Dangerous Women Part 72

"I know," Mich.e.l.le said. "Weird, huh? I guess we should get going."

Joey's smile faded. "Yeah, I guess we should."

"You're going to have to lead," Mich.e.l.le said. "I have no idea where to start."

"I do," Joey replied. Her voice was sad. "It's this way." Then, much to Mich.e.l.le's surprise, Joey took her hand.

They went to the second to the last corridor leading off the main hallway and turned into it. There were sconces lining the walls here, but several of the bulbs had burned out. The walls were painted a dull grey, and the hall runners sported an undulating pattern in chartreuse, smoke, and brown. There were three doors along each wall in this hallway, and there was a door at the far end as well. Joey slowed, and Mich.e.l.le had to tug her hand to get her to move forward again.

"I know you don't want to do this," Mich.e.l.le said. "But it's the only choice."

Joey stopped in front of the first door on the right. "I know," she said as she reached out and threw open the door.

Sunlight spilled into the hallway. They stepped through the doorway. The light was so bright that, for a moment, Mich.e.l.le was blinded. She blinked, and blurry images turned into people.

Mich.e.l.le and Joey stood at the top of a hill. Below them, a tall, willowy woman in a blue sundress was laughing at something a bandy-legged man standing beside her had said. She took a long drink from the tallboy in her hand. Around them ran a short, skinny, young girl.

"Mommy," Joey whispered. Then she pointed at the little girl. "And that's me down there, too."

"How old were you?" Mich.e.l.le asked. She couldn't take her eyes away from the scene. Everything about it was golden and warm.

"Eleven," Joey replied, her voice wavering. Mich.e.l.le glanced at her.

"Why are you crying?" Mich.e.l.le asked, perplexed. "You look so happy here."

"It's the last f.u.c.king happy memory I have."

Mich.e.l.le looked back to the scene. Joey's hair was done up in braids, and she wore a pink T-s.h.i.+rt and overalls. She threw head back and laughed and laughed, the perfect image of her mother.

"Screw this," Joey said. She yanked them out of the room, then slammed the door shut. The golden light was gone, and they were back in the gloomy hallway.

Joey dropped Mich.e.l.le's hand, then ran to another door and yanked it open. Mich.e.l.le sprinted to catch up with her. Inside, Joey's mother was sitting on a bed with Joey. Joey's mother wore a tatty floral housedress and her hair hadn't been combed. Joey was wearing a blue T-s.h.i.+rt with faded but clean jeans.

"I'm never gonna leave you, baby girl," Joey's mother said, her words slurring. She patted Joey's head and toyed with her braids. "I don't know where you get these crazy ideas."

There was a sick look on Joey's face. "You've been spending a lot of time in bed, Mommy," Joey said, touching her mother's cheek. "And you forget stuff. And you never want to eat anymore ..." Joey's voice trailed off.

"Oh, baby girl, you know your mother has a bad memory," her mother said as she lay back against the pillows. Mich.e.l.le saw now that Joey's mother's belly was distended and her skin was ashy. Even the whites of her eyes were yellow. Joey's mother was ill-very ill. "Always have had a poor memory," Joey's mother continued. "There's nothing to that. Your uncle Earl John is here to help me remember things."

"Mommy," Joey said, inching closer to her mother. "I don't like Uncle Earl John. I don't understand why you're with him."

"Baby girl," her mother said as she pushed herself up again. It looked like it took an effort. "When you get older you'll understand that it's hard to make a living. Your uncle Earl John takes care of us. He buys us what we need."

"I don't f.u.c.king want what he buys," Joey said in a surly voice.

Her mother slapped her across the face.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Joey's mother said. Her tone was angry, but her eyes were scared. "And don't you use that nasty language."

Young Joey rubbed her cheek, and adult Joey mimicked her. Mich.e.l.le wanted to say something to help, but she was at a loss. Her parents had been horrible, but at least they had never hit her.

Then Joey's mother began to cry.

