by Mark Tufo
“Go on, before you get me into trouble.” He pushed her up the small hill toward the church. As the two rounded the corner, he saw the men digging the dirt out of the grave. Foo was going so fast, you’d think the Hounds of Hell were after him. “What’s your hurry, Jon?”
He paused and gave him a ‘duh’ stare. “I do not want to be out here at dark, do you?”
Justin thought about it a moment then turned to the UCLA researchers, “Do ghosts actually become more active at night?”
Calvin looked up from his shovel. “Oh, most definitely.” He paused and wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve. “I’m still not sure if it’s just the darkness, or if it has something to do with solar radiation or maybe if it’s the—”
“It don’t matter, Doc.” Justin stepped up and picked up his shovel. “I just needed to know if we should be in a hurry.”
Calvin looked to the horizon and the rapidly descending sun. “I would say yes. Most definitely.”
“Then let’s get after it.” Zimmer pushed his shovel into the ground.
The five men continued to dig with Ginger and Quinn bringing cool drinks and dry rags to wipe the sweat. Ginger was taking readings intermittently and Quinn kept an eye out for anything peculiar while the shovel crew kept at it.
At some point in time, Jon said, “You do realize that we have a jail full of inmates that could use some exercise. Why the hell are we out here sweating our balls off when the inmates could be doing it instead?”
Justin laughed and responded, “Try explaining to an inmate why they’re digging up a grave.”
Eckerson coughed up a dust ball and leaned on his shovel. “Heck, we had a couple of grave robbers already. We could have used them.”
“Except one done gone got himself ‘sploded,” Ben drawled.
Jeff countered, “I’m just saying, if those two idiots had no problem with it, I’m sure the other idiots wouldn’t either.”
One of the shovels hit something hard, sending a ringing sound off into the early twilight. “Oh, thank God.” The five men scraped and shoveled like mad, scooping out the top of the grave, finding the harder edge of the previously dug out portion and scraping along the edge of the hard stone top. “What the hell is this?” Calvin asked.
“Looks like rock,” Justin answered.
“A big-assed rock,” Jeff added.
“A rock table top,” Jon muttered.
“Oh no.” Quinn stepped to the edge. “We weren’t counting on this.”
“What is it?” Justin asked.
“It’s a vault top.” Calvin leaned against the side of the grave. “We’re going to need pry bars. Big ones by the looks of it.”
“Great.” Eckerson he fell against the side of the grave.
Foo climbed out of the grave and began the walk back to his SUV. Justin hooked a thumb toward him and looked at Jeff. “Where’s he going?”
Jeff shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he’s quitting since we don’t have pry bars.”
A few moments later, they heard Jon’s SUV start up and both Justin and Jeff had a fleeting thought that maybe he had quit and was leaving. Then they heard the SUV slowly approaching from the other side of the church, bouncing and rocking across the rough yard. Jon stopped the truck just fifteen feet from the grave on the other side of some brush.
When he came out, he carried the tire iron from the SUV. “I can’t guarantee this will work, but it’s all I have.”
“Why’d you bring the truck?” Jeff asked.
“Because if this doesn’t work, I have a log chain in the back. I’ll turn the truck around, lock it into four-wheel-drive, we can wrap the chain around the rock and see if we can pull it off,” Jon said matter-of-factly.
Justin raised his brows and shrugged. He noticed the dwindling light and nodded to Eckerson. “Whatever we do, we better hurry. We’re almost out of light.”
Jon tossed the tire iron to Eckerson who attempted to find purchase around the edge of the rock vault. Everywhere he attempted to bite with the tire tool, it slipped out, busting his knuckles. “Dammit. Nothing on this side.”
“Let me try over here.” Justin motioned for the tire tool. Jeff slid the tire tool across to him and Justin jammed it into the gap as far as he could. He lifted and felt the grind and gritty slide of the tool as it slid out of place. He tried two more places without luck either. “Doc, try the long side.”
