''Oh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N).'' You heard Louise say, completely embarrassed, as she dried your lemonade-covered chest with a towel she found in the back seat of the car.
''It's okay.'' You said reassuringly, although you held back from slitting her throat as the drink spilled. ''There are some clothes in the trunk, can you get them for me?''
''Of course.''
Before leaving for a not-very-wise trip to New Jersey, you rushed through only what you could remember: gasoline, water, coffee, snacks, and vodka. Yes, early morning trips on deserted highways should not be watered down with vodka, but you were already stoned, so what's the worst that could happen?
Luckily, you were still prudent enough to decide to drink later. Every half hour of the trip you stopped at a gas station to go to the bathroom or to talk to an attendant at the convenience store, asking for information or recommendations for shortcuts. Without many resources, other than a map and a few coordinates, all that was left was to rely on the experience and knowledge of other people - and also on their kindness.
When you finished drying off, you took off your lime-scented, sugar-smelling clothes and waited for Louise to get new ones. Looking around, you chilled and felt a shiver run up the back of your neck. It was the perfect time and place for a horror movie chain of events to take place. The first movie that came to your mind was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and you felt a chill in your stomach.
Two stoned women - one of them half-naked - alone on a highway at night, surrounded by hissing eucalyptus trees. You were amazed that your car had survived eighty miles without shutting down or skidding at any time; incredibly, your steering wheel was no longer locking up either.
The forest around the highway was silent. It was hours before dawn, and the air was as still as inside a church, with an incense-like mist rising slowly from the ground. The car was making a low, steady rumble. You were just waiting for the silhouette of Leatherface to emerge from the shadows and switch on his chainsaw to dismember your body.
You suddenly saw Louise's head above the trunk and she threw some clothes at you, taking the opportunity to borrow a leather jacket.
"Really?'' You asked, looking at the satin dress you had worn to the last party you went to; it still smelled of cigarettes and booze. ''Didn't you have anything more comfortable?''
''I chose the prettiest.'' She justified, watching you put on the dress and then the jacket you were already wearing. "And I was right.''
''What's the point of looking pretty if no one will see?'' You questioned. "If there were an Italian chef here on this highway, I wouldn't complain about wearing it. But all I'm seeing is my friend, who is high and can barely hold a glass of lemonade.''
"I said I'm sorry! Can't you drive any slower?''
"Why? There aren't any other cars, it's not every day we see this highway empty...'' You looked ahead, being able to see only the small area that the car's headlight could reach; beyond that, it was a deep darkness. ''Speaking of this road... how long until we finish it?''
''Hmm... let me see...''
You both got into the car and closed the doors together. Louise unfolded the map and stared at it as she ran her hand through her hair, which reflected a coppery sheen in the interior light of the car, her eyes fixed on the paper, where the lines of the map seemed to contort like snakes, mocking you both, forked tongues waving between the names of the highways.
''We're here.'' She indicated on the map.
"Are we still in Maryland?''
''Yes, but five miles and we'll be in Delaware...'' She said, sighing with boredom, while you stepped on the gas. ''If we take the Delaware Memorial Bridge we'll be there in about two hours.''
"Two hours...'' You muttered, looking directly at the road. "And what time is it?''
"Two o'clock.''
"Geez... let's get there before dawn. Are you sleepy?''
''Not at all. And I'm not sleeping in this place either.''
"But I am. Is there any coffee left?''
"If you want we can stop at a gas station for you to rest. But yes, there's still coffee left, but it's cold.''
"Give me the coffee, we'll get to New Jersey as soon as possible. And please don't get me wet again.''
The trip continued for hours on end, with the vehicle traveling the straight and winding roads with relative ease. The surrounding landscape was constant, with small, imperceptible changes. Sometimes a luxuriant cluster of eucalyptus would be replaced by a large motel or a gas station. If you were lucky, would see a few serene streams crossing the way.
From time to time, it was possible to turn on the radio and tune in to some of the songs that were lulling the journey, providing a pleasant and relaxed atmosphere that at one point prompted Louise to sing Can't Take My Eyes of You from beginning to end. However, for much of the journey, silence reigned, interrupted only by the roar of the engine and the sound of tires against the asphalt.
