Chapter 4 - The Iron Box
“What is that rusted thing, Mark? Is that what you were fighting for all this time?” Eleanor asked, staring down at the battered container as fine dust motes swirled in the beam of light.
“It’s not a body, it’s a lockbox, but look at the latch—it’s sealed with industrial lead solder,” Mark observed, running his thumb over the oxidized surface while the strange scraping sound resumed from deep within the hole.
“Put it back, Mark. Whatever is in that box stayed down there for forty years for a very specific reason,” Eleanor whispered, her professional veneer finally cracking as she looked past her husband toward the dark void.
“Someone was locked down there, Eleanor, and based on the scratching, they might still be breathing,” Mark said, ignoring her warning as he grabbed a heavy brass fireplace poker from the hearth.
“You are going to break the seal? Have you lost your absolute mind? That could contain hazardous materials, legal documents, or worse,” Eleanor protested, grabbing his arm with a desperate grip.
“Worse than letting a living human being starve beneath our family room? I don’t think so, El,” Mark replied coldly, raising the heavy brass poker above his head.
“Daddy, don’t hit it, you’ll wake up the man in the dirt,” Lily cried out softly from the shadows of the hallway, her wide blue eyes reflecting the dim light.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, Daddy is just going to see what Grandfather left behind,” Mark reassured her, bringing the heavy metal tool down hard against the lead seal of the box.
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The impact echoed like a gunshot through the silent house, sending a shower of gray sparks flying across the wooden floorboards.
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