Lazarus Curse The First Secret

LCFS Chapters 1 &2

CHAPTER 1

NORTH CAROLINA

The smoke was just beginning to clear from the interior of the car, but all John could see was darkness. His eyes were open but he could not tell if he was in this life or the next. He tried to open his eyes wider, hoping it would help him see, but the darkness stung and made him tear up. A burning sensation crawled up his leg and brought with it searing pain like he'd never felt before. It was as if a piece of metal had been stuck in his leg and left where it didn't belong, like the sensation you get when an injection needle is left in a muscle too long. His predicament was so uncomfortable he felt he had to be in the afterlife. John had been so good with his life lately. Ann, his wife, had made him a better person, encouraging him to take on philanthropic pursuits in service to his community. She always said that to "love your neighbors like you love yourself" was the most important rule, and he was definitely beginning to buy into that.

Maybe that wasn't enough to wipe away the years of greed and ruthlessness he adopted first as a slumlord and then as a major real estate player. All the stress and constantly looking over his shoulders had left him out of balance. The doctors claimed that kind of pressure was a potential cause of his severe ulcers. Why wouldn't he be tense? A few of the lazy bastards he kicked out of his houses wanted to do evil things to him. One lady actually brought a Voodoo doll to her eviction and threatened him with the worst pain of his life. Freaking crazy people. Or was it just crazy Haitians? They were all crazy: some Hispanic guy even tried to punch him in the face during his eviction for not paying rent for three whole months. The nerve of those bastards!

But all that had changed. John bought a significant portion of a once run-down part of downtown Fayetteville, North Carolina, and now it was boom city. The politicians, or "criminals" as he liked to call them, had also invested heavily in property and manipulated the local infrastructure to turn the crime-infested area into the city of lights it now was. John rode the coattails of the criminal scum to a life of wealth and freaking ulcers. Oh well, if this was it, then he had lived like a bullet speeding to its end, cutting through life's hurdles and absorbing the recoil of his actions like a man; he had no regrets.

Maybe he should have taken the threats of the Haitian witch several years earlier seriously, because the afterlife wasn't all that it was cracked up to be and he wasn't ready to go just yet. Even the darkness had a way of reaching down John's throat, deep into his lungs, choking him. This was going to be terrible if he had to endure an eternity of it. In the darkness, John could see flashing lights that made his head feel like it was about to explode. The intense pain down John's leg, as if on cue, began to worsen, but strangely the agony was his friend. It was helping him clear his mind, and it all started coming back to him. But the clarity brought with it a wave of panic: the increased heart rate you feel when your world is on the edge of implosion. Ann...!

John tried to call out but his voice failed to fully comply. He wanted desperately to turn and look at the passenger seat, but his body would not obey the impulses his mind sent. He was stuck and could not see Ann. The inside of his spacious BMW 7 series now felt like a Yaris.

"Ann!" he tried again. This time his lungs complied, but the words were muffled, barely a whisper. John's chest could hardly expand. This is bad, how did the steering wheel get so close? He could feel the knot in the pits of his stomach unravel into sheer panic. "My god, Ann! Say something...!"