S22 Ep21: NoSleep Podcast S22E21

Not all group chats are the same.

Just like not all Adams are the same.

Adam Brody, for instance, uses WhatsApp to pin messages, send events, and settle debates using polls with his friends, all in one group chat.

Makes our guys' night easier.

But Adam Scott group messages with an app that isn't WhatsApp, which means he still can't find that text from his friends about where to meet.

Hang on, still scrolling.

Now the address is here somewhere.

It's time for WhatsApp.

Message privately with everyone.

They're calling.

The phone is ringing.

A message from an unknown caller.

A voice unrecognizable.

Audio messages from the shadows.

But one message is clear.

And it says:

brace yourself for the No Sleep podcast.

When I saw the black door where their front door should be, I froze.

I knew what I'd find behind it if I opened it.

Death.

Four deaths, to be exact.

There was a gas leak in the house, which led to the family of four succumbing to carbon monoxide poisoning.

Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast.

I'm your still-alive host, David Cummings.

That's right, I'm still here, alive and kicking.

But as I'll soon be turning 60, I know my days are numbered.

It's not fun to think about our own death, is it?

Sure, it's hilarious to talk about other people dying,

but not ourselves.

I think denial plays a big part in it.

Accepting that we will die one day is the first part.

But then we start to ponder how we'll die.

I'm sure we'd all like to think we'll pass peacefully in our sleep, surrounded by loved ones.

Or as the old joke goes, I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming like the passengers on the bus he was driving.

Yes, we all want to go out on our own terms, right?

But in reality, we know that many people end up dying in very sudden and unexpected ways.

Like walking down the street when all of a sudden a piano falls on your head.

Or you're attending a track and field event when a javelin throw goes awry and into your chest.

And of course, there's always death by shark NATO.

But in the world of horror, the idea of dying suddenly and unexpectedly opens up a whole new realm of terrifying ways to die.

Because in horror, it's not just natural or accidental deaths.

In horror, there are people.

creatures, and things out there that will do what they can to bring your life to a close, often gleefully and with malice.

On this episode, we'll introduce you to people who aren't expecting to meet the Grim Reaper so soon, and we'll also meet people who have to deal with the fallout of such untimely deaths.

So, let's view death the way writer Haruki Murakami does when he writes, Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.

Now, do you dare pick up your phone and listen to the voices calling to you?

In our first tale, we meet a group of friends.

Friends who just happen to be...

what's the word?

Oh yeah, sloshed, plastered, hammered, blotto, tanked, sozzled.

And when you're drunk, you don't always make the best decisions.

But in this tale, Shared with us by authors Tommy and Margot Ellis, the friends decide to play a prank on a local businessman who isn't known for his sense of humor.

Performing this tale are James Cleveland, Jake Benson, Andy Cresswell, David Alt, and Penny Scott Andrews.

So remember, your judgment isn't at its best when you're drunk, even if you do think it's a good idea at the time.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Most idiotic things seem like a good idea when you're 12 pints in, though, don't they?

It'll be a laugh.

That was what Jake had said whilst propping up the lamppost.

Why is it that the most stupid ideas in the world are thought up in Grotty Council Estate pub car parks?

Don't be a tosser all your life, Jakey boy.

Have a day off.

Kevin flipped open the brass Zippo and closed it again with a metallic snick.

I should have listened to Kevin, not Jake.

My bad.

I don't know about this.

Somewhere from deep inside, my sensible inner voice...

My 9 to 5 office worker voice was screaming to be heard.

I did listen.

For a bit, I did listen.

listen.

I really did.

Not hard enough, though, did I?

Gone, just imagine the look on the old Git's face when he finds you there in the morning.

The old Git.

That was Cedric's nickname.

The singular, most miserable sod in the known universe.

Although,

to be fair, being miserable kind of made sense for him.

You don't want to be all laughy and jokey if you do what he does for a living.

It wouldn't be right.

It made him a target, though.

I know I shouldn't have played along.

Too late for thoughts like that now.

Like the time we smashed his shop window and filled the tastefully somber display with plastic skeletons and other assorted Halloween tat.

That had nearly got us arrested.

Would have served us bloody well right if we had been.

Once again, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

I know it was you and your horrible bastard mates.

He'd said this to me when he cornered me in the local spa shop a week later.

I'm gonna pay you lot back one of these days.

You see if I don't.

He'd fixed me with a look of such loathing.

I swear I felt an actual physical burn from where his laser beam look hit my face.

I just wish I'd taken him him seriously.

He hated us.

He had a right to hate us as well.

He hated us, wanted revenge,

and now he'd got it, and I was the one he'd taken it out on.

Jake.

He was the one who always came up with these ideas now I come to think about it.

It wasn't Kevin, and I sure as hell never did.

Kevin usually put on a show of not being into whatever scheme Jake cooked up.

He was the one who did the most damage when it came down to it, though, usually encouraged by Jake.

If I went at it half-hearted like I'd get an ear bashing.

What do you call that?

Jake would say if I hung back from egging Cedric's shop.

Give it some welly, you pussy.

Give it some welly.

I'd given it too much welly this time, hadn't I?

We'd snuck, not so stealthily, up the alley behind the the shops on the high street and scaled the garage door-size gate, tumbling into a giggling heap on the far side next to the gleaming oversized black Mercedes.

The murk hadn't been our concern that particular night.

Oh no.

No letting the tires down or spraying just married on the back window.

We had other plans.

Sharm, Orons.

You wake the dead.

More giggling.

Oh yeah.

Ha ha.

Funny man.

Funny joke.

I'd found it amusing at the time.

The whole damn stupid caper had been hilarious.

If that Jake asked you to stick your head in a gas oven, you'd do it, wouldn't you?

That's what Mum had said to me.

I told her not to be daft.

Thing is, she was right.

At least I'd have a chance of survival if it had been a gas oven.

Lying here, sober.

well, hungover, actually, in what I can only assume is broad daylight, I've had plenty of time to reflect on my utter stupidity.

