The Hole at Whitemore's Farm

1980’s something

Thomas tapped a finger on the bar table top, signaling the bartender for another round. Music trumpeted across the room, loud talking and rustling surrounded Thomas and his nephew. The bartender nodded and quickly scooped up the empty glasses and deftly dripped two fingers of clear liquid into new glasses.

“And I was saying, saying to Rich, there is no way. No way I am going to stay the night. I hopped out of bed and put on my clothes while she just sat in the bed.” Andrew, Thomas’s nephew, was detailing one of his many stories about sowing his wild oats.

“I gave her a gentleman's kiss. I am one after all” He tilted his glass proudfully. “And then I was back in my bed before dawn. Haven't spoken to her since.” Andrew chuckled, amused by his story, and they both clinked their glasses.

“To being a gentleman!” Thomas bellowed, with a wide smile. They choked back the clear liquid, with Thomas coughing as it burned his lungs. Andrew, now eighteen, was proud to be a man. Thomas could see it in the way he held himself, and how he drank without hesitation. Admittedly, Thomas was becoming tipsy himself. Each trip to the toilet required considerable concentration, as the ground below him felt it was shifting after every step he took.

“Now a man, going to school in the big city. Hately too small for you? Got to be the answer. Andrew is all grown up.” Thomas held Andrew's shoulder and shook it sternly. “You think the city can handle you?”

Andrew paused for a moment. “No”. He let out a sharp laugh and beckoned to the bartender. “Another for me and my uncle!” The bartender looked to Thomas, who motioned it was OK to add another round to his tab.

Thomas let out another wide smile, but he couldn't shake the nausea in his stomach. At times he found himself either staring beyond the bar half listening to Andrew, or fighting the feeling to vomit. Beneath his thin veneer, despite the parade of Andrew's new manhood, Thomas was terrified.

They clacked another round of glasses, and a thin woman came to their seats and stole Andrew's attention. Thomas quickly poured his drink into his water glass, while Andrew continued to throw another back. She was pretty, brunette with bright blue eyes, even in the haze of the smoke filled room.

“...great. And this is my uncle Thomas.” Andrew motioned to Thomas, who slipped a smile and gently waved.

“Gina.” She waved back, and snapped her attention back to Andrew. He was in his prime, and in rare form tonight. Thomas motioned for the bartender again, and two more glasses came their way.

“It's been a while since I have had this much.” Andrew smirked, and shot the glass down in a single gulp. “But, nothing I can't han-dle.” His speech was beginning to slur, but his pride wouldn’t let him stop anytime soon. Gina giggled, and a determined look came across her face.

“How much can you handle? I mean, every man has a limit.” She let out a smile, and issued her challenge.

“Are you sure those, we-re men you sp-eak of?” Andrew grabbed Thomas’s untouched glass. “Can’t let this go to was-te, Tom.” Andrew finished the glass, and wrapped his arms around Gina’s waist.

Thomas thought Andrew would have no trouble getting lucky tonight. Gina pressed tighter against Andrew as his arms squeezed her in. Andrew would have no trouble at all. But, Thomas had to quickly stop it before he couldn't.

Thomas stood from his stool and snuck his arm around Andrews, prying his hands away from Gina.

“OK, ok. Andrew has got an early morning. Don’t you Andrew?” Thomas tried to lift Andrew to his feet, but he protested.

“It won't take me long.” He jeered, flashing a smile to Gina. “But you’ll count every minute.” He snickered and attempted to wrap his arms around Gina, but Thomas was quick to turn him around. Andrew struggled to his feet and stuttered a few steps, but was caught by Thomas.

“I don’t think you will be going anywhere tonight, Andrew. Thank you for the company Gina.” Gina frowned, and started to protest but Thomas was already working towards the door with Andrew in arm.

They exited into a crisp night. The cool air filled Thomas’s lungs as the smoke from the bar exited. Andrew grew heavier as their feet scraped through the gravel parking lot. Andrew looked to be nearly half conscious when they reached Thomas’s car. Thomas swung the heavy door of his 80 chevy, and began to guide Andrew into the passenger seat. He had to nearly fold him in as Andrew was refusing to help. With Andrew in, he shut the door and wandered to his own.

He looked over the parking lot, seeing if anyone noticed them leaving together. The parking lot was full of cars, and voices along with music leaked out of the bar, but no one was in sight. His stomach lurched, and he bent over holding his hand to his mouth, attempting to choke back his nerves.

Cold sweat poured over his body, and dread crawled over his back and into his head. He was shaking now, barely able to contain his horror. What he was going to do was rotting him from inside. For the past month he prayed, looking for an answer, looking for a way out. But it would not leave him, it would keep visiting, demanding the debt to be paid. He thought of his family, his own children, and summoned the strength to enter the driver's seat.

Andrew slumped in the passenger seat, already asleep. Thomas stared at Andrew, noticing his soft features, which were slowly hardening and becoming a man. He thought back to the years they spent fishing and camping. He remembered holding Andrew when he was a baby, not five days old.

