by Ron Ripley
“The fog?” Brian asked.
Jacob nodded. “It’s a way into here, wherever here is. I go out into the fog, rummage through the marsh. Just can’t get out of it.”
“Why?” Brian asked. “If it’s just fog, why can’t you get out? Why can’t we?”
“The fog’s a barrier,” Jacob said after a moment. “Whether Josephus did it on his own, or if it was always as it is, I don’t know. You can go in and wander around all you want, but there’s only two ways back into the crypt, once you’re in the fog. One’s a door I use, and the other’s a little stream. It’s too narrow and shallow for me to get into, but from what I’ve heard from some of the dead, it cuts into a small cave in the crypt.”
“Don’t you get lost out there?” Brian asked, feeling confused. “Haven’t you been trapped out there?
“No,” Jacob said. “I spent a couple of years in Vietnam, fighting the commies. This fog, it ain’t nothing to me. Now I’ve tried like hell to get out of this place, but the fog hasn’t ever let me. I may not be able to leave, but I can always find my way back here.”
“And this is how you’ve been living?” Brian said.
Jacob nodded. “First couple of years, or however the hell long it’s been, were a little rough. Lived a lot on frogs and roots and stuff I’d rather not think about. Then I started to find things. Cans of food here and there. Every once in a while some soda pop, or if I was really lucky, a beer or some liquor. Then clothes and things. The marsh bordered on the town dump, and I guess it’s still spreading. I’m a regular Robinson Crusoe.”
Brian laughed suddenly and shook his head.
Jacob looked at him warily. “What?”
“Guess that makes me your Friday,” Brian said, grinning.
Jacob snorted with laughter, nodded his head and passed the jug of water over to Brian. “Take a drink, Friday. Let’s celebrate.”
Chapter 29: Making Preparations, 7:00 PM, May 2nd, 2016
“Thanks,” Jenny said, accepting the water from Shane.
“No problem,” he said, taking a seat across from her on the floor. He looked around at all of the books and asked, “So, any luck?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding and patting the book on her lap. “This book here, it talks about another world. One that’s sort of behind ours.”
“Carl said the same to me,” Shane said. “He told me we would need to find a way in. And that we’d better arm ourselves.”
“The book doesn’t say that,” Jenny said, frowning. “Although, I don’t think the writer was thinking about some pain-in-the-ass ghost who thought it would be fun to drag my husband into his little world.”
“True,” Shane said. “Very true.”
“The author does say, though,” Jenny added, pausing to take a drink, “how the fog is a pretty standard way in and out of this shadow world. From what he said, if we find the right fog, we’ll get in.”
“So,” Shane said, “We also need a weapon. Well, probably weapons. Carl said whoever is strong enough to shut down a whole cemetery is probably a little tough to handle.”
“The only thing I know of is iron,” Jenny said. She held up her hand to show Shane her iron ring.
He nodded. “Brian taught me about iron. I think we might need something a little more aggressive, though.”
Jenny frowned and thought for a moment. “I know we used a shotgun loaded with rock salt once. That was pretty damned aggressive. We also bound ghosts before.”
“No,” Shane said, “I don’t think a binding would work out that well. Not if we’re in the guy’s own house. The shotgun sounds good, though. Do you have one?”
“There might be one here,” she said after a moment. “We can check upstairs, in Leo’s apartment.”
“Okay,” Shane said. “Sounds good. Think there are still shells for it?”
“I hope so,” Jenny said.
“Well,” Shane said, “if not, it’s not a big deal. I’ll go down and pick some up. I think we’ll need to focus on finding a way in, though.”
Jenny sighed and rubbed her temple. “How the hell are we going to do that? I don’t suppose your friend, Carl, would be able to help?”
“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “He’s bound to the house.”
“Let me get in touch with some friends,” Shane said. “They might be able to help.”
“Okay,” Jenny said. She looked around at the books and suddenly felt overwhelmed. “What now?”