Jon pulled the chain from the back of his SUV and dragged it out to the rock. He tossed one end to Eckerson who tried to wrap the chain around the corners and back upon itself, using the hook to attach it to a link in the chain. “Jon, I don’t think this will stay on the corners.”
“Try going under it.”
“I am. It’s just too slick. Nothing for it to grab onto.”
“I think I may have it!” Calvin said as he lifted. The men in the hole could hear the tool crunching stone, little bits of the rock below grinding and falling away, but Calvin just couldn’t lift the tire iron. The handle was too short.
“Hold on, Doc. Let me give you a hand.” Justin positioned himself next to Calvin and helped to push the tool up. Everyone felt their breath catch in their throat when the top stone shifted ever so slightly. “Jeff!” Justin grunted.
Eckerson shimmied across the hole and settled in on the other side of Calvin. “On three,” he said. “One, two, THREE!”
All three men pushed as hard as they could on the short little tire tool and was rewarded with the sound of the top stone shifting. They could see a gap in between it and the side of the vault. They worked the tool down the side of the vault, wedging the tire tool into the opening and shifting the stone over.
Quinn kept an eye on the horizon, her anxiety level climbing as the sun dropped. Finally, she couldn’t hold it any longer, “We gotta move that damned thing!” she yelled and grabbed Ginger by the arm. The two women jumped into the open grave with the men. “Everybody, brace against the dirt side, put your heels against the stone, use your legs and push that damned stone! The sun’s almost down.”
All of them put their backs against the dirt like she instructed, found purchase with their feet and, with the countdown, pushed for all they were worth. They were rewarded with the stone shifting and sliding to the side enough for them to have working access to the grave. Calvin collapsed and tried to catch his breath.
“I don’t want to have to do that again,” Ginger panted.
“Don’t worry,” Jon said, “once we’re done, I’ll call the county road workers in to reseal this damned thing and bury it.”
“Somebody hand me a light so I can see what we’re up against,” Calvin said.
Eckerson handed him a flashlight. Calvin clicked it on and leaned down into the grave. He looked around, then stuck his head into the tomb. “Holy…you’re not going to believe this.” He pulled his head out.
“What?” Quinn asked.
“They’re both buried here. The sheriff and his fiancée.”
“In the same grave?” Jon asked. “Why?”
Calvin sat back a moment and thought. “Well…best I can reckon is, these vault-type graves were very expensive and time consuming to construct. By burying them both in the same grave, it saved the purchaser money and ensured they both got the best burial.”
“That’s nice and all, but aren’t we on a timeline here?” Justin asked.
“Oh, yeah!” Calvin said. He looked to Ginger and snapped his fingers at her. “Rock salt. Quickly!”
Ginger scrambled out of the grave and trotted to the bag of rock salt. Her body was so exhausted from pushing that the sack felt like it had doubled in weight. She hefted it and half dragged it to him.
Setting it on the ground next to him, he pulled out a lock back knife and sliced into the side. He stuffed his hands into the sack and pulled out double handfuls of salt. He scattered the rock salt across James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert’s body as far as he could reach within the grave. Since less than a third of his body was showing, Calvin had to reach
under the capstone and scatter the rock salt across the sheriff’s body. As he scattered the salt, the professor was mumbling something under his breath.
Jon turned to Ginger and shrugged at her, indicating Calvin. Ginger leaned in close. “It’s a Sanskrit Prayer of the Dead.” Jon simply nodded and watched while Calvin finished his short ceremony.
Dr. Whynot turned to Quinn, “Lighter fluid!” She tossed him the bottle and he began spraying the body, starting at the head, allowing the flammable liquid to soak into the dried mummified remains. He continued to recite the mumbled prayer.
Jeff saw that it was about time to finish this dance, so he reached into his pockets and grabbed the lighters. Just as he pulled one out, Justin jumped up. “Wait! We forgot the artifacts!”
Calvin fell back against the dirt. “We have to include them.”
Justin scrambled out of the open grave and trotted to his cruiser. The group watched him go and actually welcomed the slight breeze that picked up as he left. They felt the wind start to pick up and the cooling effect was almost immediate.
