Rise Once More

by D. Henbane

  “I heard about his death, but I had no idea you were involved. You want to head back and see what he had down there?” Eve said.

  “Exactly.” Alex said.

  “C'mon Alex, it's been years. The guy was mentally ill. He probably kept his collection of children's severed heads down there.” Eve replied.

  “Hear me out here. He had PTSD. He wasn't insane, just couldn't sort out what was real and what wasn't anymore. If he honestly believed he was still fighting, then I know exactly why he has down there; a stock pile of treasure. Food, ammo, weapons, water, medicine, hell, you name it. I am sure he was rat holing it up under there.” Alex said.

  “I don't think so. I think he was a psycho, and he hid the bodies down there.” Eve said.

  “Whatever it is down there, he took the time to hide it, meaning it has value, and he was guarding it with his life. I am going there regardless. Even if just to satisfy my curiosity, but when I get back you're the one who is going to grateful for my little hunch.” Alex said.

  “What am I going to be doing during your little adventure? I am sure as hell not going out there.” Eve said.

  “You'll be safe. I have the perfect hiding spot.” Alex said.

  ***

  Alex stopped the car in front of a rundown old building; the chain link fence surrounding it was secured with chains and a paddle lock. A weathered sign hung on the entrance, warning that the premises were private property, and trespassers would be prosecuted. Alex eyed the property and proceeded to drive around to the back.

  Eve chuckled a little as they drove, a flash of nostalgia crossing her mind, as she watched the dilapidated school buses pass by them. She looked out at their former high school, it looked aged, neglected, and in need of up keeping. It had served its purpose, and was now just a forgotten relic of Steelville.

  It was old when they had attended; the school was closed the following year after graduation, and sold off in a sealed bid auction. They were rumors that it was going to be renovated into a business plaza, but the developer had gone bankrupt before making it a reality.

  The Gymnasium sat at the rear of the property, its massive size was unsuited for the land it was placed on. It was a later addition to the grounds and in being so wasn't properly planned for. The building itself actually encroached on the adjacent land, but the owner had agreed to allow its building because the community needed it more than he did.

  The fence ended abruptly at the edge of the building, leaving a small gap, just enough to squeeze past if you knew to go there. It was the place that the teens used to sneak out during lunchtime, head out into the trees, and have their mid-day cigarette, safe from the watching eyes of the school staff.

  Not exactly what I would call a safe place. Eve thought to herself. To her it seemed just another group of buildings. No more secure than a gas station bathroom, but to Alex's well trained eye it was a fortress. The gates were still up, aside from a layer of dirt, the buildings stood undisturbed. There were no outward signs that anything might be tampered with.

  The two of them slid past the fence and up to the double doors marking the entrance to the gymnasium. They were chained shut, but a round from Alexs firearm solved that. Alex stepped inside, his gun drawn just in case his instincts had failed him. Eve followed closely behind, her eyes darting down the hall expecting to find something stirring on the other end.

  The carefulness was unwarranted, as the rest of the trip was uneventful. Just as Alex had predicted, the building was completely vacant. The main gym floor was pitch black, no windows to let any light shine in, and without a second source of light they decided the concessions stand was the best location for Eve to hide.

  The door had a lock; the serving window had a large metal draw down door that would be sufficient in keeping anyone or anything for that matter out. Eve wasn't happy about his location for safe hiding. She felt as if she would just be trapped like a rat in cage, should the infected discover her. “I don't like it Alex. I have nowhere to run if things go wrong while your gone.” Eve said.

  “You have an escape route.” Alex replied.

  “I see nothing but four walls.” Eve said. Her voice filled with doubt and uneasiness. “What if they break down the door? I can barely see anything in the lobby, and this is even darker.” Eve asked. Eve motioned out from behind the concession stand doorway, her hand pointing towards the high windows that allowed light to fill the lobby area.

  “Close the door.” Alex said as he drew a flashlight from his pocket. The beam from the LED lamp filled the small room, and Eve shut the door behind them. Alex walked calmly over to the northeastern corner of the dusty room, grabbing a step ladder, and placed it against the wall.

  Alex took a few steps, reaching up to remove a tile from the false ceiling, and setting it to the side. Eve could see conduit, duct work, and unpainted walls behind the tile. Alex swept away the accumulated cobwebs and pulled himself up onto the now visible wall. His feet disappeared behind him, along with the only light source, and Eve began to feel goose bumps ripple across her skin.

  The light once again shone down into the concession stand, the beam focused on Eve, and made it difficult for her to see. “Are you coming up or not?” Alex said, his extended arm an invitation for Eve to follow. “I want to show you something” his hand waving at her to follow. Eve grabbed a hold and ascended the steps, once her head cleared the false ceiling she could see exactly what he was talking about.

  She had expected to find nothing up there, but much too her amazement, there was a surprisingly spacious room above the concession stand. It was large enough for a person to sit comfortably and still be a few inches from the roof. A person could easily walk around slightly hunched over with very little obstacles, aside from the occasional duct work that had to be crawled under.

