The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Chapter 6

Negril, Jamaica

"What can you hear, my boy?" Old man Sunta said into Cloyse's ear in a raspy, Jamaican dialect.

Cloyse, feeling completely restrained and helpless, heard everything, from the roaring waves of the sea that sounded as if he were right next to them, to his old friend, all the way to a wheezing grunt that seemingly surrounded him.

Cloyse struggled to move, but it felt as if his entire body was shut down. Just trying to wiggle one finger was like trying to sprout wings, it was virtually impossible.

"I...I cannot—

"Do not try and speak yet, just focus on trying to see." Sunta spoke softly into the young man's ears.

Cloyse did as he was told and bore down in the hopes of trying to revive his vision all over again. In fact, his eyes were wide open; it was just the blackness that appeared more like fog that kept him from seeing clearly.

"Dey gone...dey gone far away," the wheezing individual from somewhere within the area groaned.

"Be silent, devil!" Sunta scolded the man. "Now, continue to focus on what you want to see, my boy."

Cloyse squeezed and stretched until the blackness in front of him gradually formed into splotches.

"I can...I can see it." Cloyse fought to utter in his own broken English.

"Good, good, now keep on!" Sunta gleefully urged.

Cloyse kept stretching before even more forms began coming into sight. Before long, globs and splotches eventually turned into brightness. It was so bright in fact that Cloyse had to shut his eyes

momentarily just to shield from the rays.

"Can you see now?" Sunta asked.

Cloyse ever so slightly nodded yes before going back to trying to twist his finger all over again. Much like before, attempting such a task was arduous, but the man kept at it until one moving finger turned into three, and after three, an entire right hand.

"You can move now?" Sunta sounded surprised.

"No good, boy, you be dead by sundown." The nearby groaning man uttered.

"Please, keep on! You are almost free!"

Cloyse persisted until he was able to fully operate his right hand. All of the sudden, the young man began to cry like a child. He wept so hard that his entire body began shaking inside the chair in which he was seated.

"God be praised, he is coming back!"

"God not here, God not here," the mysterious individual kept gasping in and out as though he were fighting to speak.

Cloyse continued to writhe about in his chair until it began to wobble back and forth. Eventually, the man ended up crashing onto the floor, with him still inside the seat. But to Cloyse, just feeling pain at that point, and after so long, was euphoria.

"Are you alright?" Sunta hurriedly aided the man.

Crawling about on the warm, gravely floor, Cloyse replied, "I...am."

"Careful." Sunta said as he hoisted both Cloyse and his chair right back up.

Cloyse felt all over his hairy face before inquiring, "How...how long have I been under?"

"Three weeks, I am afraid."

Soon, the other man began making a sort of snoring racket before saying, "You be dead by de time dey come."

Cloyse sat in his chair and locked his hazy eyes upon the man who was seated across from him inside a tiny, grass hut.

It was a fully bearded, black man who was sitting in his own chair and had his head down with his arms restrained with a rusty chain from the back. His torn and ragged pants looked as if he had worn the same clothing for years without ever changing. His emaciated, grey-haired, bare chest looked like he hadn't been nourished in ages. He appeared such a pathetic sight, but inside Cloyse's heart, only disdain seized him. There wasn't a single fiber inside the man that felt a scrap of compassion for the old being.

"Where did you capture him?" Cloyse asked Sunta.

Sunta walked around and stood next to Cloyse. "Doi was returning to de world when I found him. It was quite simple after that."

"Who ya tink ya kill, fool," Doi questioned with his head still hung low. "I know not dyin'."

"But you do know where my sister...is." Cloyse coughed.

Doi shook his head from side to side before saying, "Big sister not here. She gone, mon. Dey all gone."

Cloyse stopped breathing at that very second. His heart was beating so furiously, but the words he wanted to say had seemingly been swiped away.

Cloyse ever so diligently studied the old man's entire body before sitting back and breathlessly uttering, "They're gone from here."

"He keeps saying dat, but he is an old fool!" Sunta snapped.

"No, no, Arthur, Akoni and Damerae are gone, mon. They're gone far from here."

Right then, a sudden silence gripped the entire hut. The thundering waves from outside were the only things that anyone was able to hear.

"I know where dey are." Cloyse said. "I saw it before him."

"It does not matter now." Sunta's voice shook. "Wherever dey are gone to, not even God in heaven can help."