That Jake will get you into some serious trouble one of these days.

That was something else Mum had said.

This was serious, alright.

And the trouble I was in went way beyond a court appearance.

Break the glass.

Jake handed me a small rock he'd picked up from the weed-choked flowerbed.

The high street was well lit, even at one in the morning.

Back here was a different matter though.

With no moon up by the rear of the shop was what I thought of as darker than the black hole of Calcutta.

I've no idea what the black hole of Calcutta actually is, but I suppose it's somewhere properly dark.

Like...

Wake up in a coffin dark.

Well, it wasn't quite that dark, but I still had problems seeing the back door's window pane, so when I swung the rock, it connected much sooner than anticipated.

The exploding glass ripped a hole in the early morning quiet.

Oh Jesus, fuck!

I dropped the rock, which clattered away into a deeper patch of dark.

No alarm sounded though.

Someone had to have called the cops.

Only no one did.

If they had, we'd have been in handcuffs by now.

But we weren't.

If only we were.

The inside of the shop carried the heavy scent of lilies.

This, however, barely covered a sharp chemical tang that scraped at the back of my throat, along with an underlying mustiness redolent of mothballed suits.

The only thing I could see in the blacked-out space was a single red LED.

It could have been a camera, but my booze enhanced confidence said it was nothing more than a phone charger.

Anyway, so what if it was a camera?

What could the old Git possibly do?

Sobriety was knocking hard on the door of my drunkenness.

I really shouldn't have been there.

I could have backed out right then.

Hell, I should have backed out.

I had more opportunities to get away from there than I could possibly number.

I could have.

I should have.

I didn't.

Jake flipped the switch, a harsh white light flooding the room.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this.

The hard space reminded me of a school gym shower block, tiled throughout.

It had a non-slipped floor sloping towards a single drain hole in the center.

The only thing missing was the actual shower heads.

The one thing we'd come for was there, though.

Of course it was.

If it wasn't, I wouldn't be in the position I am now, would I?

In you get.

Jake said this with a grin.

Hindsight.

Glorious, crystal hindsight.

He didn't volunteer, did he?

Oh no.

It was always someone else doing whatever it was he wanted done.

Kevin, give him your Zippo.

You might need it.

It's gonna be dark in there.

Jake held out a hand and Kevin handed the lighter over.

I could see the reluctance painted across Kevin's face.

If anybody needed a light, he'd spark up the flame, but never actually hand the Zippo over.

That was something I'd never really noticed until that moment.

Still, I was grateful as I probably would need it.

I must have dozed off.

Because the thump and clatter of what sounded like a shovel full of dry dirt hitting a wooden box tore me from a nightmare of slow, excruciating suffocation.

I pulled in a ragged breath, then opened my eyes to a cloying darkness so complete I wasn't entirely sure if I'd actually opened my eyes at all.

Disorientation spun my head and panic threatened to take hold, until I remembered where I was.

Pulling a Zippo from my top pocket, I lit up the cramped satin-line box I was in.

All I had to do was wait until 9 a.m.

when Cedric came into his undertaker's shop, leap out of the coffin and watch him cack himself.

Job done.

That's when another thump hit the lid.

You awake yet?

It was Cedric.

I pushed on the lid.

He didn't move.

Another clattering thump.

I pushed harder.

Nothing.

I said,

are you awake yet?

Maybe the lid was a bit tight.

Maybe if I gave it a proper clout.

Maybe I wasn't nailed into a coffin.

I bawled my fists and hammered as hard as I could.

Good.

You're finally in the land of the living.

He chuckled.

It wasn't a sound I'd ever heard him make before.

I didn't like it.

It wasn't jovial.

It wasn't joyful.

He laughed again.

You saw the flashing LED.

I watched you.

CCTV is such a wonderful invention, don't you think?

I had it fitted after your last escapade.

Another thump from above.

I reckon you've got about two hours of air left.

I told you I'd get you back, didn't I?

Shit, shit, shit.

The panic that had threatened to overwhelm me earlier blasted me with its full force, quickly becoming a highly concentrated acidic terror that dissolved all coherent thought.

The uncontrollable sobbing and pleading quickly notched up to a liquid screaming that filled the claustrophobic space with a sound that only served to amplify my horror.

Oh, I wouldn't bother screaming.

Nobody can hear you all the way back here.

Conserve your oxygen.

Another thump of earth hit the lid,

and another.

Until I could hear nothing more than my impending suffocation with every rapid, terror-filled breath.

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When you work shifts at odd hours, you need to take advantage of the time you're awake.

And for Tom, that means deciding to get some fishing in, in the middle of the night.

But in this tale, shared with us by author Eric Halsinger, Tom soon discovers he's not alone on the lake, and some people really don't like being alone.

alone.

I join Reagan Tacker in performing this tale.

So if you want to spend time with someone you just need to cast your line.

That way you'll be fishing for a friend.

The fish was on the hook as I whipped the rod back and began reeling it in.

The canoe rocked back and forth gently with my movements.

I pulled the fish out of the water, a beautiful big-mouthed bass.

The full moon shone above the lake like a celestial chandelier, providing enough light that I hadn't even turned on my lantern yet.

The lake was still, the light smell of pine drifting through the air.

The night was quiet, just the occasional bullfrog looking for a date and crickets playing their droning tunes.

Another wonderful Thursday night.

I worked the night shift at the factory Sunday through Wednesday, so my weekend was Thursday and Friday.

I kept the same sleeping schedule on my days off, otherwise I'd never be able to function once Saturday came around again.

I didn't mind living life like an owl, especially when I got to go fishing and have the entire lake to myself.

Tonight was particularly pleasant.

The air was cool, but not cold, and the sky was mostly clear, just the occasional cloud that blocked the moon for for a moment.

There was patchy fog dotting the lake.

The glow of the moon reflecting off of it made it look like big bundles of cotton candy surrounded me.

I checked my wristwatch.

It was just after 3 a.m.