  “Careful where you step, just follow the cinder block lines or wooden planks and you will be fine. If you see insulation don't step on it.” Alex said as he held her hand and walked along the frame of the wall. He paused at an intersection of the blocks; the layout of the cinderblocks indicated the presence of another room directly below.

  Alex dug down in the insulation and removed another false ceiling tile. He let it fall down below, along with the insulation, before he shown the flashlight into the new room. “Look familiar?” Alex asked. Eve looked over the edge into the room below and immediately recognized it as the office of her high school P.E. Teacher. “That's Mr. Patrick's office!”

  Alex brought the light back up, tracing the lines of yet another room, this one directly behind the office. “Boys locker room.” Alex turned a half circle and traced a long wall with his flashlight. “Gym floor.” Alex turned the flash light back around, and traced out another nearly identical wall pattern as the boys locker room only on the opposite side of the building.

  “You got to be kidding me.” Eve said.

  “Girls locker room.” His voice an overdue admission of guilt, filled with a cocky sense of pride, and a feeling of satisfaction that the other end had thought it was just hear say.

  “I heard rumors... No freaking way!” Eve said.

  Alex traced a U-shaped corner of the room with the flash light. “Showers. Once you get there it should be second nature to find your way out right?” Alex said.

  “You little pervert!” Eve said.

  “Do you blame me?” Alex said.

  ***

  Alex felt bad leaving Eve alone, even with a flashlight to keep her company, it was going to be difficult for her. He had done everything to ease her fears, knowing in the back of his mind that she was safe if she stayed put. In his mind the risk was worth the reward. He had a gut feeling that old man Vickers cache would be just the ticket for much needed supplies.

  There were less than a handful of people that even knew of its existence, let alone, were in a position to pillage it. If only for the sake of satisfying his own curiosity, made the trip worthwhile, and even more so an added bonus of being back home. He had ofte
n wondered exactly what was down there, something that Vickers had considered treasure.

  Was it possible that Eve was right? Had Vickers just been a complete nut job, and had used the room as his personal dungeon of horrors? I don't think so. Alex said to himself as he approached the decrepit old farmstead.

  Vickers house had collapsed in on itself. The only erect structure was the old brick fireplace, standing tall above the debris of what was formerly Vickers dwelling. The roof to the old shed had rotted away, its wooden shingles fell victim to the ravages of time, and left a hollowed out shell of a building behind.

  Alex exited the car, walked up to the rotting wood structure, and started pitching parts of what was once a wall out of his way. Time might have reclaimed the shed itself, but his objective was buried under the ground. It would have been sheltered from the fury of Mother Nature.

  It is true that Nature is a cruel unforgiving bitch, but if you bury something in her bowels, it remains largely intact. It would seem she can't find a way to harm herself. This was a thought that gave Alex comfort. He removed more rubble, pushing weathered old wood out of the way, and he was relieved when he saw the raw earth below him resurface.

  He dug his hands into the loose dry soil, its grains separated easily between his finger tips. He drug his hand back and forth, searching for a wooden door marking the entrance to Vickers crypt. After several minutes of failed attempts, he thought to himself that he might be off bearing a little bit. Perhaps his memory had failed him, and the door to the cellar was part of his overly-active teenage imagination.

  Alex was determined to find it, the memory was very vivid in his mind, and he had clearly seen Vicker seal the entrance. He was beginning to become frustrated, and resorted to tossing more wooden fragments to the side in his desperate hunt for the cellar door. He searched the barren earth once again with his hands, this time digging down even further, his fingers searching for something out of place.

  Alex stopped for a moment. He stood up and looked once again at the pile of crumbled wood, until a flash back crossed his eyes. There had been more than one shed on Vickers property, and this one was most likely the wrong one. Alex remembered that the building had electricity, the very light they saw that lured them to the shed in the first place.

  Yet this former building had no wires running up to it. Alex surveyed the property once again, this time looking for evidence of power. There were many small buildings spread around the property, most of which had crumbled onto their foundations from neglect, but one building stuck out; the hip-style barn in the center of the yard.

  Alex walked over to it, the building leaned heavily to one side, its massive structure was remarkably sound, a testament to its sturdy old growth timber construction. It was by far the oldest structure on the farm, and surprisingly the only structure that still stood. While the rest of the buildings had long since collapsed, this ancient relic of the past stood defiantly upright.

  Alex did not know it at the time, but the farm had been homesteaded by a Mennonite family. They had constructed the barn in 1875, in traditional fashion, the former home and outbuildings were destroyed by a fire; later purchased by Vickers father.

  The barn had been outfitted for electricity, with a single cable leading out to the north western edge of the property. Alex followed the cable until it came to rest in a pile of rubble, a former small shed of approximately the same dimensions as he had remembered. This must be it. He thought to himself as he snatched up fallen timbers and tossed them to the side.

  Alex stopped his noisy work periodically, turning his ears away from the wind, thankful not to hear any other noises surrounding him. The old farm was creepy enough in its own right, his chilly memories of that night long ago gave him a ominous feeling, one that he knew was just his mind playing games.