“Now,” Shane said, “I’ll send a text to my friend, and we’ll go check to see if that shotgun is still around.”
“Sounds good” Jenny said tiredly. “I just want my Brian back.”
“Understood,” Shane said. He stood up and offered his hand.
Jenny smiled, took it, and got to her feet.
Chapter 30: Seeking the Prey
Josephus sat in Owen’s room and looked at the remains of Owen’s spirit. It never ceased to amaze him, the amount of agony a spirit could endure. A grayish white strip, all which remained of Owen’s spirit, was spread on the floor.
Eventually, it would reform, and Owen’s ghost would join the hundreds of others in the crypt.
Eventually.
Josephus smiled. The cannibal’s pain had been delectable and quite made up for the escape of Brian.
Josephus looked around the room, searching. Tucked into a dark corner, barely visible, was what he sought.
The spirit of the other who had been with Brian.
“Come out,” Josephus commanded.
The spirit didn’t move.
Josephus frowned, reached out and grasped the ghost. The man snarled in pain as he was pulled into the open.
“You’re willful,” Josephus said, chuckling. The man twisted and pulled, trying to get free of Josephus. “No, no. None of that.”
The man howled as Josephus squeezed for a moment.
When Josephus relaxed his grip, the man didn’t struggle, merely glared at him.
“Excellent,” Josephus said. “You learn quickly.”
The man didn’t reply.
Josephus shrugged. “You will seek out Brian, the one you were traveling with. When you find him, bring him to me.”
“Do it yourself,” the man snapped.
Josephus squeezed until the man screamed. He tightened his grip a little more. After a moment, he relaxed his hold and smiled. “I have things such as you to do the task for me. Do it well, and I will probably forget you even exist. Fail to find him, and each day, for a decade, I will make the cannibal's passing seem like a blessing in comparison to what you will suffer.”
The man glanced around the room, at the shimmering remnants of Owen’s ghostly body, and nodded.
“I’ll find him,” the man said.
“Excellent,” Josephus said, letting go. “Do not rush. We have an abundance of time. Merely find him, and tell me where he is.”
“Where will you be?” the man asked.
“In the crypt, by the door,” Josephus replied. “And mark your passage. It is easy to get lost here.”
Without waiting to see what the man would do, Josephus turned and left the room.
Chapter 31: A New Friend
Brian liked Jacob.
The man was funny and odd. But Brian figured solitary confinement for decades would make anyone quirky. Often, as they sat in Jacob’s small room, the man would speak to himself. A low whisper. He would ask himself about the Boston Red Sox, who the president was and what the man was up to in office, and if a certain woman named Mary Anne was still single. He wondered what it would be like to eat a steak. He was curious about apple trees.
The first few times Jacob had spoken in a low voice Brian had answered him, and Jacob had looked up, surprised. Afterward, Brian had stopped. He only replied if Jacob spoke to him directly.
Which he did often enough.
“Brian,” Jacob said.
Brian looked up and smiled tiredly. “Yes?”
“What’s life like out t
here?” Jacob asked.
Brian stretched a little. “Well, it’s different. I don’t know much about the early seventies, I was a little too young, but I guess the best question is what do you want to know about specifically?”
Jacob thought for a moment before he answered, “Cars. I’ve seen a few pictures in newspapers and magazines I find. Not too many, though. The marsh water gets to them pretty quickly.”
“Cars,” Brian said, nodding. “Alright, let me tell you a little about cars.”
He leaned back against the wall, took a sip from the jug of water, and told Jacob everything he knew about cars. He spoke for what was probably an hour, maybe even two. Jacob’s eyes had grown wide at the size of the engines, and he had shaken his head at the speeds.
By the time Brian finished his throat was sore and he knew he hadn’t covered a tenth of what there was to say. But Jacob was happy.
“A four hundred and forty-two-inch cubic engine,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “And over a hundred and twenty miles an hour?”
Brian nodded.
