Epilogue

As Jeffrey sat on the bench in the little town square, the crowd of people going about their day to day lives, shopping waiting for buses, meeting up with friends and family for dinner, he placed his hand in the bag of apples and started to crunch through them one after another. The apple, in his culture was celebrated as the fruit of life, the purest of all foods. It was as he sat, in the square and across from the same red brick building, a gun store no less, that he had placed himself in front of for the last three days that he suddenly found his vision obscured. The silver US-X van pulling up in front of Jeffrey, coming to a halt as the girl in the driver's seat quickly jumped from the van and slid the side door wide open. Reaching inside the girl flicked her brown, shoulder length hair to one side as she retreived a long package from the back. Carefully scanning the bar code and sliding the side door of the van closed, the girl then proceeded to make her way around the back of the van and cross the road, the package tucked safe and secure under her arm. Jeffrey stood, grabbing his bag of apples and emerging from the back of the van, able to take in the view across the street as the girl rang the doorbell of the apartment above the gun store. In no time at all, Jeffrey was pleased to see a young man, short hair, bit of a beard, in his early thirties but no more, open the door to greet the mystery caller.

"Package for you." The girl smiled as she handed the tablet in her hand to the young man, the signature for the package needed before delivery was complete.

"Really?" He asked, confused as he grabbed the stylus and signed.

"Maybe you won something." The girl smiled.

"Must be my lucky day." Answered the young man as he handed her back her tablet.

With that, the young girl leant forward and lifted the package, handing it to the young recipient.

"Have a good one." She muttered as she handed him the package and turned to leave.

"Thanks, you too." The man smiled as he took the box and disappeared inside, the door swinging closed behind him.

Jeffrey returned to his seat calmly as the girl yanked open her door and jumped back in the van, before slowly pulling into the steady throng of town traffic and disappearing out of sight.

It didn't take long before Jeffrey heard what he needed to confirm that matters had been dealt with.

After a matter of minutes, the explosion rang out across the square, the blast from the apartment startling everybody in the vicinity as people stopped what they were doing and descended on the gun store, their faces filled with curiosity and questions as to the sound that had emanated from inside.

With that, Jeffrey threw his unfinished apple in the trash besides the bench and quickly headed to his car. Pressing the ignition and making his way into the traffic Jeffrey looked briefly in his rear view mirror, the crowd gathered around Andy's Gun Store slowly disappearing as Jeffrey casually turned the corner of the intersection and disappeared into the distance.

Thousands of miles west, the man opened the trunk of the Lexus, the burning rays of the desert sun hitting the woman all at once, blinding her as she shielded her eyes.

"Get out. It is time!"
Without saying another word, the man and his accomplice approached the trunk of the car, grabbing the woman by her arms as she slowly allowed her eyes to adjust to the sunlight, her hands still held in front of her face. Pulling her free of the trunk they then threw her to the ground, a cloud of sand and dust flying into the air around her as she landed face down. Quickly the woman climbed to her knees and spun to face the men, her hands held up in a symbol of prayer as she spoke.

"Please," She asked sobbing, "Why are you doing this?"

The men simply stood looking around, eyes hidden behind their shaded glasses, nothing of interest in the expanse of desert, literally acres and acres in every direction of sheer emptiness.

"I can give you money." She tried again, becoming more desperate as every word passed her lips. "Whatever you're being paid. I can double it. Easily!"

Suddenly, one of the men spoke, his voice empty, no emotion, apart from a hint of disgust for her words.

"Stupid girl!" The man spat at her. "You really think forgiveness for such acts can be bought?"

The woman was confused. What were they talking about? She was just about to ask that very question, when out of nowhere came the sound of another car, no, make that two. Two more cars approaching in the distance, quickly reaching them and pulling up next to the first car, sliding to a halt on the sandy surface underneath. As the cars cut the power to the engines, two more men emerged from both cars and screaming could be heard from the trunks. Listening intently, the woman felt sick as the voices inside began to sound familiar, her heart filling with dread as the seriousness of the situation suddenly became clear. Breaking down she began to weep, addressing the six men now stood in front of her.

"Please!" She screamed at the top of her voice, between gasps of air, tears streaming down her attractive face, her blonde hair a mess. "Please, don't hurt my babies!"

As she finished, one of the men took a step nearer and leaned over, his black tie dangling from his neck as he pressed his face up to hers.

"They are abominations." He growled, his teeth showing as his lip snarled. "And they must be dealt with, just lie you!"

Willing to try anything, the woman made a lunge for the man's tie, grabbing it before being dimissed, pushed aside by the Caribbean gentleman as he merely stood and returned to his colleagues. Unable to control herself any more, the woman knelt up, leaning forward and digging her hands into the soft, warm sand surrounding her, anger and rage projected across her face as she started hollering furiously.

"You have no idea!" She screamed, her lungs fit to burst. "You have no idea who you're fucking with you cunts!?"

One of the men turned around, lifting his hand to lift his shades back up to the top of his nose.

"Oh I beg to differ." He calmly replied as he reached inside his jacket and withdrew a hand gun, rage still written over the woman's face. "We know exactly who you are Miss Tilly... Or should I call you Tiffany?"

