Unhallowed Ground Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright ©2019 Kristen Gupton

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Mr. B, | The opinions of some of my characters do not reflect my own. | Mwah <3

  Chapter | 1

  Chapter | 2

  Chapter | 3

  Chapter | 4

  Chapter | 5

  Chapter | 6

  Chapter | 7

  Chapter | 8

  Chapter | 9

  Chapter | 10

  Chapter | 11

  Chapter | 12

  Chapter | 13

  Chapter | 14

  Chapter | 15

  Chapter | 16

  Chapter | 17

  Chapter | 18

  Chapter | 19

  Chapter | 20

  Chapter | 21

  Chapter | 22

  Chapter | 23

  Chapter | 24

  Chapter | 25

  Chapter | 26

  Chapter | 27

  Chapter | 28

  Chapter | 29

  Chapter | 30

  Chapter | 31

  Chapter | 32

  Chapter | 33

  Chapter | 34

  Chapter | 35

  Chapter | 36

  Chapter | 37

  Chapter | 38

  Chapter | 39

  Chapter | 40

  Chapter | 41

  Chapter | 42

  Chapter | 43

  Chapter | 44

  Chapter | 45

  Chapter | 46

  Chapter | 47

  Chapter | 48

  Chapter | 49

  Chapter | 50

  Chapter | 51

  Chapter | 52

  Chapter | 53

  Chapter | 54

  Chapter | 55

  Chapter | 56

  Chapter | 57

  Chapter | 58

  Chapter | 59

  Mr. B,

  The opinions of some of my characters do not reflect my own.

  Mwah <3

  Chapter

  1

  Kelly had written it off as nothing more than local nonsense and folklore. Perhaps it had been his hometown’s attempt to get in on the paranormal tourism crazes that had swept the country at various points throughout history.

  It had recently worked to do just that after the town had been featured on a ghost hunting show starring a hunky-yet-overly-dramatic host. Their brief flash of notoriety had made the previous fall a season crowded with wannabe ghost hunters.

  The younger females of the town had swooned during the filming, while most of the men had been left with a feeling of ambivalence or annoyance about the whole ordeal.

  Kelly had been in the latter group. Only twenty-five, he’d never once believed in the paranormal. While the girls had been star-struck by their recent celebrity visitor, the same couldn’t be said about Kelly. He’d found the whole ploy of running around in the dark with shaky camera work and screaming at the distant sound of a bug farting grossly overplayed.

  But no one had asked his opinion about it.

  There might have been some jealousy in his sentiments, though. Slightly overweight though not unattractive, Kelly had generally struck out with the girls in town. Prom dates in high school had been a battle to obtain. He was fairly certain they’d only agreed when they did out of sheer pity, or their failure to land the boy they really wanted. Things hadn’t much improved since he’d graduated and started his adult life.

  He took the time while walking home that evening to stop in the town’s park. Kelly stood before an old stone pillar with a green-streaked copper plaque embedded into its face. From the top of the pillar emerged a tall, cast-iron street lamp. The five lights upon it were intensely bright, upgraded multiple times over the years to constantly keep up with the newest advances in lighting. The structure of the lamppost remained the same, however; the black, gothic ironwork twisting and branching between the lights themselves.

  His eyes ran over the familiar words on the plaque, long ago memorized.

  November 13, 1893

  The first electric street lamp

  illuminated in Brayton, Kansas.

  He huffed and rolled his eyes, before squinting at the lights above. While he could see the logic in keeping other streetlamps burning along the roads of the town, all of them as ornate and painfully bright, why the town continued to dump money into this one in the middle of the park baffled him. Even if it were illuminated with normal bulbs he could let it slide, but this seemed an utter waste. When all the town council and school board ever did was harp about not having money, it seemed absurd to fire up this blinding beacon every night.

  Those decisions were all made by people who earned a lot more money than he did just loading hay at the local feed store, though.

  His speculation about it being a ploy to gain the town some level of notoriety surfaced again as he began to shuffle down the sidewalk. Like everyone who’d grown up there, he’d heard all of the ghost stories and legends of old cults. He supposed it was much like children in Salem growing up hearing tales of witches—if the people there even still talked about such things. From what he’d seen on television, it seemed like they might, and playing up their history had worked out well for them.

  But this wasn’t Salem. It was Brayton, and he wasn’t aware of anything in Kansas with that level of mystique save the few Wizard of Oz tourist traps still operational around the state.

  The old folks in town still talked in hushed tones about the past that even they were too young to actually remember. Rumors of Victorian-era fanatics causing an uprising near the turn of the century were plentiful, but details were hard to come by. Either the old-timers wanted to keep it close to the vest, or it was all fantasy in the first place.

  Kelly was fairly convinced it was the latter. He suspected it had been nothing more than the Protestants and Catholics giving each other the business as was sadly common back then. Add in a little of the craze over the spiritualism popular at the time, and the recipe was perfect for rumors of the evil, fantastic, and paranormal.

