The Paupers' Crypt

by Ron Ripley

  “You’re in a bad place,” Sylvia said, “in case you guys haven’t figured it out yet on your own.”

  “No,” Brian said, shaking his head. “We got the memo.”

  “Good,” Sylvia said. “We’re not far from the exit. Even with this creature controlling the fog, I know the way back.”

  “How did you get here?” Jenny asked. “I didn’t think you had left Nashua.”

  “The fog leads into the shadow world, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have Leo show me the path,” Sylvia said, smiling.

  Sylvia turned to Leo and said, “If you push now, I’ll help you.”

  “Alright,” Leo said softly.

  “Push what?” Jacob said, asking Jenny’s own question.

  Sylvia smiled. “Watch.”

  She interlaced her fingers with Leo’s and held onto him. Jenny watched as both Sylvia and Leo closed their eyes. A curious, electric feeling spread out from them, and it was followed by a pulse. It rippled outward, pushing the fog back.

  Screams erupted from the marsh and the hairs on Jenny’s neck stood on end. She held onto Brian and the shotgun tighter and stared at the small passage Leo and Sylvia had created. Perhaps fifty or sixty feet ahead, Jenny caught sight of the old pickup truck they had climbed through to get into the fog.

  They were just a few steps away.

  Sylvia held onto Leo and led the way, power radiating from her. Shadows lurked within the fog on either side of the tunnel Sylvia had created, yet they didn’t try to reach through. They just hung back, seemingly afraid.

  Jenny kept a firm grip on the shotgun, though, and she looked from left to right and back again. Shane kept pace behind her, and Brian and Jacob stumbled in front of her. When they were nearly half way to the truck, somebody stepped out of the fog.

  It was a middle-aged woman, her face fat and puffy, and her clothes were plain and simple. She tried to step around Sylvia, reaching out for Jacob.

  Sylvia made a small gesture with her free hand, and the woman shrieked.

  Jenny watched in horror as the ghost was turned inside out, its screams of pain and horror vanishing after a moment. The sounds seemed to be swallowed up by the fog.

  The other ghosts, who lined the path, stepped back until they were no longer visible.

  Within a matter of moments, they were only ten feet away from the truck, and Jenny’s heart thumped erratically in her chest.

  “Just keep moving forward,” Shane said softly. “Don’t think about anything else. Don’t worry about anything else. Just walk.”

  Jenny nodded.

  She watched as Leo passed into the cab and Sylvia took up a position on the right of the open door. Then Jacob and Brian, and finally Jenny went through. She scrambled across the old, rotten bench seat, and out the other side.

  Cold descended upon her instantly, and Brian helped her. A bit of fog clung to the truck, but above them. The night sky was dark and beautiful. There was no moon, only the light of the stars shining down on the marsh.

  Shane appeared a moment later, and then Sylvia.

  Jenny looked to her dead friend, and Sylvia smiled.

  “How?” Jenny asked. “How are you so strong?”

  “It’s not that I am so strong,” Sylvia said, “but they’re so weak. Josephus feeds off of their energy, what little of it they are able to muster. If he didn’t siphon their power, Leo and I would never have been able to stop the attacks, let alone beat them.”

  “Oh,” Jenny said. “Wow.”

  “We have to go, though, but I’ll see you soon, Jenny,” Sylvia said. Then she took Leo’s hand and the two ghosts slipped away into the night.

  Jenny looked to Brian, and he smiled at her. Jacob stood on the other side, nose wrinkled.

  “Christ almighty,” Jacob said.

  “What?” Shane asked.

  “Is it the marsh that smells so bad, or is this what America smells like now?” Jacob asked.

  Jenny laughed, surprised at the comment.

  “No,” Brian said, “pretty sure it’s the marsh.”

  “Fair enough,” Jacob said. He looked around, eyes darting everywhere. He grinned, most of his teeth missing, the others stained with age and lack of care. “So, where the hell can I get a cold beer?”

  “My house,” Brian said. “And we can all get a shower there, too.”

  “A shower,” Jacob said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “An honest to goodness shower.”