"Oh G.o.d," she said, pulling young Joey into her arms. "I'm so sorry, baby girl. I love you and I just want you to be safe after ... I just want you to be safe. Uncle Earl John will keep you safe. He promised."

"It was the only time she ever hit me," adult Joey said, her voice hitching with tears. "She never let anyone touch me. Not ever. None of those c.o.c.ksuckers she married. None of the ones she just f.u.c.ked. They could beat the h.e.l.l out of her, but never once did she let them hit me." She pulled Mich.e.l.le out into the hall again and slammed the door shut.

"Where to now?" Mich.e.l.le asked. At the dead end of the hall was a door flanked by flickering sconces. She pointed at it. "What about that one?"

"No," Joey said, taking a step backward while wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Maybe it's what we're looking for," Mich.e.l.le said, grabbing Joey's hand and pulling her toward the door.

"Mich.e.l.le, don't!" Joey cried.

But it was too late. Mich.e.l.le was already opening the door. She stepped through the doorway, dragging Joey along, and found herself on a rise overlooking a cemetery. A small knot of mourners was gathered around one of the small crypts.

Mich.e.l.le saw young Joey. She as wearing a dark blue dress and was sobbing. Next to her was the man from the first room. He was rubbing Joey's back, and the sight of that action made the hairs on Mich.e.l.le's neck stand up.

Abruptly, Mich.e.l.le found herself in the living room of a shotgun house. There were ca.s.serole dishes laid out on card tables, and a group of women were fussing over the dishes and Joey. Mich.e.l.le could see into the kitchen where a group of men were talking and drinking. The women in the living room clucked over the men's boozing between attempts to get Joey to eat. But Joey just sat curled up on the ratty sofa and cried.

The scene s.h.i.+fted again. It was dark outside, and in the back of the house Mich.e.l.le heard someone banging around. Joey was still on the sofa, her legs pulled up under her chin. Her face was vacant. The guests had left, and someone had cleaned up the living room.

"Hey, baby girl," came a loud, slurred voice. Joey didn't respond, but Mich.e.l.le turned. The short man with bandy legs leaned against the doorjamb. There were sweat stains on his s.h.i.+rt, and he'd pulled his tie loose. It was the man from the funeral. Joey's uncle Earl John.

"Baby girl!" he said louder. Mich.e.l.le could smell the liquor on his breath. "You hear me?"

For a moment Joey didn't answer, but then she turned toward him. "Don't call me that," she said in a flat voice. "No one but my mother calls me that."

"Well, your drunk-a.s.s, junkie momma is dead as a doornail," he said, pus.h.i.+ng himself from the doorjamb. He staggered into the living room. "All the money I spent on that lush, down the drain. But you, well, you're going to fix it. Goin' to clean my house, goin' to fix my dinner, and goin' to get in my bed."

He grabbed her. Joey shrieked and tried to yank her arm away. But he held on tight and jerked her off the sofa.

Mich.e.l.le instinctively tried to bubble-but nothing happened.

Of course not. This was Joey's memory, and Mich.e.l.le was just a spectator. And then Mich.e.l.le realized that her Joey-grown-up Joey-was gone.

"Let me go!" Joey screamed, but her voice and face switched back and forth from child to adult Joey. "Let me go!" She kicked, but it didn't do any good. Joey was just a skinny slip of a thing.

No. No. No. No. I don't want to see this, Mich.e.l.le thought. G.o.d, I don't want to.

The memory began to fragment. Mich.e.l.le found herself in a bedroom. A slice of light fell across the bed from the open bathroom door. The heavy smell of bourbon was everywhere.

The ceiling had a stain on it, a brown water stain from a roof leak. Joey remembered exactly how it looked. The edges were darker than the center. And then he was grabbing her legs and forcing them open. Joey screamed, and he released one of her legs and fumbled with his pants. The stain looked like Illinois.

There was a heavy weight on Joey's chest. She couldn't move. The world spun, and she thought she was going to be sick. She rolled over and started gagging. Earl John pushed her off the bed.

