by Tim Marquitz
“James,” a cultured voice I vaguely recognized called out from behind me.
I spun around to see Malcolm Whitaker. It was a surreal moment, memories flashing back to all the times he’d tried to comfort me in the past and help to make arrangements for my family. He looked as he always did. Dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt and matching tie, his dark hair was slicked back and immaculate. His defined features stood out sharp, always reminding me of an eagle. My age, he looked as he always did, decades younger.
Near midnight, I couldn’t imagine why he would be dropping by. “Malcolm?”
He drew closer, his expression neutral. “I believe it’s time you and I have a talk.”
“I—“ Strong hands closed on my arms and pulled them behind my back, wrenching my shoulders. “Hey! What are you doing?” Still sore from all the activity, it was all I could do to keep from crying out.
I glanced to my right and saw one of Whitaker’s employees: Calvin DuPre. Short and stout, he’d been a pallbearer for several of my family members. On the other side was yet another man who worked for Malcolm: Jackson Stone. The polar opposite of Calvin, he was tall and wiry. He drove the business’ limo, and had been at the funeral home for years. Both wore unadorned black jackets that hung open, pistols partially concealed beneath.
“What is this all about?” I asked.
Malcolm ignored me as the two men patted me down.
“He’s got a gun, boss,” Calvin said as he pulled my .45 from my coat pocket.
“Has it been fired?”
Calvin held the gun up to his nose and took a deep whiff and shook his head.
“Seems we’ve come at an opportune time, then,” Malcolm said to me before turning back to Calvin. “Anything else?”
“Couple of extra magazines and his car keys and wallet, but that’s it.”
“Good. Bring him along.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I shouted. Calvin grabbed my throat with one of his meaty hands and squeezed. My breath stilled in my lungs, my voice with it.
“We’ll have our discussion in private, James, or I’ll be forced to ignore our many years of business together and do something most unkind,” Malcolm said, the words laced with venom despite the coldness of his tone. “Put him in the car.”
The two men complied immediately. They dragged me, my feet barely touching the ground, down the driveway and across the street to a dark Lincoln I hadn’t noticed when I pulled up. The back door was pulled open and Malcolm slipped inside first. Calvin pushed me in after and dropped in alongside me, squeezing me between him and Malcolm. The door closed, Jackson had us on the road a moment later.
Even numb as I was, it was clear how Joseph had been taken from his grave without anyone’s knowledge. Malcolm and his goons had done the deed, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment and disgust. While Malcolm Whitaker was no friend of mine, he’d helped me through the deaths of family in some small manner, and that had meant a lot, at the time; apparently more to me than him. I wondered what else he was involved in. My stomach roiled at the thought, my mind still unable to grasp how Michael had come to be in Joseph’s body. I had a feeling I’d find out soon.
We drove along in silence. Malcolm stared casually out the window as though avoiding me while Calvin hunched in close, his eyes on me the entire way. He held my arm in a vice-like grip, tightening and loosening it as the car cornered, but never letting go. The smile on his round face hugged his lips until we drove into the parking lot of Whitaker Funeral Home. Jackson wheeled the Lincoln around the back of the funeral home and pulled through an open chain link fence, to park alongside an old building set at the rear of the funeral home.
After a moment, Jackson came around and opened the door. Calvin slid out, pulling me along with him as he stuffed my gun into his waistband. Twinges of pain nagged at my knees as I was forced to walk without letting my legs adjust, but Calvin didn’t seem to care. His hand on my arm, he strode with a purpose toward a reinforced steel door that led into the small building. Malcolm stepped past us and unlocked the door, ushering us inside. He hit the wall switch, illuminating the room with the sudden flicker of fluorescent lights. My eyes focused on the metal grate on the far wall, which appeared out of the darkness, and I saw the signage that surrounded it. I knew immediately where I was: the crematory.
