Disclaimer: The work below is presented in a rough, unedited form, and is in no way a reflection of a finished work

Copyright 1995, Brian J. Lauvray

In the summer of '92 I never woke up before noon, because that was when the calls came. Every day I would wake up expecting one, but most days were just disappointment. When nothing came in, I would sit in the left over shade of a thirty foot oak and stare. Often I would read a couple of old sci-fi novels and pet the cat, or sometimes I would just watch as the gray pillow-fluff clouds would roll overhead. When the calls would come I would hop onto my bike and head over the old Vally Park to do some work.

Rick was my boss's name and Jeff was the only other person who worked there at the same time as me. When I would get there I would park my bike and walk through the cold stone markers, until I came to the white speckled building that stood looking more dead than most of the stiffs we put under. Rick would already be there, since he lived a lot closer and Jeff was never less than one hour late. Rick didn't care if we where late for the mowing as long as we got there on time for the parade.

"We got to make this place look good, boys." Rick gave us the same speech every time. I would always look over at Jeff sometime in the middle of this speech and he would be looking back. He would bring his cheap cigarette up to his mouth and take a good long drag, then he would toss it on the ground and before you knew it his foot would shoot on over and kill it.

"Lets mow." Jeff would smile and reach into his pocket for another smoke-stick. He would light it in his mouth and the flames would singe his rat-holed beard. I often wondered how he kept the damn thing from going up in burnt hair and scorched skin. 'Practice' he would say if I asked.

We would mow for a day strait and go home before dark so the sheriff didn't stop by and tell us the law. Funny, I always knew that cemeteries were off limit after dark, but I always figured the employees got a break. I still think they might. Anyway, Sheriff Pott made the name pig proud.

The next day we would be back by at least four hours before the parade was up. Jeff would stroll in looking tired from the last night of booze and TV with his hair lying down his face until it mixed with his beard in an accidental braid, about an hour late.

"Right on goddamned time," Rick would say.

"Shit yeah, you know I'm here if that's where the money is." Jeff would pipe in.

"You got that Doc-boy." Rick would finish. They called Jeff Doc-boy because he had tried med.-school once, or at least that's what he claimed, but no one ever remembered him leaving town. I asked him about it a couple of times, but he would always smile and tell me that when I was his age I would understand why he won't take shit like that from a boy my age. I never understood the answer in any other way except to say, fuck off I never went to med.-school.

Jeff was just one of those people who had probably never left the town, and probably never would. If he ever had I was sure that somebody would remember, after all in a town with only two hundred 'good' neighbor Jesus loving, give you a helping hand as long as you tell me all you business, and if you don't I'll find out anyhow, neighbors, I was sure someone would have noticed him gone.

We mowed for four hours before I heard the first gun shot. I looked around and saw Rick holding a smoking handgun. 'Crazy Fucking Bastard' I thought, but I wasn't really shocked. The same gun shot came every time. Rick would ride with a handgun on the cemetery tractor. He would mow the large open spaces while Jeff and me done up the trimming around the stones. He carried the gun to get rid of Hog, as we all called them, groundhog or woodchuck to regular people. Cemeteries have a special problem that most people don't realize, Hog. They burrow around and cause the stones to collapse. Stones are heavy and an ill placed Hog tunnel can cause on to come down. The state forbids use of most pest control devices because of issues of respect for the dead, and the city banned the rest, so the Hog ran wild. That's when Rick had enough, he bought himself a Smith and Weson twenty-two revolver and rode with it. Whenever he would see Hog, he would take a shot. It was dangerous, because if he missed and the bullets ricochet off the polished stone of some poor persons memorial, then one of us could be hurt fast. We questioned Rick on this policy often, but it never worked.

"You're going to get us killed, you loony bastard." One of us would yell.

"Not if I don't miss."

"That's the problem."

