Hank Hooligan's String Quartet

I always hated dirt. Me mouth tasted like grit porridge mixed with iron. The dirt squished in between me toes, the dirt was caked inside me ears, and a sweaty dirt soup was running down me back. Me back ached something awful besides, and me right toe hurt like the devil ever since I stubbed it on Mister Rogers.

It must’ve been approachin’ morning, but it seemed to be getting colder not warmer. I stamped my feet to try to warm up and looked up from the flickering lamplight and, for the first time, I started to see the vague outline the surrounding cemetery. The fingers of gray light threatened to explode into proper daylight any minute, and that light threw train oil on the anxiety already gnawing at me bones.

“Alright Alfie, lay off will ya? We got ‘nuf of the dearly departed fer the good doctor already,” I argued with the hole.

“Bollocks to that. I’m nearly there,” Alfie grunted as he leaned into the crowbar with every gram of his wiry frame. Just watching him work by the meagre light of Hank’s lantern made the twinge in me back get to burnin’ all over again.

“What’s the big rush Mister Masterson. We’ve been at it all night and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of your wights, snipes, or other spook ‘ems. What on God’s green earth are you feared about now? Some sort of day vampeer?” Hank sneered.

“No. I’m afeared we’ll get caught you louse.”

I was bouncin’ from one foot to the other as I watched the fingers of gray light stretch towards us from the East settling over the grave keeper’s house, the grave keeper who could be waking up and spotting us any minute.

The silence suddenly felt unbearable. A fell wind blew from the West out of that old forest. But that wind was quiet.  Aside Alfie’s muted grunts, the yard was quiet as a grave. Which was appropriate I supposed, but there was something about those woods out there that frighted me even more than the cemetery and the cemetery frighted me plenty.

I was about to kickin’ up another row just to hear the comfort my own voice when Hank’s nasally voice shattered the silence for me.

“That grave keeper you keep glancin’ for is out of town and no one else comes out this far. You know that. We got plenty of time ‘til daybreak. At one hundred bones per stiff, I’m not leavin’ pure gold in the dirt just to make little ol’ Bill feel a mite more comfy.”

I made a rude gesture and Hank laughed throatily.

Hank seemed to be listin’ off excuses to ease his own anxiety as much as anything, but I had, admittedly, forgotten ‘bout the grave keeper.

“Think on it Billy boy, these ‘ere are easy pickins. You really want to have to go back to robbin’ poor folks?”

“Robbin’ folks’s easier on the back,” Alfie grunted.

“Sure, but paltry pay. Dangerous too. And think about yer immortal soul fer a spell. You think God looks kindly on theft? Well, he don’t. But this out here is a whole ‘nother matter.”

“I don’t think God much likes us stealin’ from the dead neither,” I said.

“We’re not stealin’ from the dead, we’re stealin’ fer the livin’. Know why they call us Resurrectionists?”

“Cause we take folks outta the ground, like the Res’ur’ec’tion?” Alfie asked.

“Because we’re doin’ the Lord’s work, the good doctor helps people and we’re helpin’ the good doctor right?”

“I suppose,” I muttered.

Missus Richardson’s jewels jangled pointedly in Hank’s pocket with each gesticulation as he paced back and forth across the coffin. Despite his purported nonchalance, Hank’s pacing seemed to grow more and more urgent. After creakin’ acros the small length of the coffin a couple dozen times, he climbed up to a sitting position with his legs dangling over the edge of the hole to peer past me towards the East. He began worrying his lip as he too watched that gray light creeping inexorably past the grave keeper’s hut.

“Alright then Alfie step aside. I’ll crack that bad boy open lickety split.”

Hank set down his lamp and dropped back down with a wooden thud. Alfie protested, but Hank shoved him roughly on side and grabbed the prybar. Hank was a right proper beer bottle and he aimed to prove it. He spat on both hands, rubbed them together, and heaved the crowbar with all his strength. His arms bulged and a vein on his forehead doubled in size. Somethin’ popped in his right eye and the whites got all cloudy but still that stubborn lid didna budge.