A cold chill settled over me as Calvin dragged me before the grate. Jackson grabbed my other arm as I pulled back. While death had never filled me with much fear, its coming inevitable, I could feel the terror building inside me as Calvin pressed a button on the wall. A mechanical hum sounded loud in the room, the grate trembling as its jaws crept open. The heat of the furnace washed over me and dried the tears I’d felt welling up.
Even with all I’d endured during my tours of duty, watching my friends and fellow soldiers die around me, the blood and torture, I was not prepared to be burnt alive. The yellow and orange flames danced in the furnace, appearing to grow closer as the grate widened. Calvin tightened his grip as I squirmed, wanting to come no closer to the lick of fire that danced before me.
Just when I believed I would be cast into the gaping maw of the crematory, Calvin and Jackson pulled me back a few feet. Cool air fluttered over me and I felt the sprinkling of sweat that popped up across my brow. They turned me to face Malcolm and stepped a short distance away, letting me loose. A sudden chill settled over me and I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets to keep them from trembling.
“I apologize for the theatrics, but I needed to be sure I have your full attention.” He smiled, his teeth yellowed against the pale backdrop of his lips. “It seems you have stumbled across something you were never meant to know of, James, and that leaves me in a precarious position.” He motioned toward the cemetery outside. “We discovered the grave of your grandchild, dug up and abandoned. We might not have connected it to you had you not run into young Michael earlier that day. We received a call from Mister Banks, informing us of the encounter.”
Malcolm sighed and rubbed at his bare chin. “Against my desire, Michael’s parents insisted he remain here in town to help them run their empire. I told them it was too much of a risk, but I relented nevertheless, and now here we are. This situation creates a problem for me.”
I stared at Malcolm, understanding only part of his dilemma. While I didn’t have the slightest clue as to the true nature of what Malcolm was doing, it was clear it wasn’t legal or moral. I was now a witness to his dealings, whatever they might be, and he couldn’t have me running off and informing the police of his actions. That much I understood.
“I’ve served your family for many years, James, and I would be honored to continue to do so.”
My cheeks flushed. “I’m all that’s left, Malcolm. Not much of a windfall there.”
His smile broadened. “That’s exactly what I wish to talk to you about.” He waved to Jackson who walked over to a covered table I hadn’t seen at the back of the crematory. He wheeled the table a little closer and pulled the sheet from what lay on it.
I nearly fell to my knees when I saw Clare lying stiff on the table top. Pale and delicate, she looked exactly as she did at her wake. A sob escaped me as I moved to go to her side, but Calvin held me back.
“You see, James, I deal in death, but my business doesn’t end at the veil. I do far more than simply discard the dead.” He walked over to the table. “Take beautiful Clare here, for instance.” He ran his hand over her long, black hair and I felt sick. “Her body is nothing more than an empty vessel now, her spirit having long since left it behind.”
“She’s in Heaven, and nothing you do to her body can harm her,” I shouted.
Malcolm just laughed. “You misunderstand the process. While your faith might claim her soul is free from this worldly plane and seated at the table of your Lord, it would be mistaken.” He tapped his chest, above his heart. “She resides in here, inside me, as do all the souls I’ve reaped over the centuries, to include George, K
im, Beth, and even your precious little Joseph.”
His words settled cold in my ears but they didn’t make sense.
“That reality, however hard it might be for you to believe, is what brings us to this precipitous moment. You see, like I did with Joseph, I can sell Clare’s body to a family who’s lost their daughter, and return the light to their lives.”
“I-I—“
“You don’t understand. Of course you don’t, James. It wasn’t meant for you to understand, but I’ll explain it as well as I can. To those whose financial means are sufficient, I can bring their loved ones back from the dead, whole and hale. But if their bodies are too damaged in death to resurrect, like Michael’s was, I can transfer their spirit into the body of another, which then becomes their own. As with Joseph’s body, Michael now owns it as though it had always been his. He is alive, just as if he had never died.”
“Rose?” My wife’s name slipped from my mouth as I glanced at Clare’s body.