"Shut up -- you want this job, I'm the fucking caretaker not you." This would always cause Jeff and me to laugh until we felt dizzy. We knew he wasn't serious he always joshed us like that, but he kept on shooting. So we took to whenever we heard the shots we would lie low, hiding behind some stone work. After a while we even gave that up, and just kept mowing. After all the chance of a twenty-two shell killing one of us was low, especially if it lost energy in the ricochet. However, there was always that fear, I mean one could shoot of a stone and go right into one of our eyes and into the brain, then -- dead.

By the end of the day the cemetery looked great. All the fake flowers had been disposed of, and all the new ones had been mowed over so they would filter out into the grass and look pretty until they decayed. The grass was nice and low, and even the bushes were trimmed down so they looked presentable. It was almost dark when we finally left all ready for the morning.

The next morning I got there around one. Rick had already set up the tent with the help of the vault-man, and all that was left was to cover the dirt in a tarp, put out the chairs and set up the flowers, which arrived just a little before me. I helped finish that up, then we waited.

For the next hour we talked with Ted, the man from the funeral home who had brought the flowers. He told us that this was a big one and catholic at that. We all cheered, one thing about catholic funerals they didn't end quick, and we were paid by the hour. The vault man joined our circle about a half an hour later. He had gone into town for some lunch and was just getting back. We all said 'hi' to him as he approached but none of us knew him, because a different one came every time. Vault men were like gravediggers, it took a special lot. At the vault company, just like here at the cemetery, most of the employees quite during either their first or second dig. The ones that made it past the second usually didn't last past the first toddler they put under. That's what I mean by saying we gravediggers were a special lot, we were the few who really didn't give a shit enough to care. That had the ability to distance ourselves from work. The one good thing about vault men is that they had good stories.

"You folks are lucky down here," the vault man began (they usually began like that), I think his name was Jim or Rob, " Up in Willow Creek, those fellows got in some mighty trouble. They ran out of room in their cemetery and started just piling them one on top of the other. Well they had the misfortune of having to exhume one of the bodies." He stopped for a second taking in each of our faces as if to make sure that we were paying attention. We all tried to make it look like we were, but it was hard since we had heard the same story from the last vault-man on Tuesday. "Well they had to dig 'em up, and those gravediggers had to it with all the sheriffs and judges and family standing around. The unfortunate part was that the one they were digging happened to be the one on the bottom. So they dug to the first vault and pulled it up out. Those rascals tried to pass off that one for the one they were looking for, but sure enough they got figured out. So they had to dig the next one up. They have to dig up that whole graveyard and fix them graves now. But sure enough the old judge he threw the book at them fellows and they're going to be in jail for a long piece."

"I heard about that." Was all the Rick replied.

We heard the cars before we saw the sirens. The way the road ran down the valley to get to Valley Park, the sound of a car would carry right to us, and the sound of several meant the parade was close.

"Kid, get on the traffic, Jeff you take parking." Rick pointed at us and smiled.

"Shit, I hate traffic." I replied, and we all laughed.

It was about five minuets before the cop pulled up. He stopped at the edge of the gate and the first of the cars rolled in. I directed them with frantic arms and silly gestures toward Jeff who directed each individual one into its proper parking place. The procedure always reminded me of parking at an amusement park. The cars stopped and the people go out, many dressed in black, and a few making a good show at crying. The priest had ridden with the undertaker, that said one thing to me, class. They gathered around the site and the priest started to flab. Jeff and I pulled the purple flags as fast as we could, and piled them into the hearse.

After that was done, we retreated to behind the tool-shed and waited. Jeff smoked and Rick and I watched, we always watched. I always thought that it would be fun to walk out and stand behind the mourners when the funeral got to long, carrying a tamp and a shovel, but state law forbids the mourners to see a shovel. So instead of having fun, we all would stand around and wait.

It always would take awhile for the mourners to get on their way. Often they lingered and cried, laughed, or talked. You would be surprised how many people laugh at funerals. But then again maybe not, after all they are rather funny. The people finally leave and we can get to work.

"Four hours to dark," Rick calls out as we trudge towards the hole with shovel and work-ready faces.

