Cemetery Closing

by Jeff Strand

  “Yes,” I said. “Very clearly.”

  “Percival left the map in the boat.”

  “Oh my God. Are you saying that you switched it with another map, and you have the real one?”

  “What? No. I did consider speeding off with it and leaving you men behind. I hope you don’t hate me for that.”

  “Nah, it’s cool.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I guess I probably would’ve hated you if you’d actually done it, but not for just thinking about it and ultimately making the right choice.”

  “I couldn’t abandon your nice firm ass.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “What I’m saying is that I looked over the map, and there was writing on the back. We’re not expected to just randomly search this entire pond. There was a clue.”

  “Hey!” Jasper called out. “Enough with the chatter! Keep searching!”

  Henrietta gave him the finger. “Bite me, psycho! He’s having a panic attack and I’m keeping him from completely losing it. If you’d like to take over, be my guest.”

  “Maybe you should be more polite than that,” I suggested.

  “They’re not going to kill your friend because they think he’s the only one who knows the map. And they’re not going to kill us because then they’d have to be in this horrible pond. So it’s perfectly safe to tell him to bite me. See? He hasn’t shot me yet. It’s fine.”

  “What was the clue?” I asked.

  “Search where the three frowns intersect.”

  “Got it. We need to find three frowny faces.”

  “If you find one, don’t make too big of a deal of it,” Henrietta told me. “If they find out that I know the map, Andrew will become much more expendable.”

  We split up and resumed our search of the perimeter. This time I ran my hands over the slime-coated ruins beneath the water, trying to find something that was carved in the shape of a face. I hoped the faces still existed. These ruins were in pretty bad shape. Yes, yes, I know that’s what ruins are, by definition—what I mean is that they could have deteriorated since the clue was written. If even one of the frowns was gone, we were boned.

  And I had to hope that “frowns” meant literal frowns on a face. I wasn’t in the mood to try to figure out multi-layered riddles right now.

  So much slime and gook. But at least it distracted me from thoughts of parasites and caiman.

  There was really nothing on the perimeter of these ruins to hint that I might find carvings anywhere. It was pretty straightforward stone wall stuff. We might not find anything until we swam into the deeper water.

  Wait. What was this?

  I tried to wipe off the underwater slime.

  The stone protruded in what might have been some sort of decoration. Or it could be hardened slime. Even if I had goggles, the water was far too murky to see anything, so I’d have to go by feel.

  Was this a nose? It might have been a nose.

  Above the nose, there was an indention that would be in the correct place for a right eye, and just a couple of inches over, there was one that could have been a left eye.

  No ears. But as I slid my fingers down...maybe a mouth?

  If it was a mouth, it was frowning. I didn’t blame it for its negative emotion.

  Okay, if this was indeed what we were looking for, we were now in much better shape than we were before I sensuously ran my fingers over a slime-ridden frown. And if we were looking for an intersection between three of them, the faces would have to be on the inside surface of the perimeter, not the outside, so that would cut our searching time in half.

  Awesome. I walked the perimeter, running my hand along the stone, resisting the urge to shout “Victory!” at Henrietta. Now that I had an idea of what I was looking for, I could move more quickly, so I caught up to her.

  I subtly pointed to the spot where I found the face. “There’s one over there. It’s a carving of a face that sticks out maybe an inch.”

  Henrietta quietly thanked me and we searched the rest of the inside of the perimeter. Only the one face, as far as we could tell. Which meant that now we got to experience the fun of going deeper into the pond.

  Things I did not particularly want to do: Go deeper into the pond.

  Things I did not have a choice about doing: Go deeper into the pond.

  Henrietta and I gave each other a look of shared misery, and then we walked toward the center of the pond. Hopes that maybe the pond stayed shallow went away quickly. We weren’t even close to the next visible part of the ruins before the water was over our heads and we had to swim.

  I hope I have made it clear that this was not a beautiful, relaxing pond. Maybe I should’ve been using the word “pit.” I had my lips tightly closed to ensure that nothing passed through them while I swam, and I assumed that a plethora of parasites were circling every body cavity. If there wasn’t some ancient creature lurking in the depths to wreak vengeance upon those who awakened it from its slumber, I’d have been very surprised.

  Henrietta spat out a mouthful of water as she swam, so I figured that was goodbye for her.

  Finally, we reached an exposed piece of stone. I assumed that this had to have been some sort of structure at one time, but now it really just seemed to be random large pieces, as if a stone building had been knocked out by a wrecking ball.

  “Holy shit,” said Henrietta. “Look.”

  It was, to my immense relief, a good “Holy shit.” Not too far from us we could see a face carved into a large protruding piece of stone. While I would call it more of a scowl than a frown, this was obviously what we were looking for.

  So we’d found two of the three. Not bad at all, if I do say so myself, and Andrew never said I couldn’t offer up self-praise when I was writing this.

  We began to search.

  And continued to search.

  And searched some more.

  And more. And more. And more.

