The Siege

by Alexie Aaron

  “You can supervise. I don’t think Mia’s going to be too happy if we have to take you to the hospital when your back seizes up.”

  “You’ve got that right. Okay, up the stairs I go.” Ted got as far as the landing when he turned around and asked, “How are you feeling, considering you’ve just had your mind messed with?”

  “Surprisingly good,” Burt admitted. “I have all these ideas nagging at me. I suspect Mia’s behind that.”

  “She did say she was struck by your drawings.”

  “Drawings?”

  “In your mind, your comic book ideas appear as drawings, or that’s how she saw them. She did say that her breasts were never that big. I’m not going to ask you to explain that one.”

  “Do I see your insecurity waning?”

  “You gave me some good advice. I decided to take it,” Ted explained. He walked up the last few steps and out of sight.

  Burt picked up the tools and straightened up the gravesite. He thought about how good it felt to be regarded once again, not simply put up with. Little by little, the corruption of his mind was falling away, and he started to feel like his old self.

  ~

  The grad student laborers appreciated Mia’s fortifying sandwiches and beverages. The dismantling of the mausoleum had been taxing. They sat around the table as they ate. Dave, who had been volunteered by Mia to be a runner, came back into the kitchen with a message from her mother.

  “She needs you down at the icehouse.”

  Mia put on her coat and left the house. She noticed how quickly night was falling. She followed the floodlights to the excavation and saw her mother reverently bending over a tarp. Amanda covered what she was working on when she heard Mia approach. She got up and took a moment to take Mia’s hands in hers.

  “It wasn’t a pretty death. I don’t think you should see his bones or what’s left of them.”

  “Thank you for being sensitive, Mother. Dave said you wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, I didn’t find a wedding ring. Now I know that most men didn’t wear them in Murphy’s time, but I wanted to make sure we haven’t left anything behind.”

  Mia closed her eyes a moment and studied her memory of Murphy’s hands: the hands that held the axe in battle, the hands that pulled her out of the vortex, and the hands that held her face. “No, I don’t believe he had a ring.”

  “There was this tin matchbox. It was under the remains of the table. Inside, I found a locket. It’s very unusual for a man to have one. I expect it was his mother’s. But why would she bury it with her son?” Amanda questioned.

  Mia took off her glove. “Mother, may I have it a moment?”

  Amanda walked over to the folding table where Charles had his equipment lined up and returned with the box. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Mia nodded and closed her eyes. She felt the cold metal before the visions assaulted her.

  A young woman with a tearstained face looked in the mirror. She tore a slender chain from her neck. She tossed it in the fireplace. A very young Stephen Murphy was quickly on his knees. He rescued the locket with only a few minor burns. Stephen got to his feet. “It was not my doing. My mother made the match.” The girl turned her back on Stephen and walked away. Mia looked down to see tears spatter on the face of the locket. Stephen opened the locket and looked at the painted miniatures inside. On one side was the girl smiling. On the other was Stephen sitting primly. Even in a painting, Mia could see he was uncomfortable with posing.

  Mia opened her eyes. “Mother, miniatures were costly to have made, weren’t they?” Mia opened the locket and saw that both tiny paintings had survived the years.

  “Yes. You had to be people of financial means. Do you know who they are?”

  “The stiff is Murph, but the girl isn’t known to me.”

  “Ah, so the enigmatic Mr. Murphy had a past before he married,” Amanda speculated.

  “What I don’t understand is, Murphy had the family jewels hidden in the rafters of the house for safekeeping. Why wasn’t this amongst the treasures?”

  “Dear, I think he had the tin in his pocket when he died. There is some corruption around the exterior of the box. Because of the nature of being crushed, his people didn’t remove his clothing. As time wore on, the clothes rotted, and the box fell between the bones to the floor before the table collapsed over it. The question is, does he want this buried with his remains?”

  Charles climbed out of the open pit. He wiped his brow. “Ah, you’re here. Did you ask her?” he addressed his wife.

