The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Epilogue & Author's Endnote

Sitting high on a bluff, the inn looked as disheveled as Darren Palmer felt.  He had been traveling for more than ten hours, and he hadn't slept in nearly a day and a half. 

After Gracie released him, he went straight to the airport and caught the first flight out.  Darren had been hoping to land in Newark and head home, but like all things recently, it didn't go as planned.  Jorgenson wanted to see him immediately.  Between the time his commercial flight touched down and the private twin-prop took off for Maine, he only had time to scarf down a slice of lukewarm pizza.  In Portland, he rented a car and drove an hour and twenty minutes to this ramshackle, monstrosity in the middle of nowhere.  Seated on the edge of a rocky hill, it looked more like a shipwreck than a place of lodging.

The Benbow Inn had a distinctive nautical air.  Lobster traps and ship's wheels hung about the sagging rafters.  There was nothing artful or deliberate about it.  It looked like it had been decorated by a blind mariner in some forgotten era and then was boarded up and left to ferment into musty decrepitude.

Despite the one-star appearance, the place was bustling with activity.  A couple of dozen people milled about the lobby and streamed in and out from a door that seemed to never get the chance to fully close.  They were centered on an area that appeared to have once been used for serving meals.  Small square tables were pushed together creating three long ones and the discarded chairs were stacked high against the wall. 

Finding no one at the front desk, Darren infiltrated the herd, following two men who stank of dirt and sweat.  They crossed the lobby carrying a heavy object wrapped in a sheet of black plastic.  When they reached the table they unpacked it with great care.  Their precious cargo was a piece of rotting timber.

The tables were covered with such litter.  Chips of wood, stones, and shards of clay cluttered the surfaces.  At first, it seemed to be nothing but garbage, but as he examined it, Darren saw designs in some of the rocks and clay.  There were carved figures, sometimes just a line or two, but they were clearly man-made.  On a white cloth in what appeared to be a place of honor, there was a delicate tablet.  The stone was rough and crumbling around its uneven edges.  Only four inches wide, it had a carving depicting two creatures holding or attacking a man holding two knives.  The things on either side of him may have been bears or maybe wolves.  It was hard to tell.

It figured, that son-of-a-bitch Jorgenson was here to add to his collection.  Why should Darren have thought for a minute that he might be concerned with the business of running a company?

"Can I see you're ID."  A soft voice came from behind him.  Darren almost jumped when he saw the source was a mountain of a man with a shaved head and a dark suit. 

"ID?"  The man was clearly security.  He might be SBI but Darren thought it more likely he was from a private firm.  "Do you mean like my driver's license?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."  A hand like tungsten steel wrapped around his upper arm and began to draw him away.

"Jorgenson sent for me."

The man didn't respond, he just continued to drag him in the direction of the door.

"I'm Darren Palmer.  I was sent for." 

Sent for?  Why did he keep saying that?  Who said that?  And when had his voice gotten so whiney?

"Palmer, huh?"  The guard released him with a curt apology and directed him to the cliffs where Jorgenson was waiting.

The fierce wind rushing across the open field tossed Darren's hair and billowed through his jacket.  He wondered if it might disguise the worst of his haggard appearance, but cursed himself for the thought.  What the hell did it matter what he looked like anymore?  Why should he give a shit how Jorgenson would judge him?  The sooner Gracie killed him, the better.  The sooner they were all dead, the sooner Darren would be free and his girls would be safe.