Legacy Mausoleums

by Nick Younker

  Duncan squinted his eyes tightly and focused on the sound of rain in the winter, falling on hard snow. The cold rain calmed him and allowed him to concentrate. When he opened his eyes, he saw the hallways of the dead, but heard no voices.

  He trekked forward and maneuvered down the separate hallways to find the lighted tomb. His hard rubber shoes made tapping sounds on the hard marble floor and echoed through the chambers. His flashlight and the pale moonlight were all that he saw. He checked all four of the long spacious hallways and carefully scanned each tomb on the wall. Nothing was illuminated. He opened hallway closets and found mop buckets and linens. He opened the chapel and the pre-interment rooms, but saw no sign of an intruder.

  Something told him that he wasn’t looking for an intruder, although common sense would say otherwise. It didn't seem likely that someone had broken into the mausoleum just to open a tomb and put a light inside of it. Even if they were grave robbing, it didn't seem likely. Nothing about it made sense.

  As doubt clouded his mind, he decided that at some point in the night he had made a mistake and that his inability to explain the situation was good reason to go back to his desk and wait to see if it happened again.

  Duncan grew increasingly convinced that his eyes were deceiving him in some way and returned to his desk and watched the monitor, occasionally stopping to refill his mug from his coffee thermos. The occasional bug flew across the monitors, but everything was mostly still in the hallways of the dead.

  A couple of hours went by and at one in the morning, he decided to take a look at his website and see what kind of traffic he had been getting. No matter though, he wouldn’t make enough money to live on with less than a thousand visitors since the same time last night. People had been leaving comments on his articles and some of them were disturbing. It seemed as though he attracted the wrong crowd since he had started the site a year before.

  “I nu there wuz smthing going on dwn there. My folks never bn the same since they visited bck in 89,” a man named BoonDoggle67 wrote on his article about the Ohio River city that is now a ghost town.

  “I sw her 1nc at Fishy Tim’s in New albny!!!! She had stringy hair and pmples on her fce,” someone named Eya09 wrote on his story about Izzy Brown, which he sourced from the 2007 interview he did when he worked for the Bloomington Evening Journal.

  There were a certain amount of humiliating comments that Duncan would allow before he turned them off. At this juncture, he wasn’t quite there yet. He needed as many people as possible to click or comment on his articles before the major search engines would start picking him up and ranking his site.

  Duncan closed his computer and stretched, looking at the monitors like he half expected to see Austin City Limits come on. He loved watching the re-broadcasts of that show. He’d had more than enough excitement and humiliating experiences for a night. But staring at the monitor was going to do nothing to make them better.

  The light came back on inside a tomb in the hallway of the dead. This time, he didn't catch it after the fact, but rather when it happened. There was no mistaking it this time. There were lights coming on in those tombs and something was definitely not right.

  Duncan quickly grabbed his flashlight and went straight for that dreaded corridor. He knew exactly where to look and as he breached the door to enter the mausoleum, he saw the light go out while he was making his way to the exact tomb that he couldn't quite find the first time.

  The wall and tombs were polished quite nicely, with the exception of the fingerprints that stuck out clear as day on the front handle of the tomb. It did not seem to be out of the ordinary though. He half expected loved ones to embrace the barrier between themselves and their dead. But that only accounted for one of the tombs while the others remained polished and shiny as he shined his light on them to compare.

  There was also the question as to whether the handles really did open the vault or if they were there just for show. It was reasonable for him to assume that they were, considering that the tombs of the dead must have been sealed, if for nothing else, to prevent health risks to the living. Posterity was indeed the thought behind this, but he couldn't just stand in front of this tomb and pretend that he did not see a light shining through from the barrier of the dead. A light that breached the boundaries of the square front of the tomb. It was his job to find out what was going on in there, but he wasn’t about to break any seals that barricaded the dead.

  One thought eclipsed that rule, though. If light could shine through the boundaries of the tomb, then there were no seals to start with. It was possible that this tomb has either been breached or not sealed to start with.

  Duncan tucked the flashlight below his armpit and muscled the front of the tomb away with ease. There was no seal to break, nor did he have any problems opening it.

  One glance inside did not show cobwebs or dust, as he might have expected, but rather a woman lying on her side, shivering and scared.

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in there?” Duncan asked with an authoritative tone. He held his flashlight by the end, ready to use it as a weapon since he forgot his nightstick by his desk.

  The woman did not answer, she just lay there, shaken and scared. She was older, mildly attractive and well kempt, but obviously not the dead that had come back to life. Duncan had already made up his mind – she was an intruder.

  “Lady, I don't know what you think you’re doing but I’m about to call the police.”

  That was all the encouragement she needed to finally communicate with Duncan.

  “Please. I’m not hurting anyone. I just need to be close to him. I need to sleep close to Byron,” the lady said.

  “What?”

  Duncan shone a light to the tomb beside her. The name on it read Byron Nichols. He then looked at the tomb door and it read Evelyn Nichols. It suddenly became clear to him that this woman was not a prowler or an intruder. She was, in fact, a pre-paid resident.

  He took a chance when he spoke to her next.

