Jambalaya

The storms were rolling in.

And the eating was good.

It was hurricane season in the Riviere d'Erbane. Within the week, Hurricane Maria would make landfall, or at least that’s what the meteorologist said. Maria was going to be a category 3 hurricane. It wouldn’t be too bad, but it wouldn’t be the best either. The worst the bayou had seen was a category 4, and that was Katrina. It had been over two decades since, and had recovered much of its lost landscape and ecosystems. There was a chance Maria could upset the natural balance, but the recovery would be more manageable. The locals knew all too well how to prepare, but those without experience suffered the most. Mother Nature wasn’t the only one that preyed on the inexperienced.

Sheriff Mitchelle Simmons was recently transferred to the Riviere d'Erbane’s local 95 combination sheriff and fire station. He came from San Diego; he said he wanted a slower life for his family. He was newly married to his wife, Karina, and they had a dog named Sarge. Sheriff Simmons was still in the throes of his first year. Thus far, he found it enjoyable. He already had his first Mardi Gras, the Blessing of the Fleets, and now it was hurricane season.

Sheriff Simmons was driving in his patrol vehicle, stopping by neighborhoods to warn of the oncoming storm. He thought it was a little old-fashioned to go door to door when it could simply be a text message or an email. He wasn’t too disgruntled about it. He figured it gave him a chance to meet the citizen he was sworn to protect. The bayou was a rather close-knit place, and most of the people he met on his drive weren’t strangers; they were acquaintances already. Simmons found joy in small-town living. He was making sure everyone had an escape plan. The roads will flood, and they’ll likely be trapped on the day of the storm. His duty was to make sure people could escape the storm, or if they intended to ride it out, he made sure they had supplies.

Simmons was on his last house for the morning when he got the call. The call came from dispatch. Their directions were simple; backup was needed at the fish market. Simmons could only guess what was happening. Could it be a dispute? A theft? The unexpected was the more entertaining part of his job, and he appreciated it. It was a fifteen-minute drive filled with joy and anticipation. After the call, maybe he could walk around; he pondered pulling into the driveway.

He stepped out of the SUV and headed towards the small crowd. They surrounded the Alligator-Man stand. It was owned and operated by a husband-and-wife duo. Mr. Perkins Deleroy and Mrs. Cindy Deleroy. Cindy was patting the back of a hunched-over sheriff. Another sheriff was attempting to quell the now-growing crowd.

“Chief’s over by the stand, he’s expecting you.” The slowly overwhelmed man spoke.

He nodded and cut his way through to the Alligator Man stand. The Fire Captain was there along with the Chief. They were taking the statement of Perkins Deleroy.

“ What if my whole farm is messed up, sir? What am I gonna do?” Mr. Deleroy cried into his hands.

“Do you have camera footage around the alligator pen?” The Fire Captain shrugged right before catching a glimpse of Simmons.

“No, sir.” Mr. Deleroy shook his head. “I never thought I needed one until now.”

The Chief excused himself, leading Sheriff Simmons around to where Mrs. Deleroy was currently offering another sheriff water.

“We have a situation you may be familiar with?” Chief Guidry spoke quietly. “ Perkins, here, was gutting one of his alligators to prepare for a customer. When he opened the belly, he found a half-digested head. That’s all we’ve got so far.”

Simmons took it all in with horror on his brows. “Sir, why would I be familiar with something like this?”

Chief Guidry looked confused. “ Doesn’t this sort of thing happen in San Diego? It being a bigger city, and all?”

Simmons took a deep breath to keep from laughing inappropriately at his Chief. “Sir, we don’t have alligators in San Diego.”

“Well, I be damned. The case is still yours, though. Sure, you have experience with murders at least.” The Chief waved as he made his way to where the head was.

Simmons followed to see a grisly sight. The head was lying in a pile of alligator innards. The alligator was strung up with a hook into it’s snot and bottom jaw. The tail had already been severed and was on ice in the stand. The head reminded Simmons of a flesh colored wax candle. The flesh was covered in a thick film. The nose and lips were gone, and the cheeks were hollowing, and the eyelids were peeled back, revealing milky staring eyes. Simmons could see why the other sheriff lost his breakfast. He was on the verge of losing his. The smell alone churned his stomach.

“ The coroner is on the way, and forensics are coming from Mobile. So it’s gonna take them a while to get here.” The Chief began again, with a sour look on his face. “You haven’t been here long enough, but Mobile tends to overstep its boundaries. Make sure we keep our business in our backyard.”

Guidry left Simmons to his newest investigation, to which the younger man had no clue where to start. Simmons looked over to the frantic owner of the alligator stand, then he looked over to the owner’s wife, who looked less distraught and seemed to be worried more about the sheriff’s deputy, who was currently recovering from vomiting his breakfast.

“Morning, ma’am.” Simmons tipped his hat to her. “First of all, I’m sorry for the horrible find. I can only imagine how you must be feeling right now. Do you mind sharing how all this came about?”

