Her heart raced. Screams were trapped behind her barely parted lips; only a strangled sound escaped. Her body felt distant, unresponsive, as if paralyzed by potent drugs.
Outside, the van carrying what appeared to be MacKenzie’s coffin halted on a bumpy cemetery road. The driver’s door slammed, followed by the scraping noise of movement. As her coffin was carefully unloaded, MacKenzie’s anxiety peaked. She yearned for rescue, for the sound of laughter that would signify this was all a sick joke.
“Put her here,” a familiar male voice commanded, authoritative yet unsettlingly calm. It was Paul, MacKenzie’s husband, whom she loved dearly. His involvement twisted the knot of fear tighter.
The situation unfolded like a grotesque parody. Paul had always harbored a peculiar sense of humor, but this surpassed peculiarity; it was malevolent.
“Finally, she’s where she belongs,” came a voice dripping with disdain. It was Sabrina, MacKenzie’s friend, or so she had believed. The pain of betrayal stung sharply. The realization dawned with a heavy heart: Paul and Sabrina were co-conspirators.
“I can’t believe we are finally done with this,” Paul’s voice resonated with chilling clarity.
The faint stir of air brushed against MacKenzie’s face as the gravedigger pried open the coffin lid. The fresh breeze was a small mercy.
“I’ve waited for this day for so long,” Paul’s words sliced through the air. “She won’t bother us anymore.” Beside him, Sabrina clasped his hand, their intimacy now unmistakably apparent.
“We’re lucky her father died a year ago,” Paul murmured, mindful of the gravediggers nearby. “If not for his illness, we would have had to send him off, too.”
The revelation added another layer of horror. Amidst this dark tableau, Richard’s dog, an old companion of the cemetery’s groundkeeper, began to whine and bark incessantly at the coffin.
“Shut your mutt up!” Sabrina screeched.
“Sorry,” the groundskeeper, Richard, responded gruffly, admonishing his dog. “Luke, be quiet!”
In the coffin, MacKenzie grappled with a maelstrom of emotions. She knew any movement, any sign of life, could provoke Paul into a more drastic action. So she remained still, a silent witness.
Leaning over MacKenzie’s eerily still form, Sabrina remarked with a detached air, “Jesus, she doesn’t even look human. More like a doll. It’s creepy.”
Paul dismissed any concerns about an autopsy. “There’s no close family left for MacKenzie in this city. She only had you as a friend,” he said to Sabrina. “And these drugs leave the system quickly. No expert will find anything suspicious. I’ve taken care of everything.”
His assurance was chilling. He then addressed Richard and Carter, the young apprentice. “When will you be done?”
“In about 20 minutes,” they responded from the depths of the grave.
“Let’s get out of here,” Paul declared, wrapping his arm around Sabrina’s shoulders. “I’m starving,” Sabrina complained. “Let’s get something to eat.” With one final glance at MacKenzie’s pallid face, she shared a smile with Paul. He paid the gravediggers and departed, leaving behind his wife’s body and the persistent barking of Richard’s dog.
The atmosphere at the grave site was tinged with unease. Carter, breaking the silence, echoed the sentiment. “Strange people. No flowers, no tears, no goodbyes.”
Richard, the seasoned gravedigger, observed Paul’s car disappearing. “I’ve seen a lot in my years here,” he mused, “but this is rare.” His attention then shifted to Luke, who was growing more agitated. Exasperated, Richard tied Luke to a fence. “Let’s lower her in, then you can go. I’ll handle the rest.”
Once Carter had left, Richard gazed down at the dark coffin lid, beginning the solemn task of burying it. But the peace was short-lived. Luke, howling with an intensity that seemed almost supernatural, broke free and leaped into the grave.
“What’s gotten into you, crazy dog!” Richard yelled.
Luke’s barks echoed in the grave’s depths, as if urgently trying to convey a message. Inside the coffin, MacKenzie felt the weight of Luke landing above her. In a moment of clarity, she realized she could at least attempt to make a sound. Her feeble moan, though barely audible, was enough.
Alarmed by the unexpected noise, Richard’s heart raced. “What is this now?” He commanded Luke to step back and squeezed into the grave. He carefully lifted the coffin lid and was struck with disbelief. There before him were the gray eyes of a woman thought to be dead.
“Mother of God,” Richard exclaimed, recoiling in shock.
“Are they still here?” she whispered weakly, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Who? Oh, those… the scoundrels,” Richard nearly cursed. “We need to call the doctors. We need an ambulance right away!”
MacKenzie, gathering her little strength, extended her hand. “Don’t, please,” she implored. “We can’t scare them away. If they find out I’m all right… I just need some time.”
“All right, as you say. Let’s get you out of here,” Richard agreed.
As MacKenzie emerged from the coffin, the weight of her near-demise hit her. She wept, clinging to the earth. Surrounded by crosses and portraits of the deceased, the grim reality of her situation sank in deeper. Soon, she found herself in the same van that had transported her to the cemetery, but now as a living, breathing passenger.
Just a day ago, she had been having dinner with Paul in their luxurious two-story house, a legacy from her parents. She speculated that Paul must have drugged her wine during their anniversary dinner. She recalled their conversation. “It doesn’t seem like you,” she had said playfully. “Usually it’s the best restaurant, live music, and all.” Paul had replied, “I did it for you, by the way.” Now those memories were tainted with deceit. The realization that her close friend Sabrina was also involved added a deeper layer of betrayal. How long had they been plotting this?
MacKenzie made her way into the watchman’s hut, her legs shaky. The modest interior barely registered. Richard, ever the compassionate soul, moved to put the kettle on. “You’ll feel better soon. I’ll brew you some tea.”
“My mind is foggy,” McKenzie confessed, pressing her temples. “My husband drugged me. They were after my fortunes.”
Richard looked at her, his expression a mix of astonishment and sympathy. “Your husband certainly seemed like a scoundrel.” He opened a drawer and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll give you the money, don’t worry. How could I leave you in such a situation? But what are you going to do?”
MacKenzie’s resolve hardened. “I don’t know yet. But one thing’s for sure: that monster will pay for everything. They wanted to kill me, and in such a barbaric way. How naive I was.”
Luke, the loyal dog, approached her and laid his heavy head on her lap. “What a good boy,” MacKenzie said softly, stroking him. “I didn’t even thank you. It was you who saved me.”
That night, MacKenzie found herself in a rundown hotel. After a restless night, her resolve crystallized. She knew what she had to do. Returning to the cemetery, she found Richard diligently working.
“I’m back,” she said with a smile, “and I need your help again.”
She outlined her strategy. “We need to scare Paul. Call him and say you know his secret, that you saw me open my eyes. Demand a large sum for your silence. When you meet, get them talking so every word is recorded. Paul’s a braggart; I’m sure he’ll talk.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Richard agreed.
They informed a police officer, who questioned MacKenzie thoroughly before agreeing to help conceal himself and his team around the hut. As the clock ticked towards the appointed time, Richard, with a deep breath, dialed Paul’s number.
“Hello? It’s Richard. We need to meet and talk about how you buried your wife alive. I will see you at my hut today at 4:00 p.m. I’ll also text you the amount of money you will need to bring.” He hung up after Paul’s brief, startled “Okay.”
Üstteki Resimden Diğer Sayfaya Geçiş Yaparak Haberin Devamını Okuyabilirsiniz..