  “Evelyn?”

  The woman looked at him. The tears on her face did not smear any makeup, but still stained her cheeks. She was distraught. A grieving widow not much older than fifty who wants nothing more than to join her husband in the afterlife.

  “Evelyn, my name is Duncan. I know you’re hurting right now. I’m so sorry that you have had to go through this. But you simply cannot stay here. It is not your time.”

  “It is my time. I want to be with my husband. It’s my time because I say it’s my time.”

  “Come out of there, Evelyn. You’re not in any trouble. I’m here to help you, not make this harder on you.”

  Evelyn wiped the tears from her face and slowly made her way out of the tomb. A flashlight and a book dropped to the floor. Duncan saw the front cover… it said, How To Make Money Off The Internet Without Knowing Computers Well.

  As Evelyn was able to get her grip and step down from the tomb, Duncan picked up her flashlight and book, then put his jacket around her. She cried, but would not look at him. He assumed she was filled with shame and grief, two emotions that can be overwhelming when combined.

  “I know you miss Byron, but Evelyn… you can't do this. You can’t be here like this. Just consider what Byron would say.”

  “It’s this place. They took everything from us.”

  “I’m sorry Evelyn, I don’t understand.”

  “Byron arranged for this mausoleum to be our final resting place when we found out about his cancer. It took him quickly, so the medical bills did not pile up. But this place, they took everything from us.”

  “I don’t understand, Evelyn.”

  “Byron and I divorced three years before he died. Our son hadn’t seen us in nearly seven years. It was hard on us both and we blamed each other. But we reconciled one month before we found out about his cancer. We were going to remarry, but he was just too sick and all of our time was spent taking care of his needs. Then he passed away.”

  “E
velyn, that just happens sometimes. It doesn't mean that he loved you any less.”

  “Maybe not, but this place made sure that I wouldn't survive it. He took care of everything for us, before and after the divorce. That included arranging for our final resting place, which was here. I suppose he didn't think that we would get back together. It made sense too, considering we were not well off. Paying for a place like this would have been far too much. So Byron agreed to their terms. He and I would get an eternal resting place and they would get our legacy in return.”

  “Your legacy?”

  “He signed over everything to the mausoleum in his will. We were not married when he died, so I could not contest it. They took it all. I can't even afford a home and all I want to do is be with my Byron. There is nothing left for me here. This world has forgotten about us.”

  Just another big company willing to take from the backs of working-class men and women. Those too poor to die have a legacy to leave behind and they were all too willing to give out free tombs within their mausoleum with the promise of a legacy gift.

  “I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I wish there was something that I could do.”

  Duncan realized that there was something that he could do. He could let her stay at his apartment until she got on her feet. She was just a sweet, lovely middle-aged woman who needed some help. A victim.

  Evelyn wept, shameful.

  “Just wait here a minute and I will get something for you.”

  Duncan left her at the entrance to the hallways of the dead and got his coffee thermos. He was back in an instant, but she was gone. She had vanished into the night with no trace.

  He did not think that she went back into the tomb, but he went and checked anyway. The door to the crypt was placed back on the wall so he opened it and no one was there.

  If it wasn’t one thing that spooked him, it was something else. That night had been a shamble of trembling legs for Duncan Criss. It finished out with no other incidents and he did not report the encounter with Evelyn Nichols.

  Duncan spent several hours that next morning lying awake in his bed, wondering about the poor lady and her perpetual grief and poverty. He wondered about whether or not she found a place to go that night and whether or not she was okay. It was cold outside and she was vulnerable. He certainly felt responsible for adding on to her grief, but also felt a longing for the woman.

  If there was one thing in this world that Duncan understood well, that was empathy. He’d been vulnerable to it all his life. But there was something deeper at play for him in this situation. He did not only feel sorry for Evelyn, but he cared for her. He was bombarded with mixed feelings and his eventual longing for the woman. There was just something about her, maybe her aura, that resonated with Duncan and gave him a strange attraction to the grieving widow.

  He dreamt that day about finding her and making the grief go away. He felt happy when she smiled at him and her sorrow dissipated like the fog after rain on a hot summer day. He tended to her needs and provided for her so that she did not feel scared of poverty, or helpless in the world. He gave her a sense of belonging and reassured her that everything would be all right. He held her head on his chest while she napped on a hammock on a cool fall day with the leaves blowing all around them next to the wilderness of rolling hills.

  Duncan woke at just after nine that evening and felt drained, like he had baled hay all day on his uncle’s farm for a pittance in reward. He dragged himself to the shower and bathed, thinking all along about Evelyn. Brushing his teeth, he thought of her tired eyes and kind smile that emerged underneath tears of loneliness. It exhausted him to think that the poor, tiny woman was out there, all alone with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He wondered if she found solace, but drove the thought out of his head. He knew there was no consoling a broken heart.

  Although these thoughts assaulted him, he still made his way to work that evening and after relieving the tired old man that worked the evening shift, he sat back in his chair at the desk and stared into the monitors. It was not ideal for him to think this way, but he secretly wished that he would see that tomb light come on again. He wished she was in there again, waiting for her turn to be free. At the very least, she would be safe and sheltered. Maybe even happy, in some way.