Mrs. Cindy Deleroy sat on a makeshift bench. “It was normal, sir. We got an order over the week and told them to meet us here at the stand, and we serviced up the one they picked earlier in the week, and here we are.”

Simmons nodded as he wrote a few notes on his phone. “Just a few follow-up questions. New customers or returning? Did you notice anything strange over the past couple of days?”

Before Mrs. Deleroy could answer, another officer of the law interrupted. “Excuse me, ma’am. We gotta call from dispatch. We gotta go to the Pig Man’s farm. Deputy Lawerence, over there, will take a statement.”

“The Pig Man?” Simmons spoke, looking between the sheriff and Mrs. Deleroy.

“George?” Mrs. Deleroy chimmed in. “ Hope George is alright.” She thumbed over to Deputy Lawerence, who was still gathering himself after he vomited. “ He’s sure, not.” She chuckled.

Simmons pulled out a card from his vest pocket. “If you have any questions, feel free to give me a call.”

He sat in his SUV for a moment after receiving further details from dispatch. There was a sense of urgency to get to the next location. He entered the address into his GPS, turned on his blue lights and siren, and was on his way to the Pig Man. Simmons was still becoming accustomed to small-town living. Part of that was getting to know the local vendors by name, and the Pig Man was new to him. Most of the people in the fish market today knew him by his first name. He was assured that he would be receiving check in text messages soon. His ride was a silent one. He was already planning the follow-up questions for the Deleroys.

The drive took him from the middle of the bayou to the edges towards Grand Bay. Simmons watched the clouds in the sky turn from their morning white to a sudden grey. There was a scent in the air. He could finally identify the smell of rain. He prided himself on that. That pride subsided when he saw the flashing lights of the other law enforcement officers.

He spotted a farmer giving a statement from the comfort of his vehicle. The farmer appeared beside himself. Not like Mr. Deleroy; no, this man, who was speaking with deputies, seemed more angry than anything else. Simmons parked alongside the other emergency vehicles and made his way over to the small crowd.

“I don’t think you, boys, understand where I’m fucking coming from.” The farmer seethed.

“Mr. Lewis, there is no need to speak to us using foul language,” a deputy casually requested of the farmer.

George Lewis bit his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to start screaming into the sky that was turning darker and darker as the morning faded into noon. “And I just suppose, you want me to start over?” He drew his attention towards Simmons.

“Only if these gentlemen don’t mind,” Simmons responded cordially, inviting the other deputies to continue where they left off.

“Mr. Lewis, if you can take from the top, how did you discover the remains this morning?”

Lewis was visibly annoyed; he was struggling to keep his patience. “I went out to feed the pigs like normal. But I started to notice something strange with their behavior.”

Simmons turned on his body cam and took out a notebook. “Can you elaborate?”

“They started looking at me with knowledge in their eyes.” Lewis looked between the deputies.

Simmons stopped before he started writing. There was confusion on his face, “Forgive me, Mr. George, but what does that mean?” Simmons looked over to the others, and they appeared to be confused just as he was.

The farmer was becoming exasperated, “When a pig has the knowing of a man, it means it ate somebody. Which leads me to why I called y’all out here. I noticed it wasn’t just one pig; it was all of them. I threw down their chow like normal, and the pigs kept an eye on me. I ran in the house and got the shotgun. I went around the back and opened the pen to clear them out. I fired a round, and they scattered towards the end of the field. Then I saw the remains. There’s a leg in the pen. It’s from the knee down to the foot. The foot was half eaten. The rest of the body was presumably eaten. Now I have to cull my entire pig herd. This herd can’t be sold off. Now you can get your guns, or you can borrow mine.”

“No, Sir.” Simmons held up his hands, looking over to the other deputies. “ We cannot help cull the herd, but where is the leg?” Simmons honestly didn’t know where to begin, but wanted to start there, at the very least, to have some evidence to bring to the coroner

“I left it where I found it in the pen. Figured you boys wanted to go in there.” Mr. Lewis thumbed over to the pig pen.

“ There will be no such thing.” A woman in an apron appeared holding something wrapped in a butcher’s blanket. “We are not putting these boys in the pen with those pigs.” The woman waddled up to the deputies and handed them the wrapped object. “Don’t worry, I used gloves when I packed it. One of the deputies received the remains and immediately placed it in the back of his SUV.

Simmons thanked the woman, “Sir. Ma’am. I’m sorry to say, but your herd of pigs...”

“We’re gonna have to put them down.” Mrs. Lewis sighed.

“ Not just that, ma’am,” Simmons began, “ I’m afraid we’re going to have to take these pigs in.”

“Take them where? We don’t have the facilities for a herd of pigs,” Another deputy rebutted.

Before Simmons could argue with the worried deputy, he got a call from dispatch.

He was needed somewhere else. “Wait for the medical examiner, have them take the leg and finish getting their statements,” Simmons ordered the other deputies as he walked back to his SUV and drove to the next location.