Malcolm shook his head. “No, James, not Rose. She is likely, as you believe, safe in your God’s Heaven. People don’t want old bodies. They want young, supple ones that have the promise of a long life ahead, and I have no use for old souls. And that’s the dilemma I have with you.” The cold gray of his eyes settled heavily on me. “I have no interest in either your body or your soul, but I do require your silence. I can’t have you telling anyone about what you know. Even if you don’t understand any of it, or no one believes you, there is still too much of a risk to my business should I let you leave here without an assurance that you’ll remain quiet.”
If what he said was true, and I’d seen some measure of proof of it with Michael, his business was an abomination. It would make me a part of his crimes were I to cooperate, and I would be just as much an abomination as he was. Thoughts of my family filled my head. If I were to agree, I would lose Rose and my children because I would never be allowed to pass into Heaven with such a moral burden on my shoulders. But Malcolm claimed to possess the souls of my grandchildren. If what he said was true, then they would never see the gates should I refuse. My head spun with the weight of my decision.
“What do you want from me,” I asked.
Malcolm’s grin stretched his cheeks. “I hoped you’d be reasonable, James.” He clapped his hands, the sound echoing in the tiny room, even over the hiss of the flames. “I know your financial situation is unlikely to provide me with the kind of payment I would normally require for my services, but I’d like to make you an offer, nevertheless. You’ve lost so much over the years, and I feel you a kindred spirit, of sorts. In return for Clare’s life, I would ask that you serve me for the rest of your own, for however long that should be.”
“You want me to be your slave?”
“Nothing so barbaric, James.” He waved his hands in dismissal. “My business is growing at an unexpected rate, and I simply cannot meet the demand for fresh bodies with so few assistants.” Malcolm motioned to Calvin and Jackson. “I would offer you a position here in exchange for your silence and your granddaughter’s life returned to her. Serve me faithfully, and every year after, I will return yet another of your grandchildren to you. You can have your family back once more, James.”
My breath sat cold in my lungs as I contemplated Malcolm’s offer. To have my grandchildren alive was all I’d wanted since they’d passed on, and here was an opportunity to have them back. My tongue begged to agree.
As I met Malcolm’s steely gaze, I felt the malevolence that swirled behind it. He was the Tempter. Malcolm Whitaker was offering me the souls of my family in trade for eternal damnation. He was buying my soul with those of my grandchildren, and once I’d agreed, he knew I would hold my tongue for fear of condemning them once more to whatever Hell it was that existed inside Malcolm. I could never talk about what had happened or I would lose them all again. Worse still, I would never see Rose or my children again.
“If I refuse?”
Malcolm pointed at the still open mouth of the furnace. “Then I’ll have no choice but to feed you to the fire and spread your ashes to the wind. You will damn the souls of your grandchildren, for I will never let them go. They will rot and wither inside me until they are nothing more than motes of dust. I will devour them to feed my existence, and live on forever on the essence of their very being.”
The words struck me hard. I glanced at Jackson and Calvin, the two men grinning. Looking back to Malcolm, I could see no way out of the trap he was setting before me. “I need a minute.”
“By all means, James, think on it, but be certain I mean every word I speak. Choose wisely.”
My legs weak beneath me, I walked closer to the furnace and stared into its maw. The flames jumped as though they were hungry, my flesh and bone the meal they were eager to consume. It would be a horrific death to choose the fire, but Malcolm was leaving me little choice. My family suffered no matter my choice. Following Malcolm only delayed their suffering, and my own. In the end, I might only be rescuing the souls of my grandchildren for a short time while ultimately tainting them in the eyes of God. There was no choice to make that didn’t bring suffering.
I clenched my fists and felt the cold steel of the extra magazines still in my pocket. Without the gun, they were worthless. Many years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to defend myself and my family. I would have leapt at Calvin and Jackson without mercy, doing everything in my power to protect what was mine, but age has a way of tempering such recklessness. I no longer had the confidence to think I stood a chance against Malcolm’s goons. Just thinking of a fight set my hands to trembling.
