Still in the chair, Garrett continued to dream about all the dead bodies filling his home, and about Mary screaming far off in the distance. He was begging the corpses to show mercy, he was offering them all the coins in his possession, but they told him – with one voice – that all his work had been for nought. Godliness had broken down and the ground was collapsing beneath Garrett’s feet. He felt a great hollowness in his soul as thousands of dead hands clawed him down into the abyss, and all he could do was scream at them that he’d give them each a coin if they’d just stay dead. This same desperate cry was repeating over and over.
“I have coins for you all!” he was screaming in his mind. “Why do you forsake me now? Take your coins! Mary! Come to me, Mary! Where are you?”
As the nightmare continued, Garrett’s face twitched and he let out a faint murmur.
A moment later the door opened again and Munver crept back into the house. The candle’s flame had been extinguished by the snow, so he bent down and lit it again in the fireplace before heading back to the door.
Suddenly Garrett murmured again.
Munver froze and looked over at him, and then he felt a wave of relief as he saw that his visitor was still sleeping.
This time, as he stepped outside, Munver used a piece of wood to shield the flame from the bad weather, and then he slowly shut the door again.
Over by the hearth, Garrett’s nightmare was becoming more vivid. His head turned slightly and he let out a low groan. In the nightmare, he was being pulled apart by dead souls, and they were all screeching that they had no use for his pathetic little coins.
Seven
Trampling across the snow, struggling to keep the flame alive despite the piece of wood he was using to provide cover, Munver tried to use his body to provide a little extra protection against the strong wind. He had to turn several times, shielding the flame from gusts that blow in from every direction, and once or twice he almost fell. The flame flickered and came close to being extinguished, but somehow it never quite died. This awkward dance continued for several minutes, before Munver finally managed to get all the way over to the back of the cart.
The candle was still burning.
Still taking great care to maintain the flame, Munver climbed up onto the cart’s rearmost section, from which he’d already removed the covering to reveal the dead woman and most of the dead man.
Wind was howling all around in the darkness, whipping the snow into a frenzy, but the side of the cart at least afford some extra protection.
On his knees now, Munver shuffled between the woman’s legs and then bent down, holding the candle’s flame close to her frozen nether region. He could feel the warmth from the flame against his wrist but, as he waited, he began to realize that the woman’s flesh wasn’t un-thawing as quickly as he’d hoped. Truth be told, he’d expected that the process would be more or less instant, like melting an ice-cube. He had no idea how long Garrett would stay asleep, but he wanted to have his fun and then get back inside before he got caught. A lady-box was one thing, but for this one night he intended to have a real woman. He didn’t mind her being dead, but he needed her not to be frozen.
Stuart Munver was not a smart man, but he was by no means a simpleton. Nevertheless, he had assumed that if he thawed the woman out – or at least thawed part of her out – he could use her however he wished. He was by no means insensitive of the woman’s wishes; rather, it never occurred to him in any way that what he planned was wrong. She was dead, so it never occurred to him that she would care. Had this possibility been drawn to his attention, he would certainly – though reluctantly – have refrained. Instead, he was unburdened by any doubts and all he could think about was the fact that the woman’s thawed nether region would feel much more real and warm than the lady-box. It would feel, he assumed, like Angelica Graft.
Shivering now in the cold night air, having forgotten to put his jacket back on, he nevertheless stared intently at the frozen mound of skin and curled hair. The process was taking much longer than he’d hoped and, when he reached out with a finger and checked the skin, he discovered that it felt just as hard as it had done earlier. He looked back toward the cabin, just to make sure that Garrett hadn’t stirred, and then he returned to his mournful, hopeful vigil. As he did so, however, he couldn’t help but mutter a few cuss words.
Soon.
Soon he’d get to feel the inside of a real woman.
He’d be able to close his eyes and think of the eventual moment when – one day – Angelica Graft would be his. He’d have the most beautiful woman in all the world, and her wretched husband would be dishonored. The old bully deserved that and more, and Stuart Munver would be the one to give him a good pasting.
Yet as the minutes passed, Munver had to acknowledge that the dead woman’s nether region showed no inclination to thaw. Nothing seemed to be happening. He tapped again, and he quickly winced as he found that there had been no obvious progress. He held the candle closer, only to singe the side of his hand and have to withdraw. He tried a couple more times, at different angles, only to suffer the same result. Finally, with no other ideas, he balanced the piece of wood across the woman’s crotch and carefully set the candle in place so that it could be left to burn unattended. He’d have to go back inside for a while, of course, and keep an eye on Garrett, but then he’d be able to come back out in a while and check on the candle’s progress.
Surely the dead woman’s bits would thaw soon.
As he turned to climb off the cart, however, he spotted something glinting beneath the dead man’s hand. He hesitated, telling himself that all he’d seen had been a patch of ice, but then he saw the glint again and he realized that it had a different, warmer shade than the body’s whiteness.
He leaned closer and peered beneath the hand, and to his surprise he saw what appeared to be some kind of coin. Reaching out, he tried to slide the coin out from the hand, only to find that it seemed to be wedged fast. He pulled again and again, filled with an increasing hope that perhaps he’d found something valuable. He used his nails to scrape at the frozen hand, digging like a dog, but this failed to work. Frustrated, he started pulling again. Finally one of the fingers snapped clean away and he was able to wriggle the coin around until it slid out.
Holding the prize up, he furrowed his brow as he realized that it was unlike any other coin he’d ever seen. He turned it around, but it definitely didn’t seem to be from the local area. There was some text on the coin’s surface, perhaps some numbers too, but these were too difficult to make out and – besides – he figured he most likely wouldn’t be able to read them even if they were clear. Still, the coin was nice and large, and heavy too, and he felt that it had to be worth money. He held it in the palm of his hand, as snow continued to fall, and he began to feel more and more hopeful that his lucky day had finally arrived.
Someone’ll give me plenty for this, he told himself, beaming at the thought that he might finally have secured a stroke of luck. I’ll be rich. Walter Graft can go to Hell and Angelica Graft will be mine.
Still grinning at his good fortune, he reached out to pull the covering back over the two bodies, but at the last moment he realized that this would be a terrible idea. The covering might catch fire, and then the bodies would burn, and then Garrett would awaken and all manner of chaos would break out and the opportunity would be lost. No, covering the flame would be a bad idea indeed. Feeling very proud of himself for being so smart, he carefully pushed the covering aside before climbing fully off the back of the cart and heading back to the cabin. As he scurried, he kept close to the wall, like a rat.