Amy Cross - The Purchase

Levant thought of this image for a moment longer. It was childish, he told himself, and utterly uninteresting from an academic standpoint. Nevertheless, he had to concede that such concepts appeared in the mythologies of numerous cultures. From Ancient Greece and Rome to various sites all across northern Europe, Charon’s obol was a common enough idea, although in most cases the coin was placed in the dead person’s mouth rather than in their hand. Had he, he wondered, stumbled upon some variant that had played out in the American mid-west during the nineteenth century? Had these primitive superstitions seemed important to someone in that remote cabin?

“A coin for the ferryman,” he said yet again. “For the journey to the land of the dead.”

“Are you sure about this?” Muriel said as she stopped at her van and turned. “You’ll be freezing.”

“I’ve got blankets in my car,” Chandler said, traipsing after her across the muddy clearing. “I’ll be fine. And I really don’t want to waste two hours going back to town tonight, and another two hours coming here in the morning.”

“You don’t have anything to prove, you know. You’re already top of the class and all that jazz.”

“I want to work.”

“You mean you want to impress your parents.”

“This is professional,” Chandler replied, clearly a little irritated at the – quite common – suggestion that she was motivated by a desire to obtain her parents’ approval. “I want to figure this site out. I want to know what happened here.”

“But…”

Muriel hesitated, and then she sighed. The sun was setting now, casting long shadows that reached from the tree-line almost all the way to the cabin itself, and the air temperature was noticeably much lower than it had been during the day. At the same time, she knew there was no point arguing with Catherine Chandler, who’d always had a habit of being headstrong, usually at the most inopportune moments.

“I’ll be fine,” Chandler said again. “There are still a few things I want to get done tonight. And time’s money, remember?”

“Sure, but…”

“But what?”

For a few seconds, Muriel seemed reluctant to say any more, but then she looked past Chandler and stared at the cabin.

“Won’t it be kind of spooky up here?” she said finally. “Alone, I mean? At night?”

“Come on,” Chandler said with a smile, “don’t be ridiculous.”

“I mean it! It’s just gonna be you and four dead people. I know you want to prove that you’re the most dedicated student in the world, but you’re taking this too far. It’s not right for you to be all alone out here. Come back with the rest of us, we’ll all get a drink in a bar somewhere in town, and then tomorrow—”

“I’m going to be fine,” Chandler said firmly, interrupting her, “and besides, don’t you think I’m a little old to be scared of the dark? Anyway, you’re welcome to stay with me. It could be fun.”

“Hell, no,” Muriel replied. “I’m going back to town for a nice hot bath and a nice long drink.” She paused for a moment. “For some of us, this shit’s just a job. A fascinating one, but a job nonetheless. We know when to leave the work behind for a few hours.” She patted Chandler on the side of the arm. “See you bright and early in the morning.”

Chandler smiled and took a step back, and then she watched as Muriel climbed into the van and slid the door shut. And now, as the van’s engine started and her fellow students prepared to leave the site, Chandler had to admit that she felt just the faintest tinge of discomfort. She told herself that she was being stupid, of course, but she really had to force herself to look cheery as the van drove off. Waving and smiling, she watched until the van was out of sight, and then she listened to the sound of the engine fading into the distance, and then her smile disappeared as she found herself standing all alone in a muddy clearing at sundown.

“I’ll be fine,” she said yet again, this time to remind herself. And to cheer herself up a little. “I’ve got work to do.”

A portable light stood propped on the table in the cabin, casting a bright white glow across the room. Night had properly drawn in now. Chandler remained on her knees next to the chair and continued her examination of Garrett’s body.

“You were quite a long way from home, weren’t you?” she said as she carefully removed a Lordstown ceremonial medal from one of his pockets. “A long way from any recognized road or trail, too. Whatever brought you to this place, huh?”

She glanced up at the dead face.

“My father would have a field day with you,” she continued. “You’re just the kind of puzzle he’d enjoy.”

She peered at the medal for a moment, but she’d seen one like it before. Her theory about Garrett’s war wounds seemed to be correct, and she saw now that he’d been honored by his town upon his return from the battlefields. This made her think that he must, once, have been a noted figure in his community, someone who was looked up to by the people in his town. She didn’t have the right equipment with her at that moment, but she was starting to think that a search of the historical records might well yield some information about this Mr. Garrett, and she liked the idea of perhaps discovering more about his life. And, of course, about how he’d ended up dead on a chair in a remote cabin out in the middle of nowhere.

“Robbery my ass,” she muttered. “So much for—”

Hearing a faint clicking sound in the distance, she turned and looked over her shoulder. The glow from the portable light was almost blinding, making it impossible for her to see much other than the sight of the well-lit cabin reflected in the window. The exception to that was the single broken pane, which showed a view of utter darkness outside.

Listening for a moment, Chandler realized she could now hear nothing but silence. And if she was honest, it was the silence that had really troubled her in the hours since her fellow students had left. The whole area around the cabin seemed utterly devoid of any wildlife, and she’d heard not even so much as birdsong. She had no idea why animals would steer clear of such a large area, although she kept telling herself that there was no reason to worry, that she was probably just over-thinking something that was completely normal.

Still, that clicking sound had been very real, and she was suddenly very aware that she was miles and miles from civilization.

Grabbing her phone, she saw that she had 25% battery remaining and barely a single bar of coverage. She was tempted for a moment to call home, just to hear her father’s voice and to get some reassurance, but then she told herself to grow up a little and to stay focused on the task at hand. She still pulled up some photos, however, and she scrolled through shots of her family in the garden during the previous summer. Soon she’d be back with them, and she couldn’t wait to explain all about her work in the cabin. Soon she’d prove to both her father and her mother that she had what it took to follow in their footsteps.

She allowed herself a brief smile.

Setting the phone back down, she began to turn to Garrett again, only to then hear a bumping sound against the cabin’s exterior wall.

She immediately got to her feet and look over at the closed door. She told herself not to worry, but she also had to admit that her heart was racing. Were there wolves in the area? Bears? Was there maybe a jail somewhere, with bad security? Did random murderous hobos hang around in the forest? All these fears rushed through her mind, but after a moment she told herself that she had to nip this panic in the bud. She took a deep breath, and then she stepped around Garrett’s chair and made her way over to the door.