  He imagined her spending the night somewhere that was wet and putrid, like the vagrants who sleep under bridges. He wanted her to be dry, warm and comfortable.

  The hum of the radiator pulled him out of his trance and he finally looked away from the TV screens that monitored the hallways of the dead. It was going to be a long night with thoughts like these, so he had better find another way to pass the time. He tried opening his computer and checking the daily headlines to see if there was a potential story to report on the web. Although most of his stories were original reporting, he had to get more articles in that featured aggregated news with sourced reporting.

  He came across some headlines about an election in southern Indiana, but he tried to stay away from politics as much as possible. He was more of a real-world kind of guy.

  There was a story that caught his eye about a crash on Interstate 64 that left two people dead. The driver had hit them on the side of the Interstate and never stopped. It was a terrible situation. The people who died were not even in their cars, but rather working alongside them when the crash occurred.

  Duncan was just about to start a draft on the story when he heard a scraping sound from the tombs and checked the monitor. Her light was back on! Evelyn was back in the tomb, or so he assumed.

  He felt relief in some small way. Maybe he should just leave her in there, let her stay and find solace. But more than anything, he just wanted to help her. He couldn't just stay there and do nothing while the woman he had thought so much about over the past twenty-four hours was a just a stone’s throw away. He was too invested in her well-being to just sit there and do nothing.

  Without taking his jacket or his nightstick, Duncan made his way into the hallway of the dead. The doors opened and the sounds echoed off the tomb chambers and the marble floors. Evelyn’s light went out as he approached and just before he opened the tomb door, more lights came on from other tomb chambers. The square lights lit up the walls in the hallway of the dead, one after another. Duncan heard the echo of grunts as he paused and looked around.

  Square lights formed around the tomb lids. Some stayed on while others turned on and off. There was a low hum that traveled around the hallway of the dead. It sounded like a chorus of people, quietly humming the chorus of a church choir that was stuck in its own melody.

  Duncan’s resolve turned to fright as he turned around to look at a mob of the dead behind him, pale blue with necrosis eating away at their jawlines and cheeks, cobwebs in their hair, dressed in their final Sunday best just before their interments. Their eyes were wide open, as if they had just seen a lion take a baby from its mother while nursing.

  They stood there, silently, except for the low hum that emanated from their post-mortem corpses. They were all around Duncan, trapping him between the dead and the wall of tombs that lined the hallway of the dead. They did not step, but still, they closed in on him as if they were getting bigger. Their eyes became more defined to Duncan and he could see the tiny red blood vessels that trekked through them.

  There was nowhere to run. Duncan’s fear had overpowered him and his anxiety was causing delirium. All he could do was close his eyes and imagine them gone. Close his eyes so that he could not see what they were going to do to him. Close his eyes so that he did not have to witness his own violent death at the hands of the supernatural.

  The hum faded out.

  “Duncan. Open your eyes, kind soul.”

  Duncan could hear her. His thoughts wondered if he could save the lovely Evelyn from the hordes of dead. He wondered if he could save Evelyn from the hungry blue monsters that had risen to take their lives. His eyes were closed tight, but he mustered up all of his strength and quickly opened them, expecting to fig
ht his way through the monstrous blue skin of the dead.

  They were gone.

  “Duncan. Don’t be afraid.”

  He looked around and saw no bodies out of their tombs. There were no lights on inside of the tombs. The only light came from the flashlight he had dropped on the ground and the bright moonlight that shined in through the moon visors. It illuminated most of the hallway, but left the wall across from Evelyn’s tomb dark. There was a door opposite to him. A door with an enclosure where Evelyn’s voice came from.

  “Evelyn?”

  “I’m here. Please dear, don't be afraid.”

  “I’m… I don’t know what’s come over me. I think I was hallucinating.”

  “It’s not you, Duncan. It’s this place.”

  Duncan tried to see her, but could only make out her outlines in the dark corner in front of the door.

  “Evelyn, please step out into the hallway. I can’t see you.”

  “Do you love me, Duncan?”

  He could not lie to her.

  “I… I’m not sure. How does one know that for sure?”

  “Was I in your thoughts before you slept? Was I there while you slept? Tell me, dear… do you love me?”

  Duncan could only make sense of the things he could understand at the moment. Evelyn wasn’t just on his mind before and during his sleep. He never stopped thinking about her. He never stopped worrying about her. He had tried to reason with himself that he was only empathetic to her, but it was more. He felt a strange bond, a tightening when he thought of her. In the end, he did not like being without her, the woman he knew nothing about.

  “I have never been in love Evelyn. It’s strong and I feel it now. I know now.”

  “Tell me Duncan. Tell me what you know.”

  “I love you, Evelyn.”

  He could see her lift her hand to her mouth as she sighed. It was a sign that in spite of shame, she had finally found something that was good in her life.

  Duncan stood there. He felt exposed. He felt like he was the only one in a spotlight on a stage, standing naked in front of a crowd that he desperately sought approval from. Will they applaud him or will they laugh?