Reggie traced out the edge of the box with his shovel and then cleared away a bit more of the soil with his hands. “Sure is. That's an old coffin if I ever saw one. I think we've found our girl.”
Possessed by an animalistic energy, Kenji cast his shovel aside and began pawing at the ground like a dog, his sore fingers carving away the soil and leaving the long wooden vessel in sharp relief. Minutes passed, and the first signs of a crooked lid entered into view. He walked around its perimeter, trying to feel for the edge of the lid. He pressed his fingers into the weathered wood and tried to loose it. To his surprise, it gave without much difficulty, weighed down only by a bit of soil. “Doesn't look like the lid's been nailed down. We should be able to open it easily enough.” Kenji turned to the other two, who were now huddled beside him. “Will one of you help me get the lid off?”
Reggie nodded, reaching down and taking one side of the wooden lid. The wood was very dark, stained by the soil, and somewhat misshapen. As the two of them pulled on it, it seemed almost ready to crack in two. Very slowly and with the utmost care, they pulled the lid up and over, dropping it into the grass so that they might look inside the coffin.
Within the box was not what they'd expected.
TWENTY-EIGHT
They'd found what they were looking for. After hours of digging, the three of them had come upon the weather-beaten coffin and had succeeded at prying off its lid. A single glance at the contents of that coffin was sufficient to throw the three men into a frenzy of terror, however.
At the sight of the coffin's contents, Dylan staggered back, gasping curses and inching his way towards the Honda. His steps were unsteady, and more than once he wiped out on the ground. When finally he backed into the car, he edged his way towards the driver's side door as if preparing to drive off.
Reggie, too, backed away. “Jesus,” he muttered, his achy body given over to repeated shivers. He looked up into the sky, exhaled and began to pray quietly. “That ain't right,” he finally said, leaning against the shack. “Come away from there, Kenji.”
Kenji, though, was riveted. He was the only one with the courage to appraise the horrific sight within the coffin. Standing at the edge of the newly-dug aperture and gazing into the wooden box, he marveled at its contents. His mind was in overdrive attempting to find some explanation for what they'd found; the truly terrifying aspect of the find was in its being virtually impossible.
Within the coffin they had indeed found Agnes Pasztor's body. It had not been exactly in the state they had anticipated, however. Staring down at Agnes, Kenji wondered for an instant just what he had expected to find. A pile of bones, a desiccated mummy; something nigh unrecognizable.
What they found instead, however, was something like a healthy human body.
Agnes Pasztor was laying in that coffin. She'd supposedly been inside of it for something like ten years. And yet, she appeared as though she'd only just walked over and laid down inside of it. There were no signs of decomposition to the corpse; though it may have only been a trick of the moon, Agnes' pale skin showed remote traces of what Kenji interpreted as vitality. The woman drew no breath, was certainly dead, and yet she looked as though she'd settled down for a nap and would soon awaken.
She was dressed in a coarse, black dress; the very same they'd seen her wearing in that video. There was nothing else within the coffin. The body lay supine, and Agnes' arms were crossed over her chest, calling to mind images of Egyptian mummies. Compared to the dried out, hollow husks found in the mausoleums of Egypt however, she appeared very much alive.
Worst of all, perhaps, was the smile she wore.
On her back, with eyes closed, Agnes smiled widely. From where Kenji stood, she looked like a woman in the middle of a pleasant dream. It was this detail, atop all the others, which ultimately prompted him to step away from the grave and join Reggie.
Why hadn't her body broken down, decomposed? Agnes had been underground for a decade; there should have been at least a few signs of decay. Her body was beautifully, perfectly preserved, however. So much so that she didn't appear dead at all. Kenji ran through the events leading up to the exhumation, recalled the details that'd propped up their hypothesis. Agnes had been murdered, hadn't she; possibly by the Hungarian immigrants she used to live with? So, where were the wounds that'd done her in? The marks showing foul play? Had it been a poison that'd killed her?