I still had a few good hours of fishing left before the sun came up, sending me to bed again.

I started whistling a medley of tunes, none of which sounded quite right, but entertained me nonetheless.

I noticed a different noise cutting through the sound of my whistling.

I quieted down and listened while scanning the different fog patches around me.

Someone was humming the same tunes I was whistling, and the noise was getting closer.

The hums echoed around the empty lake, making it impossible to tell which direction it was coming from.

This was a new experience for me.

I had never run into someone out on the lake at this time of night.

The humming was periodically interrupted by violent fits of coughing, thick phlegmy coughs that came from the chest.

The humming grew louder until finally a shape appeared through the fog in front of me, a small wooden rowboat manned by a portly gentleman, his back turned towards me.

Hey!

I called out in case he didn't know I was there.

I didn't want to startle someone this late at night.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment as he continued rowing towards me, humming the entire way.

A man in the rowboat came to a stop beside me, about 10 feet separating us.

He looked at me and smiled.

He was a relatively round man, clean-shaven, but he looked older.

His face was covered in wrinkles, his eyebrows bushy, and his hairline was nowhere to be seen.

His smile was wide and his teeth were impressively straight and white, especially for his age.

His eyes were bright and youthful.

He was dressed in an ill-fitting suit and tie with black slacks so large they swallowed his feet.

His rowboat was empty save for the two oars in each of his weathered hands.

He sat staring at me silently, his wide smile unwavering.

I smiled back, nodded my head, and started putting another worm on my hook, hoping that the man would continue on his way.

I cast my lure far out into the lake.

The old man floated silently beside me.

Nice night, huh?

I asked, hoping that making some quick small talk would send him away.

Oh, yes, it's lovely out here.

The view is to die for.

Are they biting?

Not too bad.

A couple bass and a few bluegills so far.

Oh, just lovely.

His voice was deep and bassy.

It carried across the lake and returned again with a quiet echo.

The name is Lucas.

What do they call you, friend?

The man had a strange way of speaking, taking pauses between words seemingly at random.

Thomas, but you can call me Tom.

Tom.

Tom.

Tom.

Tom.

It was almost like he was chewing my name with his mouth.

It's awful late to be out here fishing, Tom.

I know young people stay out late these days, but I thought that was reserved for bars and clubs.

Oh, I work nights.

It's my day off.

I like to get out here to fish when I have the lake to myself.

Oh, Tom, I beg your pardon.

I did not mean to interrupt your solitude.

It's important for a man to have time to think back on his life.

I apologized, not meaning to imply he was intruding, even if he was.

I felt a tug on my line.

Well, Tom, it seems there's a thief on the end of the line.

I reeled the fish in.

It fought hard to get away.

As I reached into the water, it was still struggling to escape.

I raised it out of the water and it went limp in my hand.

Oh,

a nice one.

He

was lovely.

I turned the fish over, but it was still in lifeless.

It was strange.

It had been fighting so hard just a moment ago.

Can fish have heart attacks, I wondered.

I hadn't had anything like that happen to me before.

I took the hook out of its mouth and threw it back in the water.

It floated sideways at the top of the water, the gentle current taking it away and out of sight.

The worm got his revenge on that thief there, I reckon.

I put another worm on the line and cast it out.

The old man asked me a few questions about my life, how old I was, what I did for work, if I liked liked it are you married son

oh i almost was once but it didn't work out in the end

oh lovely

it's not for everyone you know

some can't handle it some never get the chance We all just have to play the cards given to us.

I nodded my head, not necessarily in agreement, just in the hopes that our time together was approaching its end.

Would you say you've lived a good life, Tom?

What do you mean?

Your life.

Were you just?

Were you kind?

Did you do all the things you wanted to do?

I like to think I'm a good person.

I know there are things I've done that I shouldn't have, but I think I've lived a pretty straight life.

There are tons of things I still want to do, places I want to see.

I'm still young, though.

I've got time.

The old man shook his head slightly and lowered his gaze.

The smile remained wide as ever.

Oh,

lovely.

I'm talking to a pillar of the community, a shining example for humanity.

It's a nice night for a chat with such a kind

young man.

The old old man began coughing, a wet, disgusting cough.

He beat his chest as he was doubled over, coughing louder now.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat and spit out a large wad of mucus into the water.

I tried not to look at it as it floated by my canoe, but out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw some sort of creature wiggling in the ball of snot.

Don't you worry about me, Tom.

I'm feeling just lovely

glad to hear it

there were a few moments of silence between us not even the bullfrogs were croaking anymore so why are you out here so late

why it's such a lovely night I just had to come out I was hoping to make a new friend and here we are

How lovely

A cloud had moved its way in front of the moon and the night had suddenly become much darker.

I looked at the man harder to see now.

I could barely make him out but he looked different.

He was still smiling but his teeth looked rotted and smashed together.

His face was drooping, eyes that looked like dark marbles sunken into their sockets.

His clothes were tattered, barely holding together.

The rowboat he was sitting on was battered and broken.

I leaned forward to try and get a better look to confirm what I was seeing when a fish tugged at my line, stealing away my attention.

The moon emerged from behind the cloud and the lake lit back up with a gentle twinkle.

I looked back at the man as I started reeling.

He looked perfectly normal again, the grin still spread over his face.

I reeled in the bass and lifted it out of the water.

This fish also went limp in my hand the second it reached the air.

I sat dumbstruck, staring at it.

The old man talked, breaking me out of my daze and surprising me enough, I nearly jumped out of my canoe.

Tell me, Tom, do you

believe in God?

I released the dead fish back to its watery grave.

I don't really know, to be honest.

I'm undecided on the whole deity thing.

Well, tell me, Tom.

That fish there,

it is dead, yes.

What happened to it after it died?

Where did it go?

I replied with a shoulder shrug.

I don't really know.

It's back in the lake now.

It'll fall to the bottom and become nutrients for the rest of the creatures living down there, I guess.

Oh, that's lovely.

That's a lovely idea.

We become useful when we die.

