Voodoo

By Drew Lindsay

She went to a commune where voodoo and witchcraft are practiced. She was young and wild and vulnerable. Then she vanished without a trace. Ben Hood was enticed out of retirement to try and find this girl. His search in Far North Queensland, would lead him into a world of evil spirit worship and voodoo, and an environment of danger which would test every skill he possessed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Jul 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005844226

Drew Lindsay

Drew Lindsay is a dynamic Australian Novelist and Writer. He has travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world. His background includes working as a Policeman and detective, then managing his own private investigation business as well as working in Fraud Investigation Management positions within the insurance industry.Drew is a PADI Divemaster and holds a private pilot's license. He has a great love of entertaining others with his vivid imagination. His novels allow the reader to escape into worlds of romance, excitement, humour and fast paced adventure. Drew lives in northern New South Wales with his wife.

Book preview

Ben Hood felt good. No more risky assignments. No more fighting for his life. He sipped his whisky over ice. The doctor had told him to cut back on alcohol as his blood levels were a bit wonky in the liver function department. He sipped the whisky again. It felt good. He felt emotionally and physically good. He never got drunk. He always knew when enough was enough. He had never experienced a hangover…well not in the last 30 years. He might cut back on the whisky next year, or the year after that.

Eight candles lit his vast loungeroom. They didn’t flicker as there was no draft. No wind outside. Deathly quiet in fact. His newly acquired German Shepherd lay asleep on a thick folded blanket which Ben had spread out in a corner of the entry foyer. Buddy (the dog) loved it there. The foyer was slightly elevated from the loungeroom and afforded a panoramic view which suited the German Shepherd fine. His other bedding was in the large garage. When Ben was home however, he slept in the foyer. Anyone trying to enter the house via the front door, either by invitation, or if perhaps by force, had to get past him. He was well fed, well cared for and even without a whisky, extremely content.

Sometimes Ben wished he had a really nice cigar to puff on. Cuban. Hand rolled from the finest ingredients, whatever they were. Not that he smoked. Never had, but lots of really successful men smoked cigars. He wouldn’t inhale the smoke, just suck it slowly into his mouth and get the smell of the smoke and the taste of the cigar, and then slowly blow the smoke out. Then again, probably a bad idea. Ash everywhere. Smoke everywhere. Lots of people had told him they hated the smell of cigars. Filthy things, they told him. A very pretty girl had once told him that if she smelt smoke on him or the taste of cigarettes or anything like that in his mouth, she would never kiss him or go out with him again. Perhaps the cigar thing was a bad idea anyway.

So…what to do with himself after a long, peaceful sleep, soon to be experienced. The vegetable patch needed weeding. It always needed weeding. Most of the vegetables used in his evening meals, were homegrown and he was very proud of that. Every man needed to grow a few vegetables from time to time. It was inherent in a man’s nature to grow something for him and his family, if he had a family, otherwise just for himself. The supermarket was always available, with lots of vegetables piled up row by attractive row but really…some homegrown herbs at the very least couldn’t be rocket science. Ben had lots of herbs. He fought the caterpillars’ tooth and nail in order to salvage most for himself.

The whisky glass was empty. The old, slowly ticking wall clock revealed the fact that midnight was past. Ben put down the glass on a side table and pushed himself out of the lounge chair. Buddy watched him but didn’t move. He knew the routine. He’d already been outside. Now was sleep time.

‘Guard the fort,’ said Ben as he walked towards the candles. ‘Take no prisoners.’ He blew out seven of the candles out one at a time. The eighth, a solid white church candle on a high timber shelf, was left burning. It was Ben’s habit. The candle would burn well into the morning. He had a box full of them. He never left the loungeroom in total darkness.

And so should have concluded a peaceful evening and night. It didn’t.

