A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events (8 page)

“
They all scrambled
through the water, waving whatever limbs were still connected to
them while trying to stay afloat. Like a fish without a fin, boy.
You know what that’s like?” The military man neared closer to Clint
and Clint instinctively slunk back toward his driver’s side window,
considering, despite the deliberations at the attendant’s stand,
jumping right out of the hearse and getting on his way. “The water
wasn’t even blue. All around us it was red. Red with blood. If I’d
ever seen hell on earth, it was in that moment. It was in that
moment.” And finally the man backed and looked away.

Clint’s chest heaved as he
searched for a breath. It was as if the heaviness of the man’s
story sucked the oxygen right out of the sky, leaving Clint
desperate for air. Then, without warning, the man opened the door
to the hearse and stepped out, closing it behind him with a
conclusive slam. Clint could only stare to the space where the old
military man was, chest heaving as oxygen suddenly started to fill
his lungs. Sweat beaded at his head and he slowly sat up, looking
into his passenger side mirror to see if he could observe where the
man was headed, but by then, he was already gone.

In his peripheral, Clint
saw the parking lights of the lead car in front of him turn off and
he quickly composed himself before following it as the car began to
move into the cemetery. Clint did all he could and talked it out.
Instead of talking to himself, however, Clint seemed to begin a
therapeutic conversation with his only remaining
passenger.

“
That
was insane? Did that just happen?” Clint shouted, looking into the
passenger mirror again. “That did
not
just happen.” He shook his head,
letting out a long breath. “That guy just got into the car and
started talking about all of that stuff. That’s insane. Absolutely
crazy.” Clint wiped at his forehead as the lead car took a slight
right to a set of newer plots. Clint thought he could see the
funeral site a short distance away. “And then he just got right
out? Who does that? I can’t believe that!” Still, in disbelief, the
lead car arrived and Clint parked himself right behind
it.

The family members
filtered out of the cars one by one, filling the seats of an area
beneath a large lawn canopy. Clint watched intently as people
arranged themselves in the seating area, looking for the individual
who’d shared the morbid story with him. As Clint watched, many men
in uniform exited the vehicles, but none of them appeared to be the
man that spoke to him. Clint looked through the rear view again to
see if anyone else was coming, but it seemed that the majority of
the group, if not all of them, were already out and seated. Clint
sat back in his seat, expecting only at this point that he had
missed the individual while looking for him. It seemed plausible,
with so many other old men in the same uniform. He took a deep
breath, releasing it in a burst of shock as the hatch behind him
shot open.

Clint jumped in a near
scream and looked back behind him. Three middle-aged men and a
young teenage boy stood in the midst of the casket, all inspired to
look toward Clint with a bit of surprise at his
reaction.

The teenager, the one that
would be less inhibited, asked aloud, “Everything alright, Mister?”
And he quirked a brow to accompany the question.

Once Clint’s shaken heart
settled, he nodded furiously. “Y-Yes. I’m fine. Here to take
it?”

The group looked between
each other. They nodded and one of them asked. “You know how to
unlock it?”

Clint thought quickly over
what he was taught about it. The pins. He opened the driver’s side
door and went around to the back. He slipped within the group and
released the pins that kept the whole thing situated. A moment
later, with absolute delicacy, the group gripped the sturdy bars on
the side of the casket and hoisted it out of the hearse.

Clint admired the large
American flag that draped over the casket. While not superstitious
(though today had rattled him some), Clint was a proud American,
respectful of the sacrifices made for his freedom. He didn’t know
anything about World War II other than what he’d been taught in
school. Clint didn’t think about the individual stories or the
impact that it made on people at a personal level. Everything was
taught in a generic survey, broad and ideological, influenced and
cliché. It was about then that the story the man shared with him in
the hearse a few minutes prior began to sink in.

Clint leaned back against
the side of his car, watching as the casket was carried toward the
funeral site and eventually placed on a large stand. Clint thought
about what the man had said. The screams of his “friends and
brothers.” The “blood-stained ocean.” The Germans and their
torpedoes. The absolute fear something like that might have
encouraged. Clint realized only then that he’d never thought about
the wars from history class quite like that. He’d always thought of
warring nations, political heads and speeches, great battles both
won and lost... but never of the people in them, making each bit of
it happen. None of the defining moments in any war happened without
the individuals sacrificing themselves to ensure it was even
possible. People that pressed on after losing friends. People that
could keep their head up or maintain some semblance of morale
against the odds. As the preacher began the funeral ceremony, Clint
looked back up to the site and the backs of the heads of what might
have been a hundred or so people. It was about then that Clint
recognized the man he’d seen before. The man, however, was not
seated like the others.

Clint took a few careful
steps forward on the hallowed ground, narrowing his eyes on the
picture placed aside the casket. The stand was certainly the same
as the one he’d seen in the funeral home, absent of a picture
before, but now it rested adorned with the image of a proud
military man, ribbons and awards to his shoulder, bearing of an
officer’s insignia and the same, white cold eyes of the man he’d
seen before. The look was unmistakable. The look was that of a man
that had seen “hell on earth.” The man in the picture was the man
that came to see him, or some terribly accurate form of an
identical twin. The rank, prestige and the
look
made anything other than the
man in the photo being him seem almost impossible, and certainly
highly improbable. But, as Clint’s mind dove into dark regress,
there was no explanation for a dead man entering his car, sharing a
story with him, and leaving immediately either.