I like that, Tom.

That sounds like a nice way to spend eternity, don't you think?

His smile grew wider than before.

Yeah, I guess so.

If I can be useful after I die, I can't complain about that.

I cast my line out once more.

The moon was once again overtaken by an errant cloud.

The lake went dark.

Beside me, the splash echoed through the silence.

I whipped my head to see the rowboat completely empty, a small ripple coming from the other side.

The boat, now in disrepair, began sinking into the water.

Lucas!

The lake was completely still.

The air around me became thick and sticky.

I frantically turned on my flashlight, shining it into the water, seeing only the inky blackness below.

I continued to cry out for Lucas when I felt an incredibly strong tug on my line.

I grabbed the rod tight.

Something on the end of the line was tugging with amazing strength.

I fought back the best I could, holding on to the line and reeling it with all my might, making little progress.

One strong tug sent me flying out of my canoe into the deep black lake.

I struggled to paddle my way back to the surface.

My clothes, keeping me comfortable on the surface, were now weighing me down.

I felt a hand, large, thin fingers, wrap around my ankle.

I looked down, but all I could see through the murky water was a crooked, rotten yellow smile.

The hand grabbing my ankle ripped me down, my lungs filling with water.

In my final moments, I looked up to the surface.

The moon had made its way back to the center stage.

The gentle beams penetrating the water slowly faded as I sank to the bottom of the lake.

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If you and your family own a farm and run a quaint homestead cafe, you don't expect to end up being interviewed by the police.

But thankfully, you're not in the Bell family.

You see, in this tale, shared with us by author Joan Tierney, there was a concert held at Blue Bell Farms and Cafe.

And let's just say that wasn't the start of the horror.

Performing this tale are Marie Westbrook, Graham Rowett, Sarah Thomas, Jesse Cornett, Aaron Lillis, Mary Murphy, Atticus Jackson, and Lindsay Russo.

So enjoy the farm fresh baking and food, but make sure you know all about it.

That is, regarding the below special

From the statement of Stan Bell

State your name for the record, please.

Stan, you needn't press so close to the microphone, Mr.

Bell.

It will pick up your voice just fine.

Oh, oh, uh, sorry.

Um, uh, Stan Bell, that's my name.

And your relationship to Nanette Bell,

she's my mother-in-law.

So you took your wife's name.

That's right.

Bit unusual for a husband to take a wife's last name.

Yeah, well, if your last name was as shit as mine, you'd be eager to lose it, too.

Yes, I see here your given name was.

Please don't.

Ah.

Exactly.

And anyway, that was one of Nanette's,

I guess you could call them, stipulations.

If I wanted to marry her daughter, I was going to have to take her last name.

Plus, which there had never been a non-bell that lived at the homestead.

And were you also expected to live at the homestead?

Yeah, that was another of her stipulations.

She liked to keep her family close, Nanette did.

A little too close, if you catch my drift.

I do, but if you could state your drift clearly for the record.

Ah, right.

Well, I guess you've probably heard the rumors about what all went on at Blue Bell Farms and Cafe.

I have heard many rumors.

You'll have to specify.

I'm meaning the one about Nanette and Balder?

Balder Bell.

Nanette's cousin.

Right.

Well, you know what they say about Appalachians and cousins?

With Nanette and Balder, there was some truth to it.

They were in a sexual relationship?

Not just that.

Things hinted at them not being cousins, after all.

Their fathers were brothers, but Bessie, that was Nanette's mom, she shared a bed with both of them.

At least, that's what Annie read in her grandmother's diary.

Annie Bell, your wife.

Right.

Annie, sweet thing she is.

She just couldn't believe it.

But if I'm being honest, it always made a bit of sense to me.

Nanette and Balder, they were always a little too similar.

eerily close.

They'd have these silent conversations.

Didn't even have to be looking at each other to understand what they meant.

It was weird.

What about Annie's father, Stoneham?

Gone well before I knew her.

Supposedly, he just wandered out into the fog one day and never came back.

Never issued him a death certificate, but Nanette's a widow in all but name.

Did Annie suspect her mother's relationship with balder

definitely not any likes to see the best in people she's a little naive about it truth be told but it keeps her happy

you've been married for how long

five years god bless him she's the only bright spot out of this whole mess

And it was her idea to open the cafe?

Hers and mine.

We figured Nanette was already always cooking enough to feed 12 people why not make some money off it it was a good idea they had the room and the nearest restaurants not for 20 miles

tell me about the bluebell cafe

not much to tell if i'm honest me and annie kept suggesting different recipes to shake things up a bit but nanette was set on her menu She may not have run the business side of things, but the cafe was her ship and Nanette was the captain.

No one was about to tell her how to run it.

Can you describe Nanette's menu?

Sure.

It was just four options: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Didn't matter what time of day.

You could get a hash with sausage and potatoes, a sauerkraut salad, tomato soup with grilled cheese, or the below special.

What was the below special?

That's what everyone always asked.

Everyone who wasn't from the area, anyway.

And Nanette always said it came from below, meaning the cellar where she cured the meat.

But I explained it like this: you remember Mystery Meat Mondays at school?

Sure, sloppy Joes that were always a little too sloppy.

Right.

Well, this meat was below that, if you get my meaning.

Uh, it was sloppier?

It was more of a mystery.

I mean, we lived on a farm, so no one ever questioned where Nanette got the meat from, and I did see her make her own sausage out of the pigs she got from Janice across the way.

But the cured meat, that was different.

It was only ever used for the special, and Nanette was real cagey about it.

Only she and Baldur and Calliope were allowed in that cellar.

Calliope Bell, Baldur's daughter.

That's right.

Did you ever ask Nanette about the meat?

Sure, but never seriously.

I guess I figured she had it delivered when I wasn't around, alongside the chicken feed.

Did you ever go inside the caves?

No, never.

I'm not what you call a wanderer.

I knew there were a ton of old mines around.

Everyone knows that.

In these parts, you can't spit without hitting an abandoned shaft.