  I’m not going to say that it was hours, but it felt like hours. Every once in a while Jasper would scream at us, and Henrietta would give him a rude status update, asking him how easy it would be for him to swim around here searching for a key. To his credit, Jasper seemed to accept that finding a single key in the middle of a pond was a ridiculously difficult task. I doubted he’d be quite as understanding if he knew that we were searching for a face, which was much larger than a key.

  “I feel like we’ve covered every inch of surface area,” I said. “Do you think we could just use the other two faces as the clue?”

  “You need three points to triangulate,” said Henrietta. “That’s why they named it after a triangle.”

  “Right, but we could at least narrow down the search area.”

  “You’re welcome to try. I’m going to keep looking for the third frown.”

  “What the hell is going on out there?” Jasper shouted for the eighth or ninth time.

  “If you’re so impatient, send your men out here to help!” Henrietta shouted back.

  The men discussed something. Ernest looked like he was protesting. And then he began to wade into the pond.

  “I’m glad he’s sending the less psychotic one,” said Henrietta. “Don’t tell him about the face.”

  Ernest swam out to us, but he clearly was not an accomplished swimmer, so Henrietta and I continued to search while we waited for him to join us. Finally he wrapped both of his arms around a chunk of the ruins and tried to catch his breath.

  “You didn’t swallow any of the water, did you?” asked Henrietta.

  “Shut up.”

  “If you did, you’ll want a stomach transplant as soon as possible, before the lifeform that’s growing inside your tummy tries to find the fastest way out.”

  Ernest didn’t say anything else. This would’ve been a good opportunity to try to do a hostage exchange, except that having him swim out here made it even more clear that “Jasper doesn’t care about the safety of his men” was accurate.

  “Where would y
ou like to start searching?” I asked.

  “Just let me catch my breath!” said Ernest.

  “I apologize. I thought you’d already done that.”

  “Screw you.”

  “I wasn’t being insulting,” I insisted, even though I had indeed been getting in a dig at how long it was taking him to recover from the swim.

  Ernest let go of the stone and swam into the direct center of the pond.

  Then he went completely underwater.

  Henrietta and I stared at the spot for a moment.

  “I’m not sure he’s coming back up,” she said.

  “Should we do something?” I asked.

  “It would mean one less bad guy to deal with.”

  “But Jasper might take it out on Andrew.”

  “Yeah,” said Henrietta, “I suppose you should probably try to save him.”

  “You’re the better swimmer.”

  “I’m less emotionally invested in the outcome.”

  Since Ernest was currently drowning, this wasn’t the kind of conversation where we could go back and forth for a few minutes, debating the pros and cons of which one of us should attempt the rescue. I swam out to where he’d gone under.

  Something grabbed my foot.

  I had a split second where I was deeply concerned that this might not have been Ernest grabbing me, but then my rational mind returned.

  And then Ernest pulled me under the water with him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thanks, Roger, for sharing what happened while I was stuck standing around with Jasper and Steve. I’d suspected that Roger and Henrietta were working out some kind of scheme, but I obviously never guessed that she’d studied the map and had more information than I did. Good for her.

  Roger cried out as he went beneath the surface. It happened quickly, like he’d been pulled under.

  I immediately hurried into the pond.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jasper demanded.

  “Saving my friend!”

  “Get back here!”

  “I’m not going to let him die!” I was semi-sure they wouldn’t shoot me for rushing off to try to rescue him. If I’d taken a second or two to review the situation before acting, I might have been less optimistic about my chances of not getting shot, but that second or two could be crucial and I was already moving.

  Once I was out past my knees, I dove into the foul water and swam.

  Nobody tried to shoot me.

  When I made it out to the center of the pond, I couldn’t see anybody. Then Henrietta emerged, spat out some water, and said “I couldn’t get him!”

  I went under. I didn’t bother to open my eyes, but I swam around, hoping to collide with him. No luck. I touched the bottom, which was maybe twelve feet down, and swam until I had to come up for air. Roger had gone under long before I got there. If I couldn’t hold my breath any more, what shape was he in? I had to assume the worst.

  When I opened my eyes, there he was, swimming toward one of the exposed parts of the ruins, pulling an unmoving Ernest behind him.

  He made it to a large enough section of rock that he could pull Ernest out of the water onto it. Henrietta was already there to help. As I swam over, she called out “He’s not breathing!” to Jasper and Steve, then began to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  I patted Roger on the shoulder to show him that I was glad that he hadn’t drowned.

  She blew into Ernest’s mouth twice, without pinching his nose closed. Then she began to do chest compressions, pushing in the incorrect spot.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it looks like I’m trying, right?”

  “From where they’re standing, I’m sure it does.”

  “You’ll notice that I’m resisting the urge to beat the shit out of him.”

  She blew into his mouth twice more. Since his mouth was covered with pond goo, I had to admire her commitment to the illusion of trying to save him.

  “You’re not going to give me any crap about him being a human being who deserves a chance, are you?” she asked, returning to the chest compressions.

  “Nope.” I wiped some slime away from his wrist and checked for a pulse. Nothing. I checked his neck as well. No pulse that I could find. “I think he’s dead.”

