The rope was tied to Coco's saddle, and Nick uncoiled it. "You'll need the lantern," Nick said indicating the one on the ground next to him. "And...the burlap bag."

The bag lay expectantly on the ground by the lantern. Soon, it would bear those evil bones into the world again, back into the light. Maybe that was what they wanted, to be born again. He grasped the limp bag in a tight fist. A question formed in his mind. Was this what they should do? He turned. "Nick..."

But his brother didn't hear. He had gone over with Coco to the well. He tossed aside the first of the boards that covered it. One by one, he removed the wooden barrier between the world of the living and the dead.

Jarrod joined him, but could not bring himself to help with the boards. He only watched and noticed that the smell that had steadily strengthened since his arrival home was of the rotting decay of flesh. It wasn't in his room at all. This well was the source.

When Nick pried the last of the boards, a sigh of tepid, stagnant air issued from the well. Most of the stench was borne off by the winds that whipped around them, but still, Nick jumped as if electrified and stumbled away.

Coughing, Nick threw an arm over Coco's shoulders to steady himself. Coco lurched, and Nick had to take control of the frightened animal. He grabbed the reins. "Shh, easy Coco. Nothing here. Just the wind." He cast a weary gaze to the sky and the gathering black clouds that hid the moon. Lightning flashed within their depths showing how sinister the weather had become. He looked at Jarrod. "We should hurry. I'll go down-"

"No," Jarrod said, not able to tear his eyes from the pit. "He's still down there. He lost you once. I certainly won't give him another chance at you."

"Come on," Nick countered. "I'm a grown man now, he couldn't possibly-"

"He's bones, Nick!" Jarrod snapped. "Just dry filthy bones. I shot him all those years ago. I ought to be the one to bring him up. You just make sure you secure that rope.

Jarrod took a long drink from his canteen and still his throat was parched. His tongue felt dry in his mouth. Fear did this. He hated even realizing it was fear driving everything he did now. It was fear for his brother. Nick had nearly been killed all those years ago, either by falling into the well, or by the hands of that child murderer. He sensed the bones wanted Nick down there so they could finish him properly. That's why they had spoken to him and not to Jarrod.

He walked to the edge of the pit. The rope lay at his feet. He sat on the cool, damp ground and slipped a foot into the knotted loop at the bottom of the rope. Nick handed him the lantern and slung the burlap bag over his shoulder, leaving his hand there to give his shoulder a squeeze.

"You ready for this?"

Jarrod nodded. "As I'll ever be."

"Just bones, Jarrod. That's all," Nick said. "They might be buried, what with all the rains over the years. No telling what has fallen in on top of him."

"I'll find him."

Nick gave his brother a pat on the back and went to his horse. "I'll steady Coco. He'll get you down there safely."

Jarrod nodded. "I'm ready." He eased himself over the edge and dangled over the dark abyss. Slowly, he felt the rope become taut and gradually let go of the grass and earth that kept him from falling. Down slowly, ever so slowly, Jarrod sank into the hole in the earth.

No longer buffeted by the wind, Jarrod gathered to him a sense of deathly stillness that was the well's interior. What was up there, Jarrod could still see, was torment, and life. Down here, was nothing but blackness and shadow and an overwhelming sense of loss. The lamp clanged against the wall and the light skittered over the roughly dug earth. The bottom was as black as hell.

Light flashed above and the rope jerked. Jarrod spun around and clung to the rope.

"You all right Jarrod?" Nick called from what seemed a long, long distance.

Jarrod thought he saw his brother peer over the side for a brief moment, but then wasn't so sure. "I'm all right!" he called up. "Just...keep 'im steady." He felt himself descending again.

He thought he saw the floor. Dirt and leaves, he might sink into it and get caught. "Nick!" he called again, but Nick didn't respond. Oh well, I'll just have to step into it, he thought. He put his free foot tentatively on the muck and though it was soft, it was solid enough not to swallow him. He put more weight on that foot and he heard a plaintive sound.

"Not possible," he murmured. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, for what he heard was the soft sobbing of a child.