Lucky for Simmons, the next location was three miles down the road. He was getting used to country miles rather than city miles. And he quite enjoyed the difference. He contemplated the horror that nearly transpired. Was farmer George Lewis going to send the deputies to their demise in that pig pen? Another more important question: how were they going to deal with a herd of pigs that devoured a body without involving Mobile County? The bayou’s resources were limited, and they were on the cusp of a hurricane.

Simmons arrived at the Koala farm just as dispatch requested. He wasn’t the first one on the scene, and for that, he was thankful. The coroner was taking a body from what he could see from the SUV. Simmons turned on his body cam and began his new duties here, but to his dismay, the coroner wasn’t local; they were from Mobile County. This was exactly what his Chief didn’t want.

With a scowl on his brow, Simmons approached the two loading the body before they took off. “Aren’t you guys out of your jurisdiction?”

“Don’t worry, dispatch only sent us as backup.” One of them answered as they continued to load the covered body into the van.

There was a visible sigh of relief. “Do you two know what’s going on here?”

“Believe it or not, we’re loading up a scarecrow.” The other coroner answered as he lifted his end of the gurney into the van.

“Come again?”Simmons shook his head. “What?”

“You heard correct,” the first coroner responded as he exited the van and closed the doors. “We got a John Doe dressed and stuffed as a scarecrow. They found him in the field in the place of their original scarecrow. That’s all we know. Chief Guidry is with the farmers now if you want to get the rest. We just picked up what’s left.”

Simmons wanted to ask more, but thought it better to get word from Guidry. He thanked the two and made his way to his Chief. As he made his way down the walk path,

“What on earth is happening here?” Simmons muttered to himself as he continued on the pebbled path.

Chief Guidry was waiting for him at the porch. The property was fairly large. The home sat atop a small hill, overlooking plentiful farmland filled with vegetables and fruit. Simmons made the slow walk up the incline to the Chief. As he did, he took notice of the field before him. It appeared endless or at least to the treeline. Simmons noticed the missing scarecrows from their perches. One perch had police tape and a forensic team surrounding it.

Simmons tipped his hat to the Chief. “Sir, what in the world is going on today? This would be the third body found this morning.”

“Normally, we find bodies after the hurricane, not before.” Guidry sighed. “I got a deputy already getting a statement from the farm owner, Margo Koala. The story I got from her was that she and her wife, Sharon, were taking down the scarecrows for the hurricane. They have three fields, three scarecrows. They got two down with no problems, but it’s when they got to the third. They both noticed the stench of something dead, and they saw the vultures picking at the scarecrow. We had the medical examiner take the body down. It was a terrible sight. The examiner will have a report for us. But likely not until after this hurricane. Speaking of, have you been listening to the radio or the news?”

Simmons hadn’t had time to listen to any updates on the weather. “No, sir, I hadn’t had the time of day to take a listen. “

“Understandable. Hurricane Maria is gaining in strength. She’s a cat 4 now, and she’s due to hit tomorrow night. Whatever we do today will need to be put on hold until Maria has passed.”

Simmons nodded. Though he felt dread at the pit of his stomach. There was a high chance that any lead found would be wiped out by the storm.

“Has anyone even lifted prints from any of the three crime scenes?” His brows furrowed.

“Not yet.”Guidry sighed. “We’re working on it before the rains come, which is in the next few hours. What happened at the Pig Man’s place?”

“We found a leg in the pig pen. The leg is currently in the back of a cruiser right now. I think he wanted us to go in there to get it. But his wife brought it out to us.”

“Huh. That’s funny. Three years ago, we had someone commit suicide by pig. I wonder if it’s the same thing.”

Simmons' eyes widened in shock. The Chief was so casual about death by pig. “That happens? Please tell me you're kidding, Chief.”

“Yes.” He shrugged again. “ He just culled his herd of pigs three years ago, so I can’t imagine he was happy. Good thing you fellas didn’t go in that pig pen. It might have turned out badly. Fanny has a way with animals. Ever-”

Guidry was interrupted by a lightning strike followed by a calmor of thunder. Both men shrank beneath the sound above. Without preamble, it started raining.

“God Damn it!” Guidry spat. “Meet you back at the station.”

Simmons tipped his wide-brimmed hat and ran back to his SUV.

The deputies returned to the station along with their Chief. All found pieces of body parts were with the medical examiner. Forensics was able to supply the Sheriffs with photos of what was found at each crime scene. Simmons sat at his desk, which he shared with another fellow emergency responder, Devon Williams, a firefighter. Williams had been solely responsible for getting his deskmate acclimated to the South, starting with his taste palate.

“Chili for the rainy weather?” Williams offered a bowl of piping hot chili with a handful of cheese and a dollop of sour cream on top. “ Just the way you like it.”

“Oh, thank you. This has to be the only good thing about today.” Simmons chuckled. He started stirring the chili so the ingredients blended; he took one bite and moaned. “Did you make this?”

“Sure did. I always make chili when it rains down here.”

“Please don’t stop.” Simmons looked down at the crime scene photos. Thankfully, he was hungrier than disgusted by the images. “Wanna see some gnarly stuff?”

“Sure do!” Williams pulled up a chair next to Simmons. “I heard Chief Guidry had you all over the bayou this morning.”

