Murder On The Air Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: “Ma Jolie Maman”

You never know what life will throw at you in the future.

You take life for granted, certain that the same old routine will last forever.

Then, all of a sudden, a drastic change comes charging at you like rabid dogs or a stray bullet, leaving you a stunned deer in the headlights of fate.

New Orleans was a regular bustling city like any other, people going about their lives with no care in the world. With music, art and culture, the citizens did not predict that anything would go wrong in the near future.

Then the Spanish Flu Pandemic of nineteen eighteen hit.

It was the deadliest in world history, caused by an H1N1 virus. An estimated five hundred million people were infected worldwide. No effective drugs or vaccines were available to treat it. In fact, researchers didn't know it was a virus. Citizens were ordered to wear masks and businesses were shut down. People were advised to stay indoors, disinfect, and to quarantine themselves. Back then it was called "crowding control," while the term "social distancing" would be used a century later.

A mild wave began in the spring, but a deadlier second wave returned in the fall. The sick experienced typical flu symptoms such as chills, fever, and fatigue. More severe symptoms included blue skin and suffocation via fluid in the lungs. More U.S. soldiers died from the flu than were killed in battle during World War One. In an effort to be patriotic, media downplayed the disease's spread.

The pandemic wouldn't end until summer of the next year.

The Corona Virus Nineteen pandemic would begin a century later in the year two thousand and twenty.

Twenty two year old Alastor first heard rumors of troops coming to and from the city, many of them experiencing coughs and fevers. There were many people who started to fall ill, but Alastor didn't think much of it. Like many citizens, he thought it was "just the flu," and that it would go away. Being a neat freak, he took care to stay away from those who coughed and gagged.

So he continued to work in dull occupations, play in his band and cook with his mother. His mother continued her jobs as well. At this point, he could sew a dozen Voodoo dolls all on his own. He could make not only jambalaya, but crawfish dishes, and pretty much any classic meal for Mardi Gras.

Plus there was his side hobby of killing racist people or those who mocked him. Alastor had cut off his pony tail and left his dark brown hair smooth, short, and straight, though she still wore his round glasses.

On one walk in New Orleans, Alastor discovered something new and disturbing.

The newspaper headline read: "New disease spreads into cities, hundreds killed and counting." The article detailed the symptoms of soldiers in camps who had gotten the illness. In an obituary, Alastor saw a small picture of his African American uncle: Joseph Duvalier.

Alastor wasn't particularly close with him but he was a nice man to visit. He was his mother's older brother and he was apparently a great comedian.

But then he was drafted off to the war and never seen again.

There were signs everywhere on the streets and in shop windows. They had large bold letters on them.

"Facial coverings are now mandatory…$5 fee for anyone caught not wearing a mask."

"Stay indoors!"

And then there was another announcement that stunned him.

"Mardi Gras parades canceled due to spread of new disease."

"No Mardi Gras?!" he thought. He had never heard of such an influential cultural event being canceled just like that.

Then Alastor realized something else. If the disease kept spreading, then he couldn't go out and kill people. His band members had already quit and headed off to their homes in the poorer part of the city.

No live bands, no Mardi Gras, no daily murders…what was the young man supposed to do in quarantine?

He read books, honored the saints and Loas, filled up two sketch books and spent time with his mother, whenever she wasn't working. He and his mother still worked until it was no longer safe to do so. Alastor had gotten the idea to get extra canned food to help them get through the coming weeks.

Alastor had gotten a fever and some coughing for several days, but soon enough, he recovered on his own.

After one particularly bad day at work, Loretta came home, bending over, apparently very tired. Through mumbles, she talked about how her superiors chastised her with racial slurs and one man even grabbed at her butt. She had slapped him, which resulted in her getting yelled at. The arguments and draining hours seemed to last forever.

"I can kill them if you want," he smiled.

"Remember the deal you made, Al," she responded in a tired voice. "No more killin' and putting yourself at risk of getting' caught. And it's dangerous for you to go out."

"I'll be fine," he assured, but she held up a hand. "This new disease seems to target the very young…and that includes you. For my sake, stay safe."

Loretta promptly collapsed in bed and slept for a long time.

Loretta didn't wake up at her usual early time, which was quite unusual. When she did get up, it was to go to the bathroom or to rinse her mouth out. She had been to the bathroom several times.

"Is everything alright, Mama?"