Despite this, there was a sense of tranquility in the air - an expectation of peace and rest after a long trip. The weariness of the journey was palpable, but a certain excitement was also evident in you and your friend, a feeling that something new and exciting was about to happen.
It was as if the journey was only a prelude to the real goal.
The feeling of arriving at your destination was like a balm for the soul, a comfort for travelers who longed for rest and rejuvenation.
After all, no matter how long and tiring the journey is, it is the arrival at the destination that makes it all worthwhile. And with this expectation in mind, the journey continued, taking the two of you toward your next destination and what the future had in store for you.
At one point, a few minutes before reaching the place marked on the map, you passed through a street called Bulltown, with a narrow fork of gravel. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by red oak and white pine trees, and at the moment your greatest fear was that you might see some ghost in the middle of the noisy road.
Luckily, however, Louise had distracted you by teaching you to sing a song that she thought was appropriate for the moment.
''Ezekiel connected dem dry bones...'' She hummed.
''Now I hear the word of the Lord.'' You added.
This time, she had sung this song long enough for you to memorize it and be able to sing along with her, both of you replacing the car radio.
''Well, your toe bone connected to your foot bone
Your foot bone connected to your heel bone
Your heel bone connected to your ankle bone
Your ankle bone connected to your leg bone
Your leg connected to your knee bone
Your knee bone connected to your thigh bone...''
You kept humming. You were barely paying attention to the road, since it was impossible that there were any other cars in the place at that time of the morning. Unless it was a serial killer intent on hiding a body - but you two wouldn't be so different from him, since you also had a corpse stashed in the back seat.
''Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones...''
Yes, a song very suitable for that corpse to hear.
"Now I hear the word of the Lord!'' You closed in unison, laughing.
That wasn't a very likely place for accidents; and thank goodness it wasn't, because there were no means of rescue, except for a house on an isolated farm that you couldn't help but think about how similar it was to where The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was filmed.
"There.'' Louise pointed to the little blue house with the lights off. ''It was the old man who lives there who found the body. He said he was hunting a fox when he saw it digging up an arm. Creepy, don't you think? Well... he called the fire department and a colleague of Thom's said that something strange happened near the current location of the Devil's Palm. So Thom called me and the whole research team and dragged us to this place.''
You listened attentively, oscillating between sleep and exhaustion, letting out sounds like "Hmm" and "Oh..." to show her that you were still awake.
It was impossible that there were cars there, yes. But a deer was something you hadn't thought about. The car's bright headlight illuminated the slender, terrified silhouette, paralyzed, black eyes wide open like two olives in the light. Louise exclaimed, almost screaming, and you quickly turned the wheel as if any movement in any direction would keep you from hitting the deer. The car skidded across the gravel and into the trunk of a large tree.
Lulled by the noise and the shifting, you felt yourself floating straight into the glare of headlights and the nauseating sensation of colliding with something at high speed. You closed your eyes, imagining that the windshield was shattered; but you felt nothing. Your body recoiled abruptly and your foot was unconsciously slamming on the brakes, even though you knew it was too late.
When the movement stopped, the sound of something soft breaking echoed, and you shook your head violently to clear it, but the sound of the car alarm continued. You looked away, Louise's first reflex was to open the door and throw herself out, and you did the same.
You stumbled to your feet and staggered over to where Louise was standing, both shocked and alert. The car alarm was getting louder and louder, making your teeth hurt and your head spin. Your vision began to blur but soon returned to normal.
"Louise! Are you all right?'' You inquired.
''Oh... what the...'' You heard Louise babble, panting as if she had run a marathon. ''(Y/N), what the hell is that?!''
Your lips were stiff and your hair was messy over your eyes, and you shook your head again to get a better view.
The car was intact, except for a few dents in the bodywork. You were very confused, you could tell that your field of vision contracted to a single point lit by the headlights, like a brilliant void. You could say that you felt as if you were spinning or being turned inside out. All of this was true, but none of these comparisons convey the sensation you had of total disruption, of being thrown hard against something that was not there.
That thing must be the tree, you thought. Big enough to destroy the entire front of your car; but fragile enough to break in half with the crash, letting the vehicle pass over the trunk.
''The tree...'' Louise murmured beside you. ''We hit a rotten tree?''
