Into Hell

by James Roy Daley

  Arthur felt uncomfortable knowing about all this stuff that was none of his business, and he didn’t want to hear any more.

  He cleared his throat, and said, “Mayor Scott. You don’t––”

  Boyle shut him down and raised his voice. “Both Bruce and his wife Marion told me the same thing this morning. They told me some terrible things through more tears than you can imagine.” Boyle lifted an eyebrow. “I forgot. The housemaid is dead too. Don’t know what her name was, Trisha, or Tiffany… something like that. You can add ‘digging Trisha’s grave’ onto your to-do list. Charge it to the town; it’s okay.”

  Arthur nodded, saying nothing. He already knew about Bill Wessington and Tiffany White and felt there was no reason to make a point of it.

  Boyle White continued: “When Bruce says he knows everyone in Bleedington, I believe him. Not just because Bruce doesn’t need to embellish things, but also because every person in town filters through his office from time to time. He might not be everyone’s personal physician, but he oversees everything. I know it. Hell, everyone in town knows it.”

  Arthur nodded again. His mind began drifting. He was thinking now about the money he was stepping into, and where it was coming from. His economic situation was about to change.

  “Bruce told me a wild story; he said a woman broke into his house and killed his daughters. He said she wasn’t from around here and I have no choice but to believe him. He also said––his words, not mine––that the woman wasn’t human.”

  Arthur’s thoughts were suddenly swayed from finances. “Sir?”

  “You heard me. Not human. A vampire. That’s what Bruce said: the woman was a vampire.”

  “But––”

  Boyle pointed a finger and looked Arthur in the eye. His fat face started turning pink. His shoulders lifted. “Arthur, I like you but I don’t want to have a philosophical discussion with you. When I say I need your help I’m thinking about your hands and your eyes and your knowledge concerning the graveyard. Doctor Bruce McCullagan is one of my best friends in the whole entire world, and he has suffered a deep loss and serious mental shock. He said last night’s intruder wasn’t a woman, but a vampire. He said her eyes were glowing in their sockets like she had candles burning inside her skull. I want to dismiss him and frankly I’m trying as hard as I can, but there’s a problem too big for me to ignore. He’s a smart man and he’s a doctor. He knows what he knows. And he has two baby girls in his home with every last drop of blood drained from their bodies. I’ve seen them Arthur. I’ve seen their crumpled remains.”

  Arthur’s eyes widened before they dropped to his shoes. He didn’t know what to say.

  Boyle continued: “This is what I want and this is what I’m offering: I want you to come with us. I guess I should say that Bruce has asked me go into the graveyard and check the mausoleums with him. I told him he was crazy. He told me he’d never seen the woman before in his life. He said she wasn’t from around here. He said she killed Paisley Rae and Mandy. He said she grabbed Cynthia by the throat and jumped out a second story window, dragging her along like a handbag. He said the vampire’s eyes were glowing like she had candles inside her skull, and she drank his daughters blood straight from their little necks. He said he has no choice but to check the vaults no matter how crazy that may seem. And he asked me––as his friend––if I would be there in his most desperate hour of need.”

  Boyle’s pink skin started turning lobster-red and line of sweat appeared on his brow. He was getting himself worked up now. The stress he was under was starting to show. His bottom lip trembled. His Adam’s apple bobbled up and down.

  “Well Arthur, what am I suppose to say to my good friend Bruce? Huh? Should I say no? Maybe? Let me think about it? Should I tell him I’ll get back to him some time next week? Heaven help us! I can tell you what I said, Mister McNeill––Arthur, if you prefer. I said yes! I told him yes! I said I’d help him! Of course I’ll help him! He’s my best friend! I’ve known the man for thirty years! Do I think there are vampires in the Bleedington graveyard? I don’t know how to answer that. I really don’t. The answer that comes to mind is, No! Of course not! There are no vampires in the graveyard! That’s crazy! And do you know why? Do you know why I’m thinking that way, Mister McNeill? Because VAMPIRES DON’T EXIST! But there’s a problem, Mister, a big barn-sized problem! I’ve seen the babies! Don’t you get it? I’ve seen their shriveled little broken bodies! They were drained, Arthur! Their bodies are EMPTY!”

  “I’m sorry, Mayor Scott,” Arthur said, cutting in, looking slightly afraid. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for Doctor McCullagan’s loss too.”

  Boyle opened his mouth but stopped himself from speaking by slapping a hand across his lips. He breathed heavily through his fingers, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “No,” he said, ashamed of himself. “It is I who must apologize. I’m upset, but I’m not upset with you. Trust me, I’m not. How could I be? I’m just upset by what I saw, and what has happened.” Boyle blew his nose and wiped his eyes. “I was asked to be the children’s Godfather, you know. The ceremony is scheduled for next week.”

  Arthur shrugged; then thought it was the wrong thing to do. He had never seen a man––any man––so upset. And this was his first time talking with the Mayor. ‘Strange’ didn’t begin to explain the way he was feeling. This was a whole new pile of everything.

