The Coffin Maker: Part 4

A murmur was spreading in the town of Oxhorn; rumors of possessions and lifesavings stolen were reported by several people. The sheriff lazily asked the same question to each individual, “Have you seen anyone recently that might be suspicious?” To which they all answered the same, “The man in black.” The sheriff continued to deny their unanimous accusations solely because he didn’t assume Darwin’s eccentricities were worthy of an interrogation. In fact, Darwin had been kind enough to show the sheriff his secret, which he felt in some way, encouraged the sheriff to give Darwin the benefit of the doubt.

Gerry hadn’t spoken to Darwin since the day Cicero arrived. He heard the rumors of stolen money but questioned Darwin’s motive as he had generously donated more than enough for the coffin, if it was indeed Darwin behind the robberies. He dismissed Darwin as a culprit but admittedly checked his own deposits and savings nightly. Everything was still there.

Since the day Darwin showed up at Oxhorn there hadn’t been a single duel, which was extremely odd but it allowed Gerry copious, uninterrupted hours of labor to fill in the gaps along the wall of coffins in his shop. He didn’t have to customize dimensions for the newly dead, only for the dead-to-be. And he had made six coffins in this time, placing at least one coffin in each gap. For some strange reason, Darwin had been an omen of life. Gerry couldn’t recall the last time Oxhorn had lasted this long without a duel. He hated to admit it, but he was glad Darwin had come, if it was only for that reason.

Gerry looked on the floor in his shop and saw the light had struck twelve o’ clock. Habitually, Gerry set down his tools and stepped outside. This was normally to witness the daily duel and measure the corpse, but lately it became a time to soak in the daylight and see the world go by. He stood closer to the dirt road and breathed in the fresh air.

“Hello, my friend!” a voice called out from the left side of the road. Darwin smiled cheerfully at Gerry. They waved at each other.

“Good afternoon, Darwin.”

“Gerry, we haven’t spoken to one another in quite some time, I’ve been busy preparing for my show.”

“That’s fine. No hard feelings.” Gerry didn’t care to be Darwin’s friend but he enjoyed the company, something he wasn’t familiar with.

“Good, good,” Darwin smiled gratefully. “My friend, I must ask something from you. You remember my secret, don’t you?”

“Yeah. The monkey locked in the caravan?”

“Loki is a chimpanzee. But no, not that secret. My premonition?”

“Right,” it came back to Gerry. “That you’re going to die.”

“Exactly. I don’t suppose you… own a gun, do you, Gerry?”

He would never own a gun. Gerry didn’t want to account for anymore dead to tend to in this town, creating more work for himself. “No, but I have a knife,” he joked.

Darwin nodded in approval, laughing awkwardly, “Oh, yes. I get it. You know the old saying: don’t bring a knife to a gun fight. However, Gerry… I will take it.”

“The knife?” Gerry asked doubtfully.

“Yes. I will take the knife.”

“I don’t know how many duels you’ve been in but that’s not going to help much—”

Darwin suddenly spoke low and in an assertive tone, “Give me the knife, Gerry.” Darwin locked eyes with his soulless gaze at Gerry. Gerry leaned back in discomfort, then reached behind himself and pulled out a knife out of a moleskin sheath looped around his belt. He flipped it once in the air and caught it by the tip of the blade, holding the handle out for Darwin. Darwin reached forward and took the knife between his thumb and his fore and middle fingers. “Thank you,” Darwin spoke plainly.

Darwin turned to leave but Gerry called out to him, “I haven’t seen Cicero since he came into town.”

Darwin paused in his tracks. He stood still for what felt like several minutes until he spun around to face Gerry. “He’s rehearsing, my friend,” he answered with a dead smile. Darwin faced the front and continued back down the road away from Gerry.