Real black lung central.

That's what Stonem did, back before the last of the mines closed and he went missing.

But I never went near one.

I come from the prairie, flatlands, where what you see is what you get.

Out there, it's the sky you have to worry about, not the ground.

So, you didn't know about the cave system when you scheduled the concert?

No way.

If I had, I never would have planned for that many people.

I was just trying to provide, you know.

There's only so much money an independent homestead can make, and that's what the family has me for.

I'm the only one with a head for finances.

How did you meet Robert Engler?

He stopped by the cafe, said he was on his way to an Irish music festival in Asheville.

He represented one of the bands performing there.

We just hit it off.

Do you remember what he ordered?

The below special.

Newcomers always order the special, unless they're vegetarian, but we hardly ever get one of those.

Hmm.

Whose idea was it to host the concert?

Both of ours, I suppose.

We got to talking about music festivals, which, of course, led to Woodstock.

That was held on a farm, too, you know.

Oh, I know.

Right.

Well, I guess that's what we were trying to do, you know?

Recapture that success.

Well, you certainly made headlines.

Yeah.

I guess this really is a damn monkey's paw situation, huh?

15 minutes is 15 minutes.

From the statement of Calliope Bell.

State your name for the record, please.

Didn't I already do this?

You've provided a summarized written statement.

The recording of a verbal statement allows us to get further clarification on what happened, in your own words.

Fine.

My name is Calliope Bell.

And your relationship to Nanette Bell?

Is this a joke?

For the record.

For the record,

Nanette's my aunt.

But she pretty much raised me since my mom died when I was a baby.

Would you consider your relationship with your aunt to be a close one?

Sure.

As close as anyone in this family can be, anyway.

Meaning.

Meaning.

Bells don't really get boundaries.

They never have.

Is that why you moved to Raleigh?

I moved to Raleigh because I was sick of living an hour away from the nearest shopping mall.

But you still visit the homestead quite often.

Whenever Annie calls me and whines whines about needing help.

Are you and Annie close?

We aren't distant.

Not like me and Janice.

Janice Bell, Baldur's brother.

What other Janice is there?

As much clarification as possible is preferred.

Fine, Jesus.

Yes.

Janice.

My dad's younger brother.

The black sheep of the Bell family.

Huh.

What makes him the black sheep?

He moved off the homestead for one, which is a big no-no in my aunt's book.

She didn't like it when any of us stepped a toe outside her capital P plan.

You also moved off the homestead.

Yeah, and Nanette had a cow about it.

But she couldn't exactly cut me off.

Why not?

She and dad weren't getting any younger.

And who else could be trusted with with the real responsibilities when they were gone?

Stan refuses to get his hands dirty.

And Annie's scared of her own shadow.

What kind of responsibilities?

Working the farm, running the cafe, keeping the whole place from going under.

Were you close with Stoneham before his disappearance?

I hardly remember him.

It's really just been Nanette and my dad for so long.

And how would you describe the relationship between your aunts and your father

holy shit

miss bell

i can't believe this are you seriously asking me if they're fucking miss bell i'm simply no no i get it appalachian cousins isn't that what they call it

we're hicks so we all must be inbred right

Did Stan tell you that?

Well, for the record, no.

My aunt and my dad aren't cousin fuckers.

Christ!

When did you meet Robert Engler?

I don't remember the exact date, but early on during my last visit, he came around looking for Stan.

Did you find that odd?

Not really.

Strangers are always coming around the homestead looking for Stan.

He's always got some new get-rich quick plot going on usually they're just pyramid schemers he met on the internet

were you told about the concert beforehand

only the day before nanette was pissed and she and stan had a whole blowout over it i don't think even he knew how big it would get nanette didn't have nearly enough food for them all that's the only reason she sent me to the cellar to begin with She'd run out of everything and she was too busy to restock herself.

Can you describe the cellar?

It was a root cellar, a bit cramped.

Dirt floor, dirt walls, ruggedy shelves holding jars and vegetables.

Cured meat hanging in cloths from the ceiling.

Can you describe the meat?

It looked like meat.

Was it light, dark?

What animal do you think it came from?

I don't know.

Pigs, I guess, because of Janice.

It looked a little different from the meat I was used to, but I thought that was just because it was cured.

I'm not a butcher or a cook.

I didn't know what to look for.

When did you discover the cave system?

The second time she sent me down there, that man followed me with his stupid camera.

I didn't know he was there, so I freaked out, and his lens fell off and rolled into the shadows.

It kept rolling for longer than it should have been able to, so he switched his camera to night vision.

You saw the rest of it in that video.

For clarification, Miss Belle is referring to Exhibite E, the 22-minute long recording taken by music blogger Elton Yang.

You and Mr.

Yang were in the caves for some time.

Well, those caves are huge, and it's not like either of us had been in there before.

And when we finally made it out, all hell broke loose.

I never found out if he made it out okay after the fire.

Mr.

Yang was treated for smoke inhalation, a minor head wound, and first-degree burns.

He was recently discharged from the hospital and is expected to make a full recovery.

Pity.

You blame him?

I just don't like busy bodies.

That's all.

If it weren't for Mr.

Yang, it's unlikely that the bodies would have ever been discovered.

Obviously, I'm glad they were found.

I don't feel bad for Nanette and Dad or anything like that.

I just wish it had all been found out differently.

How so?

Well, quieter for one.

Every day, I'm filled in calls from reporters and news stations and crime bloggers for fuck's sake.

Annie keeps having to repaint the siding of her house, you know.

Someone's been spray-painting cannibals on the wall.

It's harassment.

And I'm sure the fire didn't help matters.

Yeah, that too.

I wish so many people hadn't died, obviously.

Technically, none of the missing consort goers have been declared dead.

Yeah, sure.

You don't believe there could be survivors?

All I know is hundreds of people have gone missing in those caves over the years

and not one has ever come out alive

exhibit a diary entry of annabeth bessie bell

Another hard winter.

Every winter's been hard since daddy died.