"You puke in the bathroom," he said.

Joey crawled to the bathroom. The floor tiles were blue, and until today Joey had always loved the color of them. She lifted the seat on the toilet and dry heaved. Nothing came up because she hadn't eaten in two days.

Something ran down her leg. She wiped at it. Her hand came away sticky and smelled like the river.

The memory jumped again. Earl John was holding Joey facedown on the bed. Joey pushed her face into the pillow and breathed in her mother's smell that still lingered there. It was Mommy's favorite rose perfume. Joey heard her own pathetic cries and Earl John's grunting, but it sounded as if it were coming from somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

Then he was done and he rolled off Joey and went into the kitchen. There was the sound of the refrigerator opening, and a gla.s.s being filled with ice cubes.

Joey wanted to die. She could die here with Mommy's smell in her nose. They'd be together, and she wouldn't have to feel the disgusting stickiness between her legs anymore.

"You just stay like you are, baby girl," Earl John said. "I'm going to break all your cherries tonight."

Joey didn't know what he meant. But she knew Mommy wouldn't want him to touch her. Mommy never let any of them touch her. Ever!

Earl John threw back his drink and set the gla.s.s on the dresser. He started toward Joey and there was another jump in time.

Someone was banging on the front door. Then there was the sound of wood smas.h.i.+ng. Earl John jumped up, went to the side table, and pulled a gun out of the drawer.

"What the h.e.l.l?" he said as he turned around. Then he gave a high-pitched shriek. Joey rolled over and saw Mommy in the doorway.

"You hurt my baby," Mommy said. But it was Joey's voice that came out of her mouth. "I told you to take care of her."

Earl John shot Mommy twice in the chest.

But Mommy just smiled.

"Can't hurt us no more, Earl John," she said. Joey mouthed the words, too. "Can't hurt us no more, you f.u.c.ker."

And then Mommy ripped Earl John's head off.

Joey sat in the middle of the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin. She hurt all over. Mommy came and sat on the bed, too.

"I'm sorry, baby girl, I shouldn't have left you alone," she said. Her voice was still Joey's.

"It's okay, Mommy," Joey said. She crawled to Mommy and put her arms around her. Then she laid her head on Mommy's shoulder. "You're here now." Then Joey looked around the room. Earl John was scattered everywhere. The sheets were gross and streaked with blood. Then she looked at herself. There were bruises on her legs and arms and blood on her thighs. She started to shake. "What do I do?" she asked. "I gotta do something."

Mommy laughed. "Well, baby girl, you need to get dressed. But before you do that, you should wash up. Use my shower."

Joey slid off the bed, but her legs were weak and barely held her. Mommy grabbed her and helped her get to the bathroom. Mommy ran the water in the shower until it was warm-almost hot. She helped Joey into the shower, and then Joey lathered herself over and over until all she could smell was Mommy's soap.

Then Mommy helped her get dressed and braided her hair again. And together they went into Joey's room and packed a suitcase. Then Mommy went back into her own bedroom and rifled through all of Earl John's things until she came up with all the cash he had. Joey waited for Mommy to finish.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" Joey asked when Mommy returned.

"Wherever you want, baby girl," Mommy said in Joey's voice. "Wherever you want."

After Joey's mother saved her, the memories fragmented.

But the one constant from that terrible night onward were the zombies. After reanimating her mother, Joey began to raise more and more of the dead. They were often in different stages of decomposition, but the smell didn't bother Joey at all. And the more zombies Joey raised, the stronger she felt. And Mommy was proud of her.

But, like all zombies, Mommy began to fall apart. It was then that Joey realized her mother was really gone.

Joey put her mother back into her crypt and left her there. Then she plunged into the underworld of New Orleans and turned herself into Hoodoo Mama. As Hoodoo Mama she ruled the grifters, the street hustlers, and the people who were lost and stuck on the fringes. Joey was a queen in this world, and her justice against men who hurt women was swift and terrible.