Panic... Suddenly the rage was gone, the face no longer contorted in anger and frustration, those emotions now giving way to panic, fear and disbelief. As she stared at the man, his gun now trained directly on her, she noticed he had lifted his gaze and was now staring past her, just over her left shoulder, something behind her interesting him. Following his eyes, Tiffany turned and looked over her shoulder, her heart skipping a beat and a sudden urge to vomit sweeping through her as she noticed the freshly dug grave behind her, the poorly made cross at the head of the grave sticking out of the sand at an angle, the flowers hanging gingerly from the cross.

White flowers...

Three of them...

Orchids...

Turning and staring down the barrel of the gun, kicking and screaming still audible from the trunks of the cars, Tiffany began to let out a loud, bloody and incredibly short lived scream of terror and realisation before being instantly cut short by the explosion from the gun. The loud crack of gunfire enough to make the vultures a few hundred yards away immediately take flight, scattering in different directions as Tiffany's limp, lifeless body flopped back and fell into the grave.

Damballa awaits...

Two Weeks Later

Slowly, but steadily, they walked.

The grass slightly overgrown in patches, the rain lashing from the heavens, gently slowing to a drizzle as the young girl held hands with her much older chaperone. The tall, concrete gravestones either side of the pair were examined briefly as they walked, their heads flitting from right to left as they took in the names, drops of water trickling down the slabs of cement. The muddy ground parting gently under their feet as they walked, the old woman stopped suddenly, her young acquaintance almost yanked from her feet as she gently hummed to herself. Looking up at the old woman, the girl could clearly see her stare focused on something. Following her eyes the young girl found herself taking in the fresh grave, the headstone adorning it basic, void of any intimacy. Taking in the letters the girl instantly knew to whom the grave belonged.

NICA PIRCE

NOV 9th 1988 - NOV 7th 2013

Averting their eyes, the young girl and the old woman looked at each other, the rain picking up again, slamming against their thick coats, the umbrella in the old woman's hand allowing only the slightest respite. Without saying a word, they both returned their gaze to the headstone, before suddenly the old woman spoke.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked, squeezing the little girl's hand tighter.

Without saying a word, the little girl nodded, her eyes never leaving the grave, the rain trickling down her face. She slowly pulled her free hand up, letting it rest across her chest, a red rose sitting clenched in her fist as she took in the macabre sight.

"I need to do this." She finally whispered.

The old woman releasing her hand, and turning, stooped slowly to one knee and wiped away a mixture of tears and rain water from the young girl's eyes, a sympathetic smile forming across her wrinkled face.

"You don't have to do this." She said as she looked into the girl's eyes. "It's over now."

"I know." The young girl answered, turning her head for an instant to look at the headstone, quickly turning back to the old woman. "I want to do it. It feels right."

Nodding, the old woman gently stood and straightened her handbag, hanging over her shoulder and threatening to break free.

"Okay sweetie." She motioned, flicking her head back over to the tall oak tree by the gravel car park. "I'll wait over here."

Stroking the girl's cheek, the woman turned and slowly made her way back across the small graveyard, coming to a rest under the shelter of the tree, the cold and wet November afternoon not failing to disappoint.

Back at the grave, the little girl stood, simply staring. She hadn't a clue what to do, what to say. But then she figured words didn't matter now. Too late, the events of the last couple of weeks bringing the nightmare to a conclusion and delivering peace at last. Raising her hands to her head, the rain pelting her with a vicious frenzy of attacks, the little girl gently pulled down her hood, revealing a head of beautiful long blonde hair. Then without saying a word, she bent forward and threw the flower on to the grave, the rain instantly smothering it, the petals wilting under the weight of the drops of water. Standing upright, the girl spoke as the wind and rain whistled around her, blowing her long golden ponytail left and right, up and down.

"Thank you." She said quietly, arms hanging loose by her sides. "For everything."

Suddenly, the wind picked up even more, the trees littered around the outskirts of the graveyard bending under the blustery pressure, the rain beginning to soak the young girl to her skin as her thick winter coat, bright yellow, became darker and darker as it soaked up the water. It was at this point the old woman noticed the conditions worsening and stepped forward, shouting across the graveyard and causing the young girl to spin on the spot, acknowledging her.

"Alice!" She screamed over the whistling wind. "Come on Alice, we have to go!"

Nodding, Alice replied as she turned to look at the grave one final time, the rose now soaked under the constant onslaught of rain.

"Coming grandma!" She yelled back.

Her eyes now focused on nothing but the headstone, Alice spoke one final time.

"Goodbye aunty Nica." She wiped away a tear with the now drenched sleeve of her coat. "I love you..."

With that Alice turned and softly walked back towards her grandmother, the ground soft and muddy underfoot as she made her way back, her hair now a tangled mess of blonde, sodden lockes. As they reached the car Alice's grandmother unlocked the doors and in they climbed, firing the engine and leaving, the graveyard disappearing in the rear mirror of the car.

Two cars down, watching as Alice and her grandmother hopped into the car and slowly left, two Caribbean gentlemen sat intently. Their eyes also focused on the grave, the red rose laying exposed, bare and prone in the ensuing storm. With neither taking their eyes from the grave, one of the men spoke.

"So there we go Jeffrey." The first man said. "She did us proud. Such a beautiful rose too."

"Indeed Vincent." The second man replied as he sat behind the wheel of the Lexus, a bag of apples sitting in his lap. "Red is good?"

"Most definitely." The first man again spoke. "Live long Nica Pirce. Damballa shall watch over you. Wherever you end up."

The End