“Police have those, too?” Jacob asked.
“They have what are called interceptors,” Brian said. “I don’t know much about those, other than they’ll keep up with the best in a chase.”
Jacob grinned, then he shook his head and sighed. “I miss driving. Was one of my favorite things to do. I’d take my old pickup, a fifty-seven Ford, and just drive for a while. Helped me to forget certain things.”
Jacob pulled at his beard for a moment, muttered something about a fishing hole, and then he smiled. “So, you’re married?”
“Yes,” Brian said, looking down at his wedding ring.
“Tell me about her,” Jacob said, closing his eyes.
Brian chuckled and began to talk about Jenny.
Chapter 32: Trying to Sleep, 2:10 AM, May 3rd, 2016
Jenny hadn’t gone home.
There was no point. Brian wasn’t there, and she would have been tempted to go to the cemetery herself to see what she could do.
She lay on her back in Leo’s small bed and stared up at the ceiling. The room still contained his favorite books as well as the battered old chair. It was almost completely dark, except for the bathroom light Jenny had turned on.
She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. She doubted meditation would work, but it was worth a shot. As she tried to relax, she thought of the shotgun and the box of shells loaded with rock salt.
Shane had even mentioned iron knuckle-dusters, Jenny remembered. Then with a sigh, she thought, And he still hasn’t heard from his friends.
The two of them would have to go into the cemetery alone. They had to find fog, and part of her wondered how hard it would be to spot fog, but she realized it probably wasn’t going to be easy at all.
I just want him home, she thought, opening her eyes.
“I just want him home,” she whispered into the darkness.
“What’s going on?” someone asked.
Jenny screamed.
She sat up and looked around.
A faint, almost glowing shape stood off to the left. The darkness was thicker there, a bookcase blocking the light from the bathroom.
“What’s wrong?” the voice asked again, and Jenny realized the voice was a woman’s. Familiar even.
Jenny leaned forward slightly. Then, in a whisper, she asked, “Sylvia?”
The ghost of Sylvia Purvis stepped forward. Her hair hung down, and she wore a sweater and a multi-colored, floor-length skirt. And she smiled. “How are you, Jenny?”
Jenny opened her mouth to answer, closed it and shook her head. “Sylvia? Oh my God, Sylvia! I’ve missed you so much!”
Her friend smiled, the warm, beautiful smile Jenny remembered so well.
“I’ve missed you, too, Jenny,” Sylvia said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Brian,” Jenny said, and before she could say anymore, she burst into tears.
For several long minutes, she cried, until finally the tears stopped and, sniffling, she was able to speak again.
Sylvia looked at her with concern.
“It’s Brian,” Jenny said, and she explained to Sylvia what had happened. When she had finished, there was a frown on Sylvia’s face.
“This doesn’t sound good, Jenny,” Sylvia said after a moment.
Jenny nodded. “Shane said he was going to try and find someone, he hadn’t heard from anyone before he left.”
“I know someone who’ll help you,” Sylvia said.
“Who?” Jenny asked.
Sylvia smiled. “Leo.”
“I thought of Leo, but I don’t know how to reach him. You can get in touch with him?” Jenny said.
Sylvia raised an eyebrow and Jenny let out a laugh.
“Of course, you can,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’ll go and speak with him,” Sylvia said. “We’ll both return tomorrow, although I’m not sure exactly when. Time is, well, it’s different for us.”
“Okay,” Jenny said. She hesitated and then she added, “It’s really good to see you again, Sylvia.”
“I feel the same,” Sylvia said, smiling.
Sylvia vanished, leaving Jenny alone in Leo’s room. She laid down again, closed her eyes, and felt exhaustion wash over her. Sleep pulled at her, and Jenny smiled. Leo would help her find Brian, and with the knowledge of the man’s help, Jenny let herself rest.
