The Cold Beneath (24 page)

I wasn’t surprised to hear this. From my understanding, the origin of an American’s birth had very little to do with the side one joined when the War Between the States broke out. The whole event had brother fighting brother. Son soldiering against father. It was a terrible chapter in their history, to be sure.

Lightbridge sighed as he continued, “But that mission, something happened, something terrible. We were on our way back from watching the movements of the enemy troops for almost six weeks. Though I thought we kept a fairly good map, it proved useless on our way back, and we got lost in the winding hills of North Carolina. We should have headed back sooner, but we didn’t. When the snows came on both early and strong, we found ourselves trapped behind the lines. Luckily we ran across an abandoned house, a gorgeous mansion filled with furniture and paintings and clothes. All of it just left behind when the owners fled the fighting. We holed up in the place, setting up camp in the spacious living room to consolidate our heat. But our supplies were few. I knew and Jackie knew that we wouldn’t last long.

“We waited for the snow to let up enough for us to make a try for it, but by the time it finally stopped, the whole landscape was gone. Swallowed by the snow. Neither of us had any idea where we were, but we had a pretty good notion that if we headed out into that vast blanket of white, we wouldn’t make it home. Not alive anyway. So we dug in and waited for spring.” He stopped again to let out a long, weary sigh.

I didn’t know where his story was headed, but I didn’t like the tone of that sigh. It was full of grief and misery and sour memories. It was the kind of sigh one might make at a graveside service of a longtime friend. The very same sigh that escaped just before a man drew his last breath.

“Jackie never was a patient man,” Lightbridge said. “But he was always a good man. Until that winter. During that winter, he changed. In the first month he seemed fine, but little by little he started to crack. Said he heard things that clearly weren’t there. Saw things too. He started talking to the furniture. Then started answering for it. I took it all in stride, playing his crazy games, thinking he’d snap out of it once the snow started to melt. Meanwhile I listened to Jack talk to the table, as well as the constant rumble of my empty belly. You see, while we had plenty of things to burn to keep us warm, the larders were empty. Our rations were pitiful, the game was thin and we were hungry. So hungry. It’s the most I ever suffered in combat. It was a terrible time.”

Lightbridge furrowed his brow at me, taking on a pained and pitiful look.

“But Jackie, he had it worse. Where I was just hungry, he couldn’t stand being shut in like that. Even in a house as big as it was. I found him, more than once, passed out on the lawn in the snow, half frozen and almost dead, all for the want of getting out of that house for just a few hours. I got to where I kept a rope tied between us so he couldn’t get up without me knowing about it. It worked, after a fashion. But not for very long. One morning …” Lightbridge paused in his narrative to look down at his trembling hands. After a brief moment he continued. “One morning I awoke to the most amazing smell.” He paused again, far too long this time for mere dramatic effect. It was as though he didn’t want to continue.

I spurred him on. “What was it?”

“Meat. I woke to the smell of cooking meat. I found the rope severed and discovered Jackie running about the huge kitchen, talking to all the pots and pans as he cooked. I can still hear his laughter. Not the tittering giggles of a madman, but pure gut-busting laughter. It was a beautiful sound after not hearing it for so long. At first I laughed with him. I assumed he must have trapped some passing animal. That God Himself had seen fit to grant us reprieve from our suffering.

“But … alas no. No, it wasn’t just some animal. A chill stirred me, and I looked out across the kitchen to the back door and saw a sight I shall never forget. In all of my days, Philip, I shall never forget it. I can see it clearly in my mind today as on that awful morning. Hanging in the open doorway was a corpse. Hauled up by the ankles and dressed like a damned deer. Do you understand what I’m saying? Jack had cut some poor slob apart and was cooking his flesh for food.”

Despite the gruesome nature of my own recent experiences, I gasped in shock.