''I think so... Yes... that's the only explanation.'' You said.
The two of you looked at each other, paralyzed.
"Are you all right?'' Louise asked.
"Yes.'' You answered. "Are you all right?''
"My head hurts, but I'm fine.''
''Damn... that was very, very lucky. My car is intact... It even looks like a sign...''
''What do we do now?'' She asked. "Do we go to the farm or wait until morning?''
''Let's see if the car is working first.''
Still shocked, you walked over and got into the car again. It was intact, and your mind was too confused to discern what had just happened. A rotten tree? Did it even make sense? You evaluated the fallen trunk once more and saw that it really didn't make any sense. The tree was huge, worthy of a fatal accident. And if it was rotten, why was it still standing? The wood fell apart like styrofoam, that was not normal.
When you tried to back up, you felt a sudden thud and a pop behind you. Startled, you quickly looked back; of course, the corpse. More frightening than an abnormal and conveniently rotten tree, only an ancient corpse in the back seat of your car, displaying a row of dried fingers that had escaped through the gap in the sterilized box. Like a bloody horror movie, you thought, and immediately got out of the car.
''The car is intact, we can get out of here.'' You said to Louise.
"Get out of here? What are you talking about?''
''I don't know, I... I figured you wouldn't want to stay here.''
"You're kidding, right? It's four o'clock, I don't want to go back on the road now.'' She said, walking over to you with her arms crossed. "Do you want to?''
"No.''
"So what do we do now?''
"How far to the Devil's Palm?''
''We're practically at the Devil's Palm. We just need to follow that dirt road and we'll find the research team's tents.''
''We aren't in Devil's Palm yet... I would know if we were. Do you think there are any workers in those tents?''
"I'm sure there isn't, that farmer would never let us. We could only put up the tents by paying a fee for... land lease or something like that. But sleeping? I doubt it.''
''Well... how about a hike? This road is too narrow for a car."
"That's fine with me. I don't want to get in a car again so soon.''
Satisfied with the simple fact of being alive, you patted Louise on the back while still breathing through your mouth. You shook your head, opened the back seat door of the car, and pulled the box out by its handle. As expected, the box opened and the body spilled out in a cascade of severed limbs and a sickly sweet smell of stale decomposition. Snorting and wasting no time, you gathered the arms, legs and eyes all into a small cake on the box's padded interior.
Then you took a small flashlight from the glove compartment and handed it to Louise, who promptly turned it on and started walking through the bowels of the underbrush. As she walked, she looked around for any signs of the deer responsible for the accident.
The corpse was no heavier than a child, but you never had to carry a child across gravelly terrain while wearing heels, so now you held yours in your other free hand, cursing sharp rocks.
"What do you know about the Devil's Palm?'' Louise asked after a few minutes of silent walking.
''Huh?''
"You said you could tell if we were inside the Devil's Palm. What do you know about it?''
You exasperated, looking ahead as you prepared to speak.
"I know all about it. You've been here before, haven't you? How did it feel when you stepped on the Devil's Palm?''
"I don't know, I was too sleepy to pay attention. Why?''
"Did you even see the crater?''
"Well, the crater, yes, but they didn't allow me to approach it for security reasons. And that's a good thing because I was sure to end up tripping in that.''
"Well...'' You laughed softly. ''The security measures go far beyond avoiding tripping.''
"What do you mean?''
You sighed from beside Louise, tired and sleepy.
''Many, many centuries ago, a meteorite hit the Arizona desert. Measured according to the crater, this collision generated an exceptional seismic tremor. On the Richter scale, between 7 and 8 in magnitude.''
Louise listened attentively, waiting for you to translate.
''We were talking about the crater, yes. But to talk about the crater, we need to talk about the earthquake generated by it. Every seven hours a magnitude 3.5 earthquake occurs in the Devil's Palm area, in this crater, and that makes it move.''
''You said that the meteorite fell in Arizona. So the crater moved here because of these occasional tremors?''
"Exactly.''
"Well, that's interesting... but when I asked you that, I was referring to the legends.''
"Oh, yes, that's much more interesting than the Richter scale.'' You said, shaking your head to clear your hair from your face. ''The Devil's Palm can grant mysterious powers, according to an ancient Indian legend. However, evil spirits bring a curse upon anyone who steps on that place.''
