by Andrea Judy
Jackson nodded. "We can take the truck." She and I both looked at Aramis. "You ride in the bed," Jackson said.
"The what?" Aramis asked.
"The back of the truck," I explained.
He frowned, but didn't argue as Jackson grabbed her bag and headed out of the house. Jackson threw her own bag of supplies over her shoulders, a baseball bat stuck out of the top flap of her supplies. She locked the door behind us, and opened up the truck. I threw my bag into the truck bed, and Aramis climbed in to sit beside my stuff.
I nodded, “Keep my stuff secured.”
Aramis grinned, and nodded. “Sure thing.”
I got into the passenger side and shut the door behind me. Jackson started the truck and headed down the road.
Chapter 5
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I watched Aramis cling to the side railings and flop around in the back of the truck. When we finally got off of the rough dirt road and onto solid, relatively smooth asphalt, Aramis and I both let out a long sigh of relief.
Jackson pulled into the gravel lot. and hopped out. "Alright, best bet is for us to start at the main entrance and work through the three areas of the cemetery."
"How many are buried here?" I asked.
"Depends on what historian you ask," Jackson answered after a moment. "Most of these bodies came from the Civil War, most of them fleeing Sherman when he burned Georgia top to bottom. There weren't a whole lot of options for burials so mass graves were started."
"Why all the rosemary here?" I asked.
"Rosemary's used to say that someone won't be forgotten. It's a nice way to keep a memory alive. You know, they do say that scent is the sense most closely connected to memory," Jackson explained.
*****
"Nothing around here looks disturbed. Not from anything but a storm at least," I finally said after we had circled the entryway.
Jackson knelt by the rosemary busy, cutting a small piece and carefully putting it into a plastic evidence bag. "We can try the old slave burial grounds next. That's just right past that last hill there in the back." She put the rosemary sample into her bag and led the way across the field.
"How frequently do people visit?" I asked. “Any chance anyone’s seen anything?”
"Visit here?" Jackson sighed, "God, I don't know. Not very much. It's not exactly a thriving tourist attraction and this isn't a real big metropolis, you know."
I nodded, letting out a long breath as we passed a small wall and another statue, this one a granite carving of a flame reaching upwards.
Jackson walked past the statue. "Grandpa's out here somewhere. Or at least that's what we think. There aren't really any records of where he died."
"So the burials here are unknown? How many?" Aramis asked.
"Um...Well yeah, most of the ones here are unknown. There's a sort of listing of the names of some of those believed to be here, but it's nothing confirmed. A lot of slaves, freed slaves, and anyone whose skin was a hair too dark got dropped out here. I guess it's lucky some of them even got a burial." Jackson shrugged.
"Nothing looks disturbed out here either," I said. “The grounds have no recent holes.”
Jackson shook her head. "No it doesn't. I guess someone pulling up bodies would be kind of obvious, let alone the effort and mess you'd make just digging through the clay."
"What was the third section you mentioned?" Aramis asked.
Jackson ran her hand along the stone statue, tracing the smooth lines with her fingers, playing over the rough granite. "It's the old money section. All the mausoleums and big graves are there."
She led the way to a small, carefully laid out stone-lined path that trailed past a few manicured bushes and flowers. Over another small hill she spotted the first mausoleum carved into the shape of a tiny church, a cross reaching to the heavens from the top of the ornate granite. Stained glass windows decorated all four sides of the building. One depicted an olive branch, one a dove, one a chalice, and one a rising sun. The doors were chained shut; rust lined them, red creeping along the metal.
A few more carefully laid out gravestones scattered around the building with a bench laid out by a bed of flowers. "Someone comes to take care of these?" I motioned to the flowers.
"Yeah. The historical society has a gardener they hire to come out from time to time. I think every month or two," Jackson guessed. “The grass has been recently cut so I’m thinking they’ve been here in the last week.”
I followed along the stone path past a few smaller buildings and a gravestone with a book closed carved into stone above the names of a family. I frowned when I spotted one mausoleum carved from a black stone that sat at the back of the cemetery. One of its doors hung faintly open.
“That looks promising,” Aramis chimed in.
“Stay quiet, and stay here.” I told him.
Jackson lingered behind me to take samples of some of the plants nearby and a few small samples of the dirt. She murmured to herself as she carefully labeled, bagged, and put away everything she collected.
I headed to the open mausoleum. "Look at this," I called to Jackson.
She finished bagging the last sample and hurried to my side.
"What mausoleum is this?" I asked.
Jackson shook her head. "I'm not sure. The name’s worn off of the front here." She walked a slow circle around the building, running her hands over the rosemary bush beside the entrance. The building was simple, short without any windows and with no elaborate designs or carvings.
The doors were a basic iron, rusted with age though they moved easily enough as I tested one of them. It easily swung open with my touch.
I stepped into the mausoleum and looked around. I counted five small cubbies carved into the walls for bodies. Each had a casket carefully locked into place and held there. Plaques lined each shelf, though the names had long lost the battle with time, disappearing to the ravages of the ages. A single crack split through the granite floors running from the back to the front of the building.
Jackson stepped inside and let out a long breath before inhaling deeply.
