Before we get started, there will be errors. Get over it. It's not published yet. I'll go through it and clean it up before it's released.
Chapter Twenty
As
Elle ventured off to Edinburgh, a trip she knew would be an all-day adventure,
Jack remained behind, hoping to stretch some of the kinks out of his body from
having shared the cold stone floor the night before with the only overly
determined woman in his life who wasn’t trying to change him. He chuckled under
his breath when he rolled over on the mattress topper and found that Elle had carelessly placed the long-handled squeegee stick against the tomb. A tool meant
for washing away dirt and grime from windows, maybe to cleanse the dust on a
windshield was now expected to rid the world of ancient layers of airy sand
particles that had taken decades to form the pristine sloping piles they had forged around the base of the tomb and against the corners of the eastern section of
the room. The irony of everything about it crashed through the cobwebs of his
mind; he hadn’t had his coffee yet, so Jack decided to go with whatever his mind was coming up with.
Something,
someone in fact, was outside the window. Due to the placement of the eleven
iron bars, it was difficult to see exactly who it might be, but from the
appearance, the person seemed to be a man. The man could be seen at a distance
rather than when Jack approached the bars; their height made it impossible for
him to peek through. When he stood against the eastern wall of the tomb, he could
make out just enough to put a few facts about the interloper together. The
overcoat gave him away to some degree; whoever it was, he had a little money,
he wasn’t poor or impoverished. He didn’t carry an umbrella even in the type of
weather the skies were threatening, which could mean he was a confident man, or
an idiot; either worked well enough in that scenario. If he realized before he
set out that day that it could rain, why wouldn’t he protect himself, and if he
was one to know the forecast, and chose not to carry one, he was either probably
not going to stay long, but make his inquiries quickly before moving on to
wherever it was that he had come from.
Though
Jack was certain he had seen the man before, he wasn’t convinced that the man
in the graveyard was Cion Fedder, the Stirling councilman he knew was working on Elle’s
case. If it was, in fact, Fedder, and he all but felt it was, Jack wondered if his being
in the crypt would benefit or hinder if the man made his way over to
the vaults. The iron gates of the multi-roomed crypt had been closed at either
end. Elle had managed to find a locksmith willing to change the locks for her,
even without the proper deeds in hand, which proved she was the owner; the key-man never asked, and she never verified. It was a simple request and monetary exchange
as far as everyone concerned knew. If Fedder hadn’t been made aware before, he
would certainly be so, as the new locks were modern, shiny, and were activated
with a standard key; not something made of iron with a few “bones” attached.
Jack
watched anxiously as the man attempted to enter the western side of the crypt.
To get to the door, he needed to first climb a dozen or more stairs,
cross a stone landing, and make his way across a cobblestoned ornate veranda,
an original design that no doubt took months to complete. The crypt had been
listed for quite some time with the Stirling Council, and a generous amount of
time and funds were given for its upkeep of all of its exterior façade, its
iron gates, and to some degree, the passage between the two gates. The council
or caregivers did not attempt to sweep the western room or the far eastern room, both of which were situated on the south side of the corridor of the crypt and had
their own iron gates to protect the tombs from vandalism.
The other rooms
were essentially empty, with a number of inlaid interred bodies sealed within
them. Each of the six rooms was full, having a couple of dozen or more Finley
or Finlay relatives stacked one upon the other on both sides of the room, before
the sides were sealed off permanently when the last of the room’s residents was
laid to rest. At last count, more than thirty
bodies were encapsulated in each room, allowing over one hundred and twenty
bodies to be of record; with the two end rooms being the more recent of the
family’s final resting place. Geoffrey Finlay’s body was the only one still
inside a stone coffin, being somewhat oversized to fit neatly in with the
others. Had Fedder, or whoever it was, known this, then the only reason for him
to be at the crypt that day would be to discuss matters privately with Elle.
When he found that the doors were locked, he began calling for her, hoping she
would come to the gate for a conversation.
Jack, like anyone would, had explored the crypt entirely before resigning himself to stay in the western room with his friend. Being the only room with a window, the western room told Jack all he
needed to know about the other rooms. They were meant to be sealed off, and
with no one choosing to care for the crypt, the open doorways to each room
could have been sealed at some point as well. The rooms were housed, embedded within the
large construction, with each end accessible through a wide opening; both were
gated, and now both were locked. To make
his way to the other side would be fruitless, Jack knew, but he also knew that
whoever the man was, he might not realize that Elle was absolutely serious when
she told Councilwoman Robertson that her land was, in fact, hers to modify,
with or without permission from the council. She would see to it that she protect
the crypt and the surrounding land, to the best of her abilities. Jack
half-expected Elle to commission a wrought iron fence to be installed, and perhaps
a few Baskerville-type hounds to walk and guard the perimeter for good measure.