''So we are cursed?'' She interrupted, joking.
"Not yet. A few more steps and we'll be in the devil's palm... in both ways.''
She laughed, then allowed you to continue in your erudite trance.
''One day, a man went to the Devil's Palm in search of emeralds, and when he stepped on the spot, he changed completely. He became a serial killer who disemboweled his victims and drew patterns with their entrails. At the peak of his insanity, he committed suicide and became something of a myth in the Old West. Now, scientifically, this phenomenon manifests itself in abnormally different ways. Some records mention the Devil's palm as a massive area of shifting sand; others say that it is a region where the magnetic field works differently; as well as legends of sacred trees that give you golden axes.''
''Are you talking about the legend of the woodcutter?'' Louise questioned. "The one about the lying woodcutter and the god Hermes?''
"Exactly, Aesop's fable. But there's an American version, where Hermes is actually a child guardian of a hundred-year-old tree. If the woodcutter lied and said the golden axe was his, the tree's roots would wrap around his tongue, go down his throat, and rip out the greedy man's intestines.''
''Jesus, Mary and Joseph!'' She said, laughing as she made an amazed face. ''Why do we always make things so tragic?''
''We have exceptional dramaturgical talent. Hollywood proves it.'' You joked. ''Hermes was content to just leave the greedy one with no axes.''
"So you're saying that the Devil's Palm had manifested itself in the tree the child was protecting?''
"Well, I'm not the one who said that. But why not?'' You said quietly. "After all, they say that the Devil's Palm brings curses, mysterious powers, or at worst, death. And all these elements are in those legends.''
''And why were you looking for the corpse inside the Devil's Palm? Another legend?''
"No, it's quite the contrary. We have records that show an ancestral connection between the Devil's Palm and this corpse. A century ago some stranger found one of the arms in the shifting sand and imagined there were more parts scattered around.''
''Yes, scattered... And why was the corpse now complete? From the feet to the eyes, literally.''
''I don't have a clue... I've been tracking and surveying the Devil's Palm as if it were any other meteorological phenomenon, to avoid some natural disaster. Thom used my DP Tracker to finish the Ecclesiastes project. But he spent months failing, and meanwhile, I had to take care of every mummy they threw into that damn lab.''
You placidly accepted Louise's slight disinterest in your professional history, but you remained ever vigilant, ready to take advantage of the slightest expression of curiosity as an excuse to tell her all the facts known to date about the Devil's Palm and the sacred corpse. Your eyes took on the feverish gleam of a fanatical professor as Louise listened, trying to tame her hair.
''Did you know that this research on the Devil's Palm is older than it seems?'' You continued to push the subject.
"What do you mean?''
''1902. The first woman to specialize in geomorphology and be recognized for it was Lucy Steel. I don't know much about her, but she also worked for the Speedwagon Foundation to study such phenomena.''
''I've never heard of her.'' Curious, Louise continued to listen.
''Yeah, me neither. Until they put me in charge of tracking down the Devil's Palm again. They handed me a box full of old reports about this corpse and the geomorphology of the crater. All reports were signed by this woman; when I went to research more about her, I found out that she died of lung disease in 1944.''
''Poor ma'am Lucy, she died without being able to see the end of the war.''
"She seemed to be preoccupied with other things that seemed much more important than the war. Can you believe she visited Japan in 1941?''
"I'm sure she didn't visit a country involved in the war for a pleasure trip. What was she doing in Japan?''
"I have no idea. All the reports she made about that trip died with her. No heirs, no apprentices... The only thing we know is that she was no longer focused on studying the Devil's Palm.''
''She must have been like the Marie Curie of geomorphology, if that makes sense.''
"Yeah... it makes a little sense.''
You kept walking for a few more minutes. As the stories and legends of betrayal, murder and violence were retold, it seemed that the place you were in lived up to its sinister reputation. One more push and you were through the researcher's tents Louise had mentioned. After the fright you had taken at the last fork, the end of the walk in the icy dawn brought a delicious drowsiness.
When you raised your eyes, the megalithic monument stood before you both, the stone blocks stacked in the shape of curved, crude claws were almost invisible in the half-light before dawn. You stopped, motionless, fascinated, admiring, while Louise wasted no time as she opened one of the tents and stepped inside.