"This has been disturbed recently," I murmured.
"What?" Jackson asked.
"There's hardly any dust in the air. If no one has been in here in years there should be some kind of dust or something to be disturbed by us." I frowned and took a deep breath.
Aramis stepped inside, "But who would be in here? There's nothing in here," Aramis asked. “How would this be useful at all?”
“I told you to wait outside.” I snapped at Aramis.
He gave a faint smirk, “I got lonely.”
I glared at him, but Jackson kept looking around.
"It does seem a bit small to serve as a super villain's home base, huh?" Jackson said.
I didn't respond as I ran my fingers along the edge of one of the shelves, tracing against the time worn plaque. It ran smooth and clean under my touch, no dust or pollen disturbed by my finger or by our presence in the mausoleum.
"They could've been in here for repairs or a burial. Maybe, someone's died recently," Jackson suggested.
I looked over my shoulder. "Then why are all the name plates faded? If someone was buried here a week or even a few months ago, the name plate wouldn't be faded away and there'd still be some kind of dust or something."
Aramis sighed, "Look, there's nothing in here but caskets and stones."
All three of us looked up when the door creaked closed. I reacted first, rushing to the door to try to get it open again but a distinctive sound of the of chains being dragged and tightened echoed throughout the crypt.
Chapter 6
Jackson ran up beside me and began pounding on the door. "Hey! We're in here, open the doors!"
Aramis rammed his shoulder into the door. It budged only faintly but the sound of chains circling the door handles continued and then a lock clicked into place before clanking down against the door.
Jackson slammed her fist against the metal. "Hey!! Open it up!
" She yelled.
I tried to force our only way out to open back up. The chains strained against the force as Jackson and Aramis joined in, pressing with all of their strength. A thin sliver of sunlight pierced into the room, but the chains forced the door closed again.
Jackson caught her breath. "Shit."
I focused on keeping my breathing steady as she looked around for anything I could use to pry the door open with.
Aramis looked at Jackson. "How frequently did you say those gardeners come here?"
Jackson laughed weakly. "If that wasn't them that just locked us in, then I don't know. It could be weeks before they come back." Jackson sank onto the floor, tugging at the ends of her hair.
I tried the door once more before pacing around the room, 6 steps long and 4 steps wide. I sighed and leaned against one of the caskets. It shifted under my weight, sliding further back. I frowned, pulling myself up on the shelf to look behind the casket, squinting against the darkness. I dragged a flashlight from my pack and shone it over the casket.
"There's something back here," I called, "Help me move this casket."
Jackson and Aramis slowly came to my side, each taking hold of one end of the old casket. The three of us carefully shifted it, shaking and sliding it free and off of the shelf. After we lowered it to the ground, I climbed on top of it to get a better look.
In the furthest backside of the shelf was a hole just big enough for one person leading straight down.
"Well, I guess this is it," I said, looking back at Aramis and Jackson.
"Is what?" Aramis asked.
"Our only way out," I said simply.
"I'll go first." I tied my bag firmly to my back. "Wait until you hear from me before you follow."
Jackson frowned, crossing her arms but relenting. "Alright, fine."
Aramis nodded. “And if we don’t hear from you?”
I smiled. “Come after me anyways.”
I held my flashlight firmly in my hand, checking my gun before sliding over to the hole. The flashlight’s dim light only bounced off of steep rock edges but didn’t show me the bottom. There’s no other choice, so I took a deep breath before taking the final push and falling straight down.
I felt like I fell for hours, like Alice falling down the very wrong hole to Wonderland, flashes of bones and dirt briefly illuminated around. I hit a soft pile of cloth and rolled off of it quickly to look around the room.
Carved from dirt and crudely held up with posts, the room was barely high enough for me to not hit my head as I took perimeter. Nothing moved, and the only pathway I could see was a hallway leading off to my left side.
Something landed in the cloth beside me. I jumped backwards, drawing my gun, and only relaxing when my flashlight fell upon Jackson's face.
"I told you I would tell you when it was safe to jump!" I hissed.
"I got worried." Jackson brushed herself off and got to her feet. "This is under the cemetery. I had no idea anything like this even existed. Those legends about the Civil War tunnels under the cemetery were right."
"I don't think anyone knew for sure these existed." I frowned, moving toward the only hallway, shining my flashlight down it, not seeing anything.
A few seconds later Aramis crashed into the cloth and slid to his feet. I motioned for them to follow me and we started creeping down the hallway.
"Do we know what we're looking for?" Jackson asked.
I answered, "Well, we're looking for dead things trying to attack us or a crazed woman trying to kill us."
"Oh good," Jackson muttered. "Here I was worried about being overwhelmed by sunshine and rainbows."
The hallway continued, slowly winding and turning. "Any idea where it's leading us?" I asked.
Jackson pondered for a few moments. "Well, I think right now it's following under the stone path that leads through the rich section, and if that's the case we're heading back toward the mass grave section of the cemetery."
I nodded, ducking under a lower section of hallway, and sighed when it turned yet again.
"How long can this go? It's got to lead to somewhere," Aramis muttered.