Alfie hopped up next to me, dug something out of his pocket, and started gnawing on an extremely dirty piece of jerky. I felt like I was gonna shoot the cat as I watched the dirt and meat mixture combine with his saliva to form a repulsive slurry that he chewed loudly before swallowing the whole mess down and pulling out a second strip. A bit of vomit climbed up me throat and when I swallowed it a good thimbleful of dirt went down with it. I shuddered.

Below us, Hank pulled out the crowbar and began contorting his body strangely across the coffin. He twisted from one side to the other as if in a strange parody of coitus as he searched desperately for a more likely opening where he squeeze in the tip of the prybar.

“You tryin’ to rob ‘er or ‘pregnate ‘er?” Alfie laughed loudly, spewing bits of meat and mud everywhere.

“Christ on a cracker, keep yer hangin’ voice down dimwit,” Hank barked back. Alfie squeezed his mouth shut and looked around nervously before shrugging and returning to his repulsive snack.

I started pacing quick as Hank just to stop lookin’ at Alfie as much as anything as the light crept cat-like across the cemetery. The darkness gave way first to the mess of tools we’d used to dig up the first three, now empty, graves; then to the nearby headstones; then to the iron fence; and lastly to the wagon that should already have been well down the road by me estimation.

“C’mon Hank. I really think we ought to get going.”

“Yeah boss, don’t even worry about it,” Alfie said, “We’ll get ‘er next time. Sure’s shootin.”

“The bloody corpse won’t be any good … next time … you pansy. You know … we can’t … hit … the same spot … twice … in a row,” Hank panted.

Suddenly, the quiet of the cemetery was ripped in twain by the unholy scream of nails being unwillingly separated from wood.

“Ha!” Hank exclaimed as he wrenched the lid clear off the coffin revealing the pale visage of Missus Rogers.

“Would you look at that. Now hand me the rope boys. I’ll tie her off and we’ll hop the blazes outta here.”

Hank crouched down and got to work separating Missus Rogers her jewels and coppin’ a feel for good measure.

“Nice work boss,” Alfie said. “Now where’d we leave that rope. Bill?”

“I didna bring it. Thought you had it.”

“I think I’ve got one in the bobby. Why don’t I lend it to ya,” Constable Stubbs offered.

“Dash it all!” we all cursed in unison.

Hank straightened up just as Alfie fell down on top of him, startled off of his perch. The both went tumbling into Missus Roberts, but I didn’t stick around to see what they did next.

The constable was standing right next to me, distracted by the amusing spectacle Alfie and Hank were making of themselves so I hitched up me britches and piked off straight away.

I made it a good ten paces before I ran straight into the shovel I’d plum forgot I’d left. I stepped on it, smacked myself in the face, and went sprawling into the dirt. A deputy I hadn’t seen before snickered as he clicked the cuffs onto me wrists and pressed my face into the dirt.

I turned me head towards the hole and saw that Hank and Alfie were surrounded by Constable Stubbs and two other deputies.

“Who ratted us?” Hank leapt out of the hole, cat quick.

“Ratted? Nobody ratted, we came out here on a public nuisance call. Your little band is loud enough to be heard two counties over.”

Hank whipped out a knife, and the Constable Stubbs whistled one long high note. The four law men all leveled their batons as one and closed on Hank.

“Now think carefully about how you want to play this son. Desecrating the dead ain’t no walk in the park but assaulting and officer, now that’s serious time.”

“You ain’t takin’ me alive ya mutton shunters,” Hank leapt as the lawmen closed and I heard a crack and a scream. “Alright, alright just take me alive c’mon guys please.”

I heard more cracks and squeals as they gave him the batty-fang, and I realized that I had been left well and truly alone. Me head still smarted something fierce from the shovel and me back and toe weren’t easing up any, but I managed to climb to me feet and keep me pants from falling fully off as I booked it West.