And why, for the love of God, was she smiling?
Kenji could make no sense of the find. A dead woman placed into a grave over a decade ago by her presumptive murderers was exceptionally preserved, had not decomposed in the least. And rather than donning a look of fear or anger at the end, Agnes had chosen to wear a smile. What did it mean?
Numb to the cold, Kenji wiped his brow on the sleeve of his jacket. Dylan, looking on the verge of tears, had pulled his phone from his pocket and was desperately searching for a reception.
“What do we do with this?” asked Kenji, gulping.
Reggie shook his head. “That ain't for us to say. Now we call the cops.”
Kenji wasn't satisfied with this, however. He had an intense desire to discuss what they'd found, to try and make some sense of it. “But... but her body. Why hasn't she rotted away? It's been ten years... there's just no way her body could be...”
Reggie took hold of Kenji's shoulder and shook him softly. “That's enough. We'll lose our minds trying to piece it together. We need to get the cops and--”
“No, Reggie, listen. There's something wrong here. I mean, even if this soil were...” Kenji tapped the ground with the tip of his tennis shoe. “Do you think this soil is just extremely alkaline? Maybe some property of the soil keeps things from decomposing... maybe there's a natural explanation for her preservation after all these years...”
Dylan cursed and threw his phone against the ground. “Goddamn it! There's no signal out here. Fuck it, let's drive, guys. Let's go.” He rifled through his pockets for his keys, but when he found them his hands were shaking too hard to put them to any use. He dropped them onto the grass and cursed. “We need to get the fuck out of here, guys,” he pleaded. “We're done with this.”
Kenji approached the grave once more and looked at the body within.
It was Agnes, all right. Her features were exactly like he remembered them. He'd seen her in the video and in the photograph provided in the social media posting. She appeared exactly the same, looked as though she might open her eyes at any moment and walk right out of the grave. As he peered down at her he thought he could hear her soft, breathy voice on the wind, uttering the string of coordinates.
“Maybe she hasn't actually been buried for ten years,” offered Kenji, turning to the other two. “That has to be it. She's only been buried a short while.”
“I don't care how long she's been in the ground,” replied Dylan. “I want to get the hell out of here.”
Reggie made a beeline for the LeSabre and all but dove into the driver's seat. “Listen, fellas, I'm going to head to the nearest Highway Patrol station. Now, you two can either come with me, or you can stay here arguing.” He paused, shaking his head. “If you wanna stay, then clean things up and get ready to talk to the cops, because they're going to have a load of questions for us about this mess, and if we don't answer 'em, we're going to be up Shit Creek with no paddle, got that?” He motioned to his back seat. “Hop in. Let's get out of here and come back with some troopers.”
Dylan rushed towards the LeSabre and prepared to get in.
Kenji, though, didn't budge.
“What are you doing, Kenji?” asked Dylan with one foot already in the backseat.
Kenji buried his hands in his pockets. “I... I'm not leaving yet.”
Reggie and Dylan cursed in tandem. “The fuck you talking about, kid?” blurted Reggie. “Get in the car. You can't just hang around here by yourself.”
Kenji was determined, however. Something about this wasn't adding up, and he had to know
what it was. The answer, he was certain, would be found in that silver book inside the shack. His memory returned to that dogeared portion, a chapter that had evidently been referenced more than the others. “I have to stay here. I'm going to look in that book and see if I can't make sense of this before the cops show up and detain us. Things are going to get messy from here on out. This is the only chance we're going to have to get some answers. Go, if you want, but I'm staying behind. I have to know what's really happening here, guys. I have to look at that book.”
Reggie slapped the wheel. “Enough of this! Just get in the damn car, kid! It's... it's not safe to stand around in this place anymore.” He ran a hand through his cropped hair. “I think something unnatural is going on here, and you'd be a hell of a lot safer coming with us. We can get our answers some other time. Better yet, maybe we shouldn't give a fuck about any answers. I don't know about you fellas, but I'm going to be working real hard to forget all of this shit after today. I've seen enough. We did what we set out to do. We found her. The rest is outta my hands, you hear?”