“Facts. Each stop was worse than the last.” Simmons shuffled the images. “First stop: The Aligator Man’s Stand. He finds a decomposing human head. Next stop: George and Fanny Lewis’ Pig Farm. George finds only a leg in his pig pen. Last stop: Koala Farm. Margo and Sharon Koala were taking down scarecrows, and they found a mostly intact corpse instead.”

Williams studied each image with a grimace. He had seen worse, but human depravity never ceased to amaze him. “These are pretty gnarly. ”

“I believe we have a killer on our hands, but I can’t tie anything together without proper testing. Wanna hear and see something else?”

“Boy, do I!” Williams’ eyes lit up.

“The medical examiner sent me photos of the leg and body parts found after they cleaned it up. Or as clean as they can get them. They had some carvings on them. Similar symbols, but nothing I’m familiar with. I won’t know until more this gets analyzed.” Simmons handed Williams his phone so he could swipe through the photos of the carnage.

“Good luck with that, right now. Everyone in Mobile has packed up and headed either North or West of the hurricane.” Williams pointed out as he focused on the images before him.

“About that,” Simmons spoke between bites of chili. “Guidry doesn’t want Mobile involved, so it’s all on us. But we’re going to have to get Mobile involved when it comes to the Lewises and their pigs. Even if we can’t cull them, they need to be tested for human remains and disposed of. Who does all that here in the bayou?”

“We have forensics to test, and alligators for the rest. How many pigs need to be culled?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Damn.” Williams spat. “That’s a lot of pigs. I mean, we have the facilities to feed the remains to alligators, but damn.”

“Is that even legal?” Simmons partly joked, taking another bite.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is orthodox. The bayou has a bit of a different standard than San Diego.”

Later, the pair would say their goodnights as the storm outside raged on. The Chief and Fire Captain let the station out early so everyone could be with their families and evacuate if they so chose to. It still wasn’t too late to get out of the bayou. Simmons didn’t want to evacuate himself, his wife, and his dog. He was willing to take the chance because his neighborhood was on higher ground, and the home was reportedly built by Atwood LLC, which was known for building to withstand it. The one thing he had to worry about was flooding; if the bayou flooded, his house would be affected. Thankfully, Williams had a boat and lived down the street. Simmons had supplies and food. He felt secure.

The next day, Simmons would spend it lounging around in his pajamas in the study. The rain was barreling down, and thunder rang out through the home. Karina was busy grading papers, but she took a moment to make them both a pot of coffee.

“Mitch!” Karina called out from the kitchen. “Coffee’s done!”

Simmons stood from his desk and padded his way to the kitchen. “Thanks, hon.” Simmons rubbed his eyes

“Have you been looking at those gruesome pictures all day?” Karina poured her cup of coffee, handing Simmons his favorite cup.

“It’s part of the job, Karina.” He sighed, pouring his own cup. He gingerly added sugar and cream and did the same for Karina’s cup.

“Are you getting some sort of new information just by staring at them all day?”

“As a matter of fact,” He handed Karina her cup. “No. I'm stuck just making up theories. I won’t get anything back from Foresencis until who knows when; it depends on this hurricane.” He took a sip and sighed. “Are you excited about the hurricane?”

“Boy, am I!” Karina yelped, sipping her coffee. “I made sure we have everything charged and fueled up. Propane is ready for when we need to grill. All the other teachers compared it to camping, so I figured we would be set.”

“Hurricanes can rip through homes and spawn tornadoes, which also rip through people's homes. “ Simmons took another sip. “We could die.”

“Don’t be a Debbie Downer.” Karina pouted. “This is our first hurricane, let’s… I don’t know, make the most of it.”

“Sorry, babe. Part of the job.” Simmons sighed and sipped more of his coffee.

“Technically, you’re an off-duty cop, Mr.”

“Okay, but you’re grading papers. Same difference.” Simmons attempted to defend himself.

“I’m looking at cute drawings of impressionism. You’re staring at nasty bloody body parts.”

Before Simmons could deflect, he realized something: “ You might have just given me my first solid lead, babe. Take Sarge and hunker down while we still have power.” Simmons smiled and kissed his wife before taking his coffee back to the study.

Over the next few hours, the storm raged on. The waters rose and fell. It crashed the shrimp boats into one another. Ancient willow trees were uprooted like they were new seedlings. The swamps overflowed into the streets, and along with those waters came their creatures. Alligators and snakes swam up and down the Riviere d'Erbane streets. Downed power lines littered the road. Trees fell on cars, cars overturned, and were swept away in the rushing current. The roar of transformers going out street by street could be heard throughout the bayou. What was a fairly dark landscape became pitch black.

The night was darker than Simmons and his wife expected. They wanted a chance to gaze out the window at the stars. When they did look out, they saw nothing. No light pollution, full dark, no stars. Sarge stared quietly by his owner's side. The Belgian Malenios watched silently towards the door. Karina caught Sarge occasionally snarling at the door. It put her on edge, but she never spoke a word to Simmons; she only cuddled closer to him and slept as Maria raged on.

