Therewas a thump from behind the van, and something big and dark moved into viewfrom behind its open rear doors. Tensing, Mark lifted the gun—then lowered itas he saw the man step into view, clutching something big and dark above hisright shoulder.
“DidConstance send you?” Mark asked him, but the man didn’t reply. If he nodded, itwas hard to tell, as his head and torso were crooked under the case’s weight.As he approached, he showed no signs of strain or even discomfort, nor evenmade any sounds of labored breathing; Mark could only hear the soft thumps andcrunches of the man’s feet on the dead grass and leaves. He stopped directly infront of Mark, then waited.
“Oh,uh—” Mark unconvincingly tried to tuck the gun behind his leg; but if the manhad seen it, he didn’t seem bothered. “Just follow me,” Mark said, turning tofind Chad waiting in the doorway, one arm out of view, no doubt holding theshotgun. Mark shook his head and started walking around the house, and he heardthe man follow him.
Thebackyard was a pool of shadows crowded by a tight ring of trees. The propertywas never something that Mark or Chad had invested much time or money in; evenduring the day it was dark and foreboding, choked with weeds and shrubs and theoccasional yard pest. The lack of care had been a big price cut on theproperty, along with the realtor’s allegation that the house itself washaunted; it had been the perfect place for Mark and Chad to set up theirbusiness.
Marknodded to the sloped cellar doors. “Right over here.” He glanced sheepishly atthe man, but couldn’t make out much more than his shape in the dark, crookedlycrowned by the case. Praying he didn’t accidentally shoot his foot off, Marktwisted and shoved the revolver into his pocket. He reached for the short,heavy chain that had been threaded through the handles on the cellar doors andundid the combination lock, then pulled the chain out with a noisy jangle. Ashe did, a hairline of pale light appeared between the doors and around theiredges, and muffled thumps rose from within. The left door thumped, then poppedopen, swinging up with a rusty squeal. Chad appeared, silhouetted by the lightsfrom the basement. He looked to the man and frowned, then back at Mark, whooffered a slight shrug in response, then pulled the other door open, and theman stepped forward and carefully descended the concrete stairs.
Marklet out a heavy breath, looked around, then followed him down.
Chadwas directing the man to a long, empty table; he wordlessly moved beside it,and at Chad’s order, crouched beside it and half-slid, half-shrugged the caseonto its surface. Under the fluorescent bulbs set along the middle of theceiling, Mark could see that the case was made of dark wood, its surface amottled blend of sheens and worn, water- and dirt-stained blemishes. Heinstantly recognized the blackened metal handles on its sides and its archedupper surface, although its size was curiously small.
Itwas a child’s coffin.
“Uh…”Mark said, and beside him, the man straightened and turned to him. “This— Thisis it? This is from Constance?” Mark expected silence in response, and thatwas exactly what he got.
Mark’shand moved alongside the gun as he watched the man reached inside his jacketpocket, but he relaxed when a thick envelope appeared. The man silently held itout, and Mark gingerly took it from him. “Thanks.” It was all he could thinkto say.
Theman didn’t nod, didn’t smile; he simply turned and walked back to the stairway.
Markand Chad exchanged another look, then followed him up the stairs, back alongthe house and stopped as the man returned to the minivan. They watched himclimb inside and reverse down their driveway. Then he was gone.
* * *
“Wannatell me what the actual fuck that was?” Chad said.
Markshook his head, puffing his cheeks out as he looked down at the coffin. “I knowas much as you do.”
“Howmuch is in there?” Chad said, and Mark realized that he was still clutching theenvelope in his hand. “That is money in there, right?”
Markwas briefly nauseous as he lifted the metal fasteners on the top of theenvelope and pulled it open, then sighed with a slight chuckle as he saw thesandwiched lines of greenish-grey inside. “Whoo, yeah it is.” Hefrowned, lifted the envelope closer, and saw a folded white sheet inside, aswell.
“Howmuch?” Chad repeated.
“Holdon,” Mark said, pulling the paper out and unfolding it. Chad snatched theenvelope from his hand, and Mark glared at him, then began to read the typedletter.
“Ho, lee, shit,” Chad said, leafing throughthe wad of bills he’d removed from the envelope. “There’s gotta be…” He begancounting, but Mark didn’t look up, wasn’t even listening, as he read theletter.
Hello,boys.
Aspromised, here is your resourcecommandée. I do think you’ll find it rather perfectly meets the requirementsof your methods, (Mark, hadn’t you said something about “quality and quantity?”),and I think that it shall more than adequately provide the desired effects. Butof course, please don’t hesitate to reach me if there are any problems withit—I would be happy to provide a different resource for your fascinatingproduction.
Sincerely,
Constance
Markdidn’t move, didn’t even lower the letter; instead, his eyes darted up over itsedge to glance at the coffin on the table.
“Didyou hear—?” Chad fell silent as he looked at Mark. “What?”
“I’m…notsure if I like the sound of this.”
“Why?”
Markhanded him the letter and waited while he read it. When he was done, he wasfrowning, too, and they both turned to the coffin.
“Sowhat’s in there?” Chad asked.
“Well,we’re about to find out.” Mark approached a cabinet on the wall nearby and startedpulling down gloves, face masks, and tools. He and Chad geared up, then set towork opening the coffin. It was unmarked, but it looked a bit like one thatthey’d unearthed several months before from a Westport, Rhode Island housewhich had dated back to the 1870’s; so if this was even remotely similar, itwould be easy enough to open.
AsMark tapped a chisel and hammer along the dirt-lined seam of the coffin’s lid,Chad wheeled over a large, re-purposed aquarium tank on a small cart.
Aseries of ticks and creaks came from the coffin