  “Yes, she doesn’t think he had a ring and knows nothing about the box.”

  “Mia, we’re just about ready to transport him. My students will have the liner in soon. I expect the coffin’s in the garage. Please, find Murphy and ask him about the ring and the box.”

  Mia nodded and walked down the path and took the drive up to where Cid had hung Murphy’s bell. Mia reached up and pulled the cord down once.

  The chime of the bell echoed through the countryside. Cid waited for another tone and, satisfied there wasn’t an emergency, turned to Murphy. “I expect that’s for you. I’ll head over to the barn and wait for Charles and Amanda.”

  Murphy saw Mia walk from the bell to the picnic table. She brushed the accumulated snow away to clear a spot for her to sit on. She climbed up and sat down facing the hillside where they used to watch One Feather ride together.

  He studied her a moment before announcing his presence. She seemed consumed in thought. He scratched the ground with his axe. Mia turned towards him and smiled. “My dear friend, I have a few questions to ask you. First, my father didn’t find a wedding ring. Did you have one?”

  “No.”

  Mia nodded. “I thought not.” She opened up her gloved hand and nestled inside of it was a slender tin matchbox. “There’s a locket inside. Amanda thinks that it was in your pocket when you died. Do you want it buried with your remains?”

  Murphy stared at the box but said nothing and made no move to open it.

  Mia carefully slid the box open and extracted the locket. She managed to open it and placed it in her palm with the pictures facing Murphy. She watched his face, and her gut twisted when tears fell from his steely-gray eyes. He turned away.

  “She was very beautiful. I saw her. I sensed that the two of you were in love. Can you remember her name?”

  “Marie Sarah Lemont,” Murphy said softly. “Her father owned a shop in the next town.”

  “You don’t have to tell me any more,” Mia said, her voice shaking. “Do you want this buried with you?”

  “Yes, please,” Murphy said, not meeting Mia’s eyes.

  “We all love. One day when you’re ready, I’d like to hear about her.” Mia eased her large body off the picnic table. “Do you want to see her image one last time?” She held out the locket.

  Murphy turned around and nodded. He took a few minutes to compose himself before speaking. “Thank you, Mia.” Murphy disappeared from her eyes. Mia walked back to her parents. She handed the tin box to her mother. “He never had a wedding ring, and he would like this buried with his remains,” she reported.

  Amanda looked at Mia. She noticed that Mia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her face seemed a bit pinched. “I’m not what you call an emotional woman, but I am capable of giving a damn good hug when necessary.”

  Mia moved into Amanda’s embrace and cried. Charles looked on, moved by Amanda’s attempt to bond with her daughter. He didn’t ask what Mia was crying about. He didn’t think it was his place to know.

  ~

  Amanda reached in and laid the tin box on top of the crushed bones before she sewed the canvas bag closed. She had no illusions that when the coffin was being taken down the stairs, the bones would all remain in place. She and Charles went to the trouble of laying Stephen out to ensure that they had all of his remains. She nodded to her husband, and he gently lifted the bag into the cedar coffin Cid had made.

  Cid fitted the t
op over the box and laid a line of silicone caulk before screwing the lid down firmly. He aligned the brass identification plate and fastened it securely.

  A mechanical whirling caught the attention of the three. Amanda took a step back as a centipede-like machine moved up the legs of the workshop bench and onto the coffin. It moved back and forth across the center of the box in a deliberate manner, electricity sparked along the drive train. Amanda thought she smelled cedar burning.

  “I smell fire,” she said, moving towards the fire extinguisher.

  “Wait,” Cid called, “Look.”

  Curly moved off of the coffin. Underneath the plaque with Murphy’s name and dates, there were words burned into the lid.

  Remember, my friend. Death is never the end.

  “Amen,” Charles said.

  Amanda sniffed. She would never get the smell of burning cedar out of her nostrils. She walked outside and lit up a cigarette.