As the night passed, so did Maria. She weakened the further inland she went. Without the warm waters to feed off of, she was downgraded to a category 1. Maria, despite her quickness she ravaged the landscape in the bayou. The next morning brought its own set of horrors. Homes were flooded, and streets turned into rivers. The only homes that didn’t flood were those in the neighborhood up on the hill. The bayou suburb was a development by Atwood LLC, and down the road was another housing development, the Victoria, a large residential complex. She would have minor flooding, but nothing substantial for the real estate company.

Williams offered to take them both back to the station in his small rescue dinghy. Simmons couldn’t pass up the chance. The rain was light and the waters high. The pair surveyed the damage as they rode in six feet of water. Williams brought an emergency radio, and Simmons brought his police scanner. They packed rescue supplies in case they came across someone stranded at their home. They were prepared to help.

The pair was silent for most of the ride as they listened to the radio, tuning in to see if anyone needed assistance before heading to the station.

“Did you see any stars on your end last night?” Williams broke the silence.

Simmons turned to him and recalled his and Karina’s experience last night. “You know, we didn’t see a one. We didn’t even see the moon. Is that normal?”

Williams was silent as he sighed. “No. Not at all. Usually, the stars are beautiful, but not last night. It was like a blanket of darkness stretched across the whole bayou. I called Ramos, and he said the same thing.”

Simmons listened intently to Williams. Ramos lived near Highway 90, going towards Grand Bay, which was the more developed part of the bayou. This meant the darkness encapsulated the entire Riviere d'Erbane.

“Ramos says the Bellows come to claim us. He panicked, hell, his dog was even panicking.”

“The Bellows?” Simmons raised a brow. “I’ve heard of it briefly.”

“It’s part of a old swamp religion. More like a cult. My grandparents on my mom’s side believed in that garbage. I’m sure they would have had some fable about last night.”

“Did Ramos?” Simmons asked, switching the radio to the Mobile police channels.

“Yeah. He had a lot to say about it. He said the moon veil was thinning and giving way to the Old Scratch.”

“Who the heck is Old Scratch?” Simmons interrupted.

Williams laughed, but before he could continue, their attention was brought to the skies. Through the rain, they heard the sound of helicopters flying overhead and low. They saw five helicopters heading towards the St. Elmo Airport in Grand Bay. Each helicopter was jet black with red lettering on the side. It read: Harbourage.

“Whoa,” Williams replied. ‘It must be some serious damage if Harbourage is here.”

“What’s the pharmeducitcal company doing here?” Simmons was confused, “ I thought they just did medicine.”

“Naw, they have a disaster relief sector; they’ve come once or twice to Alabama for the tornadoes that hit a few years ago. But they went to Mobile and Birmingham. I’ve never seen them this far s-”

Williams was interrupted by gunshots heard over the radio. Both men paused, staring at the radio in silence

“Officer Down!” The man on the other end sounded out of breath and frantic. “I repeat, officer down! University Blvd and-” More gun shots were heard, then the radio fell silent.

“Christ.” Simmons finally spoke first. “ We need to get to the station, see the damage.”

“Agreed.”

The men took the flooded side streets to the station. The combination fire department and sheriff station was completely flooded. As they pulled up, they were met by other firefighters and deputies in their boats. Fire Captain Staton and Chief Guidry pulled in behind Simmons and Williams.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Guidry spoke. “We got the call, the Harbourage is here. The governor called them in for aid. There are two teams, one for Mobile and one for Riviere d'Erbane. However, our team is joined by special guests. The CEO of Atwood LLC is here, and so is the granddaughter of Harbourage’s CEO. They are here to survey the damage to their assets. They are arriving with their own armed security. If y’all were listening to your tuner, you heard that Mobile is having a few standoffs. We have our own people to worry about, here in the bayou. Get to the airboats and stay closer to the radio, we've got some folks to help.”

For the next twelve hours, rescue was underway. Simmons and Williams teamed up on an airboat. They managed to rescue several elderly people from their rooftops. They found several stranded animals. They delivered them to the pet shelter on the edge of Grand Bay. Dust was upon them, and so was curiosity. Simmons had been quiet for most of the ride. His mind was focused on the fact that there might either be a serial killer on the loose or several killers. He refused the idea of suicide by pig. His mind wandered back to what Karina commented. Bloody, nasty photos, but in fact, they weren’t bloody. Simmons noticed that outside of the head decomposing in a stomach, there should have been fresh blood all over the leg. There should have been icor at the Koala farm, but Simmons only found body parts. To Simmons, the body parts seemed drained. Besides that, at the forefront of his mind were the carvings. Simmons was able to point out a few alchemical symbols, but nothing further than that. Those etches in the flesh were a haunting mystery to him. While Karina slept, Simmons dreamt of flaccid carved flesh.

“What do you think they’re gonna say at the press conference?” Williams turned back to Simmons, breaking him from his thoughts.