Jack, because he
could, opened the iron gate on the eastern side with the spare key Elle had given
him. Hiding in the eastern room north of the gate gave him a perfect vantage point
to see out the open archway without being seen, as the sun hadn’t peeked
through the clouds yet, and therefore, no light came through the long corridor
to make its way to the eastern walls. With a singular twinkle in his eye,
knowing what to expect, but having no idea just how much fun or trouble he could
cause, Jack purposely called out and invited the unknown visitor to make his
way around the crypt’s enormous structure to the other side using an impersonated
woman’s voice.
Perhaps driven by
hope and curiosity, the lone man reached out to grasp the top of the iron bars
on the eastern gate. To his surprise, the unlocked entrance gave way, creaking
open to reveal the dimly lit world it had protected. Cautiously, he stepped
inside, and the scent of old stone and damp earth filled his nostrils. He noticed another smell, a musky, almost manly aroma swirling just in
front of him, as if to let him know he wasn’t alone. The guest called out to
Elle twice, shaking his head, as he recognized a woman’s voice before. He knew the western
side of the crypts was locked, but surely someone must be inside. If she did intend to escape through before he arrived, there would be no
reason to invite him in. She could have waited for him to leave the cemetery entirely before making
her exit.
As he ventured deeper
into the vaults, the sound of his own footsteps echoed off the ancient walls,
punctuating an eerie silence, but still, there was that smell. It seemed to be
both in front of him and now behind him. Using his cell phone as a light
source, he aimed the front of his device upward and toward the ceiling of the
place, scanning for what he could, having never been inside the building before.
Unaware of Jack’s presence, the man moved with a sense of urgency toward the
only other light in the place, which was in fact the window of the western room
and the gate he knew was locked on the further side of the hall that separated
the various rooms from each other.
The flickering
light from his cell began to cast long shadows, creating an atmosphere of suspense
and intrigue. He placed his hand on the wall to his left, thinking perhaps it
was wet or damp, but it wasn’t. The cold stone felt smooth in some spots, rougher
in others, but overall, it was something pleasant, almost surreal, as if he had
stepped headfirst onto a movie set; the silence was hard to deal with, and he
called out to Elle a second time. The man stopped, failing to notice Jack silently following him, like a guardian spirit of the forgotten hallowed space.
Turning to his left and right, Cion Fedder decided that going further would
be pointless. If Elle had left, he would need to retreat from the same way he
had entered, knowing the other gate was locked.
Before leaving, the
man made one last attempt to find the person he had hoped to see. Taking a few
steps toward the open room, he noticed an electric cord plugged securely into
what appeared to be a solar-paneled generator; the plug led directly to a small
heat source, allowing at least a small area of the room to be as comfortable as
possible. More curious now, he stepped another few steps forward, giving Jack
the freedom he needed to make noise; at this point, his captive had placed
himself exactly where he needed him to be. Standing before the intruder, Jack’s
smile broke from the corners of his mouth, covering his face entirely. Lifting
his eyebrows and shaking his head, Jack reached inwardly far enough to grasp
the edge of the old wooden door’s latch, instantly closing it before placing
his spare key into the lock and turning it.
The sharp clang
of the latch echoed through the chamber, sending a chill down Fedder’s spine.
Spinning around only to find himself alone and confined within the room made
his skin crawl; had this been their plan all along, he wondered. Catching his
breath, Cion tried desperately to see whatever he could out of the western
window, but like Jack, it could only be done when standing further away. Jack’s
appearance through the barred opening sealed any thought Fedder may have had
that he had, in fact, smelled his captor, even if he hadn’t seen him.
Seating himself a few feet from the window, which from his vantage point allowed Jack to sit on the
landing’s edge and view into the tomb, he listened as his prisoner began to ask
him if he realized kidnapping a councilman was in fact a felony, and that he
could be charged with a class A crime. “Criminal? Me?” asked Jack. “It
seems to me, and probably to anyone who wanted to see my livestream on YouTube,
that you made your way through the gates of a privately owned crypt on privately
owned land, and found yourself,” Jack laughed. “Wait, I think I will stream
this.” He reiterated to himself that he had been correct; it was Cion Fedder whom he had seen through the same window, only their positions had entirely reversed.
“Elle isn’t
here. The woman you heard was me, at least you thought it was a woman, so I suppose
that would be kudos to me; such a confidence booster if I do say so myself.”
Jack delighted in his antics, sending
the images of the captive man through the lofty airwaves to be seen by more
than several thousands of Jack’s followers on both sides of the Atlantic.
