Water cart extortion

    The car ride over to the castle consisted of two vehicles, Kooper’s van and Lance’s two seater. I got to ride with Lance and we stayed right behind Kooper. The idea was to stay together as much as possible. Lance’s car, however, was a tiny two seater sport car and I mean tiny. There was no leg room, it was cramped. The castle was 63 miles away for one hour and thirteen minutes behind Kooper’s slow van.

    By the time we got to the castle, my knees ached from being against the dashboard for so long. I stretched and gave Lance the stink eye in the parking lot. He put his sunglasses on and put his coat on and looked away with a stupid smirk on his face.

    “You know, I thought that you would have driven a car with more creature comforts for as athletic as you are?” I quipped trying to get a rise out of him.

    Lance motioned to his car as if he was trying to sell it. “This small beauty is my info seeking car. It goes faster than any country bumpkin police cruiser and the license plate is almost indiscernible at fast speeds. Plus, I didn’t know that I would be chauffeuring around a man that doesn’t remember to pay his lease. Repo has got to suck.”

    “True, but at least I didn’t waste my money on a tiny POS that no one else can fit in.” 

    Lance seemed to take offense at the POS remark and strutted up to me and looked up at me. I almost always forget that though Lance may be older than me he is a full head and a half shorter than me. He is just wiley and hyperactive that is why he is so athletic. I looked down at him and Kooper set his hands on both of our shoulders and stood between us.

    “Guys, this is not the time for this. Think of Klevin. Now is not the time to bring up petty squabbles.”

    We both straightened our jackets and walked toward the entrance of the castle with Kooper and Florence between us. I felt the cold grip of the wind as we approached the castle. It may have appeared ruined and in shambles but it seemed to have a caretaker. The caretaker came out to greet us and she was old. She looked like a turtle that had come out of its shell.

    “Greetings to you youngsters. Have you come to see my castle?” Her voice was kind and gentle and still full of spunk. She wore thick rimmed, thick lensed glasses that she seemed to push back up her nose at the end of her speech. 

    “Good day to you lady.” Kooper said. “We are but humble explorers. We wish to delve into the secrets of the past to better understand our present. If you but to allow us some time to explore the deepest parts and record all that we may find. I would much appreciate it.”

    “Oh, yes, take all the time that you need.” The old caretaker said with a grandmotherly smile. “Spend the night if you wish. There have been many guests to the castle McClung. Some have left, some have stayed. It really comes down to what they find here and if it is worth staying for. Come on in. I shall put on a kettle for some tea.” With that said, she turned around and with a wave of her hand beckoned us to follow.

    We did follow. Along the cobblestone path that ran up to the strong door of the old building. The stones seemed to be made to last for hundreds of years. The mortar that was used to make the stones hold together was fused completely and the stones were not discernible from its seams. Soldiers and kings have walked these paths, visitors of all kinds perhaps.

    I looked up at the tall towers and the gray sky beyond them. I felt an ominous foreboding as I passed under the first arch that led to the great door. I looked to the nearby coast land and the small village that sat there. Honking horns and the sounds of cars could be heard, the noise of people was not too far off. As I swiveled my neck back around to face my front. I thought, for an instant, that I saw a singular hooded figure standing in the field. It was looking down at the town with its arms down crossed in front. I don’t know why he had followed me, but my sense of foreboding only increased as I left the outside.

The inside of the castle was dark, but not without a homely feel. A small fire was in the place. Couches and cushions were gathered around the fire. An old man was asleep in a particular overstuffed recliner. The caretaker, an old woman that she was, moved rather quickly in her element. She placed a small kettle above the small fire. Then she quickly returned to her guests, us, the explorers at the door.

“Come on in dearies. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. My name is Abigail, and the man asleep there is my husband, George.”

“Miss Abigail.” Kooper said. “You said that you have had many guests and some have stayed and others have gone. What did you mean by some have stayed? All I see is you and your husband.”

“We were not the first caretakers and we will most certainly be the last. Many others have come and passed in this castle. You are historians and adventurers, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then you understand death and how all people share that experience. Birth and death are the only two things guaranteed in everyone’s life. The guests that come here often seek treasure and riches that are to be expected to be found in the dungeons, due to some myth or legend. Some have come back and some never come back up. Speaking of would you all sign the registry, helps us keep track of those that have not come back.”

“Are there dead people down there?” Florence asked as she signed her name to the book.

“Just ghosts dearie. No actual bodies. The dead always find their way out. They don’t want to stay as much as the living do.” Abigail heard the kettle whistle and went to remove it from the fire. She took the boiling water and made a pot of tea. She then poured five cups one for her and four for us.

It tasted unusual.

“Juniper Tea.” Abigail said. “Good for cleansing the soul.”

Lance fidgeted slightly. It was clear that the talk of myths and legends made him uncomfortable. Lance was never one to believe in superstition. I couldn’t blame him. With as much treasure from the past that I have found to believe that there was some sort of magical force bestowing a curse or giving divine protection to an item, seemed utterly ridiculous. The only thing that stopped me from joining his fidgety state was the robed figures that I saw yesterday and that had spoken to me. It seemed that some supernatural powers did exist for some reason and the reason was hung around the McClung family.

    Florence slid up beside me and pulled me aside. Kooper continued to talk to the old caretaker. For some reason we all talked in hushed whispers, as if the dark required a sort of silence. Lance was observing a painting off to the side of the fire and keeping to himself.

    “Doesn’t there seem to be something wrong here?” Florence asked me in a hushed whisper. “The stories that she tells seem sort of cryptic and deeper in meaning don’t you think?”

    “Ghost stories and campfire tales, That’s all it is. It looks to be a haunted castle. It is October and people are attracted to myths and legends of horror. This castle just has some bad stories attached to it. I’m sure that everything will be fine once we get down there.” I said this as it was supposed to be a comfort to her. 

    She saddled up closer to me and I could feel her shiver. Though the room was warm, the darkness of the shadows made it feel like it was a refrigerator. 

    Kooper finished talking to Abigail and signaled to the rest of us to gather around.

    “Abigail is going to allow us to go down into the dungeon and suggest that the treasure we might be seeking is down in the crypts and catacombs. She says that she doesn’t go down there at all so it may be a little dusty. “ 

    “None of us are afraid of some dust.” Lance said. “But what about the other stories, the ones about the people dying down there and only their lifeless bodies coming out?” 

    Kooper looked at the three of us. He could see worry and doubt in Florence and Lance’s eyes. But when he looked in my eyes, I could see the weariness in his eyes. Perhaps Klein’s death still weighed on his heart. 

    “Abigail said that a man matching Klein’s description headed down the dungeon two nights ago. He took a book and his backpack down with him. And she said that when he came back up, he was half crazed and his backpack and book were missing. She saw him bolt to his car and leave as quick as he could.” 

I thought about Klein for a moment longer. The oldest of us four siblings, but that did not mean that he was quirkless. He was almost always seen with that backpack on. Even in the curator’s office, over his nice suit, there was a dingy, dirty backpack. For him to go anywhere without it, was unthinkable. So he must have left it in the dungeon and Kooper would go looking for him and I would follow Kooper down, no matter what.

“Look guys,” Kooper started again. “If you don’t want to go down there, I will go by myself. I have to go and see what Klein saw and perhaps his death will have meant something.” 

    “Kooper,” I spoke up. “I am not afraid. I feel like there is a mystery here, but it is nothing to fear. I will go down with you. I am not afraid.” 

    Kooper seemed to brighten at my confidence, but the others seem to hesitate even more.  

    Kooper and I made our way to the stairs and descended into the darkness of the depths.