In all honesty, Simmons wasn’t listening to the radio; he was in his own world. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“We’re not far from the St. Elmo Airport. That’s where it’s being held. We can take the marshes there and be there in minutes. We can lie low, cut the engine a few meters back so we don’t disturb the show. What do you say?”

“Let’s do it.” Simmons agreed.

By the time the pair crept to the location, the press conference was well underway. From the cover of the high marshes, Simmons and Williams listened and watched.

“Thank you for coming out today, especially in these conditions.” A man in a poncho spoke. “We did a survey of Riviere d'Erbane. She has been beaten up badly. The levees have broken, and the waters are still rising despite Maria's departure. We’re asking anyone watching this broadcast or listening, please get to higher ground. We will coordinate with local law enforcement for ongoing rescue efforts. Aiding in the rescue efforts is Harbourage, which will be providing additional rescue support and supplies.”

“Whoa,” Williams whispered. “Look at who Harbourage is bringing in.”

Simmons turned his attention to the ones dressed in head-to-toe black tactical gear and carrying assault weapons. He quickly did a head count.

“Twenty of them”

“More,” an unknown voice came from the marshes.

Simmons and Williams froze in their places. Simmons looked over his shoulder slowly and saw four armed Harbourage personnel. They didn’t hear the tactical personnel approach. Were they so focused on what was on the other side of the binoculars that they couldn’t hear the wadding in the marsh?

There was an awkward silence.

“These guys aren’t armed.” One of the Harbourage personnel broke the silence.

“How do you know that?” Williams countered, looking over his shoulder.

“You’re not armed or dangerous.” Another Harbourage personnel spoke up, putting away their weapons. “Why don’t you guys actually just go to the conference, instead of creeping in the bushes?”

Simmons and Williams fully turned around to face their newfound company.

There was another awkward silence.

“I honestly didn’t think we were going to be able to. Only for reporters and department heads.” Williams offered.

One of Harbourage's personnel pointed to the airboat. “You’re law enforcement?”

“And the fire department.” Simmons pointed to Williams.

“You guys are more than welcome to come up,” the personnel member said with slight confusion. “We gotta team up with you guys to do rescues. Better that you guys know the plan as it's happening rather than second hand. So, just follow us up.”

Riviere d'Erbane’s finest paddled through the marshes, following the Harbuorage personnel. Simmons noticed these were a bit different from the personnel closer to the conference. These persons were in water-resistant wader pants and ponchos. Their faces were covered by masks and helmets. The one thing that stood out was their weapons. They had sniper rifles instead of the assault rifles.

“So you fellas security detail?” Simmons asked as they made their way behind the conference.

“You can say that. We travel with the CEO’s family.” One of the four personnel members answered.

“How’s the pay?” Williams jokingly asked, hopping off the airboat and crossing the bank.

“Too much money.” One of them laughed. “We’re always hiring.”

“If you can reach shelter immediately.” The mayor continued. “Alma Bryant High School will be our central location for shelter and reunification center. If you can get there, we have hot cots and hotter jambalaya waiting. ”

There were tents and tables that blocked the airfield. The only thing that was landing or taking off from St. Elmo Airport was Harbourage helicopters. Simmons surveyed the area. It looked more like a military operation rather than a hurricane relief effort.

“We got some food over this way.” They were led deeper behind the line of tents.

There were more Harbourage personnel dressed in full tactical gear, every one of them except one. She was dressed casually, wearing high-water boots and a black poncho. She was leaning over a table, looking at a map. From what Simmons could tell from a distance, she was going over different routes in the bayou. The small group walked past the small group to where the hot sandwiches were. Introductions were in order as Simmons and Williams were invited to eat in the warmth of the tents. The pair finally received names, but their faces were never revealed. The warm greetings and food and drinks weren’t enough to quell Simmon’s curiosity.

“Hey, Jones?” Simmons took a sip of the coffee. “Who’s that in casual?”

“Oh, that’s the boss’s granddaughter. Eris Dagenhart. She makes a lot more appearances than the old man does these days. She’s going to be taking over soon. I can introduce you two.”

Before Simmons could answer, his phone rang. The caller ID read simply Chief. “One second.” He excused himself for the moment before answering. “Yeah, Chief?”

“We got word from forensics about the bodies we discovered,” Guidry announced in a rushed tone.

“I thought everything by City Hall was flooded, how’d they work that fast? Did you end up sending it to Mobile?”

“They didn’t. I sent it to Texas. I would rather go west than go north. Anyway, forensics found that those markings on the bodies found the other day are from a passage from the Bellows.”

Simmons’ eyes grew wide. “Bellows?” he echoed.

“Yeah, the Bellows, the old swamp religion we got around these parts. Pretty sure they don’t have it anywhere else. I digress, the markings are from that. The passage is about summoning something.”

“The bodies. Were they the same person at least?” Simmons interjected. “And what about the bodies not having that much blood at the crime scene?”

“ No, there were multiple people, and the bodies weren’t drained per se. The blood was boiled out, and the remaining pieces were lightly seasoned. The bodies were all diced up by the same knife. We got a serial killer on our hands.”

“And the passage? What was it?”