And Hoodoo Mama never let anyone hurt Joey again.

And as she watched all of this, Mich.e.l.le realized she'd been wrong. Even though Mich.e.l.le wanted nothing more than to erase the horror of what had happened that night from Joey's mind, it wouldn't be right to do it. What had happened was part of Joey now. It had made her who and what she was. There were ways for Joey to deal with her pain, but having Adesina just cut that part out was wrong. To do so would banish Hoodoo Mama forever.

They'd have to deal with Mr. Jones and his power-stealing Ace some other way.

As soon as she realized that, Mich.e.l.le found herself back in the hall with Joey and Adesina. Joey was sitting on the floor.

"Sweetie, how did you get here?" Mich.e.l.le asked Adesina. "I thought we said you were going to stay back in the otter room."

"I know, Momma," Adesina replied. She was sitting on her back legs with her front legs in Joey's hands. Tears were running down Joey's cheeks. "But Aunt Joey needed me, and you were stuck."

"Did you see anything?" Mich.e.l.le asked nervously.

Adesina shook her head. "No, just some zombies. But they're everywhere in here."

Mich.e.l.le plopped down on the floor next to Joey. "You okay?" she asked.

Joey shook her head. "I don't know," she said. She looked at Mich.e.l.le. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy. "My mother came back for me and she made him pay. She told me she'd keep me safe." Tears ran down her cheeks. "f.u.c.k, I hate crying," she said. "And I never, ever, wanted to think about that again. Hoodoo Mama shut it away."

"Look," Mich.e.l.le began as she reached out and wiped the tears from Joey's face. "What happened to you was unspeakable. And you were just a child. You did what you needed to in order to survive."

"f.u.c.ker asked for it," Joey said with a hiss.

"Oh, I think that barely begins to cover it," Mich.e.l.le said. She sat down in front of Joey and took her hands. "But you were just a little girl then. Even if they steal your power, you're a grown woman now. They can't control you."

"But if I'm not Hoodoo Mama, who am I?" Joey asked with a plaintive cry. "You saw what happened to me. If I'm not Hoodoo Mama, how can I stop those f.u.c.kers?"

"You're Joey f.u.c.king Hebert," Mich.e.l.le replied. "And Joey f.u.c.king Hebert is Hoodoo Mama whether she has a wild card power or not. That's who the h.e.l.l you are. And day after tomorrow we're going to tell this Mr. Jones he's gonna stop f.u.c.king with both of us."

"Momma," Adesina said. "Language."

It was muggy and hot the morning they were to meet Mr. Jones. Joey's eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and she rubbed them. She'd heard Mich.e.l.le get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs. Then she'd come back up to bed around four. Joey had a.s.sumed she couldn't sleep, either.

At 8 a.m. there was a knock on the front door. Joey went to the door flanked by two linebacker-sized zombies. She found a blond woman wearing a neat navy blue suit on the porch. Then she saw a black SUV with tinted windows parked in front of the house.

"Good morning. I'm Clarice c.u.mmings, and I'm here to pick up Miss Pond's daughter," the blond woman said politely. "Will you tell her I'm here?"

Another one of Mr. Jones's scams, Joey immediately thought. Her zombies stepped toward the c.u.mmings woman. "Yeah, I call bulls.h.i.+t, lady. You can tell Mr. Jones to f.u.c.k all the h.e.l.l off. Or I could just send you back to him in pieces."

"Joey, it's okay," Mich.e.l.le said as she ran to the front door. "I called in a favor. Thank you for the help, Miss c.u.mmings. Adesina will be right here."

Miss c.u.mmings smiled, and Joey decided she liked her just a little. "I'm happy to help. Adesina is one of my favorite pupils."

"Miss c.u.mmings!" Adesina exclaimed, pus.h.i.+ng herself between Joey and Mich.e.l.le's legs. "Momma, you didn't tell me Miss c.u.mmings was going to be here!"