Night of the Living Turkeys Read online

  “Shady Pines. It looks like it’s sort of near Macon.”

  Punching in a few coordinates, I pulled up the maps. “Seven or eight hours. Closer to nine, but we can hit the sirens to get through most problems. What’s the case?”

  “Undead Turkeys if you can believe it,” Cat answered.

  “Undead what?”

  <<<>>>

  Sales were brisk and heavy for Baker’s Butchery the day before Thanksgiving. Peter had tried calling Dr. Hangbo, but he either wouldn’t take his call or answer the phone. He had checked with Reverend BillyBob Jenkins over at the Washed by the Blood Baptist Church, but all he said was to pray for forgiveness. Baptists weren’t all that interested in action instead of words. Peter shoved the contract back into his desk and tried to forget about it. ‘Tried’ is the word.

  “Did you call that guy?” Dorothy asked as she carried yet another cooked ham to the case up front.

  Peter looked up from his fish butchery. Ham was the big seller this year. Since he couldn’t cook that many turkeys, he would have to have a sale or something to move the product. Maybe for Christmas. “No. He won’t answer the phone.”

  “My sister’s roommate's cousin ran afoul of that man once.” Dorothy smiled at her customer and wished them well.

  “And?”

  “And nothing. She said once the deal is made there is no backing out. The cousin made a deal to be famous.” Dorothy pulled out a big knife and started slicing the ham.

  “What happened to him?” Peter asked.

  “Who?”

  “The cousin,” Peter asked.

  “What about the cousin?” Dorothy asked. Her knife was flashing under the bright store lights.

  “What happened to him?”

  Dorothy stopped and carefully laid the knife down. “He died jumping off the Chattahoochee bridge.”

  Peter froze, “Hangbo killed him?”

  “Not directly. He left a note, but just about everyone in the state read or watched the report about him. Being on TV and in the newspapers is sort of like being famous.” Dorothy replied. She picked up her knife and went back to work.

  Peter frowned and then shook his head. Note to self. Stay away from rivers and bridges.

  “Is it OK if I leave early tonight? My mom is coming home for the weekend.” Dorothy asked.

  “Sure. I’ve got a ton of prep to do for tomorrow’s sales. Lots of folks don’t like cooking on Thanksgiving. Business is slowing a bit anyway today. Tell your momma ‘hi’ from me.” Peter told her.

  “I can do that.” Dorothy finished up the ham and cleaned up.

  Peter looked out the main window into the street. Business was brisk, but not like it had been all year. Movement caught his eye, and he spotted him watching him. Dr. Hangbo and his assistant Charlie stood across the street watching the front of the store. It was too far to see, but for just a moment he thought the small man tipped his hat to Peter.

  “Don’t poke the bear.”

  Peter looked behind him. Dorothy was watching him, watch the man across the street. “What?”

  “Half the town is scared of that man and the other half thinks it’s all hocus-pocus. Causing trouble won’t get you anywhere. I looked at that contract. It doesn’t have any specifics. Just ignore it.” Dorothy picked up her purse and scarf and strutted out the front door.

  Looking out the window, Peter didn’t see the two men but sensed that they were lurking somewhere nearby. He really did intend to cook the turkeys. At least that’s what he told himself. It would all blow over in a day or so.

  <<<>>>

  “Turkeys. For real?” I asked Cat.

  We got clearance and pulled out as fast as I could unhook the generator. Zombies were a big deal even if they were only turkeys.

  “A deal was made with a Voodoo priest, and it went badly.” Cat replied.

  I cocked my head to one side. “Voodoo. Isn’t that similar to Wicca in some way?”

  “No. Didn’t you pay any bit of attention in Comparative Religions? I know you took the class.”

  “Uh, just pretend I might have missed a few of those lectures because I was out too late the night before with Mongo. Can you give me a hint?” I asked.

  Cat gave me a disgusted look that I almost missed. She was sitting in one of the chairs behind me. “Let me guess. You and Mongo were out drinking.”

  I winced. “That class was on a Monday at eight in the morning. I may have missed a couple of classes. I passed the class though.”

