be a closely bonded clan. A niece of his mentioned there was "something weird" about the store, although the reporter did not provide further details. This same story was shared across several local news outlets in Monroe.
Daniel was afraid that some of his neighbors could be talking to Drellassi, but no one knocked on his door. Since Beth had taken the car, he'd taken pains to make it look like no one was home, and perhaps that had worked. Morning work progressed normally.
Daniel kept a close eye on the neighborhood while he microwaved his lunch. Sure enough, he saw the familiar black SUV parked near the intersection of his street and Louisville Avenue. Drellassi stood on the sidewalk near the intersection, breathing in the neighborhood air. He was accompanied by four bruisers, who stood guard. A few other people passed by on the sidewalk and cars passed on the street, but Drellassi ignored them.
Daniel saw Drellassi’s eyes abruptly widen in surprise. "Who are you?" he shouted. The person he spoke to shuffled into sight. It was Buford Lalumiere, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. His familiar baseball cap was missing, his hair and beard were mussed, and his clothes were disheveled. He didn't seem to notice the saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Daniel could see a black aura, shot through with electricity, surrounding Buford, and within that aura, the vague outline of another person. There was a ghost inside him, but Daniel couldn’t tell much about it other than it might be wearing a planter’s coat. Somewhere in there, though, Buford was also hanging on, and the ghost was struggling to move him.
“Oh, shit,” Daniel dropped his lunch and frantically searched for his magic kit. He knew he would have to reveal himself to the thugs, but he had to try to save Buford. Daniel started trying to center himself as he gathered the components and headed for the door. Exorcism was a demanding spell, and trying to cast it rapidly was almost impossible, but he had to try.
At the same time, Buford and Drellassi were engaged in a less-than-courteous exchange. "Carpetbaggers!" Buford exclaimed. "Damn Yankees!" Buford grasped Drellassi's collar and forcefully pulled him off his feet. “God DAMN you motherf -!” His words trailed off into incoherent noises of anger.
Buford thrust Drellassi against the SUV with such force that the windshield cracked, and the car alarm blared. Drellassi's bodyguards, guns drawn, commanded Buford to let go of their boss. However, Buford, or more accurately, the entity within him, disregarded their orders and persisted in throttling Drellassi. Daniel hastily recited his preparatory prayers and dashed from his yard towards the crossroads, attempting to ignite a sage stick in his haste.
The black cloud surrounding Buford lifted, not because of anything Daniel or Drellassi did, but due to the malevolence of the entity itself. Buford was left looking dazed, facing down several large men with guns. The shadow ascended, muttering incoherent fury. As the thugs readied their guns, it drifted towards the unknown. Daniel was almost certain it taunted them with a raspberry before disappearing.
Drelassi noticed the change in Buford too. "No, no, no, no, no!" he screamed. But it was already too late; the goons had opened fire, and within a split second, Buford was hit. Less than a minute had passed since Daniel first laid eyes on him, and now Buford lay dead. Overwhelmed by shock, Daniel couldn't even muster a cry."
Screaming obscenities of his own, Drellassi tried to help Buford, but he didn't seem to know what to do. Blood covered the street and sidewalk, and Buford tried to speak but couldn't. The thugs just stood there with their smoking firearms, as if wondering what had just happened.
Daniel rushed to Buford's side, but it was already too late. Buford was gone. He hoped that Buford had moved on to a better place. He didn't want to think about what might happen to Buford if he got stuck in the Shadowlands, and with Spectres around there were even worse possibilities than that.
Daniel just sat in shock. He felt numb. Daniel had seen too many friends die, and now suddenly Buford was added to the list. It felt more important to take care of himself, to make sure the ghost wasn’t still around. He didn’t see it anywhere, but he suspected it hadn’t gone far.
As the ambulance and police cars arrived at the scene, Daniel muttered, "Well, here we are again. This is starting to look real familiar." Realizing there was nothing more he could do for Buford, he confronted Drellassi, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Trying to—" Drellassi swallowed hard, steadying himself. "It's none of your business."
"I believe it is my business. It seems you've been attempting to draw me out. What do you want?" Daniel's gaze fell to his hands, smeared with Buford's blood. "Why was that creature after you?"
"Clearly, you have some knowledge of the Craft. What did you witness at Taken For Granted that day?" Daniel was itching to punch him.
"It's the same thing I just witnessed. Someone ends up dead, and YOU appear. To be absolutely clear - I am NOT getting involved in this, and I DON'T want any further part in it, or with you."
"Fine by me," Drellassi hissed, as the paramedics arrived to confirm what they both already knew. The police were already questioning Drellassi's men, and he moved to speak with them. Meanwhile, Daniel stood up, noticing for the first time how much of Buford's blood was on him.
One of the uniformed cops came over to him. “What happened here?”
"I was just about to have my lunch when I noticed some guys parked down the street. Suddenly, Buford approached them, and before I knew it, guns were drawn. I tried to intervene, but it all happened so fast."
Another witness was overheard saying, "He went berserk, attacking that man. Then, the shooting started."
Daniel added, "Yes, I recognize Buford; he works with my wife. He's been unwell. He went missing, and they've been searching for him." Now, his diabetes seemed to be the least of his family's concerns.
The officer questioned Daniel about Buford's reason for attacking the men. Daniel replied that he didn't know and acknowledged that Buford was not acting like himself. The officer's suspicion was apparent, which Daniel found understandable. He knew that in the officer's position, he would also be suspicious, particularly with knowledge of the recent shooting in West Monroe.