"Of course, my son," she said, her smile ever so bright. "Ah'm just moving slower than usual. Nothin' ta worry about."

She walked with shaky legs over to the kitchen, where she and Alastor made some Creole breakfast dishes before starting the day.

Back outside in the city, Alastor soon saw several buildings shuttered and boarded up. Schools, offices, theaters, several restaurants…all with shuttered windows and locked doors. Even the Imperial Theater had a sign on the fancy double doors that read "Sorry, we're closed" in big letters. The old brick school building had tan rough boards over the rows of windows. He couldn't believe he had been there only several years ago.

No sounds of jazz music filling the air, no dancing and loud chatting. Chats were replaced with whispers and occasional tears. Passerby moved off to the side, avoiding each other, some not even making eye contact. Many people avoided Alastor and the poor folks especially. He looked ridiculous wearing a white mask over his mouth and nose. It hid his bright smile…so he decided to draw a smile on his face mask in black marker.

That only caused people to withdraw from him further.

Some foolhardy people roamed the streets without face coverings in large groups. They were primarily young individuals who crowded bars and the streets. Many of them drank their troubles away at bars and places that didn't hold any restrictions. Alastor saw a man slap a woman's butt and she turned around and spat right in his face.

"You can make us wear masks and stay home!" a group called out. They were mad that stores had been shut down. "We can do what we want and say what we want!"

One woman blatantly claimed, "I trust my immune system! I'm young and I won't get sick. I'll continue to work and that's that!"

No one was surprised when she died later that day. A majority of people were too stressed and worried about their own lives.

Alastor's eyes filled with anger as white police officers released dogs onto a group of innocent black men talking together. A German Shepard sank its teeth into a struggling black man's leg as he tried to run. The man stumbled to the ground where he got attacked by the dog on his back before police hoisted him mercilessly up.

"You're under arrest for looting and endangering citizens," said the officer, noticing the bag of apples and medications.

"Ah have no money. My siblings are very ill, they need food and meds."

"Stand up and move along."

The man struggled in vain as handcuffs were placed on him. "Stop! You can't do this! Let me go you menacing copper egg!" He belted out swear words before being shoved inside a black vehicle.

When another black man pulled out a knife, an officer shot him square in the chest several times. The man fell to the ground, motionless.

"Why are you arresting me?" one man asked as he was put into handcuffs.

"You're trespassing on private property," the officer responded.

"Are you kiddin' man? Ah live here!"

The poor fellow was taken away anyway.

One of the dogs turned and growled at Alastor, sharp teeth exposed. He took a step back in fear as one officer eyed him suspiciously.

Alastor knew how to choose his battles carefully. Sensing he was overpowered and outnumbered, he shrank back and walked away. His heroic teenage years were over.

The former lively New Orleans was becoming as dull as the eyes of a dead man.

And people were, indeed, dying. Warehouses and empty buildings had been converted into hospitals and sick rooms. Medical students in white clothing with gloves on their hands and masks, strolled around to check on their patients. The sick individuals were lined up in rows of small beds with round metal head boards…each of them as far apart as they could go. Doctors took their temperatures, gave them water, and placed cold rags on their feverish foreheads. One nurse comforted a little blonde girl sick in bed holding a teddy bear. The sounds of coughing, wheezing, and strained breathing echoed throughout the large industrial space.

"At least I don't have to worry about anyone touching me," he thought. People were encouraged to stay six feet apart from each other…even though not everyone followed it. Horrific flashbacks of being touched by his father raced through his mind. He pushed those memories aside.

But the worst part for Alastor personally wasn't all the deaths…he could care less about those lost causes.

Alastor was in the clutches of his worst enemy: sheer, absolute boredom.

The months in quarantine were mental torture. He had an urge to do something: to dance, sing, kill, smoke, do something. He remembered what the bastard therapist mentioned about his so called psychopathic traits: a constant need for stimulation and a tendency to get very bored. Alastor also remembered the therapist saying that he had "sexual troubles," in regard to his father saying he was not into girls. He wasn't interested in men nor women as far as he could tell, and the feelings were all normal to him.

But still…being labeled like that, made him doubt himself a little. Plus, it's not like there was much he could do at this point anyway, other than keep his distance from people.

Things really spiked when autumn came. Dead bodies wrapped in white were piling up as more people died. Some people committed suicide out of fear of infecting their family and friends. Many families had to bury their own loved ones.