  Jenny reached out, took Brian’s hand, and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Brian nodded, and the four of them headed towards a street light in the distance.

  Chapter 51: A Setback

  Anger flared within him, and Josephus fumed in silence.

  “They’re gone,” a voice whispered.

  Josephus glanced down, and he saw Ruth. The little girl smiled at him wickedly.

  “Gone,” she said again, and she vanished.

  And he knew it was true.

  Brian and his thrice damned wife! Josephus thought, snarling. They’re all gone. Each and every one of them.

  Enraged, Josephus finally let go of his grip upon the fog. It collapsed upon itself, the force of it rippling through the crypt. The agony of those caught beyond the iron fence, washed over him. They had failed him, and therefore they would suffer until he expanded the fog again. They would be trapped and alone, unable to find one another, or anything else familiar to them.

  He turned away from the crypt and made his way back to where his bones lay. They were wrapped in the rotted remains of his clothes beside the small stream. It was time to hunt Brian and Jenny down himself.

  Never had Josephus attempted to reach out beyond the iron fence.

  He sat down beside his earthly remains and looked hard at his skull. Wisps of black hair still clung to his skull and Josephus could remember when it fell in long locks.

  Ah, he thought. The girls had loved his hair.

  Until he strangled the life out of them at the end.

  Josephus smiled at the pleasant memories and thought about how he will crush Brian and Jenny himself.

  Chapter 52: The Roy House, May 4th, 2016

  They had all showered, and they had all eaten.

  Shane was asleep in a chair, arms folded across his chest as he snored lightly. He wore a pair of Brian’s sweats and thick socks. The fire burned brightly in the parlor, throwing out warmth. Jacob Wurbach sat in Jenny’s chair. He, too, was dressed in some of Brian’s clothes, and they hung upon the man. But Jacob was wide awake, and he had borrowed the hair clippers, and Brian had given the man a razor and a toothbrush.

  The man in Jenny’s chair was not the same who had left the marsh. Jacob’s hair was buzzed short, and he was clean shaven. While he was twitchy and nervous, he still had a tremendous smile on his harsh, lined face. He had enjoyed two beers, potato chips, and a bowl of cereal. Jacob had wisely stopped after the cereal.

  Brian adjusted his arm, which was wrapped around Jenny. He nodded to Jacob.

  “I feel strange,” Jacob said.

  “How so?” Brian asked.

  “Like this is a dream,” Jacob said, gesturing around the room. “Terrified that it is, actually.”

  “Yeah,” Brian agreed. “Kind of worried it is, too.”

  “I feel like Rip Van Winkle,” Jacob said after a moment. “Except I haven’t been asleep. Haven’t had a good time, either.”

  “No,” Brian said. “Can’t imagine you did. Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”

  Jacob was quiet for a moment before he replied. “Not really. I mean, hell, I’ve been away for over forty years. I don’t know anything about anything. And who’s going to believe me if I said who I was? They’d put me in an asylum.”

  “They would,” Brian said. “Maybe we can all talk about it in the morning and figure it out.”

  “I’d like to,” Jacob said. He went to pull at his beard, remembered it wasn’t there and smiled ruefully. “I’ll have to
get used to being shaved. I don’t mind, though. Hated the damned thing.”

  Silence fell over them. The logs in the fireplace popped occasionally, and after several minutes, Brian said, “I’m going back to the cemetery in a few days.”

  Jacob looked at him and then asked, “Why?”

  “Josephus,” Brian replied. “He tried to hurt me. Pretty sure he was going to hurt Jenny, too.”

  Jacob nodded. “He would have. How are you going to stop him?”

  “Not sure,” Brian said. “I’ll have to do some research on it. But I am going to stop him. That’s for certain.”

  “Well,” Jacob said, “count on me. I’d like to put him down.”

  “Thank you,” Brian said.

  Jacob grinned. “No need to thank me, Brian. You helped me get out of there. He kept me in there. Figure we both can get a little bit of revenge on Josephus Wahlen.”

  Jenny moved a little in Brian’s embrace, and he smiled at her. Looking over to Jacob he said, “Do you want me to show you to the spare bedroom?”