"Mr. Hauser, to be frank, you either have extraordinarily bad luck or a knack for finding trouble. Nevertheless, there's no indication you've committed a crime here. A detective will likely follow up with you. In the meantime, I recommend you clean yourself up."
"Understood." Daniel remained stationary as the officer returned to her colleagues. Whether she believed him was uncertain. Yet, evidence is evidence. He observed the crime scene unit assume control, documenting the blood splatter and collecting the contents of Buford's pockets.
Daniel watched the CSI team finish up and then headed inside to call his boss and tell him why he was late coming back from lunch. He made it all the way back into his house when he remembered his magic kit and went back out to get it. Meanwhile, Drellassi and the thugs were released, probably due to Drellassi greasing the wheels of justice somewhere, and the black SUV left the intersection.
Following the shooting, the crowd of onlookers had mostly cleared out, yet two individuals lingered at the crossroads. One was a tall, elderly gentleman sporting a lengthy ponytail and a white beard, whom Daniel couldn't identify. The second individual wore a hooded sweatshirt, even in the heat, obscuring their gender and ethnicity.
The elegantly attired man spoke in hushed tones, yet Daniel caught his words. "We must put an end to this. It's spiraling out of control. Someone has lost their life, for heaven's sake!"
“I tried to shut it down,” the other individual said. “It has other ideas. I just hope that the Blackwoods can tame it.”
The elderly man and the other individual hastily parted ways, heading in opposite directions. Daniel pondered their possible involvement in Buford's incident. Swiftly, he picked up his magic kit and returned indoors, feigning ignorance of their conversation.
Aware of Buford's fate, Daniel inspected his wards and felt relieved to see they remained intact. He discarded his blood-stained clothes and stepped into the shower to wash away the remnants of Buford's blood. While attempting to piece together the events, he was troubled by his own sense of detachment.
Daniel had sought to abandon the world of magic, spirits, and death. Yet, despite his utmost efforts, it had ensnared him twice recently. It seemed that magic remained as perilous as it was two decades prior. In certain respects, it had become more treacherous, for he now fully grasped the depth and peril of the entities that lurked.
Beth returned from her shift at King Hardware. Daniel relayed the afternoon's shooting incident to her. He regretted having to tell her about Buford. Daniel had respected him, but for Beth, he had been akin to a paternal figure. Overwhelmed with emotion, she informed him that she was already aware. Buford's family had notified their manager. However, she was unaware that the incident had occurred so close to home, practically on their back porch. The day had passed without any other incidents at the store.
Daniel expressed to Beth his reluctance to become involved in the situation, yet he doubted he truly had an option. Together, they conducted a private prayer service for Buford and his family.
Shortly after they concluded, a knock came at the door. Standing there was a police detective. Daniel assumed they were there to inquire further about the shooting, but he could see that the detective appeared somewhat shaken.
"You were a witness to the shooting of Buford Lalumiere, correct?”
“Yes sir, I was. I gave my statement to the officer at the scene, but I’ll be more than willing to help you out if I can.”
“We’re not sure its related, but someone has broken into the morgue refrigerator and taken Mr. Lalumiere's body. Are you aware of anyone who might have done this?"
"They took his body?" Daniel said, uneasy about the direction the conversation took his thoughts.
“Busted down the door. The morgue attendant said it almost didn’t look like it was done with tools. Can you believe that? Wrenched the damn thing completely off. Refrigerator door too.”
“I don’t know anyone twisted enough to do that.” Not someone, he thought to himself, but some thing. He was aware that if a ghost could possess a living person, it might also be capable of commandeering a deceased body for a joyride. The real concern was what it would use the body to do. This would largely depend on the ghost's personality rather than Buford's—it might not have any knowledge of him.
"Mr. Hauser, please don't leave town," the detective instructed. “And be advised that the perpetrator might return here.” Now, there was a thought that Daniel didn’t need, considering what he thought the perpetrator was, but he acknowledged the detective’s request and told him if there was anything he could do, he would do so.
After the detective departed, Beth faced Daniel. "Is it happening again? Like what happened at Mount Moriah?"
"I wish I could forget," Daniel replied. His memories of Mount Moriah Cemetery were too vivid. The events that transpired there were unbelievable, and he understood why no one had accepted their story. The papers had covered it up. Back then, there still were papers.
“Did you ever find out… why they came back?”
Daniel paused, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "I have ideas, but no one knows anything for sure. I remember what I saw that day, like a giant freaking hurricane in the ghost world. I haven't seen anything like that before or since."
Beth recoiled at the recollection of lifeless hands reaching out to her, smeared with cemetery dirt. Of grimy fingernails screeching against the doors and windows of the house in which they tried to hide. "Do you think Buford has become one of those... things?" she asked Daniel.
Daniel recalled the walking dead only too well. They emerged from the ground, advancing with relentless aggression; slow yet nearly indestructible. Unlike movie portrayals, they didn't crave brains, nor was their condition infectious, but that was hardly reassuring. They were still capable of ripping a person apart, a horror Daniel had witnessed firsthand. Escape meant either destroying all of them or swift evasion. In those days, he had mastered the art of evasion. But now, he reflected, thirty years and at least thirty pounds later, things could be different.
Daniel remarked, "I'm not sure, but the Spectres are here, and one of them had Buford before he was shot by those men. I need to do more research." With a frown, Daniel gazed out the window, pondering whether an undead Buford was now haunting the night in Monroe, and even more so, what actions he could take if that turned out to be true