I was running shaky as an arfarfanarf for the fence with me pants halfway down me thighs, but I didn’t slow down. I just knew that someone was about to grab me by the collar and treat me to some of what Hank was getting, but no one grabbed me. I could hear Hank crying for Baby Jesus as I hoisted myself up the iron fence and scraped me belly something fierce against the sharp finials before I fell heavy against the ground on the other side with a thud, church loud.

I laid still for several heartbeats, but I heard nothing aside from the screams of me friends and the cracks of baton smacks. It sounded like Alfie had caught a dewskitch too if his caterwauling was any indicator, but no one was looking in me direction, so I stood up.

I stood there, stone still for several heartbeats. The cemetery behind me was almost all light, but the woods ahead were still dark as death and that quiet bone chill wind was blowing straight into me face sending me teeth to clatterin’. It was everything I could do to resist the urge to turn and run right back the way I came.

I looked over me shoulder and heard another horrifying scream and a whimper from Hank or Alfie that sent me running straight fer the heart o’ the woods, wind or no wind. Branches smacked against me face and body painfully. Roots caught me feet and sent me sprawling painfully onto the ground, the woods didna want me, but I stood back up and started again. I didn’t even feel the pain no more.

I heard shouting and the shrill scream of police whistles behind me. They’d seen that I was gone. That really put the fear in me. I ran straight on, pumping me legs as fast as they could go.

Then, a light shined in me direction, and I dropped like a rock. Me jaw and hip smacked painfully into somethin’ and I tasted blood and swallowed another handful of dirt, but I kept myself pressed to the forest floor and thank the Holy Mother the light passed over me. Was I safe? Me heart was beating so loud I was sure they musta heard.

I heard a long low whistle. “Oh Billy Boy. I know yer out there. Come on out now and you’ll do your time sure, but you make me come out there and find you and I’m stringin’ you up with your bludger friends here. Is that what you want?”

I wet myself with fear as the light passed over me a second time, I was sure he’d see me and drag me out any second. I knew I should give up but the fear kept me stuck. I couldn’t even think. I shut me eyes and opened them again and saw the light slowly disappear until I was once again swaddled in darkness. I realized they were checking somewhere else!

The fear let up a bit and I climbed to me feet and stumbled deeper into the forest, away from the light and suddenly felt very alone. The sun should’ve been up, but it didn’t seem to penetrate through the tangle o’ forest. I shivered. That cold was persistent, and I couldn’t get me pants up all the way with the handcuffs which wasn’t helping none. I had to hold me hands in front of me face to navigate. It had somehow gotten even darker than the darkest part of the night.

“I wish Alfie were here,” I muttered. “He’d know how to lighten the mood.”

“You can call me Alfie if you like,” a gravelly voice offered.

“Who’s that!” I flipped around towards the sound, but I couldn’t see nothin’ through the dark. I dug around in me pocket and found a dirty match. I lit it on me boot.

I held the match and turned in a circle. There was nothin’ to see, just forest tangle and shadows. The match burned me finger, I dropped it and sucked on the burn. It tasted like dirt. I pulled out a second match and caught a spark on the second try.

“Whoever’s there, you better show yerself right now. You better, or else I’ll—”

“Or else you'll what?” the voice was like a crack of lightnin’. 

Me match went out as I jump crawled backwards away from the thing on me hands and feet and pressed me back against a tree, me heart was beatin’ like a rabbit, and me mouth was dry as Bishop Street bread.

It was too dark to see anyfin’ with the match out, but I had seen it. Before the light went out I saw it’s face inches away from mine. It looked like a man, but with corpse white skin and a flat nose like a bat.

“Who or what are you?”

“Foolish little human lost in the woods. Didn’t anyone warn you about the day vampeer?”

A weight fell on me, boulder heavy and pain exploded in me neck. I felt myself pressed deep into the earth and the earth feasted on me, sucking me straight down. It was revenge I figured for all that dirt I’d eaten.