Occupation (6 page)

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3 FEB 2013-19:30:45

             
“You see, the problem with this country nowadays is nobody has the gumption to bite into the heart of the problem anymore,” the man said as he cut deeply into the gorgeous mass of beef served on an elegant dish before him.  King cut prime rib courtesy of the Rib Room in the French Quarter had been a favorite of his for many years.  A popular haunt for high society figures, celebrities and the upper echelon of the city’s pecking order, the Rib Room was more of a tradition for his family than a casual dining experience.  With its refined décor, impeccable service and the finest selection of culinary delights, Joseph Devereaux savored every bit of juicy flavor as the fork entered his mouth.  Medium rare; incredible flavor with just a little blood to satiate his refined palate.  Man was made to devour flesh every now and then.  It was natural; a primal way of life that he understood all too well and often incorporated into the business world. 

A well-known and respected figure in Louisiana political circles for many years, he was a tall, boisterous figure of a man with his well-tailored suits and gallant Southern charm.  Making his living off the family business in sugarcane, cotton and various securities, he was also one of those guys behind the iron curtain of politics that became the stuff of legend.  His father, the late Alexander Devereaux was an old running buddy of guys like Huey P. Long and Clay Shaw.  Through various contacts behind the scenes, he’d even helped Clay Shaw found the historic New Orleans Trade Mart.  In those days, the Devereaux family also had a rather discreet history of gun running. Coupled with their trade negotiations with Cuba, El Salvador and various parts of Latin America, the profitable partnership helped the family live as high on the hog as possible.  Eventually things began to turn sour in the summer of 1963, during the anti-Castro movement when Lee Harvey Oswald was spotted handing out pro-Castro leaflets down on Canal St.  This was already a bit of a sore subject, as history would later prove Oswald to be a pawn of various channels within the U.S. government.  The American intelligence community in those days had plans of their own, not just on the Castro issue but also in organized crime along with the Vietnam War.  Eventually tensions would grow high, brimming to a fever pitch one humid day in November of 1963 when John F. Kennedy, the 35
th
President of the United States was assassinated. 

Sitting next to his wife Delphine, quite the respected socialite as well, the Devereaux clan’s historic ties in Louisiana corruption and organized crime made them a powerful force to be reckoned with for many years.  From the days of working hand in hand with former governor Edwin Edwards, the family even had ties with the infamous ‘Godfather of New Orleans’ in Carlos Marcello.  Quite the formidable figure in her own right, while many saw Joseph Devereaux as the head of the family, many who knew them personally saw Delphine as the power behind the throne.  Hell, in some social circles, she
was
the throne, and reveled in the knowledge of this as she bit down on a generous portion of prime rib herself.  Rare.  Bloody.  Perfect. 

“This country’s gone to Hell in a hand basket if you ask me,” Joseph continued.  “All these illegals and whatnot destroying our economy, getting a free ride at the expense of decent, hardworking Americans.  Got these gays running around screaming for their damn rights, destroying the very fabric of Americana, soiling the population with their degenerate indecency and disease…and that’s why we have this ‘problem’ now.” 

With the precision of a determined and skilled surgeon, Joseph sliced away at his prime rib.  The veins in the tops of his hands throbbed intensely as he made his point. 

“Damn shame if you ask me,” he said.  “Back in the 80s the government had this little problem of ours contained, and with a very specific purpose.  Now it’s all shot to Hell, breaking out not only across the country but other parts of the goddamn world.  Complete and utter chaos…and what does our so-called ‘President’ do?” 

He took a massive bite into the cut of beef. 

“Well it’s not surprising.  See that’s what happens when you open up the White House to a-“ 

And with that, Delphine waved her hand, cutting him off.  Joseph looked across the table to see the slightly distraught face of his son Blake.  A strapping young man at the tender age of 23, his striking features and figure had become a rather chiseled copy of his father’s from earlier years.  A political science major at Loyola University, he was already pegged to carry on the Devereaux legacy in every way.  Famous throughout the upper social class circles of New Orleans, the young buck’s penchant for women and drink became well documented.  The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree.  Beneath the polished, chiseled exterior of the young lad’s face was a longing that brought a bit of melancholy to the moment. 