  Yet, those rumors persisted, and the ghost hunters inevitably arrived. Though the most recent among them searched and made enough of their escapades through the town to create an hour-long episode, Kelly himself had never seen anything odd. His entire life had been spent in the town, and it had been utterly mundane.

  The flap of tourists spurned by the ghost hunting show had died down once winter came along. With the one road into and out of town frequently icy and swept by strong winds, outsiders weren’t exactly pouring across rural northwest Kansas to get there. The only ones traveling into Brayton, for the time being, were the grain haulers visiting one of the town’s three working silos. They were located too far off of I-70 to get casual travelers stopping in. Brayton didn’t even get the courtesy of a sign along the interstate declaring their town existed north of the off-ramp. If you didn’t know exit 57 led there, then you were out of luck.

  He imagined spring would bring another wave of amateur paranormal investigators, and then perhaps one more run would show up around Halloween. It didn’t really matter to him one way or another. It did put money in the pockets of some of the shop owners in town, so bully for them, he supposed.

  Rounding the last corner, he spotted the small house he rented from his parents who’d long since retired to Florida. It wasn’t the house he’d grown up in, but it was only a few blocks away—then again, most of the town was.

  The neighborhood was a mixture
of old Victorians with bungalows from the 1940s crammed in between them. Towering cottonwood trees lined the streets, their leafless limbs creaking in the evening wind.

  All the lower branches on their massive, craggy trunks were pruned away, so the streetlamps between them weren’t obstructed. Their noxious, harsh light cut through the night, forcing up sharp shadows around them. Each light had two blazing white globes atop their iron posts. They were set on both sides of the street and were planted next to every other driveway, just as they were throughout the entirety of Brayton.

  They were painful to stare at, so he kept his head down until reaching the unlocked door of his house and slipping inside for the night.

  He walked to the kitchen and picked his cell phone up off the counter, having forgotten to take it with him that morning. After turning it on, he saw there were no messages, which came as no surprise. It was abandoned right back onto the counter as he moved to the fridge to rummage for dinner.

  Just as he fished out a cold chicken leg and bit into it, his phone started to go off. Kelly stood up and looked over, surprised. The chicken leg was abandoned and he went to pick up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Kel. You at home?”

  He immediately recognized Ryan’s voice. “Yeah, just got off work. What’s up?”

  “I know this is real short notice, but how would you like the chance to double what you normally make in a year?” Ryan asked.

  Kelly laughed. “Is this something that’s going to land me in prison?”

  Ryan laughed as well, though it quickly tapered off. “No, this is completely legal. My dad landed a contract from the county, and we’d like to bring you on to help since you know your way around with the backhoe.”

  Kelly ran his free hand through his short, dark hair. He’d helped Ryan’s family out several times over the years, so the request wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  “It’s the only sort of hoe I know,” Kelly snickered. “But equal to my annual feed store take? How many months are we talking here?”

  Ryan paused for an awkward amount of time before replying. “Not months, weeks.”

  “It must be something pretty substantial to make that sort of money in such a short time,” he said, picking up trepidation in his friend’s voice. “If it’s a big job like that, why the short notice? These things take a while to organize.”

  “He’s known about it for a while, but he wanted it kept on the down-low, so I wasn’t told,” Ryan replied. “By extension, you couldn’t know, either. I guess we’re shit for keeping secrets.”

  Kelly laughed. “Well, fair enough. Why the secrecy, though?”

  “Uh, yeah. Look, once I tell you what it is if you’re not down with it, that’s completely fine. Part of the reason we got this contract for such a ridiculous bid amount is that no one else would touch it,” Ryan said.

  “Cut to the chase already.”

  Ryan audibly drew in a long breath. “We’re going to relocate Saint Francis.”

  “The old church?” Kelly asked, wondering what a logistical nightmare moving the old stone building would be. “There’s no way that’s done in a few weeks!”

  “No, not the church... I’m talking about the cemetery on the other side of the highway.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Kelly snorted.

  “I’m dead serious, no pun intended.”

  “Why in the hell is it going to be moved?” Kelly asked, not sure what he should think.

  “The stream is eroding the back edge of the property, and rather than divert the damn stream, some environmentalists got word and demanded the cemetery be moved instead,” Ryan said. “Some bull crap about not being permitted to affect the watershed. I dunno. All I know is we’re going to make a killing on this one.”

  “Damn,” Kelly sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Don’t they have specialists to do this sort of thing?”

  “We have to have a funeral director hired on to oversee the work, but dad’s company got the contract to do the heavy lifting. There just isn’t anyone out this way to do it. You’re not scared, are you?”

  “You know I don’t believe in that sorta crap. Even so, it’s still pretty morbid on its own merits without the old rumors,” Kelly said.