Guidry paused. “ I’ll send it to you over email, not that I’m a superstitious man, I just don’t want to chance our luck anymore. Say, where are you and Williams?”

Simmons was silent for a moment as he watched Williams befriend the Harbourage personnel. “We’re with Harbourage at Mayor Sperry’s conference. Long story.”

“I’m meeting up with them to go to the Koala farm,” He sighed. “We couldn’t get them by phone. I'm hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.”

As Guidry spoke, Simmons continued to watch Eris Dagenhart in the far distance. He watched her speak with other personnel, and suddenly she was flanked by two plainclothed individuals. Both men, Simmons couldn’t tell much more than that, before they pulled her away from the tent.

“You with me, Simmons,” Guidry snapped.

“Sorry, sir, you broke up. Can you repeat that?”

There was irritation in Guidry’s voice. “ I said: I will meet you with more updates at tonight's town hall at the school. It’s on high ground about 5 miles away from your house. Check your email, and I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up.

There was a ping on Simmon’s phone. His email, as expected.

Simmons,

Take a look at this. The passage is from the Bellows. Chapter 15 Paragraph 9:

‘When the night swallows the stars

The eaters of the dark fruit will emerge from the second seas

Beast follows in their wake

Call upon the Souls of the Final feast

If they rise, which shall come to pass,

First will be the tainted meat with privy

Second fields of the valley will sour

Third from the fat of the beast-’

That’s all we got right now. The Texans are still decoding the symbols found on the leg at the Pig Man’s farm. I was surprised, but they heard of the Bellows. They have a few studies on it, but nothing more beyond that. I’ll keep you updated with more.

G.

The wheels in Simmons’s mind were spinning. He had no clue what the Bellows was. He only knew what Williams had shared with him and this excerpt. He had to put it together. There was a serial killer who wanted to be found. The clues were right before him, but what did it all mean?

Simmons made it back home to a drier environment. He was met by Sarge wagging his tail. Simmons removed his boots with a heavy sigh and reached down to pet his dog.

“Good boy.”

Sarge trotted off to his bed by the window. The window was open with the screen closed. A cool evening breeze flowed throughout the home, thankfully the humidity hasn’t come through just yet. Simmons sat on the couch staring at the email on his phone. He couldn’t take his mind off the excerpt that was sent to him.

Karina sat beside him, welcoming him home. “So how bad is it out there?”

“Massive amounts of flooding outside of our neighborhood. Mobile sounds like it’s under siege for some reason. Devon and I rescued a few people, a couple of pets… what else? I got an email about the case. I have a theory on it, I just need to talk it out, if that makes sense? Oh, Harbourage showed up. ”

“What’s your theory?” Karina ignored everything else. “Wait, let’s write it down.” She ran over to the study to grab a pen and paper. “ Okay. Go!’

Simmons stared at his wife for a moment. “ I thought you thought this was gross?” he chuckled.

“It is, but I need the tea,” Karina smirked.

“The tea?” Simmons echoed.

“The gossip. Come on. The anticipation is killing me.”

Simmons rolled his eyes playfully,” Alright, just get ready for some foul images, okay.”

Karina nodded.

Simmons pulled out his phone showing her the images of the crime scene, “ Okay, so the body parts were found at, and I shit you not, The Alligator Man stand.”

“What?”

“That’s the name of his establishment in the fish market. Perkin Delory and his wife, Cindy, run it. They found a human head in the belly of an alligator.“

“That’s gross.” Karina was writing notes as Simmons spoke.

“Next, we have George Lewis and his wife and the pig farm.” Simmons showed Karina the picture of the leg. “We have a leg leftover from his pigs, possibly eating someone whole.”

“Why ‘possibly?’”

“We don’t know which pigs ate the body, if there was a no body to start with. This leg is pretty eaten up as is. What if the body is still with the killer? We don’t know unless we cull the herd.”

Karina was writing frantically and paused in thought, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, third, the Koala farm. There was a scarecrow. But its insides were human parts. Those are the scenes.”

“What do they have in common?” Karina drew a question mark on the page.

“Each body part was drained of blood before they were placed or found, and get this, seasoned.”

“Come again?” She blinked at her husband.

“Yeah, like what you got in the kitchen… seasoned. Every piece. Also, what I didn’t see at first was that the head, even though it was partly decomposed, had inscriptions on it. The inscription is an excerpt from Bellows.”

Karina gasps, jotting it down. “ I recently learned about the Bellows at school. We had a teacher's conference on children suffering from religious psychosis and how to deal logically with their parents.”

“Whoa,” Simmons remarked. “ So what’d you learn from that?”

“That it’s child abuse. The parents like to have a few kids because one of them, usually the middle child, gets the mark of Nishab.”

“Who or what is Nishab?” Simmons interrupted, wishing he had a snack.