Clint moved a few steps
closer, hoping that the image would morph from the obscurity
suggested by his mind to a clarity demanded only by his eyes.
Instead, his eyes and mind were made to agree with the closing of
the distance between himself and the unmistakable photograph of the
military man. With that, Clint turned around and got back into his
hearse, which was now the place of both perpetration and safety.
Muddled up and confused, Clint’s head fell to the steering wheel
and stayed there as his mind made every effort to reason out
superstition, ridiculousness and accept, truly, the impossibility
of what he’d considered: The man he carried in the casket was the
same man that sat beside him, upright, in the passenger seat of the
hearse. Unable to believe that such a thing could happen and after
some time to allow his nerves to settle, he thought that there must
have been an explanation, however unusual it might have been. It
was the only reason. For the sake of his sanity, it was all that he
would accept.

In time, dust and flowers,
the earth and its fruit, laid quiet and dead upon the casket.
People began to leave the area and soon enough the funeral ceremony
was over. The man was the earth’s now, to have done with him
whatever it willed. Clint returned to the funeral home when the
time came and met with Marie in her office, as he was instructed to
do when the funeral was completed.

A light knock and Clint
stepped into Marie’s office. “I’m finished, Marie.”

Marie looked up from her
paperwork with a broad smile. “Oh, good! Well, how was it? Not as
bad as you thought, right?”

Clint didn’t quite know
how to answer the question. The procession and the funeral ceremony
went well. Not everything went as planned. Without offering much
information, Clint asked, “The man that died. Did he have... a
brother? A twin, maybe?” Clint hoped Marie would be able to settle
the dispute.

Marie thought about it for
a moment. She shrugged. “Well, I don’t know for sure, Clint. I met
with his family. None of them appeared to be a twin of his. That’s
an interesting question. Why do you ask?” Marie sorted the papers
in her hand into a single stack, holding them upright as she waited
for his answer.

“
There... I met someone
there that looked just like him. I was just curious.” Clint said a
bit sheepishly this time. He understood that he might have been
coming off a little odd and the last thing he wanted to do was get
his new employer thinking that he wasn’t all there.

Marie laughed, setting the
paperwork off to the side. “Clint. It was a military funeral.
You’re going to see your share of these. They all wear the same
uniform. I can’t tell you how many times I’d confused one of them
with another one. It’s alright. Listen, all you need to do is focus
on the transport and the procession, alright? Don’t bother yourself
with anything else. People may want to come and talk to you, but
you’re not expected to do anything other than what we’ve outlined,
alright?” Marie continued with what appeared to be her normal,
reassuring tone.

Clint debated the idea for
a moment again in his mind and resolved to a quick, affirming nod.
“Alright. Yeah, it was interesting. Thanks for the opportunity,
Marie.” And he stepped back, preparing to leave.

Marie called out with a
wave of her hand to catch his attention. “Clint! You’re forgetting
something.” And she lifted an envelope with his name on
it.

Clint walked back in and
accepted the envelope, donning a perplexed look upon his face.
“What’s this?”

“
Your payment! You did
well. I’m sure you’ll be happy with it. So, two days from now we’ll
need you again. This one won’t be a military affair, so things will
likely be a little less tense.” And she sat and smiled his
way.

Clint looked down to the
envelope, then back to her. Despite being a little spooked, the
paycheck in hand, especially one given right after the job, enticed
him. “Thanks. I’ll be here.” And he smiled in return before turning
and stepping out the door of the office.

That night Clint and
Kaylie met at the library, as they often did. Each one perused the
internet, though Kaylie was much more interested in what it had to
offer than Clint was. Clint, despite the mindless navigation
through the electronic madness, was especially thoughtful
concerning what had happened during the funeral procession. It was
Kaylie that would finally strike up the conversation concerning it.
It was odd to Clint that she had waited even that long to talk
about his new job.

“
So?” She asked,
ambiguously.

Clint looked her way for a
moment, then back to the screen. His eyes finally focused on the
page in front of him. Nutritional information on a McDonald’s Big
Mac. “You know a Big Mac has 590 calories?” He shot back, knowing
it wasn’t what she was asking.

“
Wonderful.” She
responded, both unamused and sarcastic. “How did today go? You’re
still alive. I guess that means the guy you were transporting
around wasn’t a brain-eating zombie.” And she chuckled to that,
swinging the mouse off to the right on the desk.

Clint thought about what
she said. He agreed. He was happy, at least, he wasn’t transporting
a brain-eating zombie. But, what exactly happened still was a
mystery to him and it was a troubling one. He was quiet.

Kaylie stopped with the
browsing and turned to face him, showing an ounce of concern. “Is
everything alright?” Unsure about what she had said now.

Clint nodded. “Yeah.”
Trying to seem composed. “Yeah, it was alright.”

Kaylie cocked her head
slightly to the side. “It was alright? Is that it?”
Persistently.

Clint began to look a bit
annoyed. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. It was nothing
glamorous. I put a dead body in my car, drove it to a funeral and
dropped it off.”

Kaylie nodded slowly, her
eyes wide with curiosity. It was obvious to her, having been a
friend of Clint’s for so long, that there was more to the story
than he was letting on. So, despite his annoyance and for the
taming of her curiosity, she continued to push.

“
Did you have to talk with
anyone?” Which she would have thought would have been the most
nerve-racking possibility. And, with her guess, she had managed to
draw a look from Clint so condemning that now, regardless of what
had happened, the tale would be shared, and in the vivid detail
Kaylie often pursued.

“
Well...” Clint delayed.
He thought of how to say it without sounding ridiculous. “I was
pulling into the cemetery with the body loaded in the
back.”

To the “body in the back”
statement, Kaylie shuddered, already creeped out by the idea of
having to do such a thing. At the same time, as people often were,
she was fascinated by the idea, too.