Back From The Dead

“So what happened?” Gordon asked.

Tim took a sip of his chocolate shake. “You mean, what happened in the book?”

“Yeah.”

Tim shrugged, curious why Gordon would want to know the plotline of the horror novel he was reading. Gordon was one of those kids that only read when they were assigned books to read in class. “It’s about a group of guys that basically make zombies so they could be their slaves.”

Gordon looked fascinated. “You shittin’ me?”

“No,” Tim said. Part of him felt nervous that he was talking to Gordon in a more or less civilized manner; this was the only time he could remember Gordon being courteous to him. “I’m at the part now where they’ve got a bunch of them enslaved in this…like…encampment…and they’re going to use them to — ”

“What’s the name of the book?” Al asked.

“It’s called Back From the Dead and it’s by Richard Long,” Tim told Al. He turned to Gordon. “They make the zombies by a combination of black magic…specifically voodoo and this…I guess you could say it’s this powder made from certain herbs that are found from this plant in the ‘Carribean. I can’t remember the name now. And — ”

“So do these zombies eat people?” Steve asked.

Tim realized that they were all paying attention to him now. Even Susan Snow, who’d hardly noticed him since they entered middle school together and was one of the hottest-looking girls in school. Tim took a quick sip of his milk shake to wet his palate. “No. They don’t eat people. At least they haven’t yet.”

“So how do they make the zombies?” Gordon asked.

Tim shrugged. If this had happened back in the sixth or seventh grade he would have been hesitant to tell him. Gordon would have just run off to tell Scott and Steve, then the three of them would tease and make fun of him about it. However, this time, things seemed different. Tim had the impression that Al and George, who were not only interested in hearing about this too, would take his back if Gordon turned into a shithead. “Well, some of this novel takes place in Haiti, where zombies are very real to the population there. How the characters in the novel make the zombies is from a mixture of the herbs I mentioned and certain chemicals found from toad skin and puffer fish.”

“Is that because they’re poisonous?” Gordon asked.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “The hungoun, or the voodoo priest, can make the victim appear dead by putting this mixture in food or blowing it as a powder in their face. The victim ingests it involuntarily, they faint, and people think they’re dead. They have an incredibly slow heart rate and labored breathing, and because people are buried so quickly in Haiti due to the high humidity and heat, this suits the zombie-making process. The victim is dug up within eight hours of burial and by then they’re a zombie.”

“So…they’re not really dead?”

“Not really. Well, in Back From the Dead they are because in the book they die and the voodoo priest uses certain rituals in conjunction with the chemicals.”

“What kind of rituals?” Gordon was looking at Tim as if he was sincerely interested in learning about this.

Tim traded a glance with George. “Well…specifically a black magic rite, more out of Santeria than Voodoo. There’s a formula they follow…certain prayers spoken before the victim is secured…oh, and the ground the victim is buried in has to be consecrated…there’s got to be a special ritual performed over it and a sacrifice made.”

“A human sacrifice?”

“No, an animal. In the book they sacrifice a chicken.”

“Okay.” Gordon looked like he was taking mental notes.

“Anyway,” Tim continued, “Once the victim has been killed and buried, another ritual is performed and then the person comes back from the dead, programmed to do the priests…or, in the case of this story, the protagonists, bidding.”

“So they don’t eat people?”

“Not in Back From the Dead they don’t.”

“And they don’t, like, rot and shit?”

“Well…actually, they kinda do.”

“That’s so cool!” Gordon grinned. “I’ve gotta check that book out. Can I borrow it when you’re finished?”

“Sure,” Tim said, before realizing he was agreeing to loan a book to a kid he didn’t really care for. “I should be done with it by Monday.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Steve Downing, who’d been listening earnestly, rested his foot on the bench. “So you think that shit’s real?”

Gordon turned to him. “It’s gotta be real if it’s in a book!”

“Well, Back From the Dead is just a novel,” Tim said. “But the zombie myth itself is said to be the real thing in Haiti. I’m sure there’s more books on it. You know, true account stuff. Non-fiction.”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, standing up. Tim wasn’t even sure if Gordon was paying attention to his caveat about the non-fiction accounts. “Hey listen, thanks a lot, Tim. I’ll catch you at school Monday.”

“Sure.”

Gordon and his friends waved goodbye and headed toward the parking lot. Tim watched them go as he finished his burger and fries. George and Al finished their meal in silence.

“So when did Gordon suddenly become interested in reading books?” Al asked.

Tim shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I take it Gordon isn’t much of a man of academics, huh?” George asked.

“Nah, not really,” Tim said. He had no intention of giving George a hint of the torments Gordon had put him through back in middle-school. George and Al seemed to be tight enough that Al would probably clue him in a little at some point.

As the three boys gathered up their trash, deposited it in the waste basket, and made their way to George’s car, Tim couldn’t help but feel that the scales had tipped in his favor tonight. Gordon had not only behaved, he’d seemed to respect Tim for his knowledge, something he wouldn’t have done last year. Gordon’s friends for that matter — Steve, Rebecca, and Susan — were the kind of kids who were followers; if Gordon had acted up, they would have been quick to follow. The fact that Gordon behaved differently around him tonight meant that he was sending the message to his clique that it was now okay to treat Tim like a fellow human being. Not that Tim was looking to hang out with that crowd anytime soon, but it would be nice to go through his last year of high school without suffering any of the indignities he’d had to endure the past five years. All of that had severely limited his social status throughout middle school and for most of his high school years.

Tonight was the start of a new beginning, though. He’d felt that since George asked him if he wanted to hang out tonight.

And the evening couldn’t have gone better.

As they reached George’s car, Al glanced at his watch. “What time you gotta be home?” he asked.

“Eleven.”

“It’s just after ten now.”

“Really? Damn!” He had no idea it was that late.

“Want to go to Spring Valley Park and hang out there?” Al asked.

Tim shrugged. “Sure.”

“Or we can hang out at your place,” George suggested. They were all standing around the car now, talking over the roof to each other. “Would that be cool?”

“Sure.”

“I like that idea better,” Al said.

And so it was settled. They all piled in George’s car and headed back to Tim’s house.

Chapter Four