Chapter Nine
The Eternal Rest Coffin Company was located near the docks, close to the French Quarter. As Gansley pulled in at the front of the building, another vehicle was driving in from another angle. It parked, and Yami Bakura got out, followed by Bakura.
Lector looked to them in surprise. "I'm sure Gansley and I can handle this."
"Most likely so, but we weren't that far away. And I thought that if the place was closed, you might need a little help to get in and see the records," Yami Bakura sneered.
Bakura scratched his cheek. "Under the circumstances, I hope the Ring would let him. . . ."
"Bah! I don't need the Ring for this. You're forgetting I was the King of Thieves. I had to open all kinds of locks." Yami Bakura folded his arms, sneering a bit.
"Not modern locks, though," Bakura said.
"I'd still be able to do it," Yami Bakura insisted.
Lector tried the door. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but it looks like we won't be needing your services. It's unlocked." He hauled it open and stepped inside. Gansley and the Bakuras quickly followed.
The reception area was dimly lit, as reception areas sometimes were after hours. No people were visibly or audibly on the premises at all. The quartet exchanged confused and suspicious frowns.
"Hello?" Bakura finally called.
At last a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway presumably leading to the hall. "Why, Mr. Leichter," an unfamiliar man's voice greeted. "We weren't expecting you."
"I'm not your supplier, Sir," Lector replied, stepping forward. "I'm Démas Lector . . . his son."
"Oh." A sharp intake of breath. "Of course. Yes. . . . You're . . . pardon me, too young to be your father." The man stepped into the light. Middle-aged, light red hair, balding . . . unfamiliar in every way. His nametag read Albert Cormier. "What can we do for you?"
"We're trying to locate two young men," Lector said.
Bakura went through the pictures on his phone. Finally coming to one of Joey and Tristan being silly, he held it up.
Mr. Cormier came closer to see it. "And why do you believe anyone here would know of their whereabouts?"
"I realize it sounds ludicrous, Sir, but I'm afraid you're the only lead we have," Lector said. "You see, they went missing at the warehouse owned by my father, along with two of your coffins."
". . . I see." Mr. Cormier straightened, raising an eyebrow. "And why would anyone steal our coffins?"
"We had hoped you would have some idea," Gansley said.
"Our business hasn't been affected by the strange thefts among Mr. Leichter's packages," Mr. Cormier replied.
"But you know of them, apparently," Gansley said.
"He didn't want word to get out at all," Lector said, folding his arms. "How do you know?"
"Word travels fast when a business one is associated with is having trouble," Mr. Cormier smoothly explained.
"You're apparently affected by the thefts now," Yami Bakura growled. "Do you have any idea who might be behind this or why?"
"No, I do not," Mr. Cormier insisted.
"Some people believe my father is stealing the packages himself," Lector said. "Do you think that's possible?"
Mr. Cormier looked to him in surprise. "Why, don't you k- . . . oh, that's right, he disowned you. No, I can't picture your father being behind the thefts. He's always been a pillar of society."
"Yes, and that is likely why he disowned his son," Yami Bakura grunted. "He feared a bad reflection would be cast on him."
Lector flushed. "Nevermind that!" he exclaimed.
Gansley laid a hand on Lector's shoulder. "Is there anything you can tell us about these specific coffins? Such as, were they being sent for a particular client?"
"Well . . ." Mr. Cormier hesitated, but finally went to the filing cabinet behind the receptionist's desk and searched through the files. "I suppose for Mr. Leichter's son, we can give out that information. Here it is." He flipped open the folder. "The purchaser was a Dr. Raven. And he requested them to be inscribed with the names 'Joseph Wheeler' and 'Tristan Taylor.'"
Dead silence.
"What?!" Bakura finally gasped.
"Those are the names of the missing boys!" Lector burst out. "How long ago was this order placed?!"
Stunned, Mr. Cormier quickly finished scanning the invoice. "Two weeks ago," he reported.
"He knew two weeks ago that he would want coffins made up for Joseph Wheeler and Tristan Taylor?!" Gansley cried. "They didn't know two weeks ago that they were coming here!"
"Ah. Well, then . . ." Mr. Cormier closed the folder and slipped it back in the drawer, looking uncomfortable. "Dr. Raven is supposed to be a vodun priest. Maybe he received the information from . . . the other side?"
