Marta giggled. Frank still seemed very uncomfortable. He moved towards the kitchen, clearly wanting Fernando to follow. Fernando smiled to himself — Frank apparently had no idea how small this apartment was — talking in the kitchen wasn’t going to keep anything private. Still — he humored him and followed.
“What’d you tell them?” Frank asked after a brief hesitation, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Nothing — What could I tell them?”
“Did they ask about me?” Frank ventured.
Fernando made a face. That was a strange question…
“Why would they ask about you, Frank? You don’t even work there anymore, remember?”
Frank nodded and looked away.
“You’re right… Just a little paranoid I guess…”
“They did ask me something weird though. They asked if I’d ever seen a dog cruising around the hospital. How weird is that — A dog!”
Marta squealed from the other room.
“A doggie?”
Fernando shrugged towards Frank, called back.
“Yes, sweetie, a big old nasty doggie.”
Fernando put a hand on Frank’s shoulder, guided him back to the living room.
“C’mon, this is silly.”
Frank coughed. He swallowed then tipped his head in greeting to Rosa.
“Hi. Sorry to interrupt…” He said weakly.
Rosa smiled and spoke with a flippantly flirty air.
“Why? You’re good at it.”
Fernando could see Frank didn’t know what to say. More than that, he could see that Rosa was leaning slightly forward and her breasts were almost completely showing. He liked her to wear sexy clothes, he liked to watch men stare at her when they went out, appreciating that even though she was getting up there in age, she was still an attractive woman. But this was going too far — he could see one entire breast — including the nipple!
He stepped in front of Frank to block his view.
“So, Frank — What are you really here for?”
Frank swallowed again and Fernando noticed that there were beads of sweat on his forehead and that he looked pale and exhausted.
“You all right, Frank? You don’t look well, man?”
Frank nodded and rubbed his eyes and suddenly Marta was off the sofa and had wrapped her arms around Frank’s legs. Fernando just stared. He murmured to himself in surprise.
“That’s a new one…” And then to Marta: “What’re ya doin’, sweetie?”
Marta didn’t answer and wouldn’t let go. She peeked up at Frank and giggled but still held tight.
“You have kids, Frank?” Fernando asked.
Frank stroked Marta’s head tenderly — there was a connection there, nothing artificial or rehearsed — just an instant innate magnetism between the adult and child.
“Not yet. My wife and I are working on getting a bit more secure first…”
He seemed to relax and smiled back at Fernando, still stroking Marta’s hair.
“Soon, I hope.”
“Secure first?” Fernando laughed.” White people!” He shook his head, still laughing. “Well, if you ever want to babysit — for practice…”
Frank and even Rosa laughed as well. Frank caught Fernando’s eye.
“I actually came by to apologize for the other night. I know you did me a huge favor and I wanted to thank you…”
“It’s okay, Frank. What are friends for?”
Rosa smirked at them with an air of mischief.
“Ah, how cute. You two gonna kiss now?”
CHAPTER 22 – The Cemetery
Frank had never been to a cemetery at night — all he knew was what he’d seen in the scary movies he’d been obsessed with for years and that wasn’t exactly comforting. What he felt now as he slogged through the rain in his parka with his gloves, small tool bag, and flashlight was far worse than he could have imagined. He had little visibility with all the water in his eyes and almost ran into the fence surrounding the small graveyard. Then the view of this dark and dreary place with the headstones reflecting what little light there was made him shiver from more than just the cold. There was something so still about this place — so repellent — it was as though the air was charged with negative ions or molecules — and it was all he could do to force himself to keep moving forward, to scale the ragged fence after dropping his gear to the other side and continue towards his horrific destination.
He hazarded a glance back at the top of the decayed structure he’d just crawled over. There was no barbed wire, no further protection at all against intruders…
This air was enough, he thought. Something about the thickly stagnant air of this place was enough to intimidate… everything… and everyone…
He darted as quickly as he could from gravestone to gravestone in case there were the watchful eyes of a guard somewhere… He felt as though he were struggling against a current and his movements felt slowed — as though meeting a constant resistance…
I need to put away such thoughts… I need to get a handle on things…
He used his flashlight sparingly — only enough sporadic flashes to get his bearings on his meandering path. In his half-blind progress he came to Eli’s gravestone sooner than he’d expected and accidentally thumped his knee against the plain grave marker. He barely suppressed a painful yowl.
Even in death, the motherfucker’s getting me! Even in death!
And then the vice grip of logic took hold: Stop that! Stop that right now and get to the business at hand!
He plopped his tool bag into the muck and tugged open the zipper. He took one more good long look around to make sure no one was watching and pulled out his foldable shovel and clicked it into position.
At least there was one good thing about this rain, he thought. The ground should be easier to dig…
And so it was — although it still took him almost two hours before the shovel scraped against something solid. Part of the time had been spent trying to figure out the best technique — at first he hadn’t thrown the dirt/mud far enough away and after more rain, it had tumbled back in with a ghastly slurping sound and had almost collapsed his hole entirely. After that, he’d really put his back into it and heaved each wet shovelful as far as he could — of course, by now he was really feeling it in his back and legs and knew he’d be as sore as hell tomorrow.