Mama had a hand working the plow for a couple summers, but now he's out fighting the Germans.

No one to plow meant no planting, which meant no harvest to store for the colder months.

Next year we might try and sell the land since we can't work it ourselves, but that hardly helps us in the present.

The war was supposed to dry up soon, but we're still in the thick of it.

Which means whatever we don't grow has to be rationed.

We ran out of sugar some time ago.

We're nearly out of flour.

I don't know what we would have done if mama hadn't found the meat.

She said it came from a young cow she found dead in our cellar.

It must have wandered into the caves and froze to death.

She butchered the whole thing herself.

She wouldn't even let me look at it, saying the sight might make me sick.

But then it happened a second time a pig and then a third

mama calls them gifts she says it's god answering her prayers we can't buy or hunt for our food so now he sends the food to us

it isn't that i don't trust mama And I am grateful for what He provides.

But I've heard sounds coming from the cellar at night, and I don't think it's livestock that's making them.

When I pressed my ear up to the cellar door, I could hear someone whispering Mama's name.

Could you state your name for the record?

Janus.

Your full name, please?

Janus Ptolemy Bell.

And what is your relationship to Nanette Bell?

And her cousin.

And were you raised on the homestead alongside her?

Mm-hmm.

Why did you decide to move off the homestead?

I wanted my own place.

Away from the caves?

It didn't hurt.

Have you ever gone into the caves?

Well,

as kids,

just inside.

Used to do it as a dare.

See who could stay there the longest.

Who won?

Nanette.

Every time.

She'd stay there all night.

And Balder?

Sometimes he'd stay down there with her.

They weren't afraid of the caves.

Seems like most kids would be.

Well, Baldur was never afraid.

Nanette liked him.

Did you know where she got the meat?

Well, it's the same place and Bessie got it, I suspect.

Where did your aunt get it from?

I don't know.

Just turned up with it.

Said she got it from a friend.

Did this friend have a name?

No.

You ever questioned this mysterious, never-ending stock of meat?

Well, out here,

you take what you can get.

You're giving a horse, you don't check its teeth.

We're grateful folk.

Mr.

Bell, I think you know your family wasn't being gifted this meat.

People were dying.

Well, people are always dying.

I think you knew that something about this meat in the cellar wasn't right.

I think that's why you left the homestead and started raising pigs.

So you would always know where your own meat came from.

Well, pigs are just easy to raise, is all.

They don't need good grazing land.

They'll eat anything,

even each other.

That's why you got to shave their tusks when they're young, so they don't cut.

If they smell blood, they go crazy.

I saw one take the ear off a live calf once.

Had fresh veal for a few months afterwards.

Mr.

Bell, I don't think you understand the severity of the situation.

Your cousin is dead, and various body parts from 27 different people were found buried on her property.

And those are just the ones we've already uncovered.

Now, even if they weren't killed outright, somebody chopped those bodies up and disposed of them.

Another 60 people are still missing.

I don't believe you know nothing about all of this.

Pigs are vicious and intelligent.

Smarter than anyone will give them credit for.

But they can't look up.

So that's how you catch them.

It ain't their fault.

It's just their anatomy.

Mr.

Bell, how did the people on your cousin's property die?

Well,

I can't rightly say.

Wasn't there.

I see.

But it didn't start with Nanette, did it?

Your grandmother, Annabeth Bell.

Where did she get her meat?

Well,

when you're hungry, suddenly you're seeing meat in places where you never saw it before.

All manner of animals people won't normally eat.

Squirrels, cats, even dogs.

The world's full of meat when anything can go on the table.

Exhibit B:

Map of appearances as related to the cave systems of Hacksaw County

from the statement of Balder Bell.

Could you state your name for the record, please?

Mr.

Bell, please state your name for the record.

Mr.

Bell, if you refuse to cooperate, you may be charged with obstruction of justice.

Fine.

End recording.

Exhibit C: Advertisement paid for by Robert Engler regarding the concert to be held at Bluebell Farms and Cafe.

Exhibit D, various blog and social media posts regarding the concert at Bluebell Farms and Cafe and the below special.

From the statement of Annie Bell

Please state your name for the record

Annie Bell

Well

Annabeth Bell IV, actually

no children of your own and Annabeth the fifth

No

not that we haven't tried, but

well

apparently the odds of me getting pregnant aren't very high

Sorry to hear that

We're considering adoption

anything could happen, I suppose.

There's not no chance of it.

Of course.

Now, for the record, if you could state your relationship to Nanette Bell.

She's my mother.

Was my mother.

Sorry.

I guess I'm still not used to it.

The past tense.

I'm very sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

It hasn't quite sunk in yet, if I'm honest.

Your husband implied you two are very close.

We all are.

We're.

The whole family.

Even Janice?

Janice may not have lived on the homestead, but he always stayed within walking distance.

And Calliope moved away, too.

But she didn't mind driving up to check in.

Were you upset when Cliope moved east?

Of course.

We were young, and she was my best friend.

I was worried I'd never see her again.

I didn't think Mama would ever forgive her.

Callie was always her favorite.

Her leaving was a big betrayal for Mama.

But Nanette forgave her.

Well, it's like I said, we're family.

Tell me about the cellar.

I don't know that there's much to tell.

It was a typical root cellar.

I didn't go down there much.

Your husband said only Nanette, Baldur, and Calliope were allowed in the cellar.

Stan said that?

No,

it isn't that I wasn't allowed.

I just didn't like to.

When we were little, Calliope used to dare me to do things.

She dared you to go into the cellar?

It was only supposed to be for five minutes.

Then she'd let me back out.

But she didn't.

I don't actually remember much about that night.

I know I screamed myself hoarse, though I don't remember doing it.

Apparently, I was trapped down there for hours.

She'd locked the door from the outside.

But you're on good terms with your cousin now?

Oh, yes.

Bygones and all that.

Kids do silly things all the time.

Eventually, you get over it.

It didn't help that Mama was always pitting us against each other,

testing us to see who'd win.