  Mia stood beside Ted by the well and watched as the four young men maneuvered the box down the steps with dignity. Gone was the laughter they indulged in upstairs. They understood the solemn nature of the task. Her parents had chosen their assistants well.

  Ted grabbed her hand and squeezed it before he advanced to the casket. He read the inscription Jake had left and smiled. He turned to the small group and began, “Our friend Murphy asked for no prayers to be said. He just wanted me to thank you all for your time and energy in exhuming and replanting his remains. He reminds us that life is but a small part of our existence. Enjoy each living day and prepare for the adventure that is yet to come.”

  Ted nodded, and the casket was lowered into the liner. The lid was fixed before they filled in the rest of the grave. Charles had a section of marble brought down, and with great effort, it was laid over the grave.

  “Thank you, everyone, there are refreshments upstairs in the dining room if you would like to join us,” Mia announced.

  Charles took a long pull from the beer Ted had given him. “That is ambrosia of the gods.”

  “More like Milwaukie drain off,” Amada said, topping off her glass of wine.

  Mia snorted. “Just be happy you’re allowed the booze. Me, I’m drinking punch, not even the spiked variety.”

  Amanda wanted to tell Mia she didn’t refrain from anything, especially cigarettes, when she carried her but stopped herself. She knew that Mia’s low birth weight was a sore subject with her daughter. “Was Murphy there?” she asked Mia.

  “I didn’t see him,” she answered and added, “I can understand why though.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “Mother, what are you blogging about these days?”

  “I’ve been doing a series about the need for us to study the past so we can avoid future mistakes.”

  “That seems to be a very overdone subject,” Dave said, leaning in and grabbing himself a handful of shrimp.

  “Why would you say that?” Amanda challenged him.

  “I heard it in every history class.”

  “Did your history instructors speak about burial practices during times of plague? Or…”

  Mia stepped aside to give Amanda room, her arm waving back and forth as she went on to ask and answer twenty or so questions on bones and families. Mia walked over to the couch and sat down.

  Ted found her there and sat beside her. “Your father just gave me this,” Ted said, handing a legal document to Mia.

  Mia started to read it. The legal gobbledygook was too much for her tired mind.

  “It’s a permit to inter bones under our house.”

  “How did he get that?”

  “Says Gerald gave it to him. Said he knew a guy…”

  “How did Gerald find out about this?” Mia asked.

  “Amanda called in a favor to get the equipment.”

  “Gerald owed my mother a favor?”

  “Evidently so,” Ted said.

  Mia handed the paper back to Ted and sighed. “I now can say it’s all finished, including the paperwork.”

  “Mia, I’m sorry about freaking out before.”

  “I understand, Teddy Bear. I did a little freaking out myself. It’s been a long day.”

  “Did Burt ever get his battery installed?” Ted asked.

  “Cid took care of it,” Mia said.

  “Whew! I was worried that we would have him and Dave under the same roof tonight. You realize we have Murphy with us too.”

  “I never thought about that. He’ll need to recharge,” Mia said. “I’m woefully outnumbered here.”

  “You’ll get used to it. In the meanwhile, we’ll make our bedroom off limits.”

  “I don’t see Murphy visiting us there.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Murphy.”

  Mia looked over at Dave. “He’s got to move on.”

  “Really? I was just getting used to him.”

  “It’s because you’re a very accepting sort. I thought I could help him along, but all that sass is too much in my present condition.”

  “Well, he’s supposed to be going home for Christmas. We’ll have a break then.”

  Charles walked over and sat down on the arm of the couch. “What do the two of you think about Amanda and me taking on the boy?”

  “I’m thinking that you need your head examined,” Mia answered.

  “I think the kid would make an excellent intern archeologist,” Charles said.

  “He hates ghosts, and you’d be taking him places that have more ghosts than people. Plus, he’s a rude little bastard.”

  “You think so? I think that he and Amanda get along so well.”