He used an edge of the shovel and slid more oozing muck out of the way.
There it was — the plain pine coffin Eli’d been buried in. He figured it would take another half hour to clear away the entire top and hoped he was up for the job — He had to keep going — if he stopped, his muscles would seize up and he’d be done for.
At last the entire coffin was laid bare, the rain rinsing the lid and doing a surprisingly good job of making it look clean. He stopped and stared at it.
What am I doing? This is crazy.
It was undeniable. This was crazy. There wasn’t a person on earth that wouldn’t think so and yet, here he was — doing this.
He threw the shovel up over the top of the hole and was tempted to climb out, quickly cover everything back up and get the hell out of there. It was the only reasonable thing to do and he knew it. But he didn’t. He was already too committed. It was one of his character traits that he knew he needed to work on. His tendency to be not only one-tracked but totally unyielding.
But the trait wasn’t about to change here and now so why even think about it. The sooner he had done what he came to do, the sooner he could leave.
The fumes that rose from the wet earth were almost overpowering — that thick acrid fertilizer smell that clogged his nostrils and made him light-headed… He could picture the dozens of worms wriggling wildly through the dark soil — aerating it and further adding to the pungency…
He tried to put the image out of his mind and scrambled up the earthy wall until his hands found the crowbar he’d set beside his bag. He let himself slide back down into the hole again and la
nded on the lid with a sharp thump.
Not very polite to the dead, he thought. Then again, Eli had been a lying sack of shit — If he was in there, fuck politeness.
He set about prying open the lid with renewed strength. He was almost done. Just a little bit longer. The nails creaked up and out, one by one, and with each squeal of metal rising from wood he knew he was closer to finishing what he came to do and closer to getting the hell out of there.
The smell of decay was growing, seeping out of the gaps in the coffin, flowing out through the nail holes. The aftermath of death was unmistakable. The rancid stench seemed to strike a new warning; this place was not for the living — violators were not welcome — let any living interlopers beware.
It was finally done — the wood lid was free of restraint! All he had to do now was slide the crowbar under the lip of the lid and twist.
He hesitated and thought one last time about just covering everything and leaving —
It was too late — He’d done all this — and he had to have his answer…
He wedged the crowbar into the groove and gave it one last mighty heave and leaned as far away as he could from the coffin as though he expected Eli to leap out at him once freed.
There was a loud snap and the lid tumbled aside and revealed — only darkness.
He searched for the flashlight in his parka pocket — He knew it was there… Somewhere… He checked the pocket on the other side and there it was. Now for the moment of truth…
He took a deep breath and tried to prepare for what he was likely to see… Visions of ghastly decomposition danced in his head; rotting flesh exposing bones and insects squirming through glistening rancid meat and — He thrust the thoughts back and away and snapped on the light, aiming it at the open box before him like a laser beam.
He was almost disappointed after all his mental build-up; Eli lay peacefully with his arms folded before him, a restful and contented smile on his chalk white face that was partially obscured by the shadow of his wide-brimmed black hat.
No real signs of decay. No worms or bugs. No caved-in flesh… Wait a minute… The hat..? How could he be wearing the hat when he’d seen it back in his room with the rest of his belongings?
Frank shone the light more directly on him, peered at him as though expecting him to open his eyes and grin up at him. The rain pitter-pattered against his face with an odd hollow sound and his make-up began to run down his cheeks in white rivulets. Frank shuddered — It was disgusting but what had he expected? What was he doing here?
He reached quickly for the lid — Time to go, time to go…
— The note. He’d almost forgotten the note.
Eli had made a point of putting it in his pants pocket right in front of Frank, just before he died. Frank clearly remembered the look on Eli’s face as he did it — And when he thought of it now, it seemed more clear than ever that it was his second-to-last taunt — It had been done just for him… A thumb to his nose with fingers wiggling… As if to say, “it’s for you but you can’t see it now — You’ll have to come and get it later… Ha ha ha.”
The light in Frank’s hand wavered with indecision. Eli was stiff as a board. How hard could it be? How hard to just reach in and grab the note?
Just get in, get out. Get in and get gone.
He crouched over the body, one hand across his nose to block the horrendous smell.
Formaldehyde and decaying flesh — Disgusting.
He reached down with the other hand and snaked it into Eli’s left pants pocket. Not there. Must be in the other one.
Then again—maybe they didn’t bury him in the same pants? Nah — They were cheap — They’d do as little as possible.
He leaned further across the other way, dipped his hand into the other pocket and felt the edge of paper — Gotcha!
A huge fart suddenly broke the stillness and Eli sat up in the coffin knocking Frank back against the far wall. Frank screamed as Eli’s white dripping face rose towards him.
“Ahhhhhhhhgggghhh!”
He tried to scramble out of the muddy hole, slipped, fell back in, scrambled again, blind with panic, mud pouring in everywhere, all thoughts but one completely scrambled —
RUN!
