The Halloween Project 2024 - Story 4: Buried

“Roger, what the hell is that goddamned thing!” Susan yelled from the porch almost spilling her gin and tonic.

Now with the back of the Outback open Susan could tell that it was a freezer. Somehow Roger and someone he bought it from had wrangled it into the back of the car with just an inch to clear on all sides.

“It’s a freezer! Another freezer. Jesus Christ! You already got one in the basement. Why do you need to get another one? How much did it cost? Where you gonna put it? And I’m not helping you get it out of the car.”

”O.K. Helen. I got the hand truck, I’ll get it out myself. And it’s not a freezer. I’m going to use it as a cold cellar. You know what a cold cellar is?”

”Cold cellar, my ass,” Helen replied.

”I’m going to bury it, right out there beyond the tree line, at the edge of the field. Bury it so just the lid can open and shut. Then I’m going to store root vegetables, potatoes, onions, maybe some wine. It’ll be great.”

”Oh my God, you think you’re a farmer. Don’t you think it’s enough growing those tomatoes and cucumbers and beans and all the other shit you grow. Nobody eats it. Not me.”

Roger shook his head and made his way to the shed to retrieve the hand cart. As he moved away Helen yelled to his back.

”Did you at least remember to get the gin? I’m almost out.”

”Yes, Helen, I got the gin,” he answered.

“Two handles, right? I don’t want to run out,”

”Yes, two.” “And the tonic?” she questioned.

”And the tonic,” he replied.

”At least you’re good for something,” Helen replied, turned on her heels and returned to the house, screen door slamming emphatically behind her.

Roger turned and watched her disappear inside. His eyelids tightened. He wished, just for a moment, there was a way to make her go away. Just go away.

A few days later at a dinner which Roger had prepared, simple meatloaf and mashed potatoes, corn on the cob. Helen had complained about the food then she said,

”How’s your freezer?”

”It’s a cold cellar Helen. I’ve got it in the ground. Finished yesterday. I could have built one but it would have taken a lot more time and a lot more money,” he said.

Helen snorted into her gin, “As if you make any money working at that stupid gas station? When I married you I thought you were gonna make something of yourself. Do something important. Anything! But no, you move me away to this shithole town, far away from friends and family and what do I have? Nothing.”

”You have me,” Roger offered, “and that was 20, no 22, years ago, Helen. And you were a nurse. You had a good career. Until….”

”Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare go there! That fuckin hospital! They were all liars! I didn’t take any of those pills. I didn’t!”

Roger shook his head and forked at his mashed potatoes, moving them here and then there.

”Helen.” he began, “They caught you with the medications in your pocketbook. They fired you because they were missing meds…” before he could say another word Helen had thrown the heavy glass across the kitchen table catching Roger in the shoulder. Gin, tonic and ice splashed across his shirt and table, the glass smashing when it hit the floor.

”Helen! What the hell!!” an anguish filled his shout.

”You’re a shit, Roger! You’re not on my side! You never were!”

”I was,” Roger said flatly, “I always was. For a long time. But I’m tired. I’m so tired now, Helen. I’ve just got no more energy. No more…anything Helen. Nothing left.”

”Go make me another drink,” Helen commanded and Roger did.

Later, when dusk had turned the western sky to purple Roger said to Helen, “Come with me I want to show you something.”

”Show me what?” she slurred. ”Something outside. It won’t take but a few minutes. You’ll find it interesting. Come on, you can bring your drink.’

Helen, leaning on Roger for support, made her way out the back door, across the yard, just beyond the tree line. The flashlight tunneled their way through the dark to the cold cellar. It appeared as a ghostly white slab at their feet.

“And here it is, Roger announced, “Secure and tight all around. See that latch right there,” he focused the beam more directly. “Something got in there and shut the lid…you can’t open it from the inside. Pretty amazing don’t you think?”

Helen grunted and took another long drink.

Roger reached down and, with his free hand, opened the lid wide. It stood vertical and white against the darkness beyond. They watched in silence for a long minute.

Roger placed the flashlight on the ground and sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the cold cellar. A short hop and he was in,, turning to take a long look at Helen.

“I’m so tired, Helen,” he said simply. He laid down on his side, pulling his legs into a crouch, filling the tight space. A long arm extended, reaching up, grasping the edge. At first, slowly, he pulled it closed, then the weight of the lid shifted, and it came down quickly with a dull, extended thud. Somewhere inside a clasp caught. And locked.

Helen stood, peering down, gin at her lips. Time passed, the moon rose. Still she watched. Finally, she turned and staggering every few steps, carved a path back to the house.

”Then rest, asshole,” she said.