"If he is a voodoo priest, he isn't using the art for good as he is supposed to," Yami Bakura snapped. "He wanted those coffins for ill purposes, no doubt."
Mr. Cormier gave him a hard look. "Are you sure?"
"Dr. Raven is currently wanted by the police for questioning regarding the matter of two people nearly being frozen to death in a restaurant freezer," Lector said, his voice clipped. "One of those people is one of our dear friends." He gestured to himself and Gansley.
"And the other is one of our friends," Bakura added, indicating himself and Yami Bakura.
"Oh my goodness." Mr. Cormier paled, seeming honestly shocked.
"We're afraid he may have taken the boys because they learned something they shouldn't have," Yami Bakura said. "Or perhaps to make an example of them. If he's going to put them in the coffins, then you surely realize time is of the essence."
"You think he might close the coffins and leave them to die in there?!" Mr. Cormier cried in horror.
"Possibly," Yami Bakura said. "Or it could be a childish scare tactic. Either way, we need to locate them without delay."
"Did he say at all where he planned to take the coffins when he had them?" Lector asked.
"No, he didn't," Mr. Cormier frowned. "I could give you a list of all the cemeteries in New Orleans. . . ."
"What about this," Gansley interjected. "Do you have a record of where Dr. Raven may own a tomb?"
"Unfortunately not," Mr. Cormier said. "We've never done business with him before."
"Yet you indicated you know him," Gansley said.
"I know he exists," Mr. Cormier corrected. "I believe he's distantly related to the owner of this establishment."
They stared at him, stunned.
"Marcel Germaine," Mr. Cormier elaborated. "I'm sure he mentioned Dr. Raven being a second cousin thrice removed or some such."
"How convenient," Yami Bakura grunted.
Lector's phone dinged with an incoming text. "Excuse me a moment." He quickly took it out, hoping it would be news about Joey and Tristan. It wasn't, but it was definitely something he needed to know. "I just received a message that my father has been trying to buy your company," he said in disbelief.
Gansley stared. "Do you know why he wants it?" he asked Mr. Cormier, who looked helpless.
"I guess he just thought it would be a good investment," he said. "Mr. Germaine doesn't want to sell."
"Everything only grows more complicated," Bakura sighed.
". . . On second thought, please give us that list of all the cemeteries in New Orleans," Lector requested. "If he's planning to make examples out of Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Taylor, he's not going to hide them away in a tomb. He'll want them left out someplace where they'll be seen."
Mr. Cormier gave a shaky nod. "Come with me, all of you, and I'll get you that list."
They followed him down the hall.
"For that matter, he might not put them in a cemetery at all," Yami Bakura growled. "He might deliver them to the hotel."
"Oh!" Bakura exclaimed in horror.
"Then those who are still there will find them," Gansley pointed out. "We should work with other possibilities."
". . . Of course," Bakura shakily nodded.
xxxx
Joey was still a complete basket case.
"We're in a cemetery!" he screamed. "Not just that, but the most haunted cemetery in the country! Look, there goes an orb!" He pointed to a floating light in horror. "There's another one!"
Tristan, despite being terrified as well, was trying to stay more calm. "Joey, you've gotta get hold of yourself, man!" he cried. "How are we going to find the way out if all you can do is wake up every ghost in the place with your yelling?"
Joey swallowed hard. ". . . That's a good point. Okay. Calm . . . gotta stay calm. . . ." He exhaled slowly. "Did you learn anything else about this place?"
"Well, if it really is St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, it's only a square block," Tristan said. "I'm not sure whether it's that one or not. Let's just start walking and see if we can find the way out. Oh! And do you have your phone? You can call the others for help!"
Joey perked up. "That's the best idea yet!" He grabbed his phone. But his enthusiasm quickly died when he made a new and discouraging discovery. "Oh man, the battery's dead!"
Tristan threw his hands in the air. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Hey, if you'd ever get yourself a cellphone, we'd have another chance in a mess like this," Joey snapped.
". . . Good point. Okay, let's go with plan A and start walking." Tristan took a few steps and stopped. "And stay together!" he added.
"Ohhh, no arguments from me!" Joey scrambled to walk alongside him.
For a few feet all was well. But then a new sound reached Joey's ears as the sound of the CD player faded. "Uh, Tristan?" He grabbed his friend's wrist. "Do you hear anything?"
