The Paupers' Crypt by Ron Ripley

join the hundreds of others in the crypt.
    Eventually.
    Josephus smiled. The cannibal’s pain had been delectable and quite made up for the escape of Brian.
    Josephus looked around the room, searching. Tucked into a dark corner, barely visible, was what he sought.
    The spirit of the other who had been with Brian.
    “Come out,” Josephus commanded.
    The spirit didn’t move.
    Josephus frowned, reached out and grasped the ghost. The man snarled in pain as he was pulled into the open.
    “You’re willful,” Josephus said, chuckling. The man twisted and pulled, trying to get free of Josephus. “No, no. None of that.”
    The man howled as Josephus squeezed for a moment.
    When Josephus relaxed his grip, the man didn’t struggle, merely glared at him.
    “Excellent,” Josephus said. “You learn quickly.”
    The man didn’t reply.
    Josephus shrugged. “You will seek out Brian, the one you were traveling with. When you find him, bring him to me.”
    “Do it yourself,” the man snapped.
    Josephus squeezed until the man screamed. He tightened his grip a little more. After a moment, he relaxed his hold and smiled. “I have things such as you to do the task for me. Do it well, and I will probably forget you even exist. Fail to find him, and each day, for a decade, I will make the cannibal's passing seem like a blessing in comparison to what you will suffer.”
    The man glanced around the room, at the shimmering remnants of Owen’s ghostly body, and nodded.
    “I’ll find him,” the man said.
    “Excellent,” Josephus said, letting go. “Do not rush. We have an abundance of time. Merely find him, and tell me where he is.”
    “Where will you be?” the man asked.
    “In the crypt, by the door,” Josephus replied. “And mark your passage. It is easy to get lost here.”
    Without waiting to see what the man would do, Josephus turned and left the room.
     

Chapter 31: A New Friend
     
    Brian liked Jacob.
    The man was funny and odd. But Brian figured solitary confinement for decades would make anyone quirky. Often, as they sat in Jacob’s small room, the man would speak to himself. A low whisper. He would ask himself about the Boston Red Sox, who the president was and what the man was up to in office, and if a certain woman named Mary Anne was still single. He wondered what it would be like to eat a steak. He was curious about apple trees.
    The first few times Jacob had spoken in a low voice Brian had answered him, and Jacob had looked up, surprised. Afterward, Brian had stopped. He only replied if Jacob spoke to him directly.
    Which he did often enough.
    “Brian,” Jacob said.
    Brian looked up and smiled tiredly. “Yes?”
    “What’s life like out there?” Jacob asked.
    Brian stretched a little. “Well, it’s different. I don’t know much about the early seventies, I was a little too young, but I guess the best question is what do you want to know about specifically?”
    Jacob thought for a moment before he answered, “Cars. I’ve seen a few pictures in newspapers and magazines I find. Not too many, though. The marsh water gets to them pretty quickly.”
    “Cars,” Brian said, nodding. “Alright, let me tell you a little about cars.”
    He leaned back against the wall, took a sip from the jug of water, and told Jacob everything he knew about cars. He spoke for what was probably an hour, maybe even two. Jacob’s eyes had grown wide at the size of the engines, and he had shaken his head at the speeds.
    By the time Brian finished his throat was sore and he knew he hadn’t covered a tenth of what there was to say. But Jacob was happy.
    “A four hundred and forty-two-inch cubic engine,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “And over a hundred and twenty miles an hour?”
    Brian nodded.
    “Police have those, too?” Jacob asked.
    “They have what are called interceptors,” Brian said. “I don’t know much about those, other than they’ll keep up with the best in a chase.”
    Jacob grinned, then he shook