  “Uh, huh. Mongo was such a bad influence on you. You know that, right?” Cat pointed out.

  “He’s gotten a whole lot better since leaving the FBI.”

  “Just be careful. Don’t make me get all Alpha Bitch on you. Now do you want the rest of the case details or not?” Cat’s voice had a slightly commanding tone to it. I knew she meant it about the Alpha stuff. For the most part, Cat ran our little Pack as a club, but some things she was deadly serious about. Paranoid even.

  “Of course I do. If this just happened how are we getting such detailed info?” I was driving the bus so even though I can multitask I need to pay a certain amount of attention on the road.

  Cat blew out a breath forcefully. “The victim’s name is Peter Baker. He’s the town’s only butcher, and his brother-in-law is the sheriff.”

  I couldn’t help myself, so I snorted. This got me yet another glare from Cat.

  “What now?”

  “The baker is the butcher? How does that work exactly?” I asked.

  Cat shook her head. “His name is Baker. His occupation is that of a Butcher. Anything else?”

  I shook my head no.

  There was a faint growl, and Cat continued. “The Sheriff filed a report with the GBI who called us. Baker checked out the Voodoo priest after he signed the deal but it was legal. The penalty clause for not performing the task was included in the primary document.”

  “Wait. So this guy. Named Baker. Agrees to a contract for something. There is a penalty clause. He accepts it and signs. I assume he defaulted? Why are we involved?” I asked.

  “The penalty was left undefined. It said that it would be related to the job at hand. Mr. Baker claims he was tricked and that the task given him was impossible to do in the first place. The Houngan’s name is Dr. Hangbo. According to immigration, he is in the country legally, but still a British citizen.” Cat flipped pages on her tablet.

  “What was the job?”

  Cat looked up into my rearview mirror. “What was that?”

  “The job. What was the baker supposed to do?” I asked.

  “Butcher.”

  “Huh?” I was hard keeping only one eye on the road.

  “He’s a butcher. The name is Baker.”

  “What was the guy suppose to do?” I half shouted.

  “Cook a bunch of turkeys for Thanksgiving. The priest contracted him to prepare and cook one hundred and fifty turkeys for the congregation. All were to be delivered on Thanksgiving at a prearranged time. Baker never showed with the turkeys.”

  “Why us though if he’s in breach of contract? You said something about zombies didn’t you?” I asked.

  “I said undead. At this very moment, there are several hundred undead turkeys besieging a small town in Georgia.”

  <<<>>>

  Midnight struck, and the turkeys were frozen, uncooked, and the contract was unfulfilled. The Reverend Doctor Hangbo stood across the street from Baker’s Butcher and smiled. Another contract void meant another soul to keep. The little man kicked up his heels and began to dance.

  In the dark of the shop, things began to stir…

  <<<>>>

  Peter walked to work as was usual. He owned a truck that he used as a delivery van, but really only needed it for big deliveries. Shady Pines did not have much in the way of events which is why he was kicking himself this morning. Selling almost two hundred turkeys at the same time would have been a real bonus for the end of the year. As he rounded the corner, he saw his bro
ther-in-law, Johnny, out in front of his store. He was sitting in his patrol car.

  “Hey, Johnny! Johnny!” Peter started yelling when he was ten feet from the car.

  The Sheriff looked up from his notebook and nodded toward his friend. “Pete! Don’t go inside just yet. I need to check the building out.”

  Johnny opened the car door and got out. Reaching inside he pulled out his shotgun.

  Peter reared back suddenly as the gun came into view. “Whoa, Johnny! Why do you need that?”

  “Mabel over at the flower shop heard strange noises coming from your storage building back there. This being Thanksgiving and all I thought it might be burglars.” The Sheriff pointed to the large steel building behind the shop.

  “Johnny there’s nothing in there except a great big freezer. I keep it locked pretty tight, but we should check it out.” Peter looked around a moment then handed his keys to the Sheriff. “Why don’t you lead.”

  Carefully the sheriff walked toward the shed. Peter and a couple of the other early morning townsfolk followed along behind, at a safe distance.

  There was the sound of crashing and banging coming from inside the building. “You in the shed! Come out with your hands up!”