"Besides your knees knocking and your teeth chattering? No," Tristan shot back.
"Well, listen already!" Joey yelled.
Tristan quieted. The more they traveled along the path, the more distinctive the sounds became. "It's . . . words," he realized. "Someone's talking."
"Who?!" Joey demanded.
Tristan strained to listen. It was easy to hear the whispers, but not so easy to make out the words. At least, not until they passed a particular mausoleum.
"This is where I live," a voice told him.
Tristan's blood ran cold. Without realizing it, he had stopped walking.
"Tristan?!" Joey stared at him. "Come on, let's keep going!"
"Didn't you hear that?!" Tristan exclaimed.
Joey went pale. "I was hoping you hadn't!" He clutched Tristan's wrist and practically flew over the pathway. "Let's get out of here!"
By now Tristan was terrified too. He didn't even bother telling Joey to slow down.
The more frightened they were, the more they couldn't figure out what to do or where to go. They ran up one path and down another, passing mausoleum after mausoleum with no indication of the way out in sight.
"How the heck can one square block seem so huge?!" Tristan finally cried.
"When there's ghosts everywhere!" Joey wailed.
They finally slowed to a halt by a strangely shaped tomb that neither of them had expected to see in New Orleans. "A pyramid?" Joey blinked repeatedly. "Did whoever was buried here think they were a Pharaoh or something?"
Tristan stared at the name across it. "I don't even know how to pronounce that."
Joey shuddered. "Well, nevermind. Let's just keep going." He looked around hopelessly. Some of the nearby tombs looked eerily old and in disrepair, a sharp contrast to the apparently recent pyramid. The more run-down a tomb looked, the more terrified Joey felt of it.
Tristan tugged on Joey's wrist now. "Then let's go!" he said. "Why hang around here?"
"No reason," Joey trembled. "No reason at all."
They tried to walk normally for a while. Everything was quiet again and there hadn't been any more orbs, although neither of them felt like they could relax. When they passed tombs that had clearly been vandalized, Joey especially started to shake once more.
"You know the ghosts must be mad whenever this happens," he quavered. "What if some of them think we're up to no good like that?"
"If they've been hanging around here all the time, they'll have to know that we're not trying to do anything wrong," Tristan replied, and prayed he was right.
Of course, as luck would have it, eventually they found their way to a very old and run-down tomb covered in series of Xs hand-written on every side. Various beads and other trinkets were both hanging on the tomb and laying on the ground around it.
"Oh no," Joey moaned. "This one is really creepy."
"You said it," Tristan gulped. "This is where the voodoo queen is supposedly buried." He took several steps back. "People come here and ask her for things and put the Xs to seal their requests or something."
Joey looked about ready to cry. "I don't wanna ask her for anything!"
"You know, this is probably exactly how Dr. Raven wants us to react," Tristan said. "He wants to scare us so much that we'll pack up and go home. Everybody else must be going nuts looking for us." He cringed. Poor Serenity. . . .
"Well, honestly, he's doing a bang-up job!" Joey exclaimed. "I'm ready to call it quits!"
"So what about stopping the 'great evil' Shadi warned Atem about?" Tristan countered. "You're not going to help with that anymore?"
"How do we stop a corrupt voodoo priest?!" Joey retorted. "We're messing with stuff we don't understand in the least!"
"It's not like he's the first bad guy we've ever met who used dark magic!" Tristan exclaimed.
"No, but no one else has knocked us out with dark magic and stuck us in the most haunted cemetery in the States!" Joey shot back.
"Maybe he didn't even knock us out with dark magic," Tristan said. "When I woke up, I felt like I'd been chloroformed."
"We don't even know what it's like to be chloroformed!" Joey yelled.
"We both smelled something weird right before we passed out," Tristan reminded him.
"That could have been a voodoo potion!" Joey said.
Tristan sighed. "Well, whatever. Do you really want to stand around arguing about it in front of Marie Laveau's possible tomb?"
"No!" Joey retorted. "I don't want to do anything in front of Marie Laveau's possible tomb except leave!"
"Good answer," said Tristan.
Again they took up the seemingly impossible task of winding around the maze of tombs in search of the way out. No matter how they tried, they couldn't seem to find where the wall was at all.
"We must have been stuck right in the middle of the place," Tristan frowned.