****

Chapter Two

At 18 minutes past 2am, Ben’s mobile phone rang. It wasn’t the kind of ring tone that would wake the dead, as most people seem to enjoy inflicting upon others, along with sounds of cows mooing, children screaming and jets taking off. His ring tone, minus the vibration, was usually a simple soft bell chime, like the bell of an ancient monk’s retreat in the mountains…but not this time. The ring tone, on this occasion, if you could actually call it a ring tone, was the soft sound of someone breathing. A woman. His close friend and former business partner, Rodney Reid, had listened to this so-called ring tone once and proclaimed Ben an irreversible sexual deviant. Rodney had advised Ben to immediately alter that particular ring tone to something like Fleur-de-lis, which apparently means Lilly, in French. Ben refused. That particular ring tone of the woman breathing was assigned to one very special person. Rae Miller. The bush girl, as he sometimes called her. Now all grown up and working as a scientist on the Great Barrier Reef. Smart as a whip and spiritual in a way that spooked him. Ben swore that Rae could read his mind from anywhere in the world…sort of.

Whatever the case, he was awake in seconds and grabbing for the phone. ‘Do you know what time it is young lady?’

‘After 2 in the morning darling Ben. How are you?’

‘Asleep.’

‘But you are now talking to me on the phone.’

‘I’m sleep talking.’

‘Is that the same as sleep walking?’

‘No.’

‘What’s the difference?’ asked Rae.

‘You can’t fall down stairs when you are sleep talking.’

Rae laughed. ‘I’m sorry to have called, but I think it’s important.’

‘What is?’

‘Where you might be going soon.’

‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m retired.’

‘That doesn’t mean you won’t be going anywhere.’

‘I thought you were living on an island with no mobile range?’

‘I’m staying in Cairns for a few days. I’m doing research.’

‘A boy?’

‘How did you know?’

‘I’m psychic, like you, remember?’ said Ben.

‘It’s not all that serious this time. I’m about to dump him.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s not like you.’

Ben didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say.

‘Anyway,’ said Rae. ‘You are going to get a phone call.’

‘It didn’t take too much psychic power to work that out.’

‘Not my phone call,’ said Rae. ‘Another one. Probably tomorrow, but it will come.’

‘From who?’

‘Whom.’

‘Whatever! Who will ring me Rae?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Are your psychic powers slipping darling?’

‘You will be asked to go somewhere where there is lots of unrest and much pain.’

‘Then I’ll politely refuse to go,’ said Ben.

‘No you won’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because there are people who need you.’

‘I have a dog now Rae. His name is Buddy. He’s a beautiful big German Shepherd. He needs me.’

‘Do you know anyone who can take care of Buddy while you’re gone?’

‘Rae. Listen to me. I’m retired. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You’ll go Ben. Follow your instincts and your heart as you always do, but you must protect your soul. I have to go now. Don’t call me back. I’m turning my phone off. I’m okay. I’ve just got a few things to do.’

‘Rae…!’

‘And so do you.’ She terminated the call.

Ben lay on his back staring at the ceiling, his mind in turmoil. He wasn’t going anywhere, damn it! What was Rae thinking? He had to admit that she was rarely off the mark where her spirituality was concerned. She was quite spooky as well as stunningly beautiful. Ben had often thought that if he was ever to have a daughter, which he conceded recently, was highly unlikely, she would have to be just like Rae.

A half-moon shone through the window at his right. No clouds obscured it. The room was bathed in pale white light. You must protect your soul, she had said. What the hell did that mean? She didn’t give him time to ask what she meant by that statement. He wasn’t even sure he had a soul, and he had never discussed this aspect of his physical, emotional or perhaps even spiritual composition with Rae. The pair both knew they connected in a way that was far deeper than physical or emotional, but it had never been fully explored.

‘I’m not going anywhere Rae’, he said in a soft voice, and then he did. To sleep.

