Chapter 3: Fractured Loyalties
The mahogany coffin shifted heavily on its velvet bier, sliding a few inches under Julian’s sudden, desperate heave. The polished wood groaned in protest against the silence of the funeral chapel, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings and tall stained-glass windows. Julian’s muscles strained beneath his tailored black suit, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached. He refused to let his father die in a suffocating box, buried under the weight of lies and betrayal.
Beatrice watched him with a mixture of horror and desperate resignation. Realizing she could not stop her son, she rushed to the other side of the casket, slipping her gloved hands beneath the heavy base.
"Together," Beatrice muttered, her voice tight with strain. "On three. One, two, three."
With a synchronized grunt, mother and son heaved the casket off the ornate wooden stand. It was heavier than Julian had imagined, weighted down by custom lead-lining and his father’s motionless frame. As the box tilted, a muffled thump echoed from within, followed by a frantic scratching sound against the interior padding. Arthur was fighting with every ounce of strength he had left, desperate to aid their rescue attempt.
"Hold on, Dad," Julian panted, sweat beading on his forehead and matting his dark wavy hair. "We’ve got you."
They staggered backward, navigating the narrow aisle between rows of empty oak pews. The white floral arrangements—the lilies and roses meant to honor a peaceful passing—were knocked aside, scattering petals across the floor in a chaotic flurry of white and red. They reached the side exit door, a heavy metal fire escape hatch that led directly into the alleyway behind the building.
Julian reached out with one free hand, shoved the panic bar, and kicked the door open. A blast of cold, rainy air rushed into the sanctuary, bringing the scent of wet asphalt and urban decay.
"The alley is clear," Julian said, scanning the narrow brick corridor outside. "Bring him through."
They maneuvered the awkward, heavy box through the narrow doorway, scraping the polished mahogany against the metal frame. As the casket cleared the threshold, a sudden screech of tires echoed from the front of the funeral home. Headlights swept across the stained-glass windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the sanctuary walls.
"They're here," Beatrice gasped, her knees nearly buckling under the weight of the coffin. "The transport team. They’re early."
"Keep moving!" Julian urged, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulders.
They dropped the heavy end of the casket onto a wheeled utility cart parked near the back exit, rolling it hurriedly toward the waiting passenger side of Julian’s parked sedan. Without hesitation, Julian popped the trunk, praying to any god that would listen that the box would fit. It was a tight squeeze, the lid scraping against the metal frame of the trunk opening, but with a hard shove, they managed to wedge it inside.
Julian slammed the trunk shut, the dull thud echoing loudly in the enclosed alley. He rushed to the driver’s side door, throwing it open and sliding behind the steering wheel. Beatrice scrambled into the passenger seat, pulling her black veil back to wipe the sweat from her pale forehead.
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"Where are we going?" Beatrice asked, her voice trembling as Julian turned the ignition and the engine roared to life.
"Not home," Julian said, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror as he threw the car into reverse. "We're going to the only person who can explain why my father is locked in a box."