But then Calliope left.

Though I guess I kind of won by default.

So you never went to the cellar after that?

I try to stay away from dark, tight quarters.

I may not remember that night very clearly, but my body does.

I start to panic, even thinking about it.

I still sleep with the bathroom light on.

Me, a grown woman.

Stan's a dear about it, though.

He's never complained once.

How would you describe your relationship with your husband?

Oh,

very good.

For the most part.

For the most part?

Well,

I do wish there was a little more romance there.

But you can't have everything, I suppose.

At least we get along.

Did your parents get along?

I don't really remember.

I was so young when Daddy left.

He was always going out on walks.

He'd bring me little souvenirs he found.

Shed Shed antlers and bird eggs and four-leaf clovers.

Do you think you might still be alive?

Oh, I don't know.

It's unlikely.

But life can be unlikely sometimes.

I used to dream about him just showing up one day, years and years later, as if he'd never left.

I used to think I could hear him through the floorboards, calling my name.

Did that scare you?

Not at all.

I found it comforting.

Tell me about the cafe.

It was your husband's idea to open it?

Yes.

Stands full of ideas.

Whose idea was it to put the below special on the menu?

That was all mama.

She had a limited amount of recipes which she knew how to make.

And she used to make that one all the time when we were growing up.

Whenever it was cold or rainy out,

it was comfort food.

You often worked in the cafe, is that right?

Yes, every day.

Did you ever prepare the food yourself?

Sometimes, but only the really simple things, like grilled cheese.

Mama was very particular about food.

Did you ever prepare the special?

No, never.

She wouldn't even let me prep the ingredients.

I have somewhat of a sore thumb in the kitchen.

And Mama was very particular about the special, seeing as it was her signature dish.

Did you ever ask where the meat came from?

No.

I always assumed it was like the flour or the milk or the apples.

Either she bought it or traded for it.

I never questioned it because it had always been a part of our lives.

Your husband mentioned your grandmother's diary.

What?

Why?

It was an offhanded comment, but we did find the book during the second search of the main farmhouse.

I see.

So you've read it?

I have.

There are some very personal details about my family in that diary.

Rest assured, Mrs.

Bell.

We are only interested in the parts which might help us with the case.

Right.

Of course.

It's just...

There has been so much smeared against my family in the press lately.

And I'd hate to see even more.

I mean, eventually, Stan and I are going to have children.

And I don't want them to...

to...

To read about their grandmother and great-grandmother, who might have killed dozens of people and then cannibalized them, even going so far as to trick others into cannibalizing them at their table?

Yes, I.

There's no proof of any of that, is there?

My grandmother certainly never wrote about killing and eating anybody.

There is certainly proof of the cannibalism.

Much of the meat found on the scene was human.

Mama might not have known that.

Are we to believe she was an unwitting participant in the cutting up, cooking, and distribution of the dozens of victims found buried on her land?

According to everyone, including yourself, Nanette was the matriarch of the homestead.

It's just so hard to believe.

I.

She.

Mama may not have been a nice woman, but she was still my mother.

And she did care for me, in her way.

I'm sorry.

I just.

It's all right.

Here.

Thank you.

I guess I just don't want to think of my mother as a villain.

And all of those things that she paid me.

Those poor people.

It's horrible.

Like.

Like something from a Stephen King novel.

I'm sure it would have come as a shock to anyone.

Now,

about your grandmother's diary.

You've read it?

Yes.

Then you must know the part I'm referring to.

About the caves and what went on in them?

I know my grandmother and great-grandmother nearly starved to death during the war.

People have been known to hallucinate during starvation.

You believe your grandmother was not of sound mind when she wrote about the caves?

What was it she called them?

Lonely.

She called them lonely.

She thought they just wanted a friend.

I think my grandmother went through a traumatic experience.

Anyone else in her place might have thought the same.

Were you close to your grandmother?

When I was young, sure.

What little girl doesn't adore her grandma.

but she died when i was 11

so i never got to know her well

and then your mother inherited the homestead

yes

and who will take charge of it now

me i suppose unless mama decided she really did prefer calliope after all

would that upset you

not really

I know Callie has no real interest in moving back.

So she'd probably just signed everything over to me anyway.

She has her life in Raleigh, and

what?

Well,

there's that blogger.

They seemed friendly.

Elton Ying.

Calliope insinuated to me that she did not know him.

Maybe I'm mistaken.

You believed they were acquainted?

Well, I thought they were headed that way.

I mean, she took them to the cellar so they could be alone.

I was under the impression that Mr.

Yang followed your cousin into the cellar just before the fire.

I guess I was wrong then.

I just assumed, you know,

they were down there for so long.

And Callie had been in that cellar so many times, so she probably knew her way around.

She claimed she got lost in the cave system, which she'd never been to before.

She said that

she'd never been in those caves.

Had she been in the caves,

Mrs.

Bell,

it is in the best interest of yourself and your cousins that you answer my questions honestly.

Can we take a break?

It's been hours and I'm getting hungry.

Exhibit E.

Video filmed and uploaded by Elton Yang, titled Woodstock Inferno.

So, here we are at the Grassroots Music Festival held at the Bluebell Farms up in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

This venue's got everything.

Beautiful sights, beautiful music,

and beautiful girls.

Elton has been panning around the crowd of fellow concert goers at the farm in the field just outside the cafe.

He now begins to zoom in on Calliope Bell as she rounds the side of the farmhouse, wearing an apron over her thighs.

Now, if you ever swing by the Blue Bell Cafe up in Hacksaw County, all the regulars will tell you that you have to try the Below special.

And

they're right.

Nanette Bell keeps a tight lid on the recipe, but I'm going to see if I can do some sleuthing and find out what makes the Below so special.

Let's go.

Footage is cut.

Now, Elton is inside the farmhouse, discreetly filming as Calliope and Nanette argue in the kitchen.

Nanette seems to win the fight.

From a distance, the camera follows Calliope to the cellar door.