As Justin came trotting back with the paper sack and the holster over his shoulder, he tossed the holster to Sanders. She handed it to Calvin, then she grabbed the paper bag and set it on top of the capstone. Calvin unbuckled the gun belt and laid it across the old west sheriff, then placed the paper bag across his midsection. The breeze picked up again, this time blowing dust and bits of debris along with it.
Calvin squinted as he picked up the lighter fluid and started over. He began dousing the body and the artifacts with the lighter fluid as the wind gusted once more, blowing more dust and debris across the group. He mumbled slightly louder his Prayer to the Dead as he squeezed the plastic bottle. As he finished soaking the body, he reached for the lighter from Eckerson.
The wind gusted across the group, sand and dust nearly blinding them and Eckerson dropped the lighter in the crack between the grave and the dirt they had dug out. “Dammit,” he cursed as he reached to try to retrieve the lighter.
The wind gusted past his face and he distinctly heard someone whisper, “Do-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n’t!” Jeff jumped back and his hand went for his gun.
“Did you hear that?” he yelled above the roar of the wind.
“Hear what?” Justin yelled back.
“I heard someone!” Jeff said.
“I need the lighter. We have to finish this before the vapors all blow away!” Calvin yelled.
Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out the second lighter he had brought. “Here!” he yelled as the wind died down.
Calvin reached out for the lighter, then screamed! He was staring straight into the eyes of a demon with a misty face, its eyes glowing red, lit with the fires of Hell itself.
35
Amber sat up in her bed, dark circles under her eyes. “No…” she cried out.
She could see through the eyes of the specter that invaded her dreams, implanted her mind with the horrible memories, taken control of her at one point and made her do things that she knew she would never have done. She reached out into the darkening twilight of her bedroom to try to help her friends, but she couldn’t reach them…they were too far away.
She fell back to her mattress, her body soaked in sweat, her muscles aching and raw as she fought the infection of the specter. The vision of the spirit’s desires to attack and kill her coworkers and friends danced in her mind and she knew it was more than just a desire. She knew it would happen if she didn’t help some way.
Amber took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, letting her shoulder take the full impact of the blow as she hit the floor. The chill of the air gripped her body as she fought the urge to curl up in a ball. She pulled herself along the floor and into her kitchen. She crawled on all fours as her own body revolted against her. She knew that it was all in her mind, the sickness was a spiritual infection. Somehow she knew that the red eyed demon had taken her against her will. She didn’t know how exactly, but she felt it in her gut.
She pulled herself to the stove and sat up on her knees. The burners were at eye level and she turned on the burner under her tea kettle. This was all she knew to do. She had only this to fall back on; her limited knowledge passed down to her from her crazy aunt.
Amber crawled to her tiny herb garden and plucked her cure from the little window box. She would have preferred that they be cured properly, dried and prepared, but they had just matured and weren’t yet harvested. She leaned across the small kitchen and placed her freshly plucked herbs on the kitchen table.
Breathing hard and feeling especially nauseous, she pulled herself to a standing position and leaned against the wall. Her eyes felt like they were crossing as her body swayed, but she braced herself against her cabinet. She pulled the door open and felt around, knowing where each vial, jar and urn was inside. When she felt the crock she was looking for, she pulled it out and placed it on the table.
She grabbed her tea infuser and placed her freshly plucked herbs and her dried herbs inside the infuser and dropped it into a mug. The moment the tea kettle began to whistle, she turned the gas off and using every last ounce of will that she had, she managed to pour the hot water over the infuser and filled the mug half way.
She collapsed into the chair and stared at the cup as the water slowly changed colors. She felt so sick as she lifted the tiny silver chain and dunked the infuser in and out of the hot water. She knew that this would taste like dirty socks rinsed through sewer water, but she had no energy to cross the kitchen and drop a dollop of honey or lemon into it to mask the nasty.
