After digging for thirty minutes, they both simultaneously hit something solid. Vance wiped his forehead, rested on his shovel and out of breath said, “I respect your wisdom and experience, but I think we are pushing it.”
Al knelt down and brushed off the surface. He quickly found the edges. Was it wood? No, it was metal. “Keep digging,” Al ordered.
Eventually the object appeared to be the size of a large safe or trunk. “This is definitely not a coffin,” said Al.
Vance looked it over. “Doesn’t look like one either.”
“Open it then,” Al prodded.
“Nope,” Vance replied, climbing out of the hole. “Messing with the dead is your department.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Al replied as he aimed his light along the edges looking for a spot to pry open. He handed his shovel to Vance and traded it for the crowbar. He inserted the tool and placed his foot in a crevice, taking his weight off the top, and pulled. Apparently he pulled too hard and the top practically shot off the box, throwing him against the side of the hole.
Vance immediately said, “Shit, I knew it.”
Al pushed himself back up, put his feet on the edge and shot his light inside the container. He was staring at a fully clothed skeleton lying on its side in a fetal position. “Okay, dammit, you were right,” Al said, staring down at the gruesome scene.
“Well,” Vance said smartly, “the position of the body explains the small box.”
The contorted body had short blond hair attached to the skull and was wearing a military-type uniform. Al was not in the mood to search the skeleton but he knew he had to; there was no way Vance was going to do it. He positioned his feet and just as he bent over, he noticed something. “Wait a minute.”
Vance moved his light back and forth across the length of the coffin. “Uh-oh.”
Al knelt closer to the skeleton and used the crowbar to tap the bottom of the coffin. It was soft and cloth-like. He handed the crowbar up to Vance, and with his foot pushed the old frail skeleton out of the way. He then dug his fingers into the bottom of the coffin, grabbing the cloth edge, and pulled. The bones easily rolled up, revealing the edge of a trap door. “I hate to disrespect whoever belonged to these bones, but whatever.” He gave the cloth a good yank, throwing the remaining bones into a pile along the edge and stirring up a cloud of stale-smelling dust.
“Ah, shit,” Vance said, fanning away the dusty air as it floated up to him. He aimed his light on a brass latch, “You were right.”
“Never mess with the big dog,” Al said, tapping the trap door with his foot. It felt solid as solid gets and there was no hole to insert a key, so he slipped his fingers into the latch and pulled. The heavy wood door slowly opened, creaking as it did. Al held the door with his left hand and pointed his light inside the hole. He sighed and said, “Another shaft.”
“Right up your alley, gopher boy,” Vance laughed.
A frail wood ladder attached to the edge went straight down into a black abyss reminding Al of the shaft he found under D.C. “Hand me the shovel,” he said, reaching up. Vance handed it down and Al shoved the handle along the edge of the hole and braced the heavy door upright. Confident the door would hold in place, he crouched down and aimed his light inside. The square shaft was about one-third the size of the heavy door, making it a tight fit even for him. “There is no way your fat ass is fitting in here,” Al said.
“Gosh darn it!” Vance replied sarcastically.
Al pointed his light farther in. “To make matters worse, every inch of the shaft is infiltrated with tree roots, some crossing the length of the shaft.” He sighed, resigned to the fact that he had to go down there. “Okay, I’m going in,” he said, positioning his foot on the ladder to test it with his weight.”
“I’ll be right here,” Vance replied, lighting a cigarette.
It seemed to hold okay, but part of Al hoped it would not so he could postpone his inevitable descent into yet another damn hole.
He used the shovel to chop the nearest roots and then positioned himself to enter the shaft. He took a few steps down and then squeezed in. Once his shoulders were past the edge, he noticed worms embedded into the sides. He shoved the light into his belt and glanced up, “Anything you would like me to pick up for you while I’m gone? There are plenty of worms in here.”
“Beer,” was Vance’s only reply.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, be right back,” and Al began his descent.