Elton first films her disappearing down the stairs and then follows her.

Hey, uh...

Oh, fuck!

Sheesh!

She reflectively swipes out at him.

The camera jerks and the images go dark, though the sound remains.

Both are swearing.

What the fuck?

That That thing costs like 400 bucks.

Then maybe you shouldn't stick it in people's faces without permission, shitbag.

You're lucky I didn't gut you.

With a can opener?

Fuck off.

What are you even doing down here?

Shouldn't you be out with the other potheads?

Shit, what a go.

Hey, watch it.

If you blind me, I'll be even more pissed off.

Jesus, you're twitchy.

What, y'all cooking meth down here or something?

Ha, ha.

Whoa.

What?

Holy shit.

How far back does this place go?

I.

I have no idea.

There you are, you little bastard.

The picture reappears as Elton switches to night vision.

The pair are now in a dark, expansive cave.

Okay.

Now, let's go back.

You don't want to look around first?

Do some spelunking?

How?

Okay.

Okay.

Let's go back.

They turn around and begin to walk.

I ought to have you arrested for trespassing.

Trespassing?

Who's trespassing?

I was looking for a bathroom and got lost.

Bullshit, you were looking for the bathroom.

What the fuck?

They are now standing before a solid cave wall.

Where'd it go?

The camp.

We didn't make a single turn.

The cellar should be right here, so what?

The fuck?

Okay, okay, okay.

Maybe we should just, you know, keep walking.

Maybe we got turned around.

What's there to get turned around on?

We literally walked straight down there and then straight back.

I don't know, okay?

I don't know.

But we've got to go somewhere.

So we might as well keep moving.

All right.

All right.

Lead the way.

Why do I have to lead?

You've got the camera, genius.

I can't see three feet in front of me.

Right.

They turn around and begin to walk.

What now?

What?

You keep whispering my name.

What do you want?

I didn't say anything.

I don't even know your name.

Well, someone's been saying my name for the last 10 minutes, and I don't see anyone else.

Well, it wasn't me.

Shut up.

Mom?

What?

Mama?

Is that you?

Why would your mom be down here?

Did she come looking for you?

Maybe she can leave us back.

My mom's dead.

holy shit

what

did you say my name just now

be honest

i don't know your name either

okay

okay okay okay

what'd you hear

my

i thought I heard my brother.

Is he at the concert?

No.

No, he

died when I was eight.

Car accident.

Okay.

What the fuck is going on?

They both pause.

Did you hear?

Run.

Run where?

Anywhere!

Move!

They run through the cave system, making various turns as they come.

Their footsteps echo loudly, but there are no sounds of anyone else.

Still, they act as though something is chasing them, and catching up.

Help us!

They run towards Annie's voice, and sunlight begins to appear up ahead.

They burst out of the cave several yards from the farmhouse.

They are breathing heavily.

Calliope collapses against her cousin, who seems surprised to see them.

What were you doing in there?

Going for a nice summer walk?

What the fuck do you think we were doing?

We got lost.

Something.

Fucks.

Something chased us.

It was probably just a coyote.

They sometimes make their dens in there.

You're lucky it wasn't a bear.

What are you doing out here?

Looking for you.

Mama said you were in the cellar, but when I went down, you weren't there.

But why would you look for me way out here?

Because this is where the tunnel leads out to.

Annie, if this is one of your little jokes, I'll swear to fucking God.

We aren't kids anymore.

You can't just lock me in the cellar whenever you feel like it now.

In the background, the music stops suddenly as the makeshift platform stage catches on fire.

People begin to scream and knock into one another as they attempt to flee.

Holy.

Everyone, over here.

What?

The caves won't burn.

Annie, we have to call 911.

Your mom.

Mom is inside.

There are fire extinguishers in the house.

I'll get them.

What?

By now, the crowd of panicked concert goers is running towards the cave.

Elton struggles his way through the stampede to the farmhouse, which is now also on fire.

Smoke is poured into the cafe dining area, where people are coughing and attempting to flee through the kitchen.

Robert Engler is among them.

Elton follows the crowd, just behind, unnoticed.

Nanette is in the kitchen, staring placidly, holding the cellar door open and directing people down the stairs.

Elton names the camera after them.

In the cellar, people begin to scream and run back towards the stairs, scrambling over each other.

The edge of a massive shadow is visible just before Nanette swings the door closed and locks it, and then walks into the flames which have erupted over the back of her house.

Recording ends.

From the interview of Elton Yang,

it'll only take a moment, Detective.

I don't.

Mr.

Yang, Detective, I really must insist that.

Elton, can you hear me?

I'd just like to ask you some questions about the concert at Bluebell Farms.

Not if you can hear me.

Detective, my patient has been through a serious trauma with no small amount of bodily injury.

He's in no state to.

What was that?

Elton, can you repeat that?

It knows

your name.

Who knows my name, Elton?

It

knows your name.

And it's so

lonely.

Elton

it knows your name.

It knows your name.

It knows your name.

It knows your name.

It knows your name.

Detective, leave now.

Paging Dr.

Knowles, you're needed in room 613.

Initial interview to be disregarded.

Our phone lines have been cut.

The cell signals are lost.

But we will return to delve into your darkest hang-ups when the calls will be coming from inside your house.

The No Sleep Podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media.

The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone.

Our production team is Phil Migolsky, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornette, and Claudius Moore.

Our editorial team is Jessica McAvoy, Ashley McInaui, Ollie A.

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Seafoam!

Kevin and Rachel and King of M ⁇ Ms and an eight-hour road trip.

And Rachel's new favorite audiobook, The Cerulean Empress, Scoundrel's Inferno.

And Florian, the reckless yet charming scoundrel from said audiobook.

And his pecs glistened in the moonlight.

And Kevin, feeling weird because of all the talk about pecs.

And Rachel handing him peanut MMs to keep him quiet.

Uh, Kevin, I can't hear.

Yellow, we're keeping it PG-13.

MMs, it's more fun together.