Page 53 of Iron Hearts

“Hell yeah,” I said and I went first, crawling into the room and leaning up against the wall. He climbed in after and sat across from me and looked at me, finishing the story.

“It wasn’t until a hundred or two hundred years later,” he said, “that they found them in here, and the only reason they did was because a cannon they were moving fell through the ceiling and when they went down to retrieve it, they realized that they couldn’t find it – that there was a secret room.”

“Because the husband had them manacled to the walls and walled up in here,” I said.

“Yep,” he sighed. “With a bunch of his wife’s favorite flowers – roses.”

“Probably to mask the smell,” I said. “When they finally died and began to rot.”

“You watch too much true crime?” he asked laughing.

“I do!” I agreed. “But that’s how it happened if I remember the story right. He walled them up in here and left them to die of thirst or to starve together. Sold some story about him going AWOL and that she went back to Spain and no one was the wiser, because who was going to question Dear Leader?”

“You’re right,” he said. “That’s exactly how it went down, and the mystery of their disappearance wasn’t solved until all that time later when this chamber accidentally got opened up.”

“I thought there was an old ghost story associated with this place,” I said. “You know, other than the one about the floating head of the Seminole leader that died here.”

“There’s a few,” he said, “but yeah, this is one of them.”

“I can’t remember the details on the ghost though,” I said.

“Phantom smell of roses in here,” he said. “Sometimes, you come in here and get overwhelmed by the smell of roses.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep and said, “Nope. Just the smell of old musty fort.”

He smiled and said, “I like to think that when they died, they went together, and went into whatever afterlife free of suffering and pain.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, leaning my head back against the coquina blocks that made up the fortress walls. “Bet you they’re living their best un-life in Elysium or whatever.”

He cocked his head, “Elysium?” he asked.

“Ancient Greek myth originally,” I said. “Their version of heaven or the garden of Eden. The place set aside in the Underworld ruled by Hades for the heroes of Greek myth at first, but then it turned into the place where anyone that led a righteous life belonged after they died.”

“Is that what you believe?” he asked. “In the ancient Greek gods and goddesses?”

I shrugged and then shook my head.

“I honestly don’t know what I believe,” I said. “Religion was never really a part of my upbringing. My dad was staunchly anti-religion and my mom has always been more spiritual than religious.”

“That’s legit,” he said.

“What about you?” I asked.

He studied my face, “Not particularly religious,” he said. “Had it shoved down my throat a ton by an overbearing mother in the heart of the Bible Belt in Arkansas growing up. Pretty sure my dad just went to church every Sunday to appease her, too.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Oh, I did it all,” he said and his expression was pained. “Youth group, Bible camp, revivals, you name it.”

I laughed and said, “Oh, come on, it couldn’t have beenthatbad.”

“Worse,” he said and my high and bright laughter echoed back at us within the tight confines of the chamber we were in.

“After you,” he said and gestured and I rolled my eyes.

“You just want to look at my ass,” I accused.

“Guilty,” he said, grinning, and I couldn’t help but grin too.

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