  “No,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “Don’t know if I can sleep just yet. And when I do, I’ll probably stretch out in front of the fire.”

  “Well,” Brian said, “I’m going to get my sleepy girl upstairs. If you need anything, just follow the sounds of my snores.”

  “Will do,” Jacob said.

  Brian kissed Jenny on the forehead, and gently woke her up.

  Chapter 53: Awake and in the Kitchen, May 4th, 2016

  Jacob stood in the kitchen of Brian and Jenny’s house. He had his hands on the edge of the counter and looked out the window behind the sink. He saw a large, dark shape swoop down from the night sky and land in a field. A barn owl hunting its dinner.

  Jacob took a glass from the drying rack and filled it with cold water from the tap. He drank it slowly and wandered around the kitchen. The entire room was a marvel to him. The nearly silent refrigerator, the gas stove with the curious clock. The coffee maker and the toaster. So many familiar items, yet each far different than when he had been free.

  He walked to the refrigerator, opened it and stared in awe at the bright light and the food arrayed neatly before him. Cold, crisp air washed over him, and he smelled a hundred different scents. Each of them tantalizing.

  He smiled, reached in and plucked a grape from a bunch of them. He popped it into his mouth and bit down, the fruit, sweet and delicious. The juice was cold as it exploded against his tongue and cheek. It caused his teeth to ache, and he chuckled, closing the refrigerator door. He opened the freezer and looked at the ice cream.

  His stomach rumbled, and he longed to eat the frozen desert, but he was sure he’d make himself sick if he did. Yet it was almost worth it.

  He hadn’t had ice cream since the day before he had become trapped in the fog. The memory of that day sent a spike of fear through his chest, and he quickly closed the freezer.

  He went over to the light switch for the kitchen, flicked it up and down several times and was amazed at how quickly and silently everything worked. He wandered back to the sink and turned on the hot water. In a matter of moments, it was hot, almost to the point of being painful.

  Jacob laughed, shook his head and shut the water off.

  This must all be real, he thought, looking around the kitchen. I don’t have enough of an imagination to think this up.

  With another laugh, he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it again. Smiling, he looked at the bright light and all of the food before him.

  Chapter 54: An Epiphany

  The water moved sluggishly through the darkness. Fish swam, and insects skirted along the surface of the cold stream. The dark settled into the bones and ate at the will to live.

  Josephus remembered all of it as he sat beside his remains. In the twisted paths and lanes of his memory, he roamed, searching for a way to enact his revenge. Seeking a method by which he could punish Jenny.

  A bit of doggerel, a hint of a text translated from the Latin. A single word.

  And he smiled.

  Possession.

  Chapter 55: Prepping for a 5K Race, May 4th, 2016

  Dylan Mailer walked along the road, heading towards Wood’s Cemetery. It was a good place to start his run, a spot he could fixate on after he hit the halfway point and turned around. He needed to have a goal when he ran; the cemetery’s iron fence would serve the purpose admirably. Dylan knew a five-kilometer race wasn’t much, but at thirty-three and out of shape, it might as well be the Boston Marathon.

  He adjusted his armband with his iPhone in it, the music set up and ready to go. The new, behind-the-ear earbuds were fit snuggly in place. He reached behind him and slipped the water bottle free from its pouch at the small of his back. Dylan twisted the cap off, smelled the sharp tang of vodka, and smiled. He would hydrate when he got home. Just a good buzz to get through the initial pain.

  He took several long drinks and instantly felt the burn in his stomach. It was only then that he realized he had forgotten to eat. His stomach cramped instantly, and he winced. The vodka raced through him and in a dozen steps he was a close to being drunk.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, and he finished off the bottle.

  With a sharp right turn, he found himself approaching the cemetery and he nodded drunkenly. Clumsily, he put the bottle back into its pouch, and he wondered, briefly, if he should wait a bit before he ran.

  Maybe I shouldn’t run at all, he told himself. He left the asphalt of the road for the grass shoulder, made his way to the fence and sat down. He leaned back against the iron bars and closed his eyes.