  Boyle said, “I’d like you to join Doctor McCullagan and myself as we search the tombs. You know the cemetery better than we do. If there really is a vampire, or a woman who thinks she’s a vampire, you might be able to figure out where she’s hiding. Assuming we don’t find anything, we’ll pay you the same rate as digging five graves. If we do find something––that is to say, if we find this abomination hiding inside one of the crypts, or anywhere else you think to look––consider that number doubled. If you kill the bitch, double the number again––understood?”

  Arthur nodded; his eyes widened. He wasn’t good with numbers, but it occurred to him that he might soon be rich.

  Boyle Scott, Bleedington’s beloved Mayor, watched Arthur’s expression change and his eyes grow thoughtful. He read the man’s face the best he could, but he read it wrong. He said, “If you’re wondering why I’m coming to you instead of Patch, it’s because Patch is an asshole. Simple as that.”

  10

  Doctor Bruce McCullagan, Mayor Boyle Scott, and Arthur ‘gravedigger’ McNeill, stepped inside a mausoleum and gathered around the coffin solemnly. The coffin had a simple design and sat in the center of the tomb on a concrete block that was a little over waist high.

  Arthur stood near the casket’s center, holding a stake in one hand and a mallet in the other. The stake was made of wood and nearly fourteen inches long. He said, “I’m ready when you are.”

  Mayor Scott stood as close to the box as he dared, holding a lantern near his chest. Exhaling a deep breath, he said, “Ready.”

  Doctor McCullagan put his hand on the lid and without too much hesitation he opened the coffin up.

  Just then, two things happened that none of the men expected. First: a big cloud of stinky, ashy, dusty, human remains poofed into the air. Next: the bats that were hanging from the rafters lost their little rodent minds.

  A flurry of wings and squeals exploded throughout the crypt.

  All three men fled the building in a hurry, waving their hands in the air and screaming like little girls. Once they were outside––beneath the safety of the warm sun––Doctor Bruce cried, Mayor Scott consoled, and Arthur McNeill stood away from the other men feeling like a fool. He had seen the bats; he knew they were there. At least half of the tombs were loaded with them, but he didn’t feel it was his place to say.

  After a while the condolences ended and the men moved on.

  The next crypt they entered didn’t have bats clinging to the ceiling but it did have a rattlesnake in the corner, lying in a pile of bones that might
have belonged to a cat. All three men saw the reptile and they kept their distance. They opened the casket in a hurry and when they discovered a corpse that looked like a dried prune wearing a stain-yellow dress, they got the hell out before the snake made a meal of them.

  Doctor Bruce McCullagan didn’t cry this time but he did make an observation. And when he voiced his thoughts he sounded nothing at all like the overwrought, broken record from the night before. (Oh my goodness! What’s happening here?) He said, “If the vampire had been inside that coffin, we’d be in serious trouble right now, you better believe it. With a vampire attacking our front and a rattlesnake attacking our back, the odds of us leaving the crypt in one piece would be minimal.”

  Mayor Boyle Scott didn’t believe that vampires were real––regardless of what the dead babies looked like and the terror that he felt when Bruce threw open the coffin’s lid. He didn’t want to say anything though, so he nodded his head and kept his big mouth shut. His best friend needed support and he was planning on giving it to him any way he could.

  Arthur McNeill also kept quiet, but for different reasons. Today he was fortunate enough to be working with men that were––by the town’s standard––rich, famous, and highly respected. He wasn’t going to mess it up. Also, Doctor McCullagan was a smart man, so whatever he was thinking was fine. After all, Doctor McCullagan was a doctor while Arthur McNeill was a part-time gravedigger and not educated. He was, however, a smart enough man to recognize these truths and modest enough to accept them.

  Doctor McCullagan continued with his train of thought; he said, “I’d like to finish the day without incident, so next time, let’s drag the coffin outside.”

  Mayor Scott spoke without thinking. His voice was loud and laced with the beliefs he was trying so hard to keep locked in his belly. He said, “What if people see us? What will they say?”

  “I don’t care what people see,” Doctor McCullagan said. “I don’t care what they say either. This isn’t something we should be covering up, Boyle. This is bigger than that. And if we have a nest of vampires living in our cemetery the people need to know!”

  “But what if… “ Boyle trailed off. He said too much already.

  “You don’t believe me,” the doctor said, with the truth of the matter dawning in his eyes. “You saw Mandy and Paisley Rae and you still don’t believe me.”

  “I’m just thinking about your practice, Bruce. And if I’m to be completely honest, I’m thinking about my job as the Mayor. This is going to ruffle some feathers, you know? Do you really think this woman is a vampire?”

  Doctor McCullagan turned on his friend with an expression that was close to rage. He said, “You’re thinking about your job?! Well I’m thinking about our lives and the lives of the community… about Cynthia! I know what we’re up against, Boyle! I saw! I was there! This is no woman! This is Nosferatu!”

  The Doctor snapped his head towards Arthur as if to say: You understand where I’m coming from, right?

  Then the Mayor looked at Arthur with a similar expression, only his was coming from the other side of the debate. He might as well have said: You’re not believing this nonsense, are you? Tell me you’re not as foolish as my best buddy Bruce!

