Six Feet Above Truth

The heavy crash bar of the rear exit door gave way under their combined weight, spilling Claire and Ethan out into the narrow, rain-slicked alley behind the funeral home.

The sky above was a gloomy, bruised purple, heavy with late-afternoon storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, masking the wail of sirens circling the front block.

“This way!” Claire gasped, grabbing Ethan’s hand.

Her legs were still weak from the paralytic drug Richard had slipped into her tea three days earlier—the drug that had slowed her heart rate to a near-imperceptible crawl, convincing the dirty coroner that she had succumbed to sudden cardiac arrest.

She stumbled, her heels snapping on the cobblestones. She kicked the expensive shoes off, running barefoot through the cold puddles.

Behind them, the metal alley door slammed open with a violent metallic bang.

Richard burst out into the rain. He was holding an iron tire iron he had grabbed from the loading dock, his eyes bloodshot, blood dripping down his collar from his head wound.

“CLAIRE!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the narrow brick corridor like a demon’s roar.

“Keep running, Ethan!” Claire pushed Ethan ahead of her toward the main street at the end of the alley.

They burst out onto the busy downtown avenue. Traffic was backed up for blocks due to the emergency vehicles surrounding the front of Oakridge Memorial. Pedestrians under black umbrellas stopped, staring in complete shock at the soaked, barefoot woman in a torn funeral dress and the little boy covered in soot and water.

“Help us!” Claire screamed, waving her arms toward a idling yellow taxi cab stalled in traffic. “Please! Somebody call the police!”

Before anyone could react, Richard pushed his way through the crowd, sliding the tire iron into his long trench coat, grabbing Claire roughly by the shoulder.

“Forgive my wife, everyone!” Richard announced loudly, forcing a hollow, panicked smile as he tried to pull her back toward the alley. “She’s having a severe psychotic episode! She’s off her medication!”

“He tried to bury me!” Claire shrieked, kicking at his shins. “He’s a murderer!”

The bystanders hesitated, confused, looking between the manic, terrified woman and the well-dressed, bloodied man trying to control her. In a world where mental health episodes were common, Richard’s smooth, authoritative lie was almost enough to work.

Almost.

Ethan stepped between them, grabbing a heavy brass wet-floor sign from outside a diner entrance, and swung it with all his might directly into Richard’s ribs.

*THWACK!*

Richard gasped, staggering back into a parked car hood.