The Coffin Shop was filled with a blue darkness from the moonlight, striking between nine o’ clock and ten o’ clock on the floor. The small green lamp on the L-shaped desk gave a gentle orange glow from one corner of the room. Gerry was still awake and wanted to continue to make coffins to fill in more empty spaces. He was truly grateful there hadn’t been any duels since Darwin had come, and he felt more energetic than he had in years. The toll of death weighs heavy on one’s soul, Gerry had learned, even if he didn’t know any of them personally. He chuckled to himself as he then pondered how true Darwin’s words were, “The dead do weigh more.”

As Gerry collected a pile of nails off the table to hammer the sides of a new coffin, a scream suddenly echoed in the night. Gerry dropped the nails and hurried outside.

He stood on the road and looked both ways for the source of the cry. The scream came again, howling from the sky; he could hear it coming from beyond the inn, where Darwin stayed. He took a step forward and waited for another scream, but there was nothing. Gerry waited in the road, darting his eyes all around, as if something might come up from behind him. He waited. Aside from the wind, there was silence. After several minutes, Gerry believed the scream wouldn’t come again, and returned back to his shop.

Gerry shut the door behind him but didn’t release his grip on the doorknob. He hadn’t seen Cicero in days. Gerry wondered why Darwin needed the knife.

A smooth, long nail, about three inches long, pierced into the oak wood of a coffin. It shot deeper as Gerry hammered against the head. The light struck just before twelve o’ clock in the afternoon on the clock floor.

The shop door opened and a black loafer with a lace tied in a bow stepped in, followed by black pants, a black poncho, and a wicked smile underneath a swarthy mustache. Darwin entered the coffin shop and held Gerry’s knife with both hands.

“Gerry,” he spoke confidently. “I’ve come to return your knife.”

Gerry wanted to ignore the man but his curiosity disturbed him deeply. “I thought you wanted to use that for a gun fight?”

“No, no. I’ve come to an acceptance.” Darwin paused and frowned innocently at Gerry. “I’ve accepted my death.” Darwin came forward and carefully placed the knife next to Gerry on the table beside the coffin. Darwin took a large step back and admired the wall of coffins. “You’ve made great progress since I came to into Oxhorn, my friend.”

“Well, there haven’t been any duels since you came into Oxhorn,” Gerry informed.

Darwin nodded, as if he knew he had something to do with it. He turned his head and looked at the red-stained coffin, his own casket. Darwin took slow strides towards it, meticulously planting heel then toe, heel then toe, as if he was taking his final steps of life. Darwin places his bony right hand upon the coffin and sighed deeply. “Soon,” he whispered.

Darwin spun around quickly and made his way towards the door. “Gerry, thank you for a beautiful coffin. I can’t genuinely tell you how I’ll like it, so while I’m alive I’ll thank you for what I assume will be a gorgeous yet permanent slumber.”

“Sure,” Gerry mumbled. He was looking at the knife, which he twirled between his left and right forefingers. The pressure from the tip in his right forefinger had pressed the skin against the bone into a concave of flesh. It finally pierced through the epidermis and a plump drop of blood burst forth and bled down his finger. “Where is Cicero?” he asked just as Darwin had grasped the doorknob.

Darwin turned slowly towards Gerry and stared at him for what felt like several minutes. “I told you, my friend, he’s rehearsing.”

“For the circus?” Gerry practically mocked.

“Yes,” Darwin smiled unemotionally.

“You know, I’m starting think there isn’t a circus or a show.”

“Oh?” Darwin breathed slowly.

“No. I don’t know what you’re doing at all, actually, but last night I heard a scream. You asked for a knife, I gave you mine - and I can’t help but believe the two are connected.”

Darwin didn’t break eye-contact. He didn’t blink either. He looked through Gerry and into his soul, like a leech. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Darwin started to turn the doorknob when Gerry suddenly struck his table with the knife, startling Darwin. “Darwin, I’m only asking this question once.” He held up his finger and pointed it directly at Darwin. “Where is Cicero?”

Just then a commotion grew from outside the shop. It sounded like a courtroom in a heated debate. When Darwin heard the yelling, a smile crept over his pale face, like a prisoner sent free. “Death has found me.” He winked at Gerry and exited the shop.