Amy Cross - The Purchase

Bold seemed for a moment as if he might argue some more, but then he turned and left the room. He pulled the door shut, and a few seconds later there was the sound of a key being turned in a lock, before footsteps faded into the distance.

Garrett, watched by Peter, made his way around to the head of the table, and looked down at the face of the dead man. Then, slowly, he reached down and carefully opened the man’s mouth, before slipping his fingers inside and removing a gold coin. He then stepped over to the dead woman and did the same.

“What are those?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with fear.

“Do you know nothing, boy?” Garrett asked, as he examined the coins. “I suppose I should not be astonished by your heathen ignorance. Out here in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization, you are deeply under-educated in matters of the divine. It has long been said that the dead must buy purchase passage across the rivers that separate the world of the living from the world of the dead. They must each give a coin to the boatman, Charon, in order to pass. That is why such coins are sometimes placed in the mouths of those who are to be buried.”

“But…”

Peter hesitated.

“Then… why are you taking them out ?” he asked finally.

“You know who these two people are, do you not?”

Peter nodded.

“Thieves,” Garrett continued. “Murderers. Nobody would have spared a coin for either of them. Instead, their souls would have gone straight to the pits of Hell.” He paused. “But there are those who refuse to accept their fate. And if they are brave enough, and strong enough, they can descend into the darkest depths of Hell, and it is said that there they can find gold, with which to fashion their own coins. If they can then navigate the torturous path to the shore of the river Styx, they can use these coins to purchase passage in the other direction, passing from the land of the dead to the land of the living.”

Peter stepped toward the table, although after a moment he held back a little. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt fear in his heart.

“It is said,” Garrett continued, “that although he is bound to transport such souls, Charon is not bound to accept their payment. Often, he lets them keep their coins, so that they may use them once they return to this world.” He allowed himself a faint smile. “So that they may use them to purchase new bodies.”

A shiver ran through Peter’s chest.

“I first saw this, or something like it, during the war,” Garrett explained. “From that moment on, I knew that it would be my task to seek out these souls upon their return, and to aid them. For they do require aid, you see. They have been through so much. But are they not beautiful?” He reached down and gently stroked the hair on the woman’s head. “They were killed for their sins, but they refused to accept death. Is that not the greatest act of disobedience that any soul can perform? They must have gone through unspeakable horrors in Hell, in their search for the means to manufacture these coins, but they were determined to return to the land of the living. And now, with just a little help from me, they shall thrive again. My wife and I shall look after them, once I get them home.”

“I have to go now,” Peter said, turning to walk away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, terrified by the severity of Garrett’s tone.

“I am afraid,” Garrett continued, stepping up behind him, “that you are part of the deal I have struck with the people of Lordstown. They fear these bodies. They know there is something amiss with them. They accepted all my terms immediately.” He slipped a knife from his pocket. “They know that sacrifices must be made.”

“But—”

Suddenly Garrett grabbed Peter and pulled him back. Before the boy could struggle, the knife’s blade sliced straight across his throat, and Garrett held up a small cup to collect blood as it sprayed from the wound. The boy struggled violently, but only for a moment. He quickly weakened, and finally he hung limply in Garrett’s arms as more blood ran into the cup. The whole process was quick. Garrett knew what he was doing, he’d done it many times before, and the boy was soon dead.

Once he was done, Garrett dropped the boy’s corpse and headed back to the table, where he took a moment to pour the blood into the mouths of the two bodies.

“There,” he purred. “Just the first step, but soon you shall live again. I shall take you to my home and you shall be found two new bodies. The journey will take a few days, but you will surely be glad enough once we reach our destination. I truly believe that it is the Lord’s wish that I help you.” His eyes were burning with madness now. “As I have helped so many before you. In the name of the Lord, the great Satan.”

With that, he tossed the cup aside and hauled the dead man up, quickly carrying him out the rear door. He took him to where his horse and cart waited, and then he set the man on the back of the cart before going back to fetch the woman and placing her next to the man. Then he took the coins and set one in the man’s hand an one in the woman’s, to keep them safe during the journey. This was the first time he’d ever had two bodies to transport at once, but he

“I require no payment from you for my services,” he said as he secured the rear of the cart. “Save your coins. You shall need them soon. To purchase your new bodies.”

Turning, he headed around and prepared the horse, and then he led the animal and the cart out of the yard and toward the old road. The darkening sky threatened a great storm, and it had been said that the snow that year was worse than at any time in living memory. Still, Garrett felt certain that he could take a shortcut through some uncharted areas that would cut his journey time by up to a day. He did not notice his horse’s faint limp but, even if he had, he would not have changed his plan. His madness had been forged in the heart of war, but he felt certain that the Lord would protect him and guide him on his journey home as he set off with his precious cargo.

Ahead, gathering clouds portended a great snowstorm.

Today

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she saw something moving in the distance. Whatever it was, it appeared too fast to be a normal person, but its shape was not that of a horse and carriage. Some kind of vehicle was bumping toward the clearing, bearing the word POLICE on its side in large letters.

“How long were we gone?” the man asked, now inhabiting Chad Clark’s body.

She turned to him, and immediately she began to smile, although the smile felt unfamiliar. She was not yet used to the body that had once belonged to Catherine Chandler.

“My love,” she said, not quite recognizing her own new voice, “I do not know, but I think perhaps it is longer than we intended. Look at these clothes. Aren’t they unusual? What wondrous fibers are they made from?”

“I remember screams,” he replied, his eyes filled with wonder, “and pain, and—”

“I remember all of that too,” she said, reaching up and placing a finger against his lips to quieten him, “but it’s over now. We made it back.”

“I remember going to the shore of that river,” he continued. “I remember the man with the boat, and his face was like—”

“Not now,” she said, trying to calm him. “We must be careful. However long has passed, much has likely changed. But we have one another, and that’s all we need.” She placed her hands on the sides of his arm, as the police cruiser pulled up nearby. “And I don’t know about you,” she continued with a grin that was feeling more and more natural by the second, “but I’m very, very happy with these new bodies we have purchased. Now it’s time to get back to what we do best.”