  “Well, it was those rumors about that damn cemetery that prompted dad to put in such a high bid, but as it turned out, no one else even tried to get it. He figured some bigger guys from Hays would come in for it, but with it being winter, no one in their right mind wants to come all the way out here. It’s a lot of money, Kelly, and we could really use your help. Things aren’t real busy at the feed store this time of year, I’d imagine.”

  In fact, the old couple who ran the feed store had told Kelly earlier that day they might need to lay him off for the rest of the winter until business picked back up in the spring. Taking this job, morbid or not, would be a huge help.

  “All right, Ryan. Tell your dad I’m in. I’m thinking I can get time off from the feed store no problem,” Kelly said, going back toward the fridge and pulling the door open again to stare inside.

  “That’s great, I was sort of worried you’d not want to,” Ryan replied. “I hate it when we have to hire on complete strangers, it’s a lot more fun with you around.”

  “Well, just let me know when we start,” Kelly said, reaching with his free hand for his chicken leg again. “I gotta go, dinner is calling me.”

  “Good deal. Thanks, Kel.”

  “Talk to you later,” Kelly replied before biting into the chicken leg.

  Chapter

  2

  Kelly walked into the feed store the following morning, finding Grace Suhr standing behind the counter. Her family had owned the town’s only feed store for over ninety years, and she looked as though she might have worked there for most of it.

  She was a good person to work for. Kelly was generally left to do as he liked during his shifts, and though his base pay wasn’t much, he was allowed to keep the tips from his deliveries. When times were good, she was generous and often handed him a few hundred extra at the end of the month.

  With winter set in, though, business wasn’t particularly strong. While the store was in no danger of closing, it wasn’t unheard of for Grace to lay off her extra help when the season brought its inevitable slowdown. The locals tended to fill their barns with hay and feed in the fall, leaving Kelly without much to do during the colder months until he was invariably called back in the spring.

  She tipped her head back to look at him through her glasses as he came in the door. “Good morning, Kel. You’ll probably be bored out of your mind today. No deliveries scheduled either coming in or going out. Looks like your run to the goat dairy yesterday was the last one we’ll have for a while.”

  He neared the counter and leaned a hip against it, offering up a smile. “Yeah, it’s been pretty quiet. Ryan called me last night. Looks like his dad could use a little extra help for a few weeks, so if you need to go ahead and cut me loose for the season, I’d do all right.”

  Her age-hazed eyes widened a little. News traveled fast in their small town, and she already knew what Ryan’s father had been hired to do.

  “Kel, I have no problem with that, and I’m glad you lined up some work of your own accord, but you need to stay away from this one. I heard they’re going to dig up Saint Francis,” she said, voice wavering.

  He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at her. She was as superstitious as they came in Brayton, though it wasn’t a rare trait amongst the older citizens of the town. Kelly had hoped she’d not heard about the job, but it was inevitable.

  “It’s no big deal, Grace. We have to have a funeral director out there to supervise it, I guess. The last person was buried out there what, over a hundred years ago? Hell, I bet there’s nothing even left in the ground out there at this point,” he said.

  As fast as she could, she came around the counter and placed her hands up onto Kelly’s shoulders. Her gaze locked wit
h his, her frail body visibly trembling.

  “Kel, I’m begging you for your own well being, and for this whole town, not to go out there. You’ve got to convince Ryan and his father to turn down this job before they break that ground!” she said.

  “Grace, I can’t do that. The county has to move that cemetery. The government is involved. They could have just diverted the creek, but I guess some busy-bodies stopped that. Look, I need the money, and you need to lay me off for the winter. It’s a real good deal for the both of us,” he replied.

  She let her hands fall away from him and shook her head. “I know you think I’m just a crazy old woman, Kel, hell, everyone does. But I’m one of the few around here old enough to remember how things used to be. My grandparents lived through a nightmare. There is evil out there! You’re kicking a hornet’s nest!”

  Kelly didn’t want to argue with her. She was basically a surrogate grandmother to him, and upsetting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he had to make ends meet, and she was being unreasonable.

  “If I’m not out there doing it, someone else will. At least I can make the conscious effort to be respectful about it, right? This won’t be one of those cases you hear on the news were bodies were tossed into a landfill or something.” Kelly tried to offer up a smile. “You know Ryan’s dad. This will be done by the book.”

  Grace looked completely crestfallen and turned away to retreat back behind her counter. “Damn them all for not just leaving it alone. Go ahead and do what you need to do, Kel. If we’re all still alive come spring, you can have your job back here.”

  Crazy or not, Kelly felt like an ass after her last comment. “I will. If you guys need my help at all before then, call me, okay? I can always swing over.”

  “This Godforsaken town will need more than help,” she muttered, before disappearing into the back office and slamming the door.

  Kelly stood there dumbfounded for several minutes after she’d vanished, wondering what he should do. While part of him wanted to follow her and try to put her at ease about the situation, it didn’t seem likely he was going to change her mind.