The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 68

The remaining two sat while he walked up the stairs. Everyone believed that Sam had simply fallen while making his way through the dark first floor. But soon after leaving the cellar the only sound to be heard was silence. It is sometimes the most effective medium for fear, conveying the unknown to those already panicked by what may have already happened. Time seems to slow when the mind is trapped by silence as it opens the door for the specter of fear.

Sitting on their cots, they felt the grip of fear wrap itself around their minds and in the cold silence time played its cruel tricks.

“How long had it been?” Cole asked. “How the fuck should I know?” Dylan answered. The men agreed to wait until their associate returned but after roughly ten minutes of continued silence they again debated as to who would be next to search the first floor. When their partner failed to return it was decided that they would climb the stairs in five minutes increments. But as the next man set foot on the first step of the cellar stairs all three were startled by a banging sound. Occurring only once it was followed by the sound of stainless steel instruments crashing to the floor. Still at the bottom of the stairs, the man hesitated attempting to conquer his fear. Not wanting to appear weak in front of his criminal compatriots he cautiously climbed the stairs. Moments later, he was heard running back to the stairs and returning to the cellar babbled incoherently.

“Guys,” he said. “He’s fucking dead. I don’t know what happened, but he’s dead. What the fuck do we do?”

Dylan asked him to slow down, but his request went unheard as the man continued to rant. But when words did not succeed, violence became necessary as the man received a sharp slap across the face. Feeling the sting of his partner’s assault, he demanded an explanation.

“You piece of shit!” he yelled. “What was that all about?!”

At least one of the men had begun thinking rationally as he began to question the one whose face was rapidly growing red and swollen. “Listen to me,” he said. “What did you see?” Taking a few deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough that he could convey what he had discovered on the first floor.

“It’s Sam,” he replied. “You know, that guy? We didn’t know his name before, but he named himself Sam, remember? Well, he’s dead. I don’t know how, but he’s fucking dead.”

Never having seen death, Cole began to hyperventilate as he became unsteady on his feet. “I need to sit down,” he said.

Stumbling to the nearest cot the man sat and bending down brought his head to his knees. The other two had previously been involved in the murdering of a man who was unable to pay the bill for his cocaine. After killing him, they dismembered his body and cutting off his head scattered his remains throughout the Southern Adirondacks. The case was investigated but never solved. Nevertheless, they had seen death up close and refused to shy away from what was, for them, just another dead body.

It was agreed on that the Cole would be left to recover in the cellar while the other two went to the first floor. Once there, they walked cautiously through the viewing rooms and finding Sam’s body stopped to briefly examine it.

“What do you think happened?” Dylan asked. The other man seemed indifferent, having come to despise Sam over a short period of time. “How the fuck do I know,” Dwayne replied. By this time, Cole had become overwhelmed by their circumstances and feeling the room closing in on him crawled into the corner near the still running furnace and sat in the fetal position. His days of running drugs seemed to be at an end.

Stepping over Sam’s body Dwayne and Dylan walked into the cool room. Having heard the crashing sound they had become curious and scanning the room, they saw Frank’s body lying in a pool of congealed blood. But this was not as disturbing as what they discovered next. Looking toward the cooler, they saw that a door had been opened -- its stainless steel tray pulled out and the nude body of the young woman exposed. On the floor, a light flowery dress lay in a heap. Walking up to the body they immediately noticed a long tear in the sutures, allowing the skin and flesh of the abdomen to remain as a gaping wound. Moving in closer, they examined the wound when one of the men saw a pool of brownish green fluid had gathered between the young girl’s knees. “Jesus, what the fuck is this?” Dwayne asked. Dwayne began to suspect that Sam had violated the young girl’s body believing that it was something that only Sam was capable of.

As Cole leaned in to get a closer look he suddenly felt the cold grasp of the deceased girl’s hand wrapping itself around his wrist. Panic was quick to befall his rapidly crumbling mind. It seems that living in the basement of a funeral home can weaken even the strongest of mental faculties. “What the fuck!” Dylan screamed. Struggling against its tightening grip he eventually pulled the corpse off the tray and onto the floor where he began stomping on its head. “Get it the fuck off me!” he continued. Rushing to his aid, Dwayne brought his foot down on the girl’s arm fracturing it severely enough to bring the bones out through the skin. Still, the hand would not release. Dwayne was near hysteria. “Fucking do something!” he screamed. Dwayne was at a loss as to what action he should take and searching through the stainless steel drawers discovered a scalpel. Kneeling on the floor he began cutting into the wrist of the lifeless girl. As he sunk the blade deeper he saw muscles begin to twitch as though trying to escape the scalpel’s edge. Dwayne always thought that dead was dead and that once one’s life had slipped away the body remained motionless. Seeing the lifeless hand move as though it had sprung to life sent him into a panic and dropping the scalpel backed up against the wall. Feeling trapped within the grasp of the half dismembered hand, Cole cursed him out for giving up thinking he was about to be abandoned. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screamed. “Get the fuck over here and get this off of me!” With Dwayne sitting helplessly against the wall, Dylan resorted to extreme measures. Getting to his feet he placed a foot on the arm of the corpse close to where the hand remained loosely attached and grabbing his wrist tried to extricate himself from the fingers, still wrapped around his wrist. Although it would not loosen its grip, he managed to rip the half detached hand away from its badly broken arm. It was as though it had a life of its own and Dylan, unable to shake it from around his wrist, began slamming it against the floor. Again, he yelled out to Dwayne for help, but he was at a loss as to what would break its grip. “Dwayne!” he screamed. “Get the fuck over here!” Dwayne’s mind was becoming foggy as he was beginning to lose his ability to comprehend the events playing out before him.

“Fuck!” he screamed.

But a hand is only as strong as each finger and grabbing one at a time Dylan managed to bend each backward breaking all of them. Freeing himself he cast the mangled hand across the room and rising to his feet called to Dwayne one more time. “Come on,” he said. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

Grabbing him by his shirt he led Dwayne out of the cool room and down the hallway when he felt him resist.

“We can’t leave yet,” Dwayne said. Dylan continued pulling him toward the front door stressing his need to leave as quickly as possible. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked. Pulling away from him Dwayne reminded him why they were there in the first place.

“What do we do about all the coke in the cellar?” Dylan asked. “We got people to sell this shit to. And if the people who gave this stuff to us don’t get their money they’re going to come looking for us. So, let’s just get the coke and get out, okay?” Dwayne would have no part of it. He was tired of risking a prison sentence and having to constantly watch his back was becoming a regular habit. But he had an idea.

“Look,” he said. “My uncle has a cabin up in the Adirondacks. We can go up there for a while then take off and live someplace else. We just have to get the fuck out of here.”

Dylan agreed and while it was still dark they raided the kitchen, hot-wired Jonathan’s car and left town. Later, they would ditch the car and hike into the area where shelter awaited. But in their haste, they had forgotten something.