  “Does that make me a necrophile for having kissed him?”

  “It definitely doesn’t.”

  “Pity.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Roger. “Try to Weekend at Bernie’s him?”

  “I think we should try to lure one of them out here,” I said. “Steve won’t swim with his gun, so it’ll be three against one. We can take him.”

  “Why wouldn’t he swim with his gun?” Henrietta asked.

  “It wouldn’t be safe to shoot.”

  “Sure it would. It’s not going to blow up in his hand. He could shoot it underwater if he wanted.”

  “Okay, then what if the three of us go after him while he’s swimming? He can’t shoot accurately while the water’s over his head. We’ll wait for him to get close, then attack.”

  “What the hell is happening out there?” Jasper called out.

  “I think he’s going to be okay!” I shouted. “But we’ll need your help getting him back to shore!”

  Jasper and Steve looked at each other.

  “There are three of you,” said Jasper. “You can get him back.”

  “It’s hard to swim in this muck,” I told him. “The more people helping, the more chance we have of saving his life!”

  “Get him back here or we start shooting,” Jasper warned us. His reluctance to cooperate with our plan didn’t surprise me.

  “This may be our only chance to escape,” said Henrietta. “Are you boys prepared to make a run for it?”

  “I am,” I said. Roger nodded.

  “We might get shot at while we swim,” said Henrietta. “They have more distance to cover, but they’ll be running faster around the pond than we can swim through it, so we’ll need to move as fast as we possibly can, and accept that one or more of us might take a bullet in the process. Do we all accept that risk?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Uh-huh,” Roger said.

  “If we make it out of the pond alive, it then becomes a chase through the forest. They’ll be less tired than we are. They’ll also have machetes to help clear a path. So the advantage is unquestionably theirs, and if they get close enough to shoot us in the back, it’s all over. I think we can fairly say that at least one of us is going to die in the process of making this escape. Maybe two of us. Are we okay with that?”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “Nope,” Roger said.

  “Then what should we do?” Henrietta asked. “This may be our only chance. We know perfectly well that if we do somehow find the treasure, they’ll shoot all three of us.”

  “I should clarify,” I said. “I’m not okay with one or two of us dying, but I’m also not as pessimistic about our chances if we make a swim for it and then a run for it. I think we can make it.”

  “I agree,” said Roger.

  “Then when should we go?” Henrietta asked.

  “Before they suspect anything.”

  Ernest opened his eyes.

  Water trickled from the sides of his mouth.

  Then he grabbed Henrietta by the throat.

  She slammed his head down upon a jagged chunk of the stone. His arm flopped back down.

  “They may suspect something now,” she said.

  We began to vigorously swim toward the opposite shore. It wasn’t that far. We could beat them there—I was sure of it.

  A gunshot rang out and some pond water splashed into my face.

  “Don’t shoot them, dipshit!” I heard Jasper shout.

  I was suddenly less sure that we could beat them there. This had been a reckless idea. Yes, it was a fair assumption that if we found the treas
ure we’d get in maybe six seconds of celebration before the executions began, but still, there had to be a better escape option than this.

  All three of us were doing a good job swimming, though. No slackers in the group. I had no idea how close Jasper and Steve were, since I couldn’t hear them over our splashing and didn’t think it was an intelligent idea to pause to check up on their progress.

  We reached the outer perimeter of the ruins. The water wasn’t over our heads anymore, but we kept swimming to maintain our speed.

  We might make it.

  It would be so freaking awesome if we weren’t captives any more. I would be oh-so very happy about that. It would totally make my day.

  Roger was the first one out of the pond. Henrietta followed. I stood up and hurried out after them.

  Another gunshot.

  Henrietta cried out and fell to the ground, clutching her leg.

  Roger and I both stopped. We couldn’t just leave her. Not only would it be a dick move after she’d crept into the village to keep us from getting devoured, but we’d get shot as well, since Jasper and Steve were basically right here now.

  Well, shit.

  Henrietta had been shot in the upper left thigh. I couldn’t see how bad the wound was, but there was blood trickling between her fingers.

  “That was really stupid,” said Jasper. “Monumentally stupid. Astronomically stupid.” He looked over at Steve. “Shoot that bitch in the head so we don’t have to listen to her whimpering.”

  Steve grinned, then walked over to Henrietta and pointed his gun at her face. “Is this scary?” he asked. “How does it feel to know you’ve got three seconds left to live? It’s okay if you want to cry.”

  “Don’t taunt her, just shoot her,” said Jasper.

  “She’s seen the back of the map,” said Roger.

  Henrietta nodded. “It’s true. There are clues.”

  “Really?” asked Jasper. “Are you sure that’s not just a big ol’ heaping pile of steaming bullshit?”

  “We weren’t just looking for a key,” said Henrietta, speaking through clenched teeth. “There was a clue on the back. It was about faces.”

  “And this clue was…?” asked Jasper.

  “Faces. That’s all you get. I’ll point you to where one of them is so you can see for yourself.”