Loretta was getting worse and worse every day. What started off a mild flu symptoms morphed into a clinging sickness. During one gut-wrenching moment, Alastor witnessed his shaking mother vomiting in the toilet before lying down on the hard bathroom floor. Alastor made sure she was comfortable in bed before giving her aspirin. Many claimed that aspirin would help with the illness, though it didn't seem to do much for his mother.

Alastor with his face mask on, raced over to one of the spare health care buildings and to one of the doctors. He briefly talked with another physician before turning to Alastor.

Alastor cleared his throat. "Sir, my mama's very sick. If there'd anything you have that could help her, I have to have it."

The brown haired white man shook his head as he held a clipboard. He wore a white coat and a face mask. "Sorry son. So far, we haven't found anything that can treat this nasty disease. It's spreading too fast."

"Aren't you supposed to have medicine or something?"

"Only those that can temporarily negate the symptoms for half a day, and even that one isn't very effective."

Alastor pulled out a handful of saved kale.

The doctor stared at the money and sighed. "We've used up enough supplies as it is." He took the money and gave Alastor two bottles of aspirin. "Try these, they might help for a little while."

Alastor pleaded some more. "Anything else you have? I beg you."

"Like I said, we have to save what we have for everyone else. Besides, I'm in no position to help your kind of folk."

Alastor's plastered smile strained, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Now if you'll excuse me young man, I have more patients to attend to," said the doctor before walking away with a few other medical staff.

Alastor raced back home. His mother was still in the same place. Alastor gathered every healing herb he could think of and mixed them up as per instructions he remembered. His mother drank the herbal broth and the pains and discomfort seemed to go away.

But the symptoms returned with a vengeance the next day. The healing broth didn't help when he tried again.

Neither did the aspirin. In fact, the aspirin only seemed to make the symptoms worse. Her breathing became strained. Alastor cursed himself for wasting his money on something so ineffective.

"Let me try something," he said. He stood by her bed and his eyes glowed red. Red light surrounded both their bodies and voodoo symbols hovered in the air. He thought of healing spells and hummed a chant. Loretta went still.

The light faded. All was silent.

It was a powerful healing spell he had conjured. He couldn't wait to see her smile in a few mo…

Cough, cough, cough, gasp.

Loretta was coughing and gagging, just the same as she was before.

Alastor shook his head. "No, no, no, no, that's impossible!"

Loretta shook her head sadly. "Magic can't fix everything, Al. Even communicating with the dead ain't easy. Ah think…this disease is too strong…"

Alastor wasn't giving up. He held a cold rag over her sweaty brown forehead. If he couldn't cure her, then at least he could ease her discomfort. Alastor closed his eyes and decided to try something different.

Alastor's red dark magic had always been there for him to use easily. Petro energy consisted of matter and shadows, perfect to use for destruction, illusions, fire, and the creation of materials for use.

Rada magic was something he couldn't quite grasp. It was ethereal, watery and full of light. It was used for healing, water, life and growth. His mother had always been able to use it easily, though now he could feel the magic slowly leave her.

With effort, he pushed all his typical thoughts of selfishness and pride aside and focused only on the good parts of himself.

The fond memories he had with his mother when they sang songs together at voodoo ceremonies.

When they made jambalaya and shared their food with neighbors at Mardi Gras.

Alastor helping her sew dresses and costumes for a musical.

Loretta always having faith in him even when he didn't.

Teal energy glowed from Alastor's brown eyes, the energy traveling down his arms and down to his hands. The energy jumped eagerly from his hands toward Loretta's shaking body, aiming to provide some comfort and well-being.

The blue voodoo symbols vanished and the light faded when he lost focus. Loretta stared wide eyed and opened mouthed at him.

"Ah can't believe mah eyes! Who wouda believed that mah son could use Rada energy!"

Alastor smirked. "Yeah, like you didn't have that dark glow in your eyes after we ate you know who."

Loretta grinned and coughed some more. "Ah guess we are both capable of light an' dark, huh?"

"I guess you're right."

Loretta glanced over at the time. "Ya betta get yourself on ta work."

Alastor sighed. "I want to stay here with you."

"Ah'll be just fine, son. Ah already feel much betta thanks to you."

Alastor embraced her and gave her a long kiss. Social distancing be damned.

Loretta lifted up the corners of Alastor's mouth, widening his smile and cupping his cheeks.