  Arthur swallowed loud enough for both men to hear. A bead of sweat rolled across his skin. Apparently the decision-making was up to him now. He was standing between a doctor and the mayor, and they were looking to him for guidance––the part-time gravedigger.

  Wonderful.

  After a moment of intensive thought, Arthur bundled his courage together with his logic, and said, “If we really think there’s nothing living inside those boxes, why bother looking? And if we think there is something living inside those boxes, we should probably drag the coffins outside. In all the stories I’ve heard, vampires hate sunlight. If you’re worried about what the people in the town will say, maybe you two gentlemen need a fresh perspective.

  “Doctor McCullagan, you’re the best doctor in Bleedington and probably the smartest man I know. And Mayor Scott, the people in this town love you and respect you. That’s why you’re the Mayor. Your jobs are safe. If the people ask why we’re looking inside the coffins, tell them the crazy lady that murdered your children told you she lived in one. How can anyone not understand us looking after hearing that? Tell them she was out-of-her-mind mad, and she thought she was a vampire. Then tell them the crypts are filled with bats and snakes, which they are. And we didn’t want to end up dying from a snake bite, or rabies. People will understand us checking the coffins and they’ll understand us bringing the coffins outside. Don’t you know that? Your children are dead, Doctor McCullagan. I’m sorry to say it so blunt, but it’s true. You have the sympathy of the entire town. Lord knows you have my sympathy, every last ounce of it.”

  He paused.

  Then he said, “As for these… “ He lifted the hammer and the stake. “Tell ‘em they were my idea. Tell them I wouldn’t walk you through the graveyard without them, being the nervous fool that I am.”

  Silence came.

  Arthur thought he said too much, and cursed himself for saying anything at all. He wished he were home in bed.

  Doctor McCullagan began to cry. Through his falling tears, he said, “Thank you, Arthur. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  Mayor Scott followed that up with, “You’re a smart man, Arthur. You’re thoughtful and considerate.”

  Arthur, who usually didn’t say much to men of such stature, was surprised by the compliments. Sounding embarrassed, he said, “Thank you.”

  The Mayor said, “No, thank you, Arthur. You’re a credit to this town, and after today I want you to work for me. Will you? You needn’t dig graves any longer, unless of course it’s what you like to do.”

  “Honest?”

  The Mayor nodded. “Honest. You’re a good man, a truthful man. You’re a smarter man than you realize. I’m not sure how I can use a man like you just yet, but I can employ you. That’s for sure. I can always employ a man of your quality.”

  Arthur didn’t know what to say.

  The three men walked towards the next crypt. Two of them were crying now, but for different reasons. Doctor McCullagan was crying because he was traumatized, Arthur McNeill was crying because he was absolutely astonished by the turn of events. This was the best day of his life.

  It was also his last.

  11

  They entered the next crypt. There were several bats on the ceiling and a pair of rats in the corner but no snakes. They lifted the coffin from its riser––Arthur on one end, Boyle and Bruce on the other. The coffin was heavy but they managed.

  Arthur wasn’t sure if the other men realized that he dropped the mallet and stake to lift his end, and he didn’t say anything because to him it seemed obvious. Once the box was outside he lifted his tools from the lawn and braced himself for war.

  Doctor McCullagan lifted the lid; the Mayor watched.

  The casket was home to a woman that looked like a dog’s chew toy.

  They hauled the coffin back inside the tomb and moved on.

  Searching the next crypt was a similar adventure. They hauled the box outside and found nothing but bones.

  Four crypts down, nine to go.

  They entered the fifth crypt.

  Doctor McCullagan took one look at the bats on the ceiling and the size of the coffin and said, “Forget it. Lets move on.”

  Boyle nodded.

  Standing at the tomb’s door, the gravedigger said, “Wait.”

  A shiver rolled down Doctor McCullagan spine. “Why? What is it?”

  “Something’s not right here.”

  “But Arthur,” Mayor Scott said, with a new level of respect in his voice. “The woman we’re hunting can’t fit inside the box. That’s a child’s box.”

  “Vampire,” Doctor McCullagan corrected. “Not woman, vampire. And yes, this casket is too small.”

  “But sir,” Arthur ventured bravely, speaking directly to Doctor McCu
llagan. “That’s what bothers me. Assuming there was a vampire in your house last night––”

  “There was.”

  “Yes, well, if that is true… and vampires do exist, there is no reason to assume that your vampire is the only one in Bleedington.”

  “Yes, but––”

  “And this coffin wasn’t here before.”

  The men became quiet. It was Boyle who broke the silence. He said, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this coffin shouldn’t be here. It’s new.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Sometimes, when it’s cold or rainy, I use the tombs for shelter. I’ve been inside all of the mausoleums. It takes a good while to dig a hole, especially in the winter. I’m sure you can understand. This is the first time I’ve seen a child’s casket inside this crypt.”

  Doctor McCullagan wore an expression that was hard to read, like he was analyzing ten different scenarios at once. Finally he said, “But why would somebody switch coffins? Are there other people involved here? Is this some type of strange conspiracy? Where did the other coffin go, and where did this one come from?”