My head spun as I contemplated the flames once more. Would God understand if I went into them without resistance? Would it be suicide to let Malcolm kill me? I had no way of knowing.
My hand unconsciously caressed the extra clip as I pondered my fate, and that of my family. Again I could see no way out. I looked to the flame one last time and felt my tongue loosening as it readied to offer Malcolm my soul in trade for whatever salvation it would buy my grandchildren. My fingers traced the end of the clip and grazed across the cartridge that peeked from its casing.
My heart went still as an option I’d yet to explore crept to mind. I moved closer to the crematory and felt its heat waft uncomfortably over me. No matter my choice, the fire was what I’d reap.
“Come, James. I would hear your answer,” Malcolm called out to me, confidence in his voice. He, no doubt, felt he knew my decision already.
I coughed at the dry heat that licked the moisture from my mouth and drew a step closer so the steel grate was but inches away. “I wonder, Malcolm, what happens to me after I die if I agree to your offer?” I raised my hands in front of the furnace and felt the heat envelop them. The wispy scent of burnt hair drifted to my nose.
“Serve me faithfully, and I will let your spirit go to its natural reward after your time is done here on earth.”
My stomach clenched in knots, I coughed once more and released the bullet I’d palmed fall into the furnace. I turned back and walked quickly toward Malcolm, certain my fury showed on my face despite the heat’s caress. Calvin and Jackson intercepted me and grabbed a hold of my arms once more.
“Does this mean you choose death?” Malcolm asked, mild surprise warping his features.
I said nothing, drawing in a deep breath as I met his cold eyes. We stayed that way a moment as he waited with patience borne of confidence. My answer didn’t matter to him. He wanted nothing more than to lord the decision over me, regardless of what I chose. There was no winning path, only one road a little less horrific than the other. When they both led to Hell, did it truly matter which one I strode?
“Well? I’m waiting, James.”
As was I. Sweat ran down the back of my neck as I stood there rigid, my breath held in anticipation. It felt forever as Malcolm glared, but I’d grown used to waiting. I’d been doing it since Rose passed away. Another few moments was nothing compared to that torturous sprawl of empty time.
I’d gambled and lost. My head hung, I let them drag me without resistance. I’d nothing more to lose.
And then the cartridge ignited.
A sharp crack thundered through the room, ringing my ears. The hum of a metallic bee reverberated inside the furnace as the bullet ricocheted off the steel plating. Calvin and Jackson released me in one swift movement and ducked to avoid being shot.
The moment was at hand.
I reached down and yanked my gun from Calvin’s waistband and spun to face Malcolm, thumbing the safety off as I did. He crouched where he’d stood just seconds before, his hands covering his head.
He looked up at the sound of my first discharge, his gray eyes wide with horror. For all the damnation I was heaping on myself, killing a man in cold blood, I couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction. Old and frail, he’d thought me near useless, little more than a pawn to use and abandon like the corpses he traded in.
He was wrong.
The bullet tore through his cheek, exploding out the back of his head in a crimson spray that splattered the wall behind him. The second and third destroyed what was left, leaving nothing but a reddened ruin where his face had been.
There wasn’t time for any more.
I felt a hammer blow against my side, the force of it sending me spinning. Another and another and another slammed into me as I fell. Searing points of pain exploded, my body enveloped in a whitewash of agony as I struck the ground. Muffled shouts sounded around me, and I felt the cold settle in, my vision narrowing as blackness swallowed the edges. I looked to Clare’s body as I felt my life spilling from my veins and hoped she was free.
By giving me no true choice, Malcolm had made it easy. I was damned no matter what I did, but he’d given me hope to think I could save those I cared for. If Hell awaited me for taking Malcolm’s life, then so be it. With him dead, the souls of my grandchildren were free to find their rightful destiny.