"The world is a stage of entertainment. Go out there and make the most of another day. Remember dear, you're never fully dressed without a smile."

Alastor smiled and let go. "You're certainly right, mama. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Alastor left the room to get ready for more pointless hours at the newspaper office and disinfecting the many rooms.

Alastor managed to make it through and decided that a nice hot dish of jambalaya would cheer his mother right up.

"Mama! I'm back," he called. "Guess what I'm making for dinner?"

He sang a song out loud so she could hear his voice.

"Jambalaya and a craw fish pie and file gumbo

'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher mere

Pick guitar, fruit jar and be gayo

Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bay…"

He opened the door to her room…

"…ou."

She appeared to be resting, her head facing the wall.

Alastor walked in. "Hey Mama, wake up. I'm starting dinner soon."

Her eyes were partway closed. He gently shook her and glanced at her face.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

No response.

He pressed his fingers to her neck. No sign of a pulse. Her brown skin looked slightly paler and felt…cold.

Alastor thought he was dreaming. He shook her harder.

"Mama? You alright? Please wake up."

She just lay there.

Alastor stepped back. This couldn't be happening. Already, the smell of death had begun to fill his nostrils.

He felt he was in some kind of nightmare. Maybe if he closed his eyes and yelled, it would all go away.

He dared open his eyes again and then he had come to a harsh and sudden reality he could no longer deny.

His mother was dead.

She had been everything to him. Everything that Alastor did, he did for himself and for her.

Now it felt like part of his soul had been torn apart. Emptiness and a black hole that only seemed to grow more by the minute.

"Wake the fuck up!"

Alastor never swore, yet those words had slipped form his mouth in a shrill discordant tone. A flow of tears speed down from his eyes, even as he kept his smile wide. For several minutes after, he made a series of noises. Cussing. Pounding his fists on the floor. But he mostly let out a peculiar combination of sobs and giggles. He closed her eyes and buried his face in her corpse.

He didn't want to leave her or let her out of his sight. He missed several days of work, but being fired was the last thing on his mind. He might as well go homeless.

Soon enough, her body had begun the decaying process and he strengthened his resolve. He needed to bury her.

He took her body with him, gathered a shovel and supplies and got in the car.

There was a cemetery by the bayou, the same place where his grandmothers and grandfathers were buried.

He used magic to conjure up a white Christian cross shaped headstone for her, to make it blend in with the others. It read "Loretta Marie Duvalier, 1872-1918." It was right next to Antoinette's grave. He used the shovel to dig a deep narrow hole in the ground for her. He felt like it wasn't right to use magic for that part. Thunder rumbled over head in the dark gray sky and rain started to pour from overhead. The drops made many little circular lines on the surface of the nearby lake.

He snapped his fingers and Loretta's clothing turned into a coral colored dress with gold trim. The kind of outfit that a goddess would wear. Loretta's Christian necklace and Voodoo necklace were both visible around her neck. He gently placed her still body on the ground, her hands on her chest, folded, lying on her back. He folded his hands in prayer.

"Heavenly Father, All-Knowing Bondye, please watch over my Mama and guide her on her journey to the afterlife. Heaven, Hell or Null, may happiness be with her. Amen."

He then prayed to Papa Legba and Baron Samedi to ensure her safe passage to the afterlife.

Alastor placed special treasures and trinkets beside her that she loved: flowers, jewelry, perfume, and even uncooked jambalaya mix in a bowl.

When he was done, he kissed her on the forehead one last time, then climbed out to begin burying her. Her body and face soon disappeared under the rising brown dirt.

The dirt soon filled up the hole and he flattened it. Rain soaked his short hair and his already teary face. Even as he cried sitting on his knees in front of her gravestone, he still had his smile on his face. He lay a bouquet of flowers by her gravestone: white lilies, red roses, sky blue flowers, flowers of all kinds of colors.

The rain and tears wouldn't stop pouring. Alastor was drowning in despair.

When the rain and tears slowed down, Alastor stood on shaky legs. It was getting dark. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't display this kind of weakness to anyone. Smiling showed dominance, and he would honor his mother's wish by doing it every day.

He sang a lament to her:

"Ma jolie maman

Her light like the sun

Deep down under there

She was my hope, my light

My joy in the night

I know her heart belongs only to me

That someone so loving as she

Could be forced to leave me

How could it be?

Now how can I fare?