"Beautiful...'' You murmured, not realizing that your friend was no longer there.
You slid silently to the extreme edge of the crater, which seemed much smaller than you imagined - but you were already aware that this phenomenon was susceptible to sudden changes in relief. Your figure disappears among the larger stone figures. They were beautiful and very strange too. You shivered, and not entirely because of the cold. If whoever lifted them was intent on impressing, they knew what they were doing.
The crater didn't look anything like a meteorite, quite the contrary; it was a smooth swoop in the center of the circle of stone claws.
Louise was back in an instant.
"Hey, (Y/N), look at this! It was in the same place they left it.'' She said from a distance holding a carefully raised object. ''That's what you wanted to see, isn't it?''
You dropped the box you were holding on the floor and looked at her and the object she was holding, recognizing it quickly and waiting for her to reach you.
"Are you sure you want to stay here, (Y/N)?'' She asked, looking at where she stepped.
"Why not?'' When she came closer, you smiled and picked up the object she was holding, careful not to hurt yourself.
''Maybe because you said that everyone who steps on this ground is destined to disgrace and death.''
"Or mysterious powers.'' You added, kneeling to open the box containing the corpse.
The object in question was the crown of thorns, dusty and properly labeled. You stuck your hand inside the box, using your touch to recognize the gentle curve of the skull and pull it out. Then you put them side by side, comparing the state of preservation.
''Mysterious powers... What do you think these mysterious powers were?'' She asked, crossing her arms and watching everything you did, illuminating it with the flashlight.
''Schizophrenia, paranoia... Hallucinations, probably.'' You mumbled without taking your eyes off the crown. ''This crown of thorns...''
"Belongs to Jesus?'' She added, raising a single eyebrow in mockery. ''I thought it was in Notre Dame Cathedral, not in New Jersey.''
''Yes... It's in Notre Dame, a bunch of sticks stored in a tube made of glass and gold to be revered...'' You confirmed, then looked at her. ''This crown doesn't belong to the corpse.''
"Why?'' She asked, curious and intrigued by your conclusion.
''If he had died with the crown of thorns on his head, just like Jesus, there would be remnants of flesh or other organic matter. Besides... the crown fits the shape of the skull perfectly.''
She gave a smile, kneeling beside you.
''If it fits the skull perfectly, that means it was made for it, right?''
"Yes and no.'' You said. "It fits in the cranium, not the head.''
Louise frowned and tilted her head in confusion. This time you looked at her.
''I mean... our cranium is much smaller than our head, because we're talking about flesh and skin and hair. The crown of thorns should be a little wider, but no, it fits perfectly on the circumference of the cranium. This crown was made for a corpse, not for a living person.''
Louise's eyes widened, and you took the rest of the parts from the corpse, beginning to assemble it as if it were a simple anatomy doll.
''Do you think it was people from the last century who made this crown?'' She asked.
''Probably. Do you have any guesses why?''
"No. Do you?''
"I have a guess, but it's a little unethical.''
She was silent for a few seconds, squinting her eyes suspiciously at you. As a perfect HR employee would do.
"Say so...''
You laughed, shaking your head slightly.
''Maybe... The people who wanted this corpse also believed it belonged to Jesus... or at least they were convinced of it. Maybe the crown of thorns was something done to increase the credibility of that theory, since the corpse evidently was crucified.''
''But why would they do that?''
''Maybe for the same reason we do...to sell. To sell to the church or some millionaire foundation. The pierced hands and feet already bring the perfect biblical air to the narrative of whoever wanted to sell this corpse. The crown of thorns could be just a way to make the product more expensive."
"Well... That makes a lot of sense. Shall we do what those cowboys did?" She questioned.
"Cowboys?" Laughing, you inquired as you groped the spine.
"What else could it be? 1890, Arizona..."
"It could be some common tycoon."
"I prefer my version, cowboys are cooler.''
"Remind me not to let you deal with the BeQuantum guys when we sell the corpse.''
You stuck your hand inside the box again, looking for any other part that had been left inside; but to your surprise you felt a cold, smooth glass surface. Pulling it out, you found a bottle of vodka in your hands. Louise laughed as she saw the drink swinging
"How did that get there, (Y/N)?'' Laughing, she took the bottle and began to open it unceremoniously.
