Box of Bones by Bates Jeremy

Author:Bates, Jeremy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ghillinnein Books
Published: 2016-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

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Darkness. The deepest dark I’d ever experienced. I held my hand in front of my face but couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see anything. I thought of my conversation with Edward Sharpe. He pretty much told me the State Department couldn’t do squat to help me. I should have expected as much. An Apache helicopter and barnstorming soldiers to the rescue were the stuff of Hollywood screenplays, not real life. Besides, the last American military bases in the Philippines shuttered decades ago.

So it seemed it was up to the national police force to save my hide. This did not instill confidence within me. Open any newspaper here on any given day and you’ll find a story about corrupt and incompetent police officers, many of whom seem to believe planting evidence, gunning down cellphone snatchers, and protecting crooked colleagues are all in the name of a day’s work. Not to mention the cops that partake in hold-ups, carjackings, bank robberies, and murders. Just the other week I read that several cops abducted a foreigner under the pretense of making an arrest. The Chinese national and executive with HSCB was taken to a police station for show before being carted off to a private residence, where he was held for ransom, or “bail.” And the kicker? When the scheme came to light, the cops were charged with “unlawful detention,” not kidnapping, making it sound as though it was one big misunderstanding.

The institution was broken from the top down, so much so average Filipinos didn’t bother reporting most crimes, knowing the chances of them being solved were slim to none.

Trying not to dwell on this, I began exploring the wood planks with my hands, my fingers probing the tight cracks between them. Yet the effort was unenthused and resigned to failure. Because even if I found a handhold, and was able to tug a plank loose, I would have to deal with six feet of soil, which likely weighed several tons. It would gush into the coffin like wet cement. The pressure would crack my ribs and collapse my lungs and kill me.

Harry Houdini had nearly suffered this same fate in his disastrous buried-alive stunt, and if the greatest escape artist of all time couldn’t claw himself free of a grave, what chance did I have?

“Let me out!” I shouted. “Please! Let me the FUCK out!”

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