  “Amanda will ignore him, push him, torment him with her expectations, and… She’s perfect for him,” Mia realized.

  “We’re going to reexamine the Everglades site this January. I know this is short notice, but can we have him?”

  “First, you have to talk to his mother. Second, Burt will need to find someone else…”

  “Burt will need what?” Burt asked, approaching the sofa.

  Charles explained the situation and pointed out that Dave could get college credit and a winter in the sun.

  “Do you need another runner? Because I’d like that job,” Burt said. “It’s fine with me. Dave is no paranormal investigator. His heart isn’t in it. We’ll work on lighter fare until Mia gives birth and is able to join us again.”

  Ted and Mia looked at Burt, and the more he talked sensibly, the more their mouths hung open.

  “I was thinking of taking some time off to work on my graphic novel. Ted, I’ll need your notes on the dark world.”

  “Yes, sure.”

  “Graphic novel, now that sounds intriguing,” Charles said.

  Mia wiggled out from under the standing Charles and Burt, who were so engrossed in their conversation that they had trapped her on the sofa. Ted hopped over the back of the couch. They didn’t have to say anything to each other; they knew where they were going. Mia grabbed her coat and put on her boots. Ted shrugged on a sweatshirt. They left via the back door. Hand in hand, they walked over to the barn. They heard the television on. The familiar sounds of the Antiques Roadshow filled the building.

  “Are you visiting your old stuff?” Mia asked as she made herself comfortable in the rocker next to the ghost.

  Murphy looked at her and then at Ted who had commandeered the couch.

  “You know my aunt Bertha’s got one of those. I wonder if she knows how valuable it is?” he asked, not expecting anyone to answer.

  “You could tell her,” Mia suggested.

  “Or… I could tell her that it’s a favorite of mine because it reminds me of her, and she would certainly give it to me.”

  “Scoundrel!” Mia scolded. “Have you no scruples? You’re just the type to bury your best friend in the basement and sell tickets.”

  Murphy guffawed.

  “You should have been there, dude. I said some pretty things, and we all threw dirt clods.”

  “He means they filled in your gra
ve. I guess you’ve finally moved back into your place,” Mia observed.

  “Breakfast is a catch-can situation. Cid makes us sit down to dinner, but lunch is optional,” Ted said. “Ooh, look at that old picture. I swear its Glenda Dupree…”

  “No, I think, yes, it’s Bev. I told you she had work done,” Mia lied.

  “Bad Mia,” Murphy admonished.

  “My father is going to take Dave off our hands,” Mia announced.

  Murphy got up and turned off the television. He used his remote and turned on the stereo and selected some fast-paced music. He moved around the room and kicked up his heels.

  “I do believe the man is dancing a jig, Minnie Mouse. I’m going to join him,” Ted said. “You better stay put and not shake up the little one.”

  Mia did as she was told and sat there and clapped her hands to the music, laughing as her husband and best friend celebrated Dave’s early retirement.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tom took a detour on his way to his normal patrol route. He pulled onto 109, heading towards the area of the cell tower. Earlier in the day, he had called the company that operated the mega tower to see if they had been doing maintenance recently. The pleasant young woman who answered the phone transferred him to the right department. He found out that, indeed, the company had routine maintenance scheduled for this week, but the snow had put their crews behind. Tom questioned the supervisor to see if he had any go-getters that would have tried to work on the structure in the snow. He received a negative answer. Tom informed him that perhaps he should get someone out there soon, because there had been a report of people at the tower.

  He pulled the sedan over, parallel to the tower, and turned off his lights. There was a crescent moon out and a clear sky full of stars. He could make out the tower easily by the blinking lights. The unlit lower parts of the tower stood out black against the midnight blue, night sky. Tom thought he saw some extra shadows moving up the structure. He feared it was drunk teenagers daring each other to climb. He called in his position before he got out and pulled on the waders he had brought just in case. The swamp water wasn’t going to deter him this time.