A Night in the Graveyard

A simple night of grave digging gets a little more complicated for Larry Smith.

                       A Night in the Graveyard

The wan light from the crescent moon only barely illuminated the darkness that had engulfed the cemetery below. The graves were lined up, row by row, silently announcing to the world who lay below.  Footsteps and the clanging of tools soon interrupted the silence as the man in the black trench coat stepped onto the grounds. The figure glanced around, picked a grave, and began digging.

He had many names over the years, but most knew him as Larry Smith. He was the man you called when you had nowhere else to turn. The idea made him laugh. It had been some time since he was a man. Sure he was born male, but since he took up his business he wasn’t human.   

He was long since dead, his body now no more than a sack of skin and bones. Larry wears a body suit to keep himself together and a mask fashioned like a skull to cover his long decayed face. He’s a suit and tie man most of the time. It’s always good to be professional, even when digging up a corpse. A fedora tops off the ensemble, giving him a private investigator for the dead look.

He continued to dig, occasionally pausing to make sure he would not be disturbed. He had chosen this cemetery for it’s remoteness but he still had to watch out for the random police patrol or Goth teenager wanting a cool place to hang out. It wasn’t long till he reached the coffin below and cracked open the wooden lid with his shovel.

Inside laid the remains of a woman. Time and the elements had reduced her to a skeleton and the trinkets that were buried with her.  Larry picked up her hand and used a pair of pruning sheers to remove her ring finger. He zipped it inside a plastic baggie and made his way out of the hole.

Larry never heard the shot.

It had taken Flagg weeks, but she finally managed to track the necromancer down. It was a gamble that he would chose this graveyard, and it seemed one that paid off.  She continued to watch him through the sniper rifle. When she was satisfied she stood up, drew her pistol from its holster, and slowly made her way into the cemetery.

There he was on the ground, all five foot six of him. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t moving. At this very moment he was helpless. That’s all Flagg needed him to be. She holstered her weapon and took a wooden stake from her backpack. She then rolled him over and drove the weapon into his heart. Nothing happened. No screams of pain. No turning to dust. Nothing.  

“Maybe I missed the heart.” She thought to herself as she pulled the stake from the man’s chest and drove it down again.  

This time she was met with resistance. Larry shielded himself with his arm, which held back his attacker. He pushed her off his body and slowly stood up to assess the damage.

“First you shoot me, next you ruin my suit.” Larry offered in a slow raspy voice.  

Flagg stood up and drew the pistol again.  “What the hell?”

“Are you going to pay for this? Do you know how hard it is for me to find a tailor, much less go shopping?”

“Pay you? I’m going to kill you?”

Larry shook his head. “Listen my dear, you shot me with a high powered rifle and then drove a wooden stake in my heart, yet I’m still here. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in your little arsenal that could harm me.”

“I guess I’ll have to find out.” She pulled the trigger and knocked Larry back on the ground.  

He sighed. The bullets didn’t hurt, but they were going to be a b***h to get out of his chest cavity. The necromancer stood back up and watched the woman run off with incredible speed.  He sighed and knew what he was dealing with.  

“Vampires. How the hell did I go and piss off a vampire?”

Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out the finger he had just acquired. He didn’t wish to waste it so soon, but he had to know who was trying to kill him. He began chanting to summon the spirit of the finger’s former owner. She was an elderly woman of obvious wealth. She had been laid to rest in finery, adorned with gold and jewels. She looked confused, disoriented.

“What am I doing here?  Who are you?”

“Sorry to disturb your rest, but I need you to track down someone who was trying to kill me.”

“Why would I do that?” the spirit replied.

Larry held up the finger. “Well, your spirit is bound to this and after saying a few magical words you have to do what I say.”

The spirit pondered that for a moment. “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“No ma’am it’s not. I don’t make the rules, but I do abuse them. So if you don’t mind, I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“You know, I was once married to the head surgeon at the general hospital, I was president of the Civil League, and now I’m reduced to playing bloodhound.”

The spirit’s eyes began glowing bright white, nearly blinding the necromancer. He had to shield them with his arms for protection. He focused on the ground, and as soon as the light dimmed he looked back up. The spirit was gone. Larry sighed and waited for a moment, quietly fidgeting with the skeletal finger in his palm. A moment later the spirit reappeared.

“You didn’t tell me it was a vampire. She’s in the city in a flophouse on Carlton Street.  After all these years the place hasn’t changed much. It’s a shame, really. They should form a committee to vote on thinking about cleaning up that place.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yes, and I might add cute.” The spirit offered. “A bit gun-crazy, in my opinion, but to each their own.  In my day a lady might have a little pistol but I think this one is banking on fighting the army.”

“Thank you very much for your help.” Larry replied and chanted softly sending the spirit back to her rest. He looked at her grave and tossed the finger into the hole. She could rest… for now. The necromancer turned and walked out of the graveyard.

Flagg was busy inside her safe house. She had duffle bags set out on her bed, throwing in whatever she thought she might need. Guns. Money. Documents. All were tossed inside as she rushed through the house. She opened her closet and pulled out a few extra outfits. She didn’t know when she could shop again. When turned back to the bed she found Larry sitting on a nearby chair. She noticed a black duffle bag on the floor beside him.

“Nice little place you have here.  Cozy. Out of the way. In a neighborhood where no one asks questions. Good to have for an assassin. What do they call you?”

“Flagg. My name’s Flagg.”  She rested a hand on her pistol out of habit. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to meet you. My name’s Larry, but I assume you knew that. I’m here for information.”

“Like I’m going to tell you anything.” She replied, stepping back to lean against her dresser.

“Oh, I know a lot. I assume you’re in deep with whoever hired you to kill me. Told you it would be a great way to pay off your debt, but neglected to tell you that I’m not a vampire, or didn’t know.  How close am I?”

“I would say it’s something like that.”

“Then let me make a counter offer. I’ll pay you what you are in for, and you’ll tell me who is trying to kill me.”

“Twenty five, I’m in for twenty five K.”

Larry nodded and tossed the duffle bag to her feet.  “Good thing I brought a hundred.” He watched as she unzipped the bag and looked inside, amazed at the amount of cash. She glanced over to him. “The name?”

“It was Salvatore Santoro. He hired me to kill one of his Captains but the guy fled to Miami and flipped to the Feds before I could get to him. Santoro was upset and told me I could have a clean slate if I killed a thorn in his side. He said you were a new player in town that had to go.” She counted the cash, double checking it was real. “That’s all I know.”

Larry stood up and moved to the door. “Care to join me?”

“Where are you going?”

“Strip club. I need to take care of our little problem.”

“Our problem?”

Larry opened the door to allow her to step out.  “Yes, after you failed to kill two of his enemies, I wouldn’t expect a Christmas card.”  

Flagg arched her brow looking at him curiously.  “What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see, my dear Flagg. You’ll see.”  

                           

                                          Scotty O. White

                5/18/2011

Reviews

[N. Tripper]

Nice little tongue and cheek horror story. I feel bad it took over 2 years for someone to review this. I really do like your style of writing. You write clearly and your story flows with ease. I realize that you were going for a very short fiction piece here but anyway try to avoid the cliches ie: he had many names over the years - well, what were they and why did he have to change them? I want to know! And one sentence bothered me: "She continued to watch him through the sniper rifle" - technically, she watched him through the scope. Also, if Larry was nothing more than a sack of bones held together by clothing, then how is he able to dig, much less simply walk around? But nice little story that would make a nice little film - if you can afford all the special effects you would need.