Kenji opened the door to the shack. “I'm staying.” He stood in the doorway and looked out at them.
With a pleading gaze, Dylan wandered away from the LeSabre. “Dude, no. Come on. You need to go with us. You can't just... you can't stay here with... with her...” He trailed off, his gaze moving towards the direction of the grave. He shook as he went on. “Please, Kenji. Get the hell over here. We need to go.”
Reggie started the car and slammed the driver's side door shut. Rolling down his window, he barked at the two of them. “Look, I'm getting out of here. I'm bringing the cops. You,” he said, pointing at Dylan, “keep an eye on your stupid buddy here. He's lost it. He's in too deep. Stay with him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. You'll be safer if you stick together. I ain't going to just leave him here by his lonesome, but I'm not waiting on getting the cops involved either. If he's staying, then you stay with him till I get back.”
Dylan's eyes widened and his Adam's apple trembled. “No... don't leave, man. Don't leave me here.”
Reggie was already reversing.
Dylan followed the car for a few paces. “Reg, man... don't leave me here!”
Reggie stuck his head out the window. “I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll bring a load of cops back with me. But you gotta keep on eye on him.”
The LeSabre disappeared into the darkness, only its yellow headlights visible as it approached the main street. Kenji could still feel Reggie's eyes on him as the car turned and started barreling away in the direction of town. The sound of the LeSabre's engine filled the night for an instant.
And then the silence was reinstated.
Dylan quivered in the gravel driveway. Standing next to his Honda, he considered driving off, thumbing the keys while stifling his sobs. Kicking one of the tires, he shot Kenji a foul look and stomped towards the shack. “You've got shit for brains, Kenji. I can't believe you. I ought to just leave your ass behind. You're sick in the head. Obsessed.”
Kenji entered the shack and waited for Dylan to walk in before shutting the door. Dylan wasn't wrong; Kenji knew that he was obsessed with all of this. His thirst for answers was insatiable and urgent. He didn't begrudge Dylan his anger. His frustrations were justified. Nevertheless, Kenji had no intention of leaving the shack until he knew what was truly happening here. Even though Dylan spent his time pacing around the shack, cursing under his breath, Kenji was still immensely thankful for the company.
They had only a short while before Reggie returned with the cops. If he was going to figure things out, he'd have to start reading immediately. Sitting down at the desk, he picked up the Carte de Umbra Lungi and flipped ahead to the dogeared chapter.
A frightful illustration marked the top of the page. Stationed above a particularly dense chunk of text was a drawing depicting a vaguely human-shaped figure. Its skin was black, like ink, and its eyes were rendered in a burning yellow. In the dull light afforded him by the tiny fixture above, the thing almost seemed to shift on the page, writhing like a centipede. Wispy, shadowy things like tendrils issued from its body, giving it the look of a large, human-insect hybrid.
Kenji knew what this image was meant to depict without even reading a word.
This, he knew, was the Dark One mentioned throughout the book.
Taking a deep breath, Kenji settled over the book and began to read as quickly as he could. As he did so, his heart began to slam against his sternum. Pressed for time, he needed to work fast if he was going to get the answers he so craved. But that wasn't what worked him up to such an extent.
What really stirred up his pulse and saw his gut swell with dread was the very real possibility that the answers he'd gain in his research would paint matters in a far graver hue than he'd hitherto imagined.
He read, his curiosity driving him almost to the point of nausea.
But deep down, Kenji really didn't want to know what was happening. Not anymore. He was simply propelled by a fearful momentum at this point, unable to back down or brush aside his curiosity.
He knew that once he understood the night's events, life would never be the same.