“Joseph, I’ll not have that kind of talk right now,” Delphine commanded.  “Not civilized conversation at the dinner table, especially in front of our son.” 

“I’m just stating the obvious honey,” he fired back.  “We’ve had these second rate protesters popping up all throughout the city, complaining about equal rights, affordable medical care and the like, all the while taking a free ride on the backs of decent Americans like you and I.  This situation has gotten so out of control that we’ve had to cordon off the savages in cages around the city…and even that’s beginning to become a problem!  Talk about ‘the 99%’...my ass!” 

“Can we give it a rest for one day please?” the young man commanded.  “This city is out of control and most of my friends have either skipped town or died.  Pretty soon there won’t be much of a city left to hold on to and you’re sitting here having dinner like nothing’s happened.  If only we’d been there to protect-“ 

“We’ve talked about this enough son,” his mother added sharply.  “This hasn’t been an easy thing for us to accept at all but she’s gone.  Your father and I tried everything we could to get her back, but she wouldn’t listen.  She made her decision and it cost her.  Best thing to do now is to focus on what we can salvage.  Eat your dinner Blake.  It’s one of the few pleasantries we have left before everything is really shot to Hell.” 

Blake looked on at his mother and father consuming their meals under the bright lights that did absolutely nothing to illuminate his dark mood.  His blackened redfish coupled with his favorite cauliflower puree would not fare much better to lift his spirits either.  Not on this day.  The son simply looked on with utter disdain coupled with nausea as the parents consumed their meal without a care in the world.  Joseph Devereaux took a moment to take it all in.  Ingesting the splendor of the room as he sipped on a bracing glass of Macallan 25, the memories of ‘Old New Orleans’ seemed to march through his mind as vibrantly as a parade.  Putting the glass down and slicing away at the flesh before him, he looked over to his son. 

“New Orleans will be great again son, I promise.  It’s like I said, you just have to have the gumption to bite into the heart of the problem.”

He spoke with the assurance of a man completely lost in the pit of his own hubris. 
The Devereaux family had enjoyed a legacy of living above the law and enjoying the finer things in life while many of those in the city around them suffered.  What old man Devereaux never had the humility or the foresight to accept was the fact that nothing in this world lasts forever.  Eventually…everything comes to an end.

When the mob finally marched through
the streets of the Quarter, those historic streets ran red with blood.  There would be no joyful noises or Second Line parades, not this time.  The so-called ‘dregs of society’, the poor, tired and hungry of the once great city of New Orleans flooded the Quarter with reckless abandon and bloodlust.  Caught up in the splendor of their refined dining and solitude, the Devereaux family never saw it coming…until it was too late.  That thunderous roar that shook the hallowed walls of the Rib Room sent a surge of panic through everyone, as casual diners all looked for an exit.  There would be none to be found.  Not on this day.  Joseph Devereaux looked on in horror as the wait staff and bartenders made a futile attempt to protect their customers from a swarm of the living dead invading the restaurant.  Clashes of silverware and tables were met with screams and ravenous snarls.  Pristine tablecloths that were once white as snow, now became splattered with blood as the mob dined feverishly on the elite of New Orleans.

“My God,” Joseph Devereaux stammered as they soon inched closer and closer to his family.

A true fear encircled the steel heart of the man as he saw something he never imagined he would witness in a million years.  As the infected marched closer, grabbing a hold of his prized son followed by his wife, Joseph Devereaux looked into the dark, sullen and sunken eyes of the man he’d forbade his daughter from seeing.  It was Barabbas Purify.  In a flash, the tattered body of Barabbas, completely devoid of any humanity lunged toward the man.  Taking a vicious bite directly into Joseph Devereaux’s throat, Barabbas savored the thrill of human flesh as his teeth immersed themselves into the elite flavor of the man’s life.  Rare.  Bloody.  Perfect.

Man was made to devour flesh every now and then.  It was natural, a primal way of life harkening to the days of old.  Joseph
Devereaux knew it all too well, and now Barabbas Purify would experience it for himself.  Maybe…just maybe the old man was right. 
Sometimes, you just have to have the gumption to bite into the heart of the problem…

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