Turbinio

Barberry Extract

Even though it was very late at night, you were still on the road, and the blizzard became stronger than any storm you'd ever faced during the race. Gyro cut between pine trees and roads already completely covered with snow, until his vision was blessed by the silhouette of a house on the horizon.

Perhaps it would be modest to call it a house. You were approaching a mansion, completely made of wood, next to a small frozen spring. There was no smoke in the chimney or any signs of recent activity inside the place, yet Gyro still chose to be careful, even if that meant kicking the door open and pondering the interior of the house with his hands hovering over his holster.

''Is anyone there, Gyro?'' Johnny asked, assessing the height of the front door of the house, noting that it would be possible to get the horses inside.

''Almost that.'' He replied, with a certain degree of disgust in his voice.

''What do you mean?'' Impatient, you had already grabbed your bag and taken a step into the house. ''It's too cold out here, stop kidding, Gyro!''

''(Y/N), wait, don't come in now!'' The Italian got exasperated, and that encouraged you to go inside to see what was going on.

Gyro was spreading a long dusty cloth in his hands, to hide something that glistened in the light of the lamp you had in your hands. The thin, fragile shapes of human bones curled around a tablecloth. Male or female, resident or invader; it didn't seem to be strong enough against the Michigan cold. Approaching, you saw that they were actually two corpses nestled in the old towel. When Gyro finished covering the pile of bones, he looked at you with a troubled look.

The firm line of Gyro's mouth relaxed falsely, trying to maintain his composure.

''Oh... '' You muttered under your breath, as if your voice might disturb them. You approached Gyro and noticed the poorly covered bones at his side. ''my God. Do you think they were... murdered here? A robbery, maybe?''

''No.'' Gyro said. He also spoke in a low voice, as if he were in the sanctuary of a church. He turned to see if Johnny had entered, then laid a hand on your shoulder. ''No...'' He repeated. ''There are no burglars around here, they probably got lost and frozen to death.''

He turned then to the two skeletons, intertwined at his feet. He crouched down, tracing the line of bones gently with his finger. Although the flesh had long since crumbled to dust, the bones had resisted and looked strong.

''See how they are lying? They didn't fall here and nobody stretched out their bodies. They lay down themselves.'' His hand glided along the bones of the larger skeleton's arms, a dark shadow like an enormous moth flitting over the pile of ribs. ''His arms were around her. He's put his thighs behind her and hugged her close to his body... and his head is resting on her shoulder.''

His hand passed a few times over the bones, clarifying, indicating, re-coating them with the flesh of imagination so that he could see them as they had been, embraced for the last time, forever. The small bones in the fingers had come loose, but a trace of cartilage remained, joined the metacarpals of the hands. Tiny phalanges overlapped; they had clasped hands in their last wait.

Johnny, after checking outside, entered the house on his horse, bending over slightly so as not to hit his head on the top of the door. Without ceremony Gyro got up and inspected the interior of the mansion with his friend, the light of candles and lamps painted the walls with red and ocher splashes.

Even tired and slightly grumpy, you admired Gyro's concern in making sure you or Johnny didn't see something like that before going to sleep. Though you had already seen corpses decomposing in far more disturbing states than those bones; it really wasn't very pleasant to sleep in the same place where two people died of cold.