He finally clawed himself out and raced through the graveyard, slamming into gravestone after gravestone without feeling it, numb with adrenalin and sheer fright. He came to the fence and leapt to climb it, finally stealing a glance behind him only after he was half way up and feeling safer.
There was no one following, nothing but soft moonlight against headstones in this forlorn place. He hung in place, peered through the rain and waited. There was no pursuer, no zombie ambling after him through the cold, wet cemetery — Just the normal rain pattering against stone and grass and an occasional gust of wind that shifted the direction of the downpour momentarily.
His mind started to clear — He’d heard about trapped gas in a body — That had to be what it was — By jiggling the corpse, he’d caused the gas to move to an area where it could escape as well as into the upper cavity — which would make him sit up —
— So, what? — He still wanted to leave. But all his stuff was still there — The grave was dug out — Exposed — The stuff would probably be traceable right back to him…
He hung his head with the horrible realization that he wasn’t done with this awful night. He had to go back. He had to clean up the mess he’d left behind.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
He made his way back to the grave now feeling the pain of his collisions with the headstones. He limped to the edge of the hole and illuminated Eli’s ghastly figure that was now sitting bolt upright.
It didn’t get creepier than this, he thought in self reproach. What was he thinking even coming here?
He clicked off the light — He really didn’t want to see this dead prick any longer — It was easier to do as much of this as possible in low light — and avoid looking at his nasty dead face.
He slid down at an angle into the hole to avoid touching the body. He made his way to the lid and lifted it in front of him like a shield.
He needed the light on for this to work, fuck! He needed to make sure he was properly aligned.
He put the lid back down, clicked the flashlight on and pushed it into the soft wall of the hole so that it was aimed at the box. It held in place perfectly. Then he lifted the lid again in front of him, lined it up with the edges of the coffin and leaned it against Eli’s head. He pushed with all his strength and felt Eli’s body slowly get forced down with the leverage until he was flat once more in his box.
There was no time to loose — He leaned across and grabbed the flashlight from the wall and used it to pound several of the raised coffin nails back into place. They were catching — excellent!
He tested it after slamming in six nails and the lid held. When he leaned back to rest, he checked his work. He’d done a crappy job of it but who cared? — It would be buried under six feet of earth soon enough.
He tossed all his tools up and over the ledge and clambered back up out of the hole. He put them in his soaked bag and again surveyed the site — He had everything — time to cover it up.
He threw heavy shovelful of dirt after shovelful like a madman — His arms and legs and back burned — but he didn’t care — Cover it up! Cover it up! — the mantra was like a prison gang work song in his head — Cover it up! Cover it up!
Finally it was done — the rain helped tamp it down — and it almost looked as it had before this nightmare.
He was spent, wet to the bone, but he was done. He again reviewed the site with his flashlight beam — it looked good enough — Hallelujah! He bent for his tool bag and his back popped at the same moment something rustled from his pocket and landed on the wet ground. The note — He’d completely forgotten about the note.
It flattened on the newly re-covered grave as the rain hit it and he pointed his light. It was a piece of that old yellowed newspap
er, the same as the others he’d found in Eli’s old shoe box. On it was a headline:
MUTILATED BODY OF BOY FOUND IN WOODS
The headline was almost identical to the one he’d recently read in the paper and that tingle ran down his spine again —
This was no coincidence — How could it be?
He remembered Eli writing on the paper before he’d put it in his pocket — Where was the writing on this? Other side, he suddenly thought. Other side.
He somehow didn’t want to touch it — Like it was contaminated by… by…
But he had to know… Had to know if there was something written on the other side… That ominous term: The other side…
He tentatively reached for it — turned over the soggy paper in a quick motion —like it was a serpent that might strike at any second…
It flopped over on the grave and lay flat — as though wanting to be read clearly.
In shaky but legible handwriting it read:
I TOLD YOU I’D BE BACK.
Nearby was a quickly drawn happy face — with a tongue sticking out.
Then the ink quickly dissolved in the rain and the paper turned almost immediately to mush.
CHAPTER 23 – Proof
Frank pulled up outside his house, his thoughts running in merry-go-round circles as he parked. So many more thoughts kept getting on but none were getting off — it was getting crowded up there…
The things he’d seen at the hospital — that figure that started to materialize — The ring: Paula L. Danner — What Eli had said about coming back and now this note coinciding with the murders that were his exact M.O. His exact M.O..! Lidia found dead and his visions of being inside Eli when it happened — The bloody clothes — that were his only real physical evidence — but of what? Then there were Burt’s stories…
It was all a turning jumbled mess — no conclusion — just around and around — More thoughts coming on board… The murders matched Eli’s exact M.O. — He kept coming back to that — round and round — It was exhausting…
He got out of the car and stood in the rain in his small yard. He needed to get clean — He couldn’t have Jackie see his muddy clothes. Oh, what the neighbors would think if they saw him here, arms outstretched wide, head tilted up towards the heavens letting the rain wash the muck and nastiness off — But it was too late — or too early should he say for him to be the spectacle that he was — They were all peacefully sleeping — safe in their beds…
After Death Page 18