With no one to care

I love you, ma jolie maman."

The days went by in a blur. He fasted. He cried. He barely slept. He cut his wrists and arms with a knife, his preferred weapon. Alastor briefly considered suicide but that would be the coward's way out. He became incredibly thin, the unhealthy kind of thin where veins and bones would start to be visible from underneath the flesh. Large dark bags were under his eyes.

He visited her gravestone frequently, feeling like a husk of the person he once was.

A bearded man and a woman with long hair and a lavender dress approached him.

"Sir," said the man, "This is private property. I kindly ask you to leave."

He didn't answer. He just continued to stare at her grave with blank brown eyes.

"Leave now, or I'll escort you out."

Neither of them wore masks. The woman walked over to him and clamped her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, mister?" he asked.

Alastor slowly turned around, smile etched on his face, his hair disheveled and standing out off to one side. He slapped her hand away. She took a step back as he stood up.

"Sir, I'm asking you again," he said in a loud voice. "It's time to leave!"

They needed to shut their traps.

Alastor pulled out a long sharp knife from his belt.

"W…we don't want any trouble," she stuttered, eyes wide.

He took measured steps forward, eyes unblinking.

He swiped the weapon through the air, causing her to almost lose her balance in her heeled shoes. Her lavender hat with a purple feather attached, fell off from her blonde head.

The man stomped over and aimed a fist at his face. Alastor moved out of the way and promptly sliced the man's hand off.

The man clutched his bleeding arm and screamed before Alastor shoved him hard to the ground. The woman screamed her husband's name as Alastor stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. A sickening crack left one of his ankles bent at an unnatural angle.

The woman ran for her life, even as the sounds of racing footsteps grew closer.

She saw her husband moaning on the ground at a distance, and the crazed look of the man chasing her.

"Help! Somebody, please!" she cried between breaths.

The woman was forcefully yanked back by a strong light brown hand. Alastor grinned wider as he used his other hand to slap her round visible butt.

She yelped with a jump in the air. She almost had a word with the pervert but a knife in her back only made her scream in terrified pain. The smiling figure was soon over her as she collapsed toward the green grass. He pushed the knife in deeper as she screamed once again. Twisting the knife then taking it out, he then dragged the helpless woman by the arm toward her husband. He let her go unceremoniously next to him. They stared at each other with longing eyes and tears before their bodies bled out and went still.

Alastor spent the next five minutes chopping up their bodies in mangled gore-filled chunks. His face, hands, and clothes were stained with fresh blood and bits of organ. He collected the pieces and made his way down toward the bayou.

Reptile growls grew closer along with spurts of water from nostrils.

"You gators must be starving," he exclaimed, adding with a joke. "Allow me to meat your needs."

He began to toss some chunks into the water. Pairs of yellow eyes dotted the water's surface. With low growls, the heads of two dark green alligators rose from the water. Alastor stood at the bank of the swamp. He randomly tossed a piece into the water with a splash. One of the gator's eyes followed it and its head lowered down.

Alastor chuckled and tossed another bloody piece in. The gator opened its mouth, showing a row of sharp teeth and a long pink tongue.

"Try this one!" he called, tossing in the severed woman's head. The other alligator opened its mouth wide and caught the head in its jaws with a loud snap.

"Hahahaha! Nice catch!" he laughed. He tossed more pieces in and the gators snapped their jaws as the meat entered their mouths. Alastor was smiling like a little kid feeding animals at a petting zoo. Before long, the human remains had all been tossed and consumed by the reptiles. Taking one last hungry look at Alastor, the gators slowly sank their heads into the water and vanished into the shadows.

He headed back up the hill and went back home to wash up.

Alastor had lost his remaining sense of humanity. He was that much closer to becoming the demon he was destined to be. He had broken his mother's plea for him to not kill any more innocent people…but he had forgotten about it…or more accurately, he no longer cared.

Alastor had been pushed to the edge for long enough. The rest of his family was either distant or deranged. No one else in Louisiana gave a deer's flank about him. Now that he had no one else left in his life, he could only rely on himself. He would seek justice, entertainment, and a proper life, no matter what it took.

In simple terms, it was all for his survival. His eyes glowed red again.

If New Orleans and other people burned to the ground, then so be it.

However, if he wanted to get started, he needed to know what his purpose was. And for that, he couldn't begin alone.

He needed allies from…the other side.