Cadaver 1

  Copyright © 2023 Nick Clausen

  Edited by Diana Cox

  Created with Atticus

  The author asserts his moral rights to this work.

  Please respect the hard work of the author.

  Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

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  1

  Norway, 7:05 AM

  “Hey, Jakob? I think there’s a dead guy in there …”

  Jakob turns his head to look over his shoulder at Viggo, who has opened the door to the cottage. “Yeah, right,” he snorts. “Almost got me, man.”

  He focuses on what he was doing: writing his name in the snow. But now, because Viggo had him look away, it’s all messed up, and he doesn’t have enough left to start over.

  No matter. It’s too cold to be standing here in the middle of the forest with his wiener out anyway. So, he finishes up and tucks it away, then quickly puts his gloves back on. “Goddamn, it’s biting today, huh? Must be well below zero.”

  Viggo doesn’t answer.

  As Jakob starts towards the cottage, he’s surprised to see his friend still standing in front of the open door, staring into the cottage. He’s holding the flashlight, his breath visible in the freezing morning air. He looks genuinely shocked. But Jakob knows him too well, knows how clever he can be.

  “Come on, knock it off already. I told you, I’m not biting.”

  Viggo blinks, then finally turns his head to look at Jakob. “I think … I think he’s really dead. Like, for real.”

  Jakob frowns. “What are you on about, man?”

  Viggo points into the cottage. “That guy in there.”

  Something on Viggo’s face tells Jakob that he’s not joking. Even Viggo can’t act this convincingly.

  Jakob yanks the flashlight from him. His eyes automatically go to the floor, as that’s where he would expect to see a dead person. But the floor is empty, except for piles of dust and dried leaves. The cottage has no furniture and only a single, tiny window, allowing some of the early twilight to enter. A guy is hanging from a rope tied to one of the rafters.

  It’s an old man, at least seventy, and he’s tall and skinny. That last part is easy to tell, because he’s only wearing a thin, red forester’s shirt and cargo pants, revealing his bony shoulders and protruding kneecaps. His skin is gray like concrete. His eyes and mouth are both closed. The guy is slowly turning, causing the rope to give off a low, eerie creaking sound, which seems very loud in the quiet morning.

  “He really is dead,” Viggo says again, audibly swallowing. “That’s a real cadaver.”

  Jakob looks at him. “A what?”

  “A dead body. A corpse.”

  “Yeah, I know it is. Why didn’t you just call it that?”

  Viggo shakes his head. “This is not how I imagined the day would start.”

  Jakob grins. “No, it’s way cooler. Come on, man, let’s have a closer look.”

  Viggo grabs his arm. Even through the thick jacket, Jakob can feel him squeezing hard. His eyes are big behind the thick glasses. “Are you crazy? This could be a crime scene. We can’t go in there.”

  “A crime scene? Come on, it’s just an old guy who hanged himself. That’s no crime, is it?”

  “Actually, it is. According to the law, suicide—”

  “Look, he even left a note,” Jakob cuts him off, pointing the light at the man’s back pocket as the corpse slowly revolves. The corner of a yellowy, crumpled piece of paper is sticking out. “We can read it and find out why he did it. Aren’t you curious?”

  Viggo bites his lip. “Yeah, but ... it’s probably something personal. I feel like we’d be prying.”

  “He’s not going to mind, trust me,” Jakob says, stepping inside the cottage before Viggo can stop him.

  As soon as he does, his courage falters somewhat. The atmosphere in the tiny wooden house is … weird. Like he’s exited the forest and entered an alternate dimension. The air is thicker, and there’s a faint, putrid smell.

  Is that rotting flesh? No, it’s too cold for that.

  Looking up at the guy, he can’t help but shiver, hoping that Viggo doesn’t notice. The face is like a wax mask, his expression frozen in something in between surprise and a sinister sneer. It doesn’t mean anything, of course. It’s just whatever emotions went through the old guy as he died. Still, it looks eerie. The way he’s slowly turning causes shadows to shift over his face, making it look like his demeanor is changing.

  Come on, get a grip. It’s not a person anymore. It’s just … dead meat.

  Jakob forces himself to step closer. Reaching out his hand, he gingerly pulls the paper from the man’s pocket. It’s folded once. Jakob opens the letter and finds a brief message in curly, old-school longhand. Written in four short lines, it almost reads like one of those stupid poems they had to analyze at school.

  Whoever finds me

  Burn me

  Burn the cottage

  Burn the whole cursed forest

  “Aw, that’s awesome,” he whispers, feeling another surge of goose bumps climb up his back.

  “What?” Viggo asks. “What does it say?”

  “Listen to this …” He reads the suicide note out loud.

  Just at the last word, there comes a sound from the dead guy. It’s like a creak or a groan, and it’s all Jakob can do not to storm out of there.

  Viggo gasps. “Shit, what was that?”