Someone met him on the threshold of sleep. She was sitting cross-legged in a room illuminated by a single candle. She was alone and naked. Her long black hair fell in an unkempt tangle around her shoulders. She looked extremely sad and was crying. Clearly, she didn’t want to be where she was. Ben struggled to wake up, but he couldn’t. She dipped her fingers into a black bowl sitting in front of her and moved her hand to her breasts, allowing the red liquid on the edge of her fingers to drip down over her breasts and onto her stomach. Blood. There was no mistake. The girl stood up but several strong hands took hold of her and pushed her back into a sitting position. Ben forced himself awake. He sat up, pushing the sheets away. His breathing came in short gasps. Sweat rolled down his face.

He became aware of the German Shepherd sitting beside his bed, watching him.

‘It’s alright Buddy,’ he said. ‘Bad dream. Horrible dream. I have them all the time. Thanks for checking on me.’ He patted the huge dog on the head. ‘Back to bed now. I’m okay.’

Buddy didn’t move.

‘Off you go mate,’ said Ben.

The dog stood, looked at Ben for a few moments, then walked slowly from the room. Ben fell back and put both hands over his eyes. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t care who you are.’

****

Chapter Three

The sound of rain woke him. Not heavy but constant…drumming on the iron roof and gurgling through a half-blocked downpipe just outside his bedroom window. Other downpipes would be filling his huge water tank to the brim. With him alone in the house, a full 35,000 litre water tank would supply all his water needs for over a year, if he didn’t go crazy with a deep spa bath more than once a day. Ben respected the sensible use of tank water more than the millions in cities that took water for granted…until the water bill arrived.

Two fried eggs on a piece of lightly toasted whole grain bread with a slice of ham, then cheese and some tomato and a drizzle of oyster sauce, or perhaps mustard sauce? Decisions…decisions. Cold pressed Tasmanian apple juice to drink. Food fit for a king, although this particular king had some weeding to do in the vegetable garden later, when the rain stopped.

Ben often wondered why God had created weeds. Good old plain vegetables he understood. Weeds he didn’t. There was no useful purpose he could see in them being there all the time. They cost farmers millions of dollars to destroy. Horrid things. What was God up to with that piece of creation. Then again, why did God create people who insist on cutting off the heads of anyone who spoke out against them or their so-called God? Why didn’t he give those idiots a virus and wipe them off the face of the earth? Instead of that, God was giving a virus to just about anyone who lived on the damn planet. Some world leaders were getting it. Australian nurses were getting it, not to mention all the other nurses in all the other countries in the world. Doctors were getting it, and police. Train and bus drivers were getting it. Politicians and Presidents were getting it, although unfortunately, not the ones who really needed a real good dose of it to actually stop them breathing, particularly in Russia and China and North Korea.

Then his mobile phone rang again, banishing all further wild speculation.

‘Hello Rose.’

‘Am I disturbing you darling?’

‘You never disturb me Rose. What’s up? Is Rodney okay?’

‘Other than driving me mad, he’s okay. That’s not why I’m calling. You know I would usually not ask you to do anything in your line of work, don’t you?’

‘You never have Rose, and if you have, I’ve forgotten.’

‘You being retired and all.’

‘Yes. I don’t mind being retired actually. I’m a bit bored though. I’d contemplated weeding my garden today, but that’s no fun. It’s just a chore. I’ve even contemplated writing a book. Maybe science fiction or something. Lots of people write novels these days. Perhaps I can too.’

‘I need to ask you a very big favour Ben.’

He didn’t respond immediately.

‘And you can say no…I’ll completely understand.’

‘I’ll do anything for you Rose. You know that.’

‘Perhaps if you visit for dinner tonight, I could explain things more clearly.’

‘What things Rose?’

‘I have a very good friend who could do with your help I think.’

‘Would this mean me having to travel somewhere and perhaps put my soul in danger?’

Now it was Rose’s turn to remain silent.

‘Rose?’

‘How do you know things like that?’ she asked.

‘I know things…okay?’

‘Come for dinner my darling. I’ll put on a roast lamb and baked potatoes in dripping.’

‘That’s downright blackmail and you know it Rose.’

‘And big chunks of carrot boiled in water and honey.’