“Yes,” Lightbridge affirmed. “Later he showed me a blood-soaked confederate uniform and claimed the man tried to attack us in the middle of the night, but I could never be sure of what happened. If it was an attack, why didn’t he wake me? Why didn’t I hear anything? All I knew was that I woke with drool on my pillow to the scent of that man’s fat in the frying pan, Philip. I woke with a belly so twisted with hunger, so empty that I actually considered joining in Jackie’s meal.”

I lingered on the moment, not wanting to ask, but curiosity got the best of me. “Did you?”

Lightbridge didn’t answer. He just stared at me, cold and calculated, through the bars. I began to get the impression he had no intention of answering, one way or the other.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“I didn’t relate this very private and very personal story just to garner your sympathy, son. I didn’t tell you to make you feel better about what happened here either. I did it to illustrate a point. To let you know that I understand.”

“You do?” I was confused by his claim. How did his tale of desperate cannibalism relate to my … I flinched in disgust as a revolting idea struck me. “I may have put a bullet in each of those corpses, but I can assure you I didn’t eat those men!”

“I never said you did. But our stories do share a common theme none the less.” He tipped his head to one side before he added, “House sickness can strike one even in the largest of dwellings.”

“House sickness?” I echoed. “You think I’ve gone stir crazy?”

“You have to admit the signs all point to yes. The hysteria, the nature of your deeds. Why, not getting enough to eat is enough on its own to drive a man to desperate acts—”

“Gideon!” I shouted over him. I leapt to my feet and rushed the bars. “Look at me! I’m not crazy. You know I’m not. Everything I confessed is the truth. Please, you must believe me.”

“How can I? Your facts don’t make sense. The evidence is piled against you. As for your confession? Syntax, forgive me for saying this, but your story is unbearably unbelievable.”

“I know how it sounds, but I saw those men with my own eyes, Lightbridge. I saw half-eviscerated corpses get up and fight and scream!”

Lightbridge stood and shouted, “That’s enough!”

“But you must—”

“I said that was enough! I have had enough of your outrageous claims. You told me those men rose after just a few days. You then maintain that Harris came back after just an hour, that what’s happening is speeding up somehow. But I have yet to see any evidence of it.”

“How can I provide evidence without a corpse?”

“Well, lucky for you, we have a corpse.”

“What! Who?”

“Blackburn’s wound took him. He lives no more.”

Blackburn. One of the injured men. If he was dead, then it was only a matter of time now. How I could get them to believe me? They didn’t have just a corpse on their hands, they had a ticking bomb waiting to go off at any moment. “How long ago?”

“Eighteen hours. Eighteen hours gone, and he has yet to stir. Maybe whatever happened has passed. Or maybe it didn’t happen at all?” He raised an eyebrow.

His words shook me to my foundation. Eighteen hours should have been plenty of time for Blackburn to return and attack. Yet I heard no wailing. No distinct scream. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Lightbridge stood and joined me at the bars, drawing his face uncomfortably close to mine. “So why don’t you explain that to me? Explain how you had a ship full of corpses taking to their feet and coming after you, yet when we return, the madness suddenly stops. Tell me, Philip. I want to believe you. I want to understand.”

The answer was obvious. I was mad. I had imagined the entire affair. For all I knew, I had shot perfectly innocent men, then riddled their corpses with more bullets. And all because I thought the dead were rising? Even in my own mind it sounded crazy. As I stood there, trembling and terrified, not knowing what more I could say, the sounds of hurried footsteps rose from the hallway. Lightbridge and I both turned to see one of the crew rushing at breakneck speed toward us as he shouted for his captain.

“Sir!” the man cried. “Sir! We have need of you!”

“What is it, Collins?” Lightbridge asked as he stepped away from the bars again. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

When he approached, I could see the young man’s face lacked all color, though he had just run what must have been the entire length of the ship. The poor lad was more terrified than I, but of what, I didn’t know.

“It’s Mr. Josephus, sir,” Collins said.

“Albert?” Lightbridge asked with a start. “What about him?”

“He’s returned.”

“So soon?”

The man nodded.