  His stomach rumbled and twisted, and he wondered if he would throw up. A terrible headache started at the base of his skull and worked its way forward, steadily. Dylan opened his eyes, and the edges of his vision were black. Curved lines created a tunnel, and they tightened and relaxed, repeatedly.

  With a groan, he twisted to the right and vomited, the vodka and bile stinking in the green grass. Dylan tried to spit the foul taste out, but to no avail. His headache grew worse, and then he shuddered.

  Hello, Dylan, a voice said.

  It was a hard voice. Brutal and male. Domineering.

  Dylan didn’t answer.

  You don’t have to speak, the stranger in his head chuckled. I suppose introductions are in order, however. My name is Josephus, but you can call me Joe. You’re going to help me.

  Dylan tried to push the voice out of his head, but Joe only laughed.

  Pain exploded in Dylan’s abdomen, and he threw up again. For several long minutes, he leaned over, dry heaving until the agony stopped.

  Sit up, Joe said. It was a command, and Dylan obeyed.

  Excellent, Joe said. You learn quickly. Now, do as I say.

  Dylan listened to Joe and nodded.

  He got to his feet and staggered to the front gate and turned into the cemetery. Dylan forced himself to walk forward, the memory of the pain horribly fresh. He managed to make his way to the back of the cemetery and turn right, listening to the directions of Joe. Dylan found an open door set into a hillside, and he went in. He ignored everything in the crypt around him and headed toward a door at the back wall. It was also open, and he entered it. At the far end, he saw a small tunnel, barely visible to the left.

  When Joe told him to get down and crawl into the hole, Dylan balked.

  The punishment was instant and horrifically painful. His eyes watered, and his nose bled.

  Dylan dropped to his knees, then got down on his belly and forced himself into the small opening. The weight of the world seemed to settle down upon him, and Dylan forced down panic. A tremendous fear of claustrophobia beat at him, yet it paled in comparison to the fear he felt for Joe.

  He screamed as insects ran over him, something with a thousand legs racing across his face. He inhaled spider webs and dust. A deep cold penetrated his flesh while sharp rocks cut at his skin. He could feel himself bleeding, his clothes being torn. And still, he had to
crawl on.

  A little further, Joe said cheerfully. Just a little further. This task is nearly done.

  Dylan didn’t respond. He was focused on each inch he had to cover. He kept his eyelids closed, fearful of bugs. Afraid of them biting his eyes.

  Joe pushed him forward relentlessly. Each time Dylan paused, another part of his body would explode with pain. Eventually, he tumbled down into an open area. He wept as fear coursed through him. Faintly, Dylan heard water and, a musky, rotten smell filled his nose. Dylan ached as he lay on cool dirt, and he numbly wondered what was next.

  Joe didn’t make him wait for long.

  Dylan was shoved into the back of his own mind and huddled there, a mute observer as his body, under Joe’s control, crawled ahead. Dylan could feel everything, the touch of the dirt, the scrape of his knees against rocks.

  And his fingers as they found some smooth and curiously cool stone.

  Ah, Joe said with some satisfaction. Here are my bones.

  Within a moment, both hands were questing through Joe’s bones and shortly after, Joe sighed with pleasure.

  Yes, Joe said, this should do quite nicely, I believe.

  Dylan felt the man pick up a small finger bone with one of Dylan’s hands.

  Open wide, Dylan, Joe said, chuckling.

  Dylan fought to keep his mouth closed, but he couldn’t. Joe was too strong. He felt his jaw shift down, his lips open and his teeth part. Joe forced Dylan’s tongue to extend, and the bone was placed on the back of it, just like a pill. A bitter, foul pill.

  Tears fell freely down Dylan’s face as Joe made him swallow, and bone burned his throat as it made its rough passage to his stomach.

  Dylan’s consciousness was slammed backward, and Joe took over completely. As Joe turned his body around to return the way it had come, Dylan cowered in a corner of his mind.

  Not real, Dylan thought desperately. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real.

  Beneath his litany, he heard Joe laugh, and he felt his flesh scrape against stone.