‘Stop. Enough woman! I’ll be there around 5 or so.’

‘Stay the night. You may need to after I’ve outlined the favour I need, and you’ve had a few drinks.’

‘I’m retired Rose. You know that.’

‘Yes. I know that. You were also retired when you took on your last assignment.’

‘I was concerned about the death of a work colleague. It wasn’t an assignment.’

‘Neither is what I want to ask you to do…for a friend. Rodney doesn’t know anything about this and there is no fee for your services unless I can pull some money out of an account that he’s forgotten about.’

‘Can you guarantee the safety of my soul Rose?’

‘I’m not too sure how to answer that my darling. I’d say off the top of my head, that is entirely up to you.’

‘See you around 5.’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again Ben.’

‘I’ll wear my best tie.’

‘You don’t have any ties. You threw them all out, remember?’

‘I did, didn’t I? Part of my retirement plan.’

‘Did you throw out that nasty jungle knife you seem to have strapped to you from time to time?’

‘Never,’ said Ben. ‘I love that knife.’

‘Good,’ said Rose.

‘Why good?’

‘You may need it.’

****

Chapter Four

It was dark, where she was. Pitch black actually. No windows. No light of any kind. She had felt her way around the walls of the room. All of them were timber clad…rough timber…no smell of paint. She guessed the room was about the size of an average bedroom…10 feet by 10. Perhaps a bit bigger. The ceiling was out of her reach so she didn’t know how far up it was. There was no furniture. A thin mattress lay on the concrete floor, against a wall opposite the locked door. A gentle warm breeze came from somewhere up high. She was naked and her body was caked with a fluid which had set like thick jelly. She knew it wasn’t jelly. She knew it was blood because she had seen it before…in another room…as it was dripped over her. It wasn’t her blood. She didn’t know whose blood it was. She found the mattress by feel and sat down. She needed to urinate but there was no toilet. Just a metal bucket on the concrete floor. She was fighting back tears and also a rising feeling of terror. She would do whatever they wanted. Anything. As long as she could have her clothes back and be let out of this room.

‘You’ve got a dog I hear?’ asked Rodney.

‘Yes,’ Ben replied. ‘A huge German Shepherd. I call him Buddy. He just wandered in after his previous owner had died.’

‘Just wandered in?’

‘Yep. One of my neighbours had fired a couple of shots at him because he was eating his chooks. Got him twice but nothing serious. The vet patched him up. The vet nurse has been very caring and supporting.’

‘I’ll bet she has. Is she your age?’

‘Just a baby actually,’ said Ben.

‘So what?’

‘What do you mean, so what?’

‘You’ll take them on at any age.’

‘As a matter of actual fact, I have taken her on and she is bloody amazing.’

‘Is she your age?’

‘No.’

‘Older?’

‘Younger.’

‘How much younger?’

‘Twenty years or so.’

‘Unbelievable. You are unbelievable Ben Hood. You need to be put on a course of medication or perhaps some psychotherapy.’

‘What for?’

Rodney sipped his beer. ‘For your mental illness’

‘I don’t think I have a mental illness,’ said Ben smiling. ‘If a woman turns me on, and she finds me attractive, I just go with the flow. I don’t have sex with teenagers, if that is what you are suggesting.’

‘You probably would if the right teenager came along and crawled all over you.’

‘I think you need the psychotherapy, Rod. You’re off with the fairies.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I’m just not doing well these days. The brain thing, you know?’

‘How are you coping?’ asked Ben.

‘Good days and bad days.’

‘At least you still seem to know who everyone is,’ said Ben.

‘A rather blunt observation, but fairly accurate,’ said Rodney. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Rose invited me for a baked lamb dinner.’

‘Your favourite if I’m not mistaken.’

‘It’s the gravy that gets me every time,’ said Ben. ‘She puts in a bit of Vegemite.’

‘I still think you’re pulling my leg on that one,’ said Rodney.

‘Would I do something like that to you Rod?’

‘In a damn