Chapter 33: Josephus Wahlen, September 20th, 1842
Josephus was in agony as he rolled across the grass, the morning dew soaking into his clothes. Sunlight filtered in through the flour sack they had tied around his head, and his wrists and ankles ached. The thick hemp cord which bound his limbs together cut into his flesh cruelly, and he wondered, dimly, when they had captured him.
He could remember drinking at the tavern. Sitting in a secluded corner while a plump serving girl kept his mug full. He vaguely recalled a piece of tough meat, and potatoes boiled to mush. The fire in the hearth had been terribly warm.
Joseph screamed as someone kicked him in the stomach.
Voices murmured, yet he couldn’t understand them. Not a word. The blood pulsing in his head and muffling the world.
Hands gripped his arms harshly, and he was jerked up to his feet. Whoever it was didn’t try to make him stand, but instead, they dragged him along. He tried to lift his head up, and he managed to ask, “Who?”
The reply was a vicious blow which shattered a tooth and mashed his lips. Blood exploded into his mouth, and he gagged.
A metal hinge creaked loudly and a dank, musty smell rolled over him. He could smell decay and rot, and what little light drifted through the sack on his head faded to darkness.
A moment later, he was dropped roughly to the ground. He could smell dirt as he rolled onto his side, coughing. He fought hard to keep his stomach calm, but he failed. With a terrible retch, he vomited into the confines of the sack, the hot bile coating his face.
Someone swore loudly, and Josephus received another kick to the stomach, which made him throw up again.
He gasped and spat and curled into a ball.
As he lay on his side and tried to catch his breath, he heard someone squat down beside him. The ties on the sack were loosened, and it was pulled off his head. Josephus kept his eyes closed tightly.
“God, you’re a mess, Josephus Wahlen,” a voice said.
Josephus cracked an eye open and looked into the face of Daniel Norton. The old man’s expression was grim, his brown eyes empty of any pity.
“Daniel,” Josephus said, his voice rough and pained.
“You’ve been found out, sir,” Daniel said. “And we know of the terrible crimes you’ve committed.”
Josephus shook his head in denial.
“I’ve been in your house, Josephus,” Daniel said coldly.
“Then you know there is nothing,” Josephus responded.
“I found the false wall in your root cellar,” Daniel said. His words were spoken har
shly and with a note of finality.
A chill settled over Josephus as he tried to think of something to say.
If Daniel found the false wall, then he entered the room. And Josephus would find out what Hell looked like soon enough.
Daniel seemed to know the course of Josephus’ thoughts. “Oh no,” Daniel said softly, “you’ll not be going to the Devil just yet, foul man.”
“Imprisoned?” Josephus asked, laughing with unrepentant joy.
“In a manner of speaking,” Daniel said. “Do you not recognize where you are?”
In truth, Josephus couldn’t see much of anything, so he shook his head.
“You should, preacher,” Daniel snarled, and he slapped Josephus viciously across the face. “You should. You stood here, in this crypt and spoke to Patience Dean’s mother about the mercy and love of God. You offered her false sympathy, all the while it had been you who had killed her little girl. Butchered the child. You foul, wretched beast.”
Josephus shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
The Dean girl had been buried in the Paupers’ Crypt. The family, too poor for anything else.
The crypt.
“Ah,” Daniel whispered. “You know now, don’t you? What better place for an evil man, than a place of evil? Didn’t the Abenaki torture your grandfather in this cave? Didn’t your father find him, flayed alive? Did he not beg for death? Yes, we all know the horrific torments carried out here. The rumors of the unquiet dead.”
Josephus stiffened as fear spiked through him, and he twisted around.
Several men stood around him, and he could see the walls of the crypt beyond them. Further back, he caught sight of the open door which led to the rest of Wood’s Cemetery. He shifted his body and saw another man, who he couldn’t recognize. The man was standing by the inner crypt door, where those who had died of the pox had been buried.
“Why am I here?” Josephus demanded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
Daniel gave him a grim smile. “You are to be imprisoned. Here, among the dead.”