"Doesn't mean it's somewhere we want to go," Jackson countered. "This could lead us to a big dead end for all we know."
I shook my head. "I doubt that."
Jackson sighed heavily, shifting her bag of supplies on her back before nodding. "I guess there really isn't any way but forward anyways, huh?" she said as she tucked some of her hair behind her ears.
I nodded, tossing the flashlight to Aramis. "Lead the way."
"Me?"
"You're the one who can 'feel' when the gem's close right?" I asked. "Help keep us on track. I bet this branches into different paths at some point and I'd rather stay on the one that's going to help us and not lead us to a blind stop. Or worse."
Aramis hesitated but finally relented, and began leading the way down the narrow tunnel. He kept the light focused straight ahead, flashlight in one hand, shovel clutched in the other. Jackson walked behind him and I kept up the rear, where I could keep an eye on Aramis and make sure nothing came at us from behind.
Every few steps, he would pause and look from side to side before continuing forward again. The path finally split into three separate directions: one curved sharply to the left, another continued straight ahead, and the third tilted downward deeper into the earth.
"Well?" I prodded when Aramis stood still and didn't make a move.
"I don't know," he admitted. "We're close. Very close, I can feel that, but I can't tell which way is the best way."
"Fat lot of good you are," I said.
"Let's just go about twenty feet down each of them, see if that helps you figure out which one is the best bet, ok?" Jackson suggested.
"Let's start with the left," I offered. Aramis hesitantly began down that path.
The tunnel narrowed until the loose dirt walls were crumbling around us and we had to turn back or risk being buried under tons of earth. Without another word, Aramis headed straight ahead into the darkness of the tunnel. The passage stayed wide as we continued walking forward.
Jackson took a deep breath. "I smell rosemary." She moved past Aramis.
He groaned and hurried after her, and I chased after the two.
"Look!" Jackson called, and I squinted, spotting a small patch of light. Following after Jackson, I saw a flat rock laid out over the earth; sunlight streamed in from the seams where stone met grass.
"This must be where they come in and out of the tunnels. Probably a grave stone or mausoleum." I said as I pushed at the stone above us.
It protested before finally budging and sliding off and falling to the side. Looking out, I immediately, noted I’d been right in my guess that this was a hidden grave hiding the path’s exit. Obscured under a rosemary bush, the stone stayed out of the main view of the cemetery.
Jackson popped up beside me. "This is why they all have rosemary on them. They have to climb through this bush before they get anywhere."
"So we know where they’re coming from exactly," Aramis said, staying in the tunnel, "But that doesn't help us find anything we came here for."
I nodded. "Come on, let’s check the rest of these tunnels. One of them has to lead to her."
"It's always the last place you look," Jackson sighed.
"Because after you find it you stop looking," Aramis said, heading back down the tunnel.
I didn't pull the stone back into place as we all headed back down the tunnel. Better to leave it open to let the sunlight stream in so if we have to get out of here in a hurry, our escape is wide open. I ran my finger over the pistol against my hip and took a deep breath as Aramis led us on the march back the tunnels we’d investigated and to the fork in the path again. This time we turned down the untraveled path.
Sour, dirty clay choked the air keeping the tunnels firm enough though my shoes stuck to the ground, and my jeans would forever hold a rusty blood color from the thick Georgia clay clinging to my pants.<
br />
"Anything?" Jackson asked Aramis.
He closed his eyes, and held the flashlight still as he concentrated before he hesitantly nodded. "I think so."
Jackson pulled out her thermo-goggles and looked Aramis over. "Your chest is a little warmer," she said after a moment before pulling the goggles off and rubbing her eyes. "Guess that means we're getting closer, right?"
I nodded. "We've got to be. Keep going, Aramis."
He nodded, pointed the flashlight ahead, and continued creeping down the hallway. Suddenly, he froze and turned off the light.
"What are you doing!?" Jackson demanded.
"Shhh." Aramis hissed.
I pulled my pistol free from its holster and held it up. "I hear them," I murmured. "How many?"
Aramis was silent before I heard him very quietly respond, "Six."
I nodded, and pushed Jackson behind me. "Stay here," I told her.
Aramis put the flashlight away and pulled the shovel from his back.
"You're just going to leave me here?" Jackson whispered.
"All of us rushing in is not going to lead to good things," I responded. "Now you stay here so we can find you again. Come on, Aramis."
Aramis took a deep breath and I briefly wondered if he still had to breathe or not. Shaking my head from that distraction, I crept down the dark tunnel toward the shifting shadows that lurched and tumbled forward.
I could hear them somewhat muttering under their breath, but nothing coherent. I tucked my pistol away; firing in tight quarters in total blackness wouldn't be a great idea. Pulling the knife from my holster, I let Aramis walk forward toward them.
Chapter 7
A few grunts and then the solid thud of the shovelhead hitting something hard drifted back through the darkness. I waited a few moments until I felt something move past me and the scent of rot washed over me. I lurched the knife forwards into what I hoped was the juncture between the neck and chest and twisted.
Dust exploded under my fingers, flying all around me.
Another thud of the shovel sounded just to the left of me, and I ducked backwards, feeling the rush of air of the shovel swinging right by my head.