  Peter crouched down next to the building. If it was thieves, they might be armed.

  Waiting a moment Johnny approached the outer door and banged on it. “This is your last chance! Come out with your hands in the air!”

  Seconds that felt like minutes crawled by. Then Johnny took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Carefully, ever so carefully he turned the knob and opened the door.

  There was a loud crash, and the door flew open with a bang! Hundreds of animated turkey carcasses poured out of the shed! Wave after naked wave of headless, featherless, formerly frozen turkeys began to invade the town!

  <<<>>>

  “Seriously?” I started laughing and gave the steering wheel a good whack.

  “As a heart attack, which is what those turkeys just about gave that sheriff. He called the mayor who called the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, who called us. It’s a holiday. We got it by default.” Cat replied.

  “What are we supposed to do about dead turkeys? Can’t they just shoot them?”

  Cat stood up and carefully moved to the passenger side of the bus cockpit. “With what? They’re dead already. Just so you know, they did try that. All it got them was zombie parts running around.”

  “How do parts run…” I never got to finish that one. Cat’s glare would peel paint.

  “OK. Got it. No jokes. What does the Director suggest?” I asked.

  Cat smiled. “You may make senior Agent one day after all. The Director suggested we find the priest. He’s the one that obviously cursed the Baker. He’s the center of this mess.”

  “I thought he was a butcher?”

  The glare came back, and she ignored me until we reached the Georgia State line.

  Cat took several phone calls and at least one fax when I stopped for diesel. That was one bad thing about our rigs. They were very thirsty.

  “I’ve got a bit of new information.” Cat stated.

  “What’s changed?” Carefully I eased the big rig out of the truck stop and back onto the state highway.

  “They arrested Dr. Hangbo. Turns out he’s a religious ambassador attached to the British Embassy in Washington.”

  “Uh, oh.” I frowned. “Trouble.”

  “Yes. Really big trouble. Because of the holiday, State is letting us handle it. Please, please, please be on your best behavior and don’t get me fired. I like the FBI.”

  “Would I do that?” I asked.

  “You might.”

  Shady Pines was the next exit off the main state highway. It looked pretty quiet. Sort of a Bayberry town. When we approached the town center, the madness started to show.

  “Would you look at that! There really are turkeys!”

  “You didn’t believe me?” Cat asked.

  “No, but…” I stopped talking. Better to not poke the big scary Alpha. I turned my attention back to the town. Headless turkeys were everywhere! They were banging on buildings and chasing townspeople. Someone must have spotted our bus because I could see and hear a police car coming toward us.

  “That’s interesting. Do you see that, Chuck?” Cat pointed.

  I followed her finger. As the Sheriff’s car ran over the animated carcasses, they would spring back into shape and move on. Flattening them didn’t do anything.

  “You’re right. I will need to get one into the lab.” I was a forensic specialist. But I could do some of the lab work necessary for this job. Both Anastasia and I had to. Many times it took too long to send it out when we needed the information directly. Our small lab on the bus could handle anything short of an epidemic.

  “Catching one shouldn’t be all that hard.” Cat nodded. “Concentrate on capture and analysis. Be sure to process any and all parts of the crime scene once the Sheriff tells us where it is. I’ll interview the Baker and priest. Let’s get to work.”

  I couldn’t help myself. At almost a whisper I said the word, “butcher.”

  Cat’s head whipped around and glared at me, again. “I know that!”

  Hitting the button, she stepped off the bus heading straight for the patrol car. Several turkeys tried to crash into her, but channeling her anger, she kicked them away.

  Quickly I grabbed a set of overalls and some gloves. As a Were I’m immune to many things, but intentionally exposing myself to necromantic energy of some kind wasn’t a good idea.

  “Time to catch a turkey,” I said to myself stepping outside.

  <<<>>>

  “Sheriff Walker? I’m Agent Catherine Moore. My partner and I are with the Magical Division of the FBI. It looks like you called us just in time.” Cat held out her hand and her credentials to the man.

  “It is.” Johnny glanced at Cat’s ID and took her hand. “We can’t figure what the hell to do with these... things.”