Lightbridge gave a great hoot of relief as he raised his arms to the sky. “Thank God Almighty! Hallelujah! Good old Bert. I knew he’d come through for us.”

The look of sheer terror on the man’s face told me there was no cause for celebration. “Sir, I hate to interrupt, but …”

“But? But! But! Out with it, lad. What’s with the big but?” Lightbridge laughed so hard he had to hold his sides to keep from falling over. He was right, it was a beautiful sound after not hearing if for so long.

Collins, however, wasn’t as amused. “Something isn’t right.”

Lightbridge almost stumbled over his own cheer. “We are about to be rescued from this insidious place. What could possibly be wrong?”

The crewman shot me a quick and dirty look, then shifted his glance back to Lightbridge. “I think you should come see for yourself.”

Lightbridge mirrored the shifting glance, then grunted as he understood that I was not to be trusted with the news Collins bore. “Very well then.” He scooped up the stool and turned to me, saying, “Mr. Syntax, I fear we shall have to pick up where we left off another time. I will sort this out and get back as soon as I can.” Lightbridge leaned in close to me, adding, “While I’m gone, think about what happened. Very carefully. And eat something, son. I think you’ll find the details will become much clearer on a full stomach.”

They rushed off, leaving the lights on for me this time. It was a step up from being a prisoner in the dark, but not by much. I was still behind bars and had lost my station among the crew. I recalled Collins’s glance, his doubt, his disgust, all meant for me and my deeds. When I was wrist-deep in gore and firing at the mangled corpses of our friends, I thought I was rescuing us all from a terrible fate. Now? I wasn’t as sure anymore. Lightbridge had a point. If Blackburn hadn’t risen after eighteen hours, then either the worst had passed, or it hadn’t happened in the first place.

I had to deal with the very real possibility that I had imagined the whole affair.

But what else could have transpired? What killed those men? A wild animal? A wolf or a bear? No. While the Arctic was rife with wildlife, none had the nerve to approach the ship as of yet. Then what took the life of so many men? One answer stood out above all others.

Me.

I must have suffered from some kind of psychotic break, during which I lashed out and killed seven men. Then, as if that weren’t enough, I violated the corpses of the deceased crew. It was a nauseating notion, but it was the only possibility left. The dead did not return to life. Only the living could kill. And I was the only one left alive. As Lightbridge said, all signs pointed to yes.

Yes, I must have gone about the bend.

In a way, the idea came with some measure of relief. I had gone from an assured torturous resurrection to just being flat-out bonkers. This suggested I was a murderer, true, but the liberation from my imagined curse was enough to leave me without worry. Nothing was certain anymore. For all I knew, a wild animal killed those men, and after I stumbled upon their corpses, my ensuing insanity played out the rest like some sick drama. I decided that sounded plausible. It must be just what happened. The dead couldn’t get up and scream, so it must have been the howl of some wild beast. Perhaps I really was a victim the whole time!

I giggled, giddy with the thought that maybe, despite my hopeless situation, I would still emerge as a casualty and not the cause. I was also bolstered by the idea that the whole revenant thing was hogwash. Just something my frantic mind created to fill the gaps created by too much anxiety and stress. After all, I was a man of weak constitution. Gideon had said so himself.

The smell of the chilling meal rose to me again, and I decided to take the man’s advice, falling on the tray like a starved animal. Though in truth I was still too disturbed to eat, I forced down the meal and drink. I would need all the strength I could muster to face my oncoming demons. After I ate, I did feel better, and the details started to sort themselves out in my refreshed mind. I wasn’t sure just what happened, but I had settled on the fact that whatever it was, it didn’t include the dead returning to life.

After two hours or so of musing on these truths, I heard the footsteps of someone approaching. I stood, drew a deep breath and calmed myself. I was ready to face Lightbridge with a different story. The truth would come to the surface, and I was prepared to take responsibility for my possible wrongdoings. As the footsteps drew closer, the absence of squealing metal informed me that they did not belong to Lightbridge. True to my certainty, it was Collins who rounded the corner and approached my door.