She quivered in her chair as she waited for every last bit of curative effect to be pulled from the infuser then said a quick prayer to the goddess. Amber cradled the mug and her hands absorbed the heat like a sponge as she lifted the mug to her trembling mouth. In her mind, she focused on her friends and their upcoming battle with the vengeful spirit, saying a quick prayer for their safe deliverance as she ingested the sour concoction.
*****
Denise drove along the dusty dirt road leading to the ghost town and noted the full moon sitting low in the early night sky. “Should make things a little easier to see by.”
She sincerely hoped the rest of the crew wasn’t done yet, as she really wanted to see if anything interesting happened when Dr. Whynot performed his ‘ceremony’. In the back of her mind, she really expected to be disappointed. Yet, she hoped that she wasn’t. She’d love to be able to return to the sheriff’s office and report something exciting to Scott. Not so much to prove him wrong, but more to prove that she was right. She respected Scott, but sometimes his closed-mindedness was enough to make her want to scream.
She saw the large RV and the line of police vehicles parked ahead and pulled in behind Justin’s car. As she opened the door to her cruiser, she heard a scream in the night and she could see what looked like smoke behind the church.
Denise grabbed the shotgun attached to the dash mount and took off at a dead run. She ran along the right side of the church, having heard that all of the graves on the other side had been dug up and were still open, she didn’t want to risk falling into one. As she ran, she flipped the mini-Maglite on her shotgun on and held it in front of her as best she could while still maintaining speed.
As she approached the rear corner of the church, she saw Jon’s SUV parked to one side and Jon behind it, staring to her left. She rounded the corner with the shotgun at her shoulder, scanning left to right. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw next. Justin and Jeff were being blinded by miniature dust devils, dust and sand engulfing them. Both Quinn and Ginger were flattened against the ground between the church and the grave. Jon seemed mesmerized by the whole scene and Dr. Whynot lay prone across a stone slab with some kind of smoke man with twin glowing red orbs hovering above him. Denise took aim on the smoke man and fired once.
Although the pellets from the shotgun did no real damage, it got the thing’s attention away from Dr. Whynot. It also seemed to snap Jon out of his tr
ance. He instantly drew his weapon and tried to get a bead on the thing, but from his angle, any shot that he took would also hit Zimmer or Eckerson once the round passed through the mist monster.
Denise racked another round in the shotgun and lined up another shot. At the speed of thought, the smoke man was on her, lifting her up and throwing her across the grass and into the wall of the dilapidated old church. The impact, knocking the wind from her, caused her to lose the shotgun between the broken and cracked floor boards of the rear porch. She hit the floor and rolled away, clutching her ribs.
Quinn crawled to Denise as quickly as she could to check on her and Ginger crawled to the broken floor boards to try to reach the shotgun. Eckerson had crawled out of the grave and pulled his undershirt up over his mouth in order to suck in air that wasn’t tainted with sand and grit.
Jon maneuvered to Zimmer and was dragging the man from the dust devil as Justin choked and coughed up the sand that had invaded his mouth and airways. All of them were searching for the red eyed devil that had attacked them, but it had faded from view.
Calvin was back on his feet. “Quickly! The lighter!”
Jeff was digging in his pocket again for the second lighter as the wind picked up a second time. This time, all of them heard the voice as it whispered in their collective ears, “Do-o-o-o-o-o-o-n’t!”
“Aw, screw this!” Ginger yelled as she jumped off the porch and ran toward the open grave. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a book of matches from Ruby’s. Striking one, she lit the entire book and tossed it into the open vault.
The matches landed on the corpse of the sheriff and flickered. Calvin stared at the flame as it threatened to die out and realized the high winds and sand had evaporated most of the vapors that made the charcoal lighting fluid flammable. He scanned for the bottle and found it sitting to the side of the grave. He dove for it just as the wind picked up again and began to blow across them at an increased speed. He flipped the plastic lid open and aimed at the grave once more. As he mumbled the Prayer of the Dead, he squeezed the bottle as hard as he could and shot a stream of liquid across the tall, dry grass and into the grave, igniting the book of matches with a large >