Handed Down

*Depiction of blood/injury.*

“Sorry for your loss, Randall.” Mark said gently. “I have known your father since high school, he was a good man. I’ll give you a minute, let me know when you are ready.”

“Thank you, I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Mark said, handing him a document. “Here’s a copy of his will. Read it over and let me know if you have any questions.”

Randall had known this day was approaching. His father’s health had been declining over the past few months. He had stopped drinking fluids and had required hospital visits for IV treatments. Just three weeks earlier, his father Frank had taken a fall. His smartwatch detected it and automatically called for an ambulance.

Sitting by his father’s bed in his final moments, Randall held his hand and peacefully said his goodbyes. Memories surfaced, ever since he was a child, Randall had remembered his father’s hand. Three fingers were missing, along with part of his pinky. He used to tell Randall it was from a side project in carpentry. He never picked up carpentry again after that incident.

It was more of a formality, as Randall was the only child, he received almost everything from his father’s estate. A portion was donated to charity, which was typical of his father and didn’t come as a surprise.

What did stand out was the mention of a safe, supposedly hidden behind a wall in the home office. Randall knew that room well. Growing up in that house, he had spent years in and out of it, and he had never noticed anything that would hint at a hidden safe. There were no seams in the drywall, no unusual markings. Nothing.

Intrigued, Randall stood and shook Mark’s hand. “Thank you, Mark. Have a good day.” Mark gestured in return. “You as well, keep in touch, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.” Randall nodded, then left Mark’s house with the thought of the hidden safe gnawing at the back of his mind.

Randall arrived at his dad’s house and found it eerily quiet. He will have to go through this house and clean up the place in the coming days. Luckily, Frank was not a hoarder, so it shouldn’t be too bad a chore, Randall thought.

The only thing on Randall’s mind was the office and this mysterious safe he had no recollection of. He made his way there, and found everything untouched, exactly as it had been since his father was first hospitalized.

The room looked frozen in time. A desk stood at the far end, facing the door. Military photos lined the walls, along with a shadow box Frank and received as a gift when he left Europe. An aging PC sat on the desk, barely functional, and beside it, a neat row of challenge coins glinted in the light. Randall smiled faintly, his dad loved to share stories from his time in the service.

In the corner stood the familiar bookshelf, packed with worn Westerns and Military books. Something small caught his eye, a crayon drawing he’d made in elementary school for Father’s Day, still propped beside the books. He felt a pang of nostalgia as he sank into his father’s chair.

To the left of the bookshelf was where the safe was supposed to be. Randall ran his fingers over the wall, searching for seams or grooves. Nothing.

Randall returned to the office with a hammer he grabbed from the garage. “Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered. He swung and the hammer punched through the drywall with a metallic clang, like a gong going off.

“So we meet at last,” he said, chipping away at the drywall until the safe emerged. The safe wasn’t huge, standing about three feet tall and 24 inches wide, this was the standard width from one stud to the other.

The dial had ninety-nine numbers, and a handle waited just below. Randall pulled the folded will out of his pocket and read the combination: 0-23-25. According to the will the first number represented the beginning. The second number was for the number of owners with Randall being the 23rd owner, and the third number was for the current year, which the safe auto sets at the turn of each new year. “How the hell does the safe do that automatically? Dad has to be pulling my leg.”

With the combination in hand he started turning the dial to the appropriate number and pulled the handle. The safe opened smoothly, like it had been oiled yesterday. Inside were six sets of drawers, the top four drawers were the same size, with the bottom two being a little bigger.

Randall pulled open the bottom left drawer and a brilliant shine of yellow gold flowed out of the drawer. Randall froze, stunned. He was in disbelief with what he was seeing. “Is that a real gold bar!” he said. He reached his hand into the safe, fingertips brushing the cool surface of the gold bar and WAP! The drawer slammed shut with unnatural force severing his pinky and some of his ring finger like paper. The safe came to life and let out a high pitched laugh, “Hah-hah-hah-heh-heh-heh!” Randall let out numerous curse words and screamed in pain. He tore the bottom portion of his shirt and quickly wrapped his hand, rolling the fabric over his wounds a couple of times.

He scoured the ground looking for his missing fingers, nothing. He had no choice. He bolted out the door and into his car. Using his off-hand all of his normal functions of driving where out of balance. After 15 minutes of white-knuckle speeding he staggered into the ER telling the staff that he accidently cut off his fingers in a carpentry accident. The doctor cleaned the wounds and wrapped bandages around his missing fingers. He then prescribed some painkillers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatories.

After picking up his prescription Randall took all of his pills and drove back to his fathers home. The safe had riches and he wouldn’t let it outsmart him.

Once at his fathers home he devised a plan to stick a piece of metal tube between the drawer and enclosure to stop it from slamming shut. He slowly opened the bottom right drawer and the brilliance of a huge diamond cast shimmering light around the room. The diamond was nicely placed in a bed of silk and Randall guessed it had to be about 16 carats, easy.

With the drawer opened big enough Randall placed the metal tube between the door and the enclosure very slowly. He held the handle of the drawer tight so it wouldn’t snap shut. After a few minutes he was satisfied that the tube was holding the drawer open securely.

Randall slowly reached his hand into the drawer to grab the diamond. As he touched the diamond he heard the sounds of the drawer straining to close against the tube. “That’s right, you can’t slam shut this time.” Randall said as he gripped the diamond. The safe then vibrated to life and the tube ricocheted from holding the drawer open and WAP! The drawer closed with ferocious speed amputating Randall’s right hand at the wrist. The safe still vibrating with life let out a high pitched screaming laugh, “Hah-hah-hah-heh-heh-heh!”

In shock and missing his entire hand Randall froze. He couldn’t believe what had happened. When he finally came out of his daze he pushed his arm into the bottom of his shirt and wrapped it as best as he could. He then ran to his car and drove himself to the hospital as fast as he could.

Same ER and same doctor.

“I think you should really give up carpentry, Mr. Anderson.” The doctor said.

Randall gave a weak smile. “I’m done, it’s not worth it. Not for any amount of money.”

That night, Randall returned to his own house. Every task, brushing his teeth, changing his clothes was suddenly unfamiliar, everything harder. Sleep didn’t come easy, he kept hearing the safe’s maniacal laugh echo in his dreams.

The next morning he ran errands then drove back to his father’s house. The safe door was still open and Randall had a sense that the safe was mocking him and laughing hysterically. He gently closed the safes door and spun the dial. As best as he could he measured the drywall and spent the rest of the day patching it up. When he finished, the wall looked just like it had before like nothing had ever been hidden there.

“Hello Mr. Anderson, how may we be of service today?” the man asked.

Randall leaned forward.

“I’d like to update my will.”