He started the car, and drove off the parking lot, into the night. Half an hour passed, he spent several miles driving on old gravel roads to avoid anyone spotting them. He hadn’t seen a car for at least twenty minutes. Soon the gravel ended, and they were parked in front of a field. He turned off the car lights, and let the moon illuminate the dark field. He could see the tall grass wave gently, and trees as dark figures in the horizon. He felt a cold wisp begin to wrap around his chest, as if something was here with him.

He pulled the car forward, into the field. They drove for a few minutes, slowly, trying to avoid stumps or holes. The field whipped across the bottom of his car, loudly scraping. They bounced in the car as they drove across the uneven ground, and Andrew began to rouse.

Thomas dreaded Andrew waking, it was too soon. He slowed down, moving the car to a crawl. He eventually reached the edge of a tree line, and knew he was close to his destination. He parked the car, and went around to the trunk.

A door slammed, and his stomach dropped as he heard Andrew's voice call out.

“Where the hell are we?” Andrew winced as he spoke, still working through his stupor. Thomas stayed silent, his mind rushing on what to do next. His figure was hidden behind the trunk and the night.

“Tom, what are we doing out here?” He could hear Andrew draw closer around the trunk. Thomas grasped the lead pipe that was hidden beneath a large burlap sack. Andrew popped around the corner of the trunk, and rubbed his eyes trying to peer into the trunk.

“What the hell is this-” Thomas swung the lead pipe across the crest of Andrews' head. It thudded loudly, and he felt it sink into his skull before it recoiled. Andrew didnt make a sound, only his body thudded against the back of the car, and slipped to the grass.

Thomas yelled, and wailed in the dark. He fell to his knees, crying, and cursed to himself quietly. He grabbed the back of the trunk, and lifted to his feet. “I'm so sorry Andrew” he whispered, as he grabbed the burlap sack and rope from his trunk.

He wrapped the rope around Andrew's feet, but struggled in the dark. He cursed at himself for forgetting to grab a flashlight, but he continued. He continued to whisper apologies as he began to guide the rope around Andrews hands, hog tying him. He noticed dark fluid leaking from the top of Andrews head, but continued to finish the knots.

With Andrew tied, he pulled the burlap sack around him. He pulled the sack tight against Andrew, and could see Andrews figure through the thin burlap even in the night. A dark spot sprang where his head would be, illuminated by the moon. Thomas looped another rope through a metal ring that was attached to the opening of the shut sack. He tied another knot, securing a long rope to the burlap sack.

He couldn't hold his stomach any longer, and he vomited on the ground. Tears poured from his eyes, and snot dripped past his mouth. He gasped for air between belches, and wiped his face with a sleeve. He sat still, between his vomit and Andrew, looking over the field. His mind raced over what was to come. How would he act when Andrew's parent’s discovered the disappearance of their son? How would he react to his Wife when she would tell him that Andrew was missing? He would help with the search parties, cry with them, and deliver food to them.

His thoughts rested on his family. He steeled himself, and began to drag the sack further into the field. The sack began to shift, and he heard Andrew mumble. Thomas hurried, and struggled further into the field.

“Tom”. A muffled voice let out. Thomas ignored Andrew's voice, and stomped through the tall grass. “Tom, let me out”. The sack shifted violently, and Thomas fell to his knees as the rope nearly ripped from his hands. He pressed to his feet, and pushed hard into the ground dragging the sack as it shook from Andrew.

“I’m hurt Tom, please let me OUT” He was screaming now, but Thomas refused to relent.

“I am sorry Andrew. Please, somehow, please forgive me.” Thomas continued to pull the sack, against the pleas.

Eventually Thomas stopped, and was at the edge of a large hole in the field. Between the tall grass, laid a hole near the size of a manhole. Its depth was immeasurable, the moonlight refused to enter the hole, allowing it to look like a large ink smudge in the ground.

Thomas knelt near the edge, and he frowned looking into it. He dragged the sack near the edge, and he gripped the rope tightly. The grass folded around him as he laid on the ground, and with foot he began to push the sack into the hold. Andrew violently thrashed in the sack, causing Thomas’s foot to continually slip.

“Thomas STOP. What is this! PLEASE STOP” Thomas continued to slam his foot against Andrew, and eventually the sack began to slide into the hole. “God Tom, STOP. Please Tom, please!” Andrew continued to scream, but the sack was slipping into the hole. The rope tightened in his hands, and he began to slowly feed the sack into the hole.

Andrew’s screams echoed as he was slowly fed into the hole. Thomas closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. Im sorry. Im sorry” He continued to whisper. Andrews screams faltered, and eventually there was nothing. The rope loosened, and there was silence. The field whispered as cool air brushed over the grass.

Thumping pounded in his ears as his heart and body pulsed. He continued to lay, looking at the stars. His sweat turned cold, and he wiped bits of vomit and drench from his face. He coiled the last of the rope, and fed it into the hole, until there was nothing left. Kneeling in the grass, he sobbed. “Let it be over. Let it be over.” He cried and whispered to himself in the field until dawn.

THE HOLE AT WHITMORES FARM