“Nishab was a prophet in the Bellows. His body was covered in the markings of his master's back in Africa. According to the Bellows, his markings were the path to freedom through the stars above. His white master thought his skin was unique, so they did the unthinkable. They skinned him alive and fed him to pigs; they made the slaves watch in the rain. It wasn’t like they just threw him to the pigs. They strung him up and lowered him bit by bit. This took place from midday to nightfall. The slaves cried out to the heavens, and nothing happened. They slammed their fist on the ground, and nothing happened. God and the Devil weren’t listening. When night fell, they cried out to the Void, and the Void answered back and swallowed the stars, spitting them out onto the land, causing a meteor strike on the master’s land, killing the masters. The slaves were free. They cried out again to the Void, this time in joy. They asked how they could repay it for their freedom, the Void trembled the land and said, " Go forth and tell of my darkened fruits and bear my mark upon yourselves.” ”.

“Okay, so the markings are a tribute to the Void,” Simmons nodded. “But why the middle kid?”

“Because Nishab was a middle child. But here’s the thing, each family has a different mark of Nishab. No one knows what the mark from the Void was, so they usually end up being something equivalent to a house sigil,” Karina kept writing.

Simmons pulled up the email on his phone and zoomed in on the inscription that was pieced together. The wheels in his head were spinning. “ What do you make of this inscription? This is what the Texas offices were able to put together.”

Karina took his phone and started reading the passage. Her brows furrowed, and a chill ran through her spine, then she narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth from her notes. “ A couple of things, the symbols are a part of sigil magick, you can just make words from a bunch of sigils, and hope it lines up with something. This doesn’t read like something that the mark of Nishab would be. This reads more like a foretelling of something coming, not a ward. To be exact, it reads like a recipe for disaster.”

“Huh, a recipe.” Simmons echoed deep in thought. “Pigs, alligators, and vegetables…”

“Just add some rice, and you’ll have a jambalaya.”

Simmons stared at Karina, eyes getting wider, “ Don’t open the door for any but me.” He kissed her forehead, grabbing his phone back. “ I got to call the Chief.”

He went into the study, pacing around as the phone rang on the other end.

“Hey, Simmons, what do you need?” Guidry answered.

“Sir, I think I figured it out. The chef at school tonight might have something to do with it”

There was a pause from Guidry, “ What are you saying, Simmons?”

“The remains of those bodies are in the food being served tonight. The jambalaya is people.”

There was silence at the end of the phone, then a sharp sound of spatter. “DEAR GOD!” Guidry moaned before wretching and vomiting again. “ Everyone, stop eating, the food’s contaminated! Everyone, stop!” Simmons was horrified by the sounds on the other end of the phone. He could hear screams and crying, asking what was wrong and if they were poisoned.

“Simmons,” Guidry finally brought his attention back to the phone. “ Get the caterers, it’s the Claytons. Get them in custody! I’ll get a search warrant.” The call disconnected.

Simmons went to his closet and quickly put on his uniform plus a bulletproof vest. He was strapping on his radio when it called out to him.

“All available units to-”

His phone rang, it was Williams, “Hey, we gotta got to the ports, dispatch just called it.”

“Yeah, I just heard. We’re going to need the patrol boat for this one.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

Night had fallen upon the Riviere d'Erbane. The water had risen with the continued bands of rain leftover in Maria’s wake. Williams and Simmons got to the ports as quickly as possible. They weren’t the first ones on the scene. A man stood on the roof in a black robe. Flanking him were two torches burning brightly in the pitch black of the night. There was a body at his feet and a knife in his hands. The spotlights from the other patrol boats illuminated the man. His eyes were crazed, and his movements frantic. Williams cut the boat's engines and cruised to where the others were. The deputies had their guns drawn and rifles pointed at the man on the roof.

“Let the woman go!” One of the deputies demanded with his weapon aimed at the man.

“No!” He shouted down to them.

“We’ll shoot!” The deputy responded.

“Kill me, and you’ll never find them. You’ll never find the Void Walkers. They shamed my father. They made him mad. But we see the truth. There are devils that walk among us that take our minds through promises through the fru-”

A thunderous howl chilled the rain. Simmons drew his weapon; he was unsure of what he had just heard. Was it thunder or a wolf? Certainly, wolves wouldn’t have been in the flood, would they?

“They are here! The perveters of Nishab’s dream! The ones that promise the world but return only hun-”

What happened next defied Simmon’s senses and logic. From the void of the sky, a large silhouette of a beast descended. Simmons couldn’t tell if it came from the sky, per se, or from the trees above the roof, but once it descended, its presence was known for only a shadow of a moment. The beast was twice the size of a normal wolf; it was jet black, but it seemed all wrong. Its hind legs were backward, and the paws of the beast held massive talons. The wind must have been blowing its long fur otherwise, Simmons could have sworn they were tendrils. Out of sheer terror, the deputies started firing on the beast. As they did so, the beast lunged for the man’s throat. The bullets didn’t faze the creature; it caught the man by the throat and dragged him from the roof into the murky flood waters below. Everyone was still firing onto the animal, if they could call it that. Nothing worked. The man was dragged down and away.

No one gave chase out of fear of what they had just seen. Before anyone could speak a word, a single Harbourage helicopter flew low in the direction of the wolf.