After the group took note of the skeleton at the bottom of the well, everything happened fast. Motley quickly opened the second equipment bag and assembled a make-shift police radio. He called into headquarters to confirm that the expedition was successful and that they needed backup. Within two hours, the entirety of the spiritual division had made their way to the forest clearing, bringing with them more equipment.

Chief Sarratt came forward and asked officer Garrett to fill him in on what had happened. Her story obviously took him on a journey, his face shifting from mild interest to complete shock to gleeful disbelief.

“Lord almighty,” he said gruffly, shaking his head and resting his hands on his hips. “This is going to be one for the history books. There’s so much to unpack here,” he exclaimed, his arms now beginning to gesticulate wildly. “To think that we now have new information about the nature of lingering spirits and the phenomena of possession… Imagine the impact this will have on our knowledge!”

He turned to Isaiah, his face showing a deliberately restrained pride.

“I’m sorry you had to go through what you did for us to find out all of these things,” he said. “Whoever is in that well, that’s a case solved. Thank you for your help. I promise we will make it worth your while.”

Isaiah smiled and shook the chief’s hand, and from then on preparations started for the retrieval of the remains from the well. As Nigel received medical attention, Isaiah sat next to him and observed as the officers prepared a rig to lower a long, three-pronged rope down the well. The ends of the ropes had buckles, suggesting that they were going to be attached to something – or someone.

“All set chief!” an officer shouted.

“Alright,” Sarratt bellowed. “Bax, you’re good to go.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened as he saw Milton Bax step out of the ranks. He was virtually unrecognizable from the person Isaiah had last seen only weeks ago. With a helmet on his head, tough leather boots and a vest with metal rings ready to be attached to the buckles of the rope, he seemed stately, impressive even. He confidently approached the well, and as his colleagues hooked him up to the rig, he turned to Isaiah and waved at him with a barely visible smile. Moments later, he descended into the well, his head soon disappearing from sight.

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Safely anchored to the outside world by the rope tied to his back, Milton slowly progressed downwards. The diameter of the hole was small enough that he could prop himself against the walls of the well with both his hands and feet. The rubber soles of his boots and rough surface of his gloves gave him traction against the bricks. The lamp still rested at the bottom of the hole, shedding light on his target. Bit by bit, he reached his goal. Arms and legs spread against the wall like a spider’s, he was now looking at a complete human skeleton, bleached and weathered from the years. It was a surreal, lonely moment. The surface world seemed like a distant memory: deep underground, with only a light source to keep the darkness at bay, Milton felt eerily calm. The bones, gleaming white in the light, were at once harrowing and bizarrely beautiful. Staring at them, he could marvel at their form, so perfectly honed by nature to fulfill their purpose. But the more he stared, the more uneasy he felt. It was like looking into his own future, when all that would remain of him would be the very same bones he was observing.

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After that brief moment of existential horror, his mind focused on the task at hand. While all traces of the person whom the bones belonged to had long been wiped clean by the elements, there was something that survived. Among the tatters of what was once a leather bag, there were dilapidated notebooks and a steel pocket watch on a chain. All of it had to be brough up to the light of day.

Milton pulled firmly on his rope, and faint echoes from above informed him that the other officers took note. Soon enough, a large metal bucket was lowered on a separate rope. Patiently, Milton placed bones one by one into the container, and pulled the rope once it was full of cargo. After the bucket had made several rounds up and down the well, there was nothing left to put inside it. His work was done. He made the trip back up the same way he climbed down, helped along this time by his allies pulling on the rope from the surface. He emerged from the well to a round of hearty applause.

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The bones were already strewn on a black mat and the forensics experts were arranging them into their actual positions when Milton’s feet finally landed on solid ground again. As he took off his gear, Isaiah approached him.

“Look at you!” he said as he shook his hand. “That was impressive! And, if you don’t mind me saying, slightly unexpected!”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Milton said with a smile. “I’ve actually always been good at climbing up and down things, so when the chief asked for volunteers to go down the well, I raised my hand.”

“That makes it even more impressive,” Isaiah grinned.

“I’ve… been trying to get out of my comfort zone,” Milton said contemplatively. “Pushing myself to do things that I wouldn’t normally do. Because it’s the only way I can really test my limits. And who knows, maybe one day it will lead to some achievement I’ll be proud of.”

“I’d say what you just did is plenty to be proud of,” Isaiah reassured him.

“Thank you, Isaiah,” Milton said, and it was clear he was grateful for more than just the compliment. “What you said that day when I was at your place… It changed my life, I think.”

“I just gave you a choice, Milton,” Isaiah smiled. “You’re the one who made the decision. Everything you did – reconnecting with your aunt, going against your father’s wishes, going down that well – it was all you. You’re reaping the fruits of your efforts. Savor them. You deserve to.”

They exchanged a quick pat on the back. In spite of the strange circumstances under which they met, both of them now viewed the other as a friend.

Turning their attention to the bones lying not far from them, they could hear the experts talking amongst themselves, discussing a fracture that was clearly the result of a bullet impact. One of them examined the other objects that were brought up along with the bones. He got a hold of the pocket watch, turned it around in his hand, and then excitedly called chief Sarratt over. When the chief laid eyes on the watch, he immediately looked at Isaiah.

“Hargraves!” he shouted, gesturing towards him. “You should see this too.”

Isaiah ran over and knelt down to look at the watch. In spite of being in the well for who knows how long, it was still in remarkably good condition. There was no rust to tarnish its exquisite detailing: a complex floral pattern decorated its front. On the back, under a similarly eye-catching design, four simple words were engraved along its bottom edge, following the curve of the circle.

Property of Ezra Rowse.