Though the hour was just past seven in the morning on the East Coast, it wouldn’t
be too far-fetched to believe that the live stream could reach viral status within
minutes, considering the subject matter; a man trapped inside a crypt isn’t
something everyone is accustomed to seeing on a daily basis.
“Most of my followers are in America and
Canada, some in Australia, so it’s not likely that anyone will recognize you,
so I’ll have to dox you a little, and tell everyone that I have successfully entrapped
Stirling Councilman Cion Fedder this morning, as he was making his way through
a very privately owned property while attempting to discuss how he and his
cronies at the council are trying to rip the land out from under its rightful
owner, who, no, I won’t dox, and in not doxing her, I’ll let her know, since
she was pinged the second the video started, that she is expected to return as quickly
as she can, because I now…oh, now, I fear for my life…” Jack reeled back in
false pretense, throwing his hand over his forehead and gasping loudly. “I
fear for my life if I should release the man to be freed from having purposely
walked into the legal domain of someone without being invited, without being
expected, and without being wanted, as far as I know.”
In Falkirk, just
outside the Kelpie’s and the Water Wheel, Elle was doing her best to say
goodbye to two of her favorite internet vloggers, known to the world as Annie
and Zach from their personal YouTube channel, Simple Scottish Living.
The two had married a few years after meeting at an American youth camp, where
both were counselors. Annie, a petite and charming American-born Georgian
woman, had fallen instantly for the tall, handsome Scotsman she had been
assigned to work with; both were taken aback by just how quickly their relationship
developed.
Soon, they began dating, spending more time
together, taking a chance on the odds that such a relationship would take hold,
and hoping it would grow. They became engaged and eventually got married. To
keep his bride and her family happy, Zach moved to the States, where the two began
a family. They moved completely across the country to Southern California after
a few years. After a few more years of living the American Dream, the Scottish allure had them happily packing; they moved their young family
back to the land and people where Zach was raised. Because their lives seemed
interesting to others, it made sense to video their progress and send short
clips to their friends and family, who suggested they share their adventures
with the world.
When Elle’s phone
simultaneously pinged with Zach’s the two looked at one another, with Annie
cocking her head to one side. “That’s the ping Zach gets when our favorite
Scottish vlogger is live streaming; do you follow Jack Abercrombie, too?”
She asked Elle, who by this time had glanced at her phone to see what she could
only hope was a joke or at least something that could be explained. When Jack
stated again that he wouldn’t dox the woman who lived in the crypt, but that
Cion Fedder of Stirling Council had been caught red-handed entering her “home”
without cause, Zach laughed to add his two pence to the matter. “Jack…oh, he’s
too much. He’s captured a man in an old crypt!” Zach’s words seemed to
scrape the skin off Elle’s neck, as she wondered what would be the fastest
route back to Finlay, and if she could even make it happen before the
councilman had chalked up enough criminal charges against Jack and possibly herself
since the man was trapped inside her crypt.
“You’ll excuse
me, guys, I need to make my way back to Finley as quickly as I can.” She
stated, turning to her new friends to answer Annie’s question. “Yes, Annie,
I am a fan of Jack’s, but right now I’m not so sure if he’s going to be alive
much longer, so his next live stream may be him showing not only how I killed
him, but where I chose to bury him. Because I own that crypt and so much of the
land around it, I do have options.” She laughed without laughing. Annie’s
face was stunned, flushed with a tinge of shock, but when her eyes met those of
her husband’s, she quickly reached for Elle’s arm.
“Before you
leave, take my number. Call me when it’s over and tell me everything. I want to
know literally everything about it. You don’t get it; I’ve loved Jack Abercrombie
for a while now. He’s just too funny. You have to be the woman he’s in love
with, don’t you? He calls you Tigress! You’re her, aren’t you?” Annie
asked. “Call me; I want to do a vlog with you two, if that’s okay,” Annie
asked. “Down the road, you don’t have to answer now, but I want to know how this ends. I’ll send Jack a comment telling him you’re on your way.”
Less than a
second had passed when Zach glanced back at his wife again and said, “We’ll
drive you. There’s no way you’ll make it to Stirling and then to Finlay within
a few hours. We can make it in twenty or twenty-five minutes. We don’t mind. I’ll
call my parents and let them know so they can keep the kids a little longer.
This couldn’t have worked out better for any of us,” he laughed, his eyes
shining at his wife. “We love Jack! Now we love you.” The thought of all
that was happening seemed to take control over Elle’s mind; she couldn’t turn
them down, and she didn’t know exactly where to start trying to explain what
all she believed had caused this particular fiasco.
Photo Credit: Annie and Zach from YouTube (
Simple Scottish Living)