  Sure. That night with old man Vickers had scared the living crap out of him, but he was just a kid then and looking back as an adult, the situation warranted nothing more than a nostalgic flashback. In very short order Alex had removed enough of the fallen timbers to reveal the dirt floor below.

  Then Alex saw what he was searching for. A single, corroded brass loop protruded from the brown earth, and an edge of aged gray wood formed the outline of a small door. Alex swept away the dirt, revealing even more of the old weathered wood, but the color had changed. No longer did he see gray, but a darker shade of brown of the newly uncovered wood.

  Unlike the outer edge, and the rest of the structure for that matter, this wood had been buried under the protection of the Earth. It had shielded it from the weathering affects of countless thunderstorms, and in doing so, had preserved it in a much different state of decay. Alex lifted up on the brass loop, he expected a little resistance, but found none as the door literally disintegrated in front of him.

  The wood would have fared better if left exposed to the elements; instead the near constant moisture of the ground had rotted it through, and could barely support the weight of the soil above it. Had it not been for the hundreds of plant roots that entangled it, it too would have collapsed long ago.

  Small fragments of wood and dirt fell below, as he tossed the remnants of the door to the side. The sun partially illuminated the passage, crudely crafted steps led down into what at first appeared to be a root cellar. The darkness quickly regained its hold on the structure, revealing very little but a set of stairs. Alex had finally made it back to Vickers crypt.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Vickers Crypt

  Alex had waited for this moment for many years. It had always been one of those lingering thoughts, but one that until this time hadn't warranted too much attention. Now that he was back, his body hovering slightly above the hole, his curiosity was getting the best of him.

  Alex reached into his bag and retrieved an LED-AD8. It was an object you couldn't obtain in the private sector, partially because it was designed by Amos and a team of engineers from the X-wing of Omega Phi. Alex had also contributed to its creation, lending his own combat experience, and the usefulness the object could provide.

  Its name stood for Light-Emitting-Diode-Amplification-Device-Prototype-8 affectionately nicknamed the L8. It was circular in shape, a self balancing gyro, and concentric rings of LED lights, with refractors that spread the light out in every direction. The independent clear outer shell allowed it to stay upright, and still continue to move without causing blur to the light it created.

  Its ability to light an entire room as opposed to a focused beam of a flashlight gave it many more applications in the field of battle. It also had several configurations that would allow it act as a flash grenade as well, or even a strobe light. Alex held the small button down until it pulsed once, and threw it into the room below.

  The L8 hit the dirt floor below with a muffled thump, it immediately lit up with a powerful white light, and Alex proceeded down the stairs. The room was larger than he was expecting, much larger than the shed that was used to conceal it, almost the size of a single family home. There was a main entry room, a hallway, and a few adjacent rooms; the size of them Alex wasn't quite sure of just yet.

  The first room looked like it was used to plan some kind of military strategy. There were faded old maps, varying in size and layout attached to the cinder-block walls, one of which was a topographical map of Steelville. Another looked like an elementary school rendition of the United States, each state color coded, with very little detail. There was a large map, framed up nicely in glass that looked completely alien to Alex. It was of military issue, and to the best of his knowledge was once part of a tactical briefing map.

  Along the western wall was a work bench, fitted out as a reloading station, with several tubs of spent brass casings. Next to the reloading station were stacks of metal ammunition cans, and upon closer inspection found to be filled with ammunition of several different calibers. I knew it. Alex thought to himself as he turned to face the eastern wall.

  Situated on the eastern side of the room was a small
dining table, a single wooden chair was seated at it, and a very old refrigerator. There were several pads of yellow note paper on the table, along with various pens, pencils, and an empty coffee mug.

  Alex walked over to the table, picking up one of the pads of paper, and turned it towards the light in able to read it. The handwriting reminded him of someone in a hurry, scrawling out the message as fast as they could, as if driven by some unknown deadline. The writing was difficult to read and was accompanied by several sketches.

  I know you. You saw me. Nothing left but 3. I won't tell.

  They can't make me. They will make you. Don't tell me NO! You have to go.

  A simple sketch of several mangled bodies, some of them dismembered broke the text up. The artwork was very crude, clearly the work of someone who was not much of an artist, but obviously wanted to get something of his chest.

  “Sympathetic art...” Alex said out loud. He had heard the term used years ago, while he was dating a psychologist, who just happened to be working for the military at the time. The big problem at the time was PTSD as she called it, and despite serious pleas from her, the military didn't think at the time that there was a problem. They simply just had shell shock, and would eventually come out of it.

  Alex recalled how she had developed a way to get patients to open up, even those that were resistant to standard therapy sessions. She found that once someone had experienced something so severe that they didn't even want to talk to another human about it. There was however a third option that she described. It was giving the patient another outlet to communicate. It could be a simple notepad, an inanimate object such as a stuffed bear, or even a living animal.

  Animals had a special affect to the patients. They could form a loving bond with another living creature, without the fear of judgment, or maybe it was just easier to talk to something that they knew wouldn't hurt them. The only downside with the animals, if they were removed, the patient would often withdraw back even further. She found it best to use rescue animals, and then gift them to the patients as lifelong partners.