"You know not about God." Doi grunted. "God not here no more, mon. Who won test de devil now dat he loose? Who won test de unknown devil now dat he loose?" Doi said aloud.

Cloyse continued to sit and stare at Doi for endless minutes before he glanced back at Sunta and groaned, "Dey are gone from here."

"But where, mon?"

"Far north of here," Cloyse sullenly replied.

"Kingston, mon?"

"No...even further," Cloyse said. "I want my sister, old man!" he reached for Doi.

"No, no, no, no big sister, mon." Doi shook his head. "No...I have no more for you."

With those words, Doi lifted his aged head to reveal a pair of white eyes and fangs before both Cloyse and Sunta. Before long, a sinister growl ran up and out of Doi's throat as his face began to stretch outwards forming what looked to be a snout.

Still not at full strength, all Cloyse could do was try and scoot backwards, away from the oncoming demon that was rapidly transforming right before his cloudy eyes.

At that very moment, however, Sunta, with a pointy stick in his right hand, approached Doi. He took the stick and struck it against the gravely floor before igniting Doi from his feet all the way to his head.

Almost immediately the old, beastly man was engulfed in flames as he roared and howled in agony. From there, Sunta grabbed a hold of Cloyse and dragged him out of the blazing hut and onto the sandy beach before both men limped as fast as they could away from the burning structure that went up in flames a lot quicker than either man had anticipated.

"Look back no more, boy." Sunta helped a staggering Cloyse down the empty Bloody Bay Beach. ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Just seeing the sight of the blue, sunny sky and glorious water all over again for him was like being reborn. Never had any of the sights that he grew up seeing appeared so breathtaking.

Cloyse continued on side by side his friend until they approached a bamboo forest. "Why are we stopped here?" The young man looked over at Sunta.

Sunta took a few moments before finally answering. "Did you hear what dat devil said?"

"He said a lot of things." Cloyse huffed. "He said dat all three are gone. And dat is exactly why we must go and find dem before dey find my sister."

Sunta stood a bit longer before entering the forest with Cloyse attached to his shoulder. The two men ventured deeper and deeper into the glade before Sunta finally came to an abrupt stop right in the

middle. Sunta then unhinged himself from Cloyse and took five steps forward.

"You know not if you can find your sister." Sunta said with his back turned to Cloyse.

Confused, Cloyse glanced down at his tattered pants and bare chest before looking back up and asking, "Why are we here, mon?"

"Come hither." Sunta subtly commanded.

Ever so cautiously, Cloyse limped to Sunta's side, only to be stopped by the sight of a large, gaping hole in the ground.

Much to the man's shock and dismay, the hole housed the vilest occupants imaginable. Within the hole were the dead bodies of Jamaicans. Bloody and torn bodies all piled up and on top of one another. From men, women, boys and girls of all sizes and ages. The stench was unbearable and made the immense forest feel claustrophobic all of the sudden.

Cloyse wanted to vomit before turning and staggering, but he held his ground, or what was left of it, and remained by his friend's side as they both gazed down at the mass grave.

"Doi did dis in one night, mon." Sunta explained in a somber manner.

Cloyse couldn't take his eyes off of the people. He could recognize the ones whose bodies and faces were still intact, while all the others were entirely too dismembered to make out.

"What ya tink three can do?" Sunta stared straight at Cloyse. "You go looking for your sister, but for three weeks, mon, you were left for dead."

Trembling from head to toe, Cloyse looked back at Sunta. "Dat is why I need your blessing."

"Our entire village is gone, boy!" Sunta screamed. "Everyone...gone! I give you no blessing! I have none to give!"

"I cannot stay here while my sister is out dere!" Cloyse urged.

Sunta looked Cloyse eye to eye and said, "Den ya go with de devil den."

Cloyse stood and watched as his friend stepped into the pit and laid down on top of one of the bodies.

"Let me rest wit my people, mon." He said. "Let me go home wit God."

Cloyse shook some more before dropping his head. He then, with stiff hands, began piling dirt onto the old man until his face could no longer be seen. Once he was through, Cloyse turned back and saw only a plume of smoke billowing into the hot, summer air. Right there, and much to his own disbelief, he suddenly ceased trembling.

Surrounded by death, the young man closed his eyes and allowed one tear to drop before opening them and hobbling back the way he came. He had no blessing to speak of that would walk with his soul...and maybe that alone was what caused him to limp even faster.