Page 67
Story: Middle of the Night
Seeing those words etched into the slab and knowing a corpse rests just behind it fills Ethan with a deep sense of dread. So does the fact that still more lie hidden behind the three other slabs, which Billy and Russ are straining to read. They bump into him as they move about the mausoleum, reminding Ethan how small the space is. About the same size as the first-floor powder room in his house, which isn’t very big at all.
He notices other things, too. How water has gathered in a corner, dirty and stagnant. How a single dried rose petal floats atop the puddle like a boat adrift. How the smell gets worse the farther back he goes. A sickly combination of mildew and dust. How at the back wall,the light coming through the gate doesn’t even reach him. It’s nothing but shadow there.
To make matters worse, a tortured groan rises behind them, snapping Ethan to attention. He whirls around, gaze skimming the marble floor, where the shadows of the gate’s bars start to stretch.
Beyond the bars is Ragesh, silhouetted by the sun as he slams the gate shut. It rattles from the force, raining down bits of rust and flecks of iron. The gate’s still trembling as Ragesh pushes downward on the latch, which hits the cradle with a dull clang.
He’s just locked them inside.
Ethan rushes to the gate. He grips the bars and pushes, growing alarmed when they don’t budge. Panicked, he looks outside to Ashley, only slightly relieved to see that she’s already on the case. Stalking toward Ragesh, she wears an expression of pure fury.
“Hey, asshole,” she says. “Stop being a complete dick for once in your life.”
“I’m just messing with them a little,” Ragesh says.
“Well, how about you don’t. Open the gate.”
Ragesh huffs with annoyance. “Fine.”
But the gate doesn’t open. Watching through the bars, Ethan sees Ragesh fiddling with the latch, seemingly unable to lift it.
“Stop messing around, Ragesh,” Ashley says.
“I’m not.”
“What do you mean?”
“What the hell do you think I mean?” Ragesh snaps. “The latch is stuck.”
Billy and Russ cluster around Ethan, pressing against the gate. Ethan is far from claustrophobic. He loves being inside his tent, and when he and Billy play hide-and-seek with Andy, he’s willing to cram himself into the tightest hiding spot. But the mausoleum, the stuck gate, and the two boys pushing against him on both sides are all toomuch for Ethan. A low simmer of panic takes hold, and all he wants to do is leave.
Now.
Only there is no exit. Ashley has joined Ragesh in trying to move the latch. Both of them tug upward, their arms straining, exertion turning their faces crimson.
“Shit,” Ashley says. “It’s not moving. What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Ragesh says, panicked.
“Well, figure it out.”
“Why me?”
“Because,” Ashley says, “you’re the dipshit who just trapped three boys in a goddamn mausoleum.”
One word of that sentence—trapped—normally would send panic sparking through Ethan. But Ashley barely gets it out before Russ says, “I’m not trapped. See?”
Moving sideways, he slips between the bars like water through a grate. One of the benefits of being scrawny. Free of the mausoleum, he stands behind Ashley and Ragesh as they size up the space between the bars. They then do the same to Ethan and Billy.
“Do you think you can squeeze through?” Ashley says.
“Maybe,” Ethan says, even though he doesn’t think so. He’s bigger than Russ in every way, and Billy is bigger than him. Not by much. Centimeters. But that could make all the difference. “We can try.”
This time, Ethan goes first, approaching the bars from the side. He slides his shoulder between two of them, both surprised and relieved to find that it easily fits. It’s the same with his knee, the leg twisted so that his toes point outward.
Things get trickier when Ethan’s halfway through. The combination of his chest, butt, and head proves to be too much, and he finds himself caught halfway inside the mausoleum, halfway out of it.
“Don’t panic,” Ashley tells him. “Just turn your head.”
He notices other things, too. How water has gathered in a corner, dirty and stagnant. How a single dried rose petal floats atop the puddle like a boat adrift. How the smell gets worse the farther back he goes. A sickly combination of mildew and dust. How at the back wall,the light coming through the gate doesn’t even reach him. It’s nothing but shadow there.
To make matters worse, a tortured groan rises behind them, snapping Ethan to attention. He whirls around, gaze skimming the marble floor, where the shadows of the gate’s bars start to stretch.
Beyond the bars is Ragesh, silhouetted by the sun as he slams the gate shut. It rattles from the force, raining down bits of rust and flecks of iron. The gate’s still trembling as Ragesh pushes downward on the latch, which hits the cradle with a dull clang.
He’s just locked them inside.
Ethan rushes to the gate. He grips the bars and pushes, growing alarmed when they don’t budge. Panicked, he looks outside to Ashley, only slightly relieved to see that she’s already on the case. Stalking toward Ragesh, she wears an expression of pure fury.
“Hey, asshole,” she says. “Stop being a complete dick for once in your life.”
“I’m just messing with them a little,” Ragesh says.
“Well, how about you don’t. Open the gate.”
Ragesh huffs with annoyance. “Fine.”
But the gate doesn’t open. Watching through the bars, Ethan sees Ragesh fiddling with the latch, seemingly unable to lift it.
“Stop messing around, Ragesh,” Ashley says.
“I’m not.”
“What do you mean?”
“What the hell do you think I mean?” Ragesh snaps. “The latch is stuck.”
Billy and Russ cluster around Ethan, pressing against the gate. Ethan is far from claustrophobic. He loves being inside his tent, and when he and Billy play hide-and-seek with Andy, he’s willing to cram himself into the tightest hiding spot. But the mausoleum, the stuck gate, and the two boys pushing against him on both sides are all toomuch for Ethan. A low simmer of panic takes hold, and all he wants to do is leave.
Now.
Only there is no exit. Ashley has joined Ragesh in trying to move the latch. Both of them tug upward, their arms straining, exertion turning their faces crimson.
“Shit,” Ashley says. “It’s not moving. What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Ragesh says, panicked.
“Well, figure it out.”
“Why me?”
“Because,” Ashley says, “you’re the dipshit who just trapped three boys in a goddamn mausoleum.”
One word of that sentence—trapped—normally would send panic sparking through Ethan. But Ashley barely gets it out before Russ says, “I’m not trapped. See?”
Moving sideways, he slips between the bars like water through a grate. One of the benefits of being scrawny. Free of the mausoleum, he stands behind Ashley and Ragesh as they size up the space between the bars. They then do the same to Ethan and Billy.
“Do you think you can squeeze through?” Ashley says.
“Maybe,” Ethan says, even though he doesn’t think so. He’s bigger than Russ in every way, and Billy is bigger than him. Not by much. Centimeters. But that could make all the difference. “We can try.”
This time, Ethan goes first, approaching the bars from the side. He slides his shoulder between two of them, both surprised and relieved to find that it easily fits. It’s the same with his knee, the leg twisted so that his toes point outward.
Things get trickier when Ethan’s halfway through. The combination of his chest, butt, and head proves to be too much, and he finds himself caught halfway inside the mausoleum, halfway out of it.
“Don’t panic,” Ashley tells him. “Just turn your head.”
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