TWENTY-NINE
The headlights cut through the dense darkness as Reggie sped down the road. Though he wasn't sure precisely where it was located, he seemed to recall passing a large police station about thirty minutes out from Akeley, on the highway. He'd head towards it, or would drive just far enough to pick up a reception on his phone and call the cops from there.
He rapped a nervous beat against the steering wheel, gritting his teeth. The darkness seemed to encroach from all around him, enclosing the LeSabre in a cocoon of pure shadow. Reggie struggled to shake off the memory of the face revealed to him in the grave as he went, and any remembrance of the corpse, or of its queer, hardened smile saw the car swerve very slightly. His chest felt tight, and despite the cold the collar of his shirt was totally soaked through. The soreness caused by the night's dig faded into the background as he sought to focus on the drive.
Keep the car straight. Get to the police station and you'll be able to put this all behind you.
He mouthed the words, trying to solidify his resolve, but the fear returned time and again. The passage of every dark mile did nothing to efface it. The scenery never seemed to change, and was so engulfed in blackness that he couldn't be sure whether he was actually making any progress. Accumulating just beyond the fear in his breast was a sense of hopelessness, a feeling that, no matter how fast he drove, he'd never manage to make it to his destination. There was a distinct feeling, too, that even if he did manage to get to the police station, that it was already too late. Something had happened back at that shack.
Suddenly, something entered into his periphery, and it was only by a quick tug of the wheel that he avoided hitting it.
Pounding on the breaks, Reggie steered the LeSabre to a halt and looked into the rearview.
It'd looked like a person crouching near the road. A hitchhiker, perhaps? It seemed unthinkable to him that someone should be seeking a ride at this hour in so remote a locale, however a glance proved his suspicion correct. The figure, draped in some fabric, shambled towards the car from the shoulder and peered in at him through the passenger side window.
Reggie loosed a sigh of relief. He recognized the face looking back at him. He unlocked the door, allowing the hunched, panting form of Mara Antall inside. “W-what are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, his heart still pounding for the fright.
Appearing winded and tired, Mara leaned against the seat and shut the door. She was wearing a number of shawls, some of them thick and woolen, though her style of dress appeared far too light for such cold weather. She rubbed her wrinkled hands together and offered a slight nod. “Thank you for stopping.”
Reggie, recalling the purpose of his errand, straightened out his seatbelt and cleared his throat. Maneuvering back into his lane, he started once more do
wn the road, a bit more slowly than before. “It's no problem,” he said after a time. Both hands on the wheel, he glanced at the woman from the corner of his eye. “So, what brings you out here at such an hour?”
He wasn't asking simply to make conversation.
The moment she'd sidled up to the car he hadn't thought twice about letting her in despite his usual aversion to hitchhikers. Mara, though eccentric, had never seemed particularly dangerous, however her appearance on the side of the road well after midnight, in Akeley, proved immensely troubling to him. The timing might have been viewed as a mere coincidence, however judging by the night's events Reggie was inclined to believe her arrival in the area to be anything but. He waited patiently for her answer.
Still panting, Mara donned a thin smile. “Oh, it's been a very long day for me. After what you told me, I thought about coming out here on my own, to have a look around. I hoped I might find Agnes. Unfortunately, I wandered too far and lost my way.”
Reggie nodded. “Where's your car at?”
“Oh, I had to abandon it some miles away. I ran out of gas. I've been walking for some hours now and feared I'd spend the night sleeping on the side of the road.”
The story seemed to check out, but that didn't mean Reggie wasn't unnerved by the timing. He wet his lips and decided to share the news with her. “I know where your friend Agnes is at,” he said, his voice withering into something of a whisper.
Mara glanced at him and perked up in surprise. “Really? Did you find her?”
“I did,” he replied. Reggie didn't care to divulge the details. Describing the process by which he and the two students had found the site of Agnes' burial alone would have sounded insane. The news that Agnes had been found dead and buried, however well-preserved, may have been rather upsetting as well.
Transmission: A Supernatural Thriller Page 15