  Cat nodded at him. “I understand. Let’s dig into it, shall we? My companion will investigate the crime scene and the turkeys themselves. Can you introduce me to Mr. Baker and show me the contract?”

  “We’ve got that priest in lockup. Do you want to see him too?” Johnny opened the car door for Cat.

  “That is a separate issue.” Cat took a deep breath. “The State Department has ordered me to release Dr. Hangbo. The doctor is part of the ambassadorial staff for the British Embassy. He has diplomatic immunity and cannot be held by us for any form of prosecution.”

  Sheriff Johnny slammed on the brakes of the car hitting several turkeys in the process. “What! He’s the one that caused all of this!”

  “Maybe. Possibly. The moment I see him, I must release him from your jail. Those are the orders I’ve been given from on high.” Cat pointed upward. “However, we aren’t at your office right now. I was to hold off on that as long as I can. Let me talk to Hangbo last.”

  “I don’t like it, but I guess I understand it. Those GBI boys can’t appeal it?” Johnny asked.

  “Unfortunately not. National politics can be a problem for law enforcement. But we need reciprocal laws. What if the problem was reversed? You or I could be in this situation in another country. Don’t worry. I’ll interview him first.” Cat replied.

  Johnny stopped the car outside a row of buildings. “Peter Baker’s butcher shop is over there. He’s got a storage building in the back. That’s where most of these things came from.”

  “Most?” Cat asked.

  “It’s Thanksgiving. He had a bunch of turkeys for sale in the shop. They turned too. I guess we should be happy these aren’t cows or pigs.” He opened the car door hitting a turkey as he got out.

  Cat peered into the window. She could see a short, rotund man staring back at her.

  “Come’on inside we can talk to Peter.” The Sheriff held the door open. He kicked several turkeys out of the way in the process.

  The lights were off in
the store, but Cat could see who she assumed was Peter standing by the window. “Mr. Baker? I’m Agent Moore from the FBI.”

  Peter looked at her and spoke. “Hello.”

  “Pete, she’s here to talk about that Voodoo man. Can you show her that contract you signed?” Johnny asked.

  “Sure.” Peter walked past both of them and into the darkened rear of the store. Suddenly the lights came on in the business. “Excuse the appearance of this. I was drunk.” He passed a rumpled and torn pack of paper to Cat.

  Cat pointed towards one of the tables set up in the front. “May I?”

  “Of course. Make yourself at home.” Peter replied.

  Sitting at the table, Cat smoothed out the paper of the contract. “Why did you agree to this, Mr. Baker?”

  “Call me Peter or Pete, everyone else does. Money. I catered a wedding for Dr. Hangbo. He approached me with that offer during the event. At the time it sounded like a good idea.” Peter replied.

  “What was wrong with it?” Cat asked as she quickly read the terms.

  “The part about having them all available at the same time. For an operation like mine, it’s impossible. How do you cook over a hundred turkeys at the same time?” Peter almost whined.

  “You must have thought you could do it. You did sign it.”

  “I’m an idiot, and a drunk is what I am. I guess I thought he wasn’t serious. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have even ordered all these birds.” Peter remarked.

  “Hmmm. At some point, you must have thought it was possible. You ordered them. Sheriff? Has Dr. Hangbo written contracts with other citizens around here lately?” she asked.

  “Not to my knowledge. He does a pretty good sermon down at the Crossroads Church though. Voodoo’s not my thing, but he puts on a good show.” Johnny answered.

  “Crossroads? The church is called Crossroads?”

  Peter looked at Cat. “Yes. It’s always been called that. Why?”

  Cat tapped her fingers against her lips in thought. “The crossroads are synonymous with the paranormal. They are betwixt and between the realms of what is and what can be. If you look at popular culture, you will find references to meeting the devil at the crossroads and bargaining with him. You had to have heard Daniel Charlie’s Georgia Devil song. Or Johnson Robert’s Lost Hitchhiker song. Both of them chronicle meeting the devil on his own terms and making a deal. Dr. Hangbo is a living person. I doubt he’s the devil, but this contract is a close second to those other ones. What did you get out of this, Peter?”