Page 16 of Pierre (Voodoo Guardians #40)

The church was like all the buildings in Haiti. Mud and brick, run down, no glass in the windows, and only a small plywood door to keep the animals out. Unlike the other church, there was no pretty garden or a rifle-wielding woman. Just an empty building.

“This is it?” Frank asked the driver.

“Yes. This is Sacred Heart Church.”

“It looks empty,” said Ham. “Is there a priest or nun nearby?”

“It is empty,” said the man. They all looked at one another, then back at the man.

“It’s empty? Will someone come later?” asked Pierre.

“No. The church was closed last week because of the violence. There is no one here any longer.”

“You didn’t think to mention that before we busted our asses in your truck to get here!” yelled Butch.

The man shrugged, closing the doors and proceeding along his route.

“Un-fucking-believable,” groaned Frank. “Well, let’s take a look inside and see if anything was left behind.”

Pushing the thin door open, they were surprised to see that the pews were still intact and there were a handful of small hymnals scattered on the floor.

“There doesn’t appear to be an office,” said Butch. “No doors, closets, nothing.”

Pierre stepped toward the back of the church and heard a loud creak of the floor, as if it were going to collapse. Frank and Ham both turned, staring at him as he rocked back and forth on the boards.

Kneeling, he took his knife and pried the floorboard up. He nodded at the others as they joined in, removing a dozen floorboards to reveal a small crawl space below. Pierre looked up at his men, turning to Fish, the smallest of the men.

“Sometimes it sucks to be small,” he frowned.

“Be careful, son,” said Ham. “There could be snakes down there.”

“Well, thanks so much, sir,” he laughed.

Shining their lights into the darkness, Frank and Pierre lowered the smaller man down. It was a good drop for him, but not severe.

“What do you see?” asked Pierre.

“Nothing. It’s dark, asshole. Hold on, let me get some light,” he said.

“The drop was about a foot taller than me, so maybe a seven-foot drop below the floor. Okay. Light is on, and I don’t see anything.

It’s just a large crawl space below the floor.

Wait. There was something here. There are marks in the dirt like someone was dragging boxes or something. ”

Ham jumped into the opening, landing hard and looking around the room. He walked the entire space, trying to see if there was another way in or out, but the only option was up.

“Whatever it was, they were heavy,” said Ham. “He’s right. There are deep grooves where they were dragged across the floor. Maybe four feet by four feet, judging by the marks.”

“Maybe they knew trouble was coming and moved everything of value to the other church,” said Pierre.

Frank and Butch helped the two men out of the basement, then replaced the floorboards, just in case someone returned.

“What now?” asked Conn.

“I’m going to try and get in touch with Henri and see if he knows anything about these two churches,” said Frank. The entire group turned at the sound of footsteps behind them.

“Say my name out loud and I suddenly appear,” smirked the man.

“Henri, you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” said Pierre. “How did you know we were here?”

“The man who gave you a ride is my man. He was late arriving to pick me up and take me to our camp, and when he told me why, I knew I needed to come and find you.”

“What happened here? What happened at St. Francis?” asked Pierre.

“I wish I knew. I was prepared to write off St. Francis as just being a casualty of the rioting and chaos. But when this church was emptied as well, something in my gut didn’t sit well with me.”

“They had something hidden below the church,” said Ham. “Any idea what that might have been?”

“No. It could have been something simple like hymnals or church artifacts.”

“The boxes were big and heavy,” said Frank. The man’s face darkened, and he looked around the church, shaking his head. “What? What are you thinking?”

“What if they had the children in those boxes? What if someone found them, and it was the children that they were hiding in those boxes?”

“Shit,” muttered Pierre. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. There’s nowhere else for them to hide. I’m guessing that they had no choice. I just don’t know.” He looked tired, exhausted even, and Pierre felt sorry for him.

“You said you and your men were camped near here,” said Ham.

“Yes. We were working our way to the other side of the island toward St. Mary’s.

The government, what’s left of it, is threatening to call in additional troops from the Dominican, Cuba, and even the U.S.

to control the rioting and chaos. They will sweep in, control things, clean everything up, and help for a while.

Then someone will get tired of being here, and they will leave.

It will all start up again, and it will be worse than before.

Whatever happens, it will be bad. It’s always bad.

I’m not sure why, but nothing seems to save this place.

It won’t end well if they do this. It never ends well. ”

“We know that,” nodded Frank and Ham.

“Come. You can camp with us tonight, and we’ll move together in the morning.”