  Jakob points the light up at the corpse, his heart beating so fast it makes his sight fluttery. “It was just the rope,” he breathes. “It just … made a noise. Because of how he’s turning.”

  Viggo says something else, but Jakob doesn’t catch it. He’s looking intently at the man’s face as he comes back around for another rotation.

  Doesn’t he look a little different now? That wrinkle on his forehead … was it there before?

  Jakob realizes he’s thinking crazy. Dead people don’t change their expression. Even if the guy by some miracle wasn’t actually dead—which he clearly is—he’s also frozen stiff. No way his facial muscles could have moved.

  You’re being a complete scaredy cat, you know that? Think of Aksel. He’s dealing with dead bodies all day. He’d mock you if he could see you now.

  Still, being around dead bodies in the clean, well-lit environment of the hospital morgue like his older brother is doing must feel vastly different from stumbling upon a corpse in the middle of a dark forest, miles from any kind of civilization.

  “Jakob?”

  Viggo’s voice calls him back.

  Jakob blinks and looks at him. “What?”

  “Look. Look at that rafter. It’s been chipped a third of the way through.”

  Jakob follows his friend’s pointing glove. The beam that the guy used to fasten the rope around really has been done a number on. Panning the flashlight down, Jakob notices the wooden chips mixed with the dust. “Huh. Must have been an animal.”

  Viggo frowns. “What kind of animal would chew away at wood like that?”

  “I don’t know, woodpeckers? Beavers?”

  Viggo draws in a sharp breath. “Oh, man … look at his fingers, Jakob.”

  Jakob can’t believe he didn’t notice until now. There’s something wrong with the guy’s fingers. The tips are all white and thin. At first glance, Jakob takes it to be his nails that have grown long and pointy. But with the help of the light, he can tell it’s bones protruding. The skin and flesh are peeled back.

  “Shit,” he whispers. “So, he did that to the rafter. He clawed at it until his fingers were literally worn to the bone.”

  Viggo keeps shifting his weight, looking from Jakob to the dead guy. “Do you think he … regretted his decision? Maybe tried to pull himself up, but didn’t have the strength?”

  Jakob considers. “Naah. Making those indents must have taken hours if not days.”

  “So he did it before he hung himself?”

  Jakob snorts. “He sure as hell didn’t do it after.”

  “It makes no sense, Jakob.”

  “Wh at doesn’t?”

  Viggo throws out his arms. “Why would he do such a thing? If he came here to hang himself, why claw away at the rafter first?”

  “No idea. He could have been crazy for all we know. Psychotic or something.”

  Viggo shakes his head. “I don’t like it, Jakob. I don’t like any of this.”

  “Come on, don’t piss yourself.”

  “I think we should call the sheriff.”

  Jakob sighs. “I told you, there’s zero coverage out here. Unless you climb to the top of one of those pines, there’s no chance in hell you’ll get a signal. And even if you could get through, do you really think Tom would come all the way out here? It’s”—Jakob checks his clock—“seven o’clock, it’s Saturday, and it’s freezing. You know him, he’s a lazy fuck.”

  “Come on, man. I really think we should get out of here. Something’s messed up. Can’t you feel it?”

  “All I feel is that I’m getting cold from standing here. Look, we can’t just leave. We gotta cut him down and drive him to the hospital.”

  “What?” Viggo’s voice grows shrill. “Are you out of your mind? What if we …? Why would you …?” Clearly searching for any kind of argument to change Jakob’s mind, he blurts out: “What will your dad say if we put a dead guy in the back of his car?”

  “We’ll wrap him in the blanket. It’ll be fine.”

  “But why would you even take him to the hospital? It’s way too late for that.”

  “They’ll have to do his autopsy at the morgue. That’s procedure. I know because Aksel told me. They always do that, even with people killed in traffic and stuff.”

  Viggo takes a deep breath. “Look, man. I know your brother got that job, but that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly trained in handling corpses as well. I say we get the hell out of here. Let’s drive back down to the town, and then we can call the sheriff.”

  Even as Viggo is speaking, Jakob realizes he’s made up his mind. Part of him wants to get out of here just like his friend is suggesting. But the thought of them running back to town like a couple of cowards is holding him back. People like to talk, and within days, everyone will know about the dead guy. On the other hand, the story will sound a whole lot better if it entails Jakob and Viggo bringing the dude back with them. Not only did they find him, they also brought him home. Almost like a couple of heroes.

  “Listen, we’re doing this,” Jakob says, cutting Viggo off. “I’ll cut him down while you go get the blanket from the car. It’s the responsible thing to do.”

  “But—”

  “Just get the damn blanket, okay? And stop being such a sissy.”

  Viggo is about to say something, but immediately clams up when Jakob calls him a sissy. That’s the magic word. The one they’ve used to dare each other ever since they were old enough to talk.

  “Fine,” Viggo says through gritted teeth. “But for the record, I think this is a very stupid idea.”

