Andrew Jackson: Zombie Killer
After the attack and assassination attempt on his life by Richard Lawrence, who claims to be England's King Richard III who died 500 years earlier, President Andrew Jackson must hunt down his archnemesis, the New Orleans voodoo queen, Marie Laveaux, and stop her and her zombie army from overtaking the United States. More
The President made his way swiftly down the steps and began heading toward his carriage. George, Jackson’s negro man-servant, held the door open for the President as he strode down the steps onto the wide gravel drive. Three more steps and the President would have made it easily into the awaiting carriage, but that was not to be.
Before President Jackson could reach the carriage’s open door, a man stepped onto the gravel drive blocking his path to the carriage. He called out to the man of the people, “President Andrew Jackson!” The President stopped short and looked at the man.
“Yes. What can I do for you?” Jackson replied.
“You can die for me,” the man said, pulling out a pistol, pointing it at the President’s chest, and pulling the trigger. Jackson braced himself for the bullet’s impact, a sensation he knew all too well having taken more than his fair share of bullets in duels and war battles over the years, so many that he often joked himself that he rattled when he walked, but the pistol misfired with nothing but a dismal click in the air. Jackson relaxed and took a step toward the man, raising his hickory walking stick to strike. The commotion brought the funeral party to the edge of the portico, several of the younger Congressmen, including Jackson’s former ally, Davy Crockett, rushed down the steps to the President’s aid.
As Jackson took a step toward the assailant, the man pulled out another pistol, causing Jackson to brace himself once again for the eventual impact. But that one, too, never came. Two pistols having misfired, Jackson was confident that he was spared and covered the rest of the distance between himself and the would-be assassin in two steps. He struck the man roundly on the head and shoulders, beating him to the ground where Crockett and a cadre of junior Congressmen and Senators subdued him, disarming him, and holding him for the constable’s arrival.
“Don’t worry, Mr. President, we’ll see to it that this one gets what he deserves. Don’t you worry,” Davy Crockett assured him as he brandished his ever-present hunting knife and put it against the assailant’s neck.
“Thank you, Mr. Crockett. I appreciate your assistance. Don’t think, however, that it makes up for anything,” Jackson replied coolly, referring to Crockett’s opposition to the Indian Removal Act the previous year.
Jackson looked down at the man now lying face-down on the gravel. There was something about him that was not quite right. His skin was sallow and pale. His hair was wild and unkempt. There was a laconic air about him. His movements were slow, jerky, methodical, as if he were a marionette controlled by some unseen puppeteer’s hand.
“Roll him over, Crockett,” Jackson said. “I want to see the face of the man who’d have me dead.”
Davy Crockett complied, jerking the prone man over to lie on his back in one smooth movement. Jackson saw that the man was ashen, and his complexion appeared bloodless. The President squatted down beside the man and peered into his dark, shallow, sunken eyes where he found nothing. He had not seen anything like this in many years; not since the Battle of New Orleans. A chill greater than the damp chill of January in Washington, DC ran up and down his spine. He rose slowly, cautiously, looking around the Capitol grounds.
By now, Clay, Calhoun, and John Quincy Adams had found their way, along with the rest of the Legislature, down to the site of the altercation. There was tumult and hubbub, murmuring and chatter all around him now, but Jackson could sense that something just was not right. This man was not a man. Oh, he might have been one once, but he was not a man any longer.
Zombie! Jackson thought. Wherever there’s one, she’s there, too, he thought as searched the area around the Capitol for her.