"You'd think we could find the edges," Joey retorted. "Maybe the ghosts are keeping them from us!"
"I read about the place being like a maze," Tristan said. "We've just been freaking out so much that we can't focus enough to find the way out."
"Well, how do we not freak out in a place like this?!" Joey snapped.
"I can help you both."
They jumped a mile at the sudden voice. A man was coming over to them from between two tombs.
Joey blinked rapidly, stunned and bewildered. "What the heck are you doing in here in the middle of the night?"
Instead of answering the question, the man said, "You might not find the way out at night for a long time yet without a guide."
"Oh," Tristan blinked. "So you're one of the tour guides. Kind of late to be hanging around here, but we're both really grateful you came along."
"No kidding!" Joey nodded.
"How did you get here?" the man asked as they walked down a grassy path and under several trees.
"We were dumped here by some creep called Dr. Raven," Tristan said bitterly. "We've been investigating him and he didn't like it."
"Have you heard of him?" Joey asked hopefully.
"I don't think so," the man replied.
"He's some corrupt voodoo priest jerk," Joey said.
"And you're investigating him?" The man looked fascinated. "So you're detectives?"
"Well . . . not really," Tristan said. "We came out here to help some guys and also because . . . well, nevermind." He didn't really want to discuss being told about a "great evil" with a stranger. "Anyway, we got mixed up with this creep and he tried to kill two people today, so we were trying to get something on him to take to the police and he surprised us."
"He did some creepy voodoo ritual and stabbed our pictures in coffins," Joey added. "Then we passed out and woke up here in the coffins!"
"That's horrible," the man exclaimed. "But why didn't he just kill both of you?"
Joey and Tristan looked at each other.
"Maybe he thought we'd die of fright in here," Tristan said, not entirely sure he was kidding.
"Tristan says it's the most haunted cemetery in the States," Joey gulped. "Is that really true?!"
"You couldn't prove it by me; I don't have any other cemeteries to compare it to," the man said. "But I can definitely tell you that the cemetery's moniker of 'The City of the Dead' is accurate. There are many here who are bound to something that keeps them on Earth instead of being able to move on. For some, it's the sadness of not having a proper burial place. For others, it's the anger of something unresolved in life or dying before they were ready. Sometimes it's just the love of the city."
Joey was bewildered again. "No proper burial place? What the heck? We're surrounded by burial places!"
"Ah yes, but some people didn't have the money or prestige or family for a tomb. There's a potter's field here for the poor and destitute. Some people weren't satisfied with that at all."
"You can't blame them, I guess," Tristan frowned. "But so they're stuck here forever?"
"Indefinitely, let's say," the man said. "Hopefully someday . . . well, here's the gate."
"Yes!" Joey exclaimed. Beyond the gate he could see the glittering lights of the city. "We're finally home free, baby!"
"Can you make it over alright?" the man asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Tristan said. "But can't you just unlock it for us?"
"I'm afraid not." The man stepped back, placing one hand over the other.
"And you're staying?" Tristan said in further surprise.
"Yes." Now there was a sad, almost wistful tone to their rescuer's voice.
Joey stared at him and finally shrugged. "Well . . . suit yourself, I guess. I say you're crazy to wanna be here!" He gripped the iron bars and started to climb. "Thanks again for your help!"
"Yeah, seriously," Tristan agreed. He started up the other side of the gate.
Both of them made it over safely and dropped to the ground. As they turned to say their goodbyes, they both saw the mysterious man turn transparent and then vanish completely into the night. The boys stood stock-still for a long moment.
"Um, Joey?" Tristan finally spoke.
"Don't say it, Tristan," Joey ordered.
"We were just helped by a ghost."
Joey's knees started knocking again. "B-But . . . he was just like anyone else!" he exclaimed. "I thought we were talking to a living person! There wasn't any indication we weren't!"
"Ghosts did used to be alive," Tristan pointed out. "I guess some of them still remember their humanity after they pass on. They're not all creep shows. Frankly, right now, it's a living person we really need to be afraid of, not a ghost."
"That's a good point. Okay, let's try to find our way back to civilization!" Joey cried. "Everybody else is probably tearing the city apart looking for us!"
"No kidding," Tristan agreed. "It doesn't look like we're too far from city streets. Come on!" He grabbed Joey's wrist and started down the road.
Joey was certainly willing to follow.