  “Noted,” Jakob says, taking his skinning knife out of his jacket pocket and opening the leather holster. He sharpened the blade just last night, hoping he would get to skin a deer with it.

  He never imagined he would use it to cut down a dead guy.

  2

  The moment Viggo leaves, Jakob regrets sending him back to the car.

  Staring up at the dead guy, the cabin suddenly feels claustrophobic. The corpse, despite being very thin, seems to take up most of the space.

  Jakob never saw a dead person in real life before. Plenty of animals, back when he and Aksel went hunting.

  But this is very different.

  This used to be someone. A man. With a name. A past. Probably a family. Maybe he even had kids. It could be Jakob’s own grandpa dangling there.

  He feels an unexpected stab of sympathy for the guy. Whatever plagued him so much he decided to come out here to the middle of nowhere to end it all, it couldn’t have been pleasant.

  Pull yourself together, man. Viggo will only be gone for two minutes. If you’re still standing here when he comes back, he’ll know you lost your nerve.

  Jakob breathes in hard through his nose and puts the flashlight in his pocket. That’s when he realizes the flaw in his plan: the rope is outside of his reach. The man must be almost five foot two, and he’s suspended another foot above the floor.

  As Jakob stands there, looking up at the rope, contemplating how to do it, the dead guy turns slowly, his face coming into view.

  Jakob puts a gloved hand on the guy’s arm and gently swings him back around.

  “It’s easier if you don’t look at me,” he mutters, trying to make light of the situation. But the sound of his voice reveals just how scared he actually is. His legs feel weak, and he’s even sweating underneath the layers of clothes.

  He gazes around for anything to stand on, but finds nothing. He could go outside to look, but he knows he won’t have any luck out there, either. The rope looks worn and frail, though.

  It’s very brittle, it just needs a single cut.

  Jakob jumps and swats at the rope with the knife, missing it by an inch. He jumps again, takes another, more confident swing.

  The blade slides effortlessly through the fabric. It’s like the rope was just waiting to go.

  Jakob and the dead guy land simultaneously. The corpse really is frozen solid, its joints not giving way even the slightest. Instead, the body balances on its feet for a split second like a statue without a foundation. Then it tips towards Jakob.

  He shrieks and jumps aside. He just manages to get out of the way as the corpse bangs its head against the wall, then slides to the floor.

  Jakob stares down at the dead guy, his heart hammering in his ears.

  “Okay,” he breathes, letting out a nervous laughter. “Okay, that’s fine. Not very elegant, but I got him down.”

  He fumbles to put away the knife.

  Lying across the cabin, the dead guy almost spans from wall to wall. Jakob doesn’t want to touch him if he can help it, even while wearing gloves. So, he steps over him and picks up the piece of rope still attached around the guy’s neck. Tugging at it, he finds that it holds. He turns the guy around, so that his head is pointing towards the doorway. Pulling a little harder, he’s able to slide him across the wooden floor.

  The cabin is slightly elevated off the ground, and there’s a step down from the door. Jakob stops at the point where the guy’s bald head is just sticking out. He lets go of the rope and steps back, breathing out.

  I did it, he thinks, grinning. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

  He looks in the direction of the car, hoping to see Viggo on his way back. There’s nothing but trees and bushes and darkness.

  It’s fine, he’ll only be a minute. Unless, of course … he gets lost.

  Jakob shakes his head. Viggo can’t be that stupid. They parked the car less than half a mile from here, and it’s a straight line. They’ve come here to the cabin for three years now, using it as their reference point. The forest around here is familiar to them.

  Still, Viggo isn’t nearly as trained in navigating out here as Jakob is. Both he and Aksel went hunting with their dad ever since they were young. Viggo only learned it when Jakob started bringing him. That was when Aksel began working and lost interest in hunting. Nowadays, he’s only into base jumping, which Jakob can never get his head around; he hates heights more than anything.

  Jakob wipes his nose on his glove. He looks down at the dead guy, who’s lying on his back, his face turned towards the treetops and the black skies above. At this time of year, the sun doesn’t rise until nine. Still, it’s a little less dark out here than inside the cabin, and Jakob notices something he didn’t see before: The guy’s eyes aren’t closed all the way. Also, his skin isn’t grey as it appeared to be, not exactly. It has a greenish hue.

  Jakob takes out the flashlight again. Turning it on, he can’t help but gasp.

  The guy really is green. Underneath the frozen skin, the veins are visible like thin, dark electrical cords.

  Damn. Guy started to decompose before he froze. And what’s that with his eyes?

  Jakob bends closer, surveying the guy’s face. Both eyelids are halfway raised. What’s visible of the eyeballs is completely black. Like the pupils have swollen to cover everything. Or like—

  A sudden gust of wind causes Jakob to jolt and look around. He’s still alone. There are no large predators to be concerned about in this part of the woods. At least not during winter. Bears are hibernating and wolves are rarely seen around here. Besides, he has the rifle. It’s leaning against the cottage where he left it.

 

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