"I have no idea...'' You laughed too, but soon became serious again when you noticed that there were no more parts inside the box.
Then you looked at the corpse's cranium, with the mummified eyes just beside it. In fact, it was either an old specimen or severely weathered. The bone was smooth, with a luster that recent specimens never had, stained, and the color altered by the action of earth pigments. You carefully turned the cranium, then picked up the spinal column. The remnant of flesh still held the perfectly connected vertebrae, forming smooth, polished waves.
Even tilting the cranium sideways, it was not possible to make the light illuminate the entire cavity, and your hand slid up, then down, behind the occiput, your fingers searching the dark hole at the base of the cranium, the foramen magnum, through which all the messages from the nervous system had to pass, in and out of the active brain.
Grateful that you didn't have to deal with a jumble of vertebrae, you put the two parts together.
''Ah, your shoulder bone connected to your... neck bone...'' You hummed, arranging the vertebrae on the floor. Your fingers moved back and forth deftly between the bones, pushing and aligning them. ''Your neck bone connected to your... head bone.''
''That song really encouraged you.'' Louise said.
''Now I hear... the word of the Lord! '' You finished triumphantly, sliding your hands down the pelvic floor. Then you placed the crown of thorns on the skull, with a dignified bow to yourself and the corpse.
''A beautiful corpse.'' Louise murmured, smiling and handing you the bottle of vodka. "Now what do we do?''
You shot her a sudden look as you drank the vodka, but then leaned back over the bones.
"I don't know... let's finish this bottle.'' You drank some more and handed it to Louise, who also drank. "Louise... I need an honest opinion from someone who I'm sure will be objective. No... I take that back. I need an opinion and then, depending on the opinion, maybe a favor.''
"No problem.'' She assured you. "Especially about the opinion. My specialty, opinions.'' She reclined beside you, slipping an arm behind your shoulder and taking turns reaching for the bottle of vodka again. "Say it.''
"Am I...'' You choked, slightly embarrassed. "Am I attractive?''
Her eyes widened in sync with her smile. Louise's eyes always reminded you of mint candies, with their soft green-yellow color. Now they became completely round, increasing the resemblance.
Then they narrowed, but she didn't answer immediately. She examined you closely from head to toe.
"Why are you asking me that?" She said. "Wouldn't it be more appropriate to ask a man?''
"No.'' You assured her. "An honest, feminine answer is basically what I want.''
"Oh, right... Now that that's cleared up, I hope it has nothing to do with Thom.'' She resumed her meticulous study, narrowing her eyes wide while you stood still, erect, on your knees. ''An scientist who looks like she stepped out of a porn tape, with Louboutin heels and a teenage dress... You are very pretty, (Y/N). Too pretty to be dating middle-aged married men. Is that what you wanted to know?''
"Yes...'' You replied, relaxing your rigid posture. "That's exactly what I wanted to know. It's not the kind of question you can ask anyone.''
Louise frowned her lips in a silent hiss, then threw her head back and gave a loud, delighted laugh.
''Lady Louboutin...'' She called you by one of your nicknames. "You need a man! A real man!''
You felt the blood rising in your face but tried to keep your dignity, drinking some more vodka.
"I don't know. Maybe. Just maybe.''
"Maybe? For God's sake, Lady Louboutin, it's past time!''
"Please don't mock me!'' You said, handing her the bottle of vodka.
''You know I'm right. When we sell this corpse, you'll have plenty of money, and you won't need to flatter any man. By the way, what was the favor?''
''Well... I was thinking of going to a nightclub or a pub. You already go to that kind of place a lot, maybe if...''
"Yeah, I can get you some suitors. I have a lot of good-looking friends.'' She interrupted you.
"I can't argue with that...''
It was almost dawn. The mist remained close to the ground and the stones stood out clear and dark against a starry sky. The sight and sensation of being in the Devil's Palm left you with sweaty hands of apprehension, but you ignored it and continued drinking with Louise, slowly drifting off to sleep.
As the sun rose, you and Louise looked at each other, then at the corpse lying before you, and the outline of a smile played on your lips. You lay back gently and, without realizing it, fell asleep on one of the stones.