We all laugh. Its a joke that's been long worn out. The law tells us that if it gets dark before we get done, then we have to leave the graveyard, because the body must be buried during the day light without special arrangements. Of course no one ever enforces that law, there's been plenty of times when we stayed after dark to put a corpse under. Of course there is no worry of breaking that law today, it only takes about two hours to do one right.

Jeff finishes his smoke just as we reach the edge of the grave, so he flings it in on top of the casket. We all smile and start pulling the tarps off the dirt, as the vault man packs up his stuff and Jeff lights another cigarette. I jump into the pit and unhook the straps from on top of the vault, and hand them up to the vault-man. Technically its his job, but it makes everything go better if we all pitch in. Once they're out of the way we can start to throw the dirt.

The vault man leaves a little later, we have three and a half hours left, but that's fine to get going. The first shovel full of sod hits the aluminum vault ten minuets later. Its five more before Jeff tosses another cigarette into the hole and lights up again. Jeff takes a break then, that lasts for the next two hours. Except once he jumps into the hole to tamp the dirt with the tamper, which keeps the dirt from settling with air pockets, which can be disastrous. Rick is a fanatic about tamping, because right after he started, he buried a his first person, and didn't tamp the dirt. The next night a rain storm hit that lasted for a coupe of days, the water soaked into the ground and filled the un-tamped dirt's air pockets and the damned vault came half out. It took them more than a day to fix the problems that it caused, and every since Rick never buried anyone without tamping ever four inches. It made it more difficult, because it meant that about every fifteen minuets one of us had to jump into the grave and smash a fifty pound metal pipe, attached to a large iron plate into the ground for five minuets, until 'all the settling was out'. Not one of us liked that job.

"What's the story with this one?" Jeff asked the same story during each job, he had a fetish with how people die.

"Burnt to death in a house, normal case. Wife came home and found the house in flames. Husband is a fat-ass smoking in his favorite chair falls asleep to a little world-wide wrestling. House catches on fire and husband is to damn stupid to get out, so he burns up. Wife comes home, and runs to the neighbors five miles down the road. By time she gets there they have already called the fire department because they think no one is home. So she waits around convinced now that husband is out of the house, but she's wrong. They find him still in his favorite chair with no flesh watching the melting glass tubes." Rick replies.

"Oh, same old story, huh."

"Shit, he deserved it if he was watching world-wide wrestling." I say, and we all laugh.

The next morning I wake up to the phone ringing. Its nine-thirty so I think nothing of it, probably for my sister.

"Hello, Tom, that you?"

"Yeah" I respond trying to shake the sleep from my head. It sounds like Rick on the other end, but its early.

"You're not going to believe this shit." I know when Rick starts out like that something strange is up. Last time it was a Sunday funeral, the time before it was one after dark.

"That guy, we just put under, his wife just squealed like a pig, she told the cops that she murdered him."

"What"

"She said that she shot him and then sets the house on fire, waited a few minuets until it was burning good, and went to the neighbors acting like she was just getting home."

"So?" I really wasn't sure what he was getting at here.

"Well, kid, if it goes to court, the body has to be exhumed. That means we have to dig the guy back up."

"Shit, when?"

"Whenever they need the evidence. They informed me today not to plan taking any long trips soon. After all we put him under that means we have to get him out. So I wanted to let you know not to plan any vacation until this shit is over."

"Damn it, this is bullshit." I wasn't planning anything, but I didn't like the idea of having to dig one back up. It was one thing to put one under, but to get one back was something else.

"Well, I'm going to let you go, I'll give you a ring if anything else comes up, or if I find out more."

"Thanks Rick" The next response was a dial-tone.

I climbed out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. My sister, Julie, was eating breakfast and my mom was no where to be seen. I sat down across from her and pulled a bowl towards me for Coca Crunchies.

"What are you doing to day?" She smiled, she had a pretty smile, but in the morning it was annoying and she knew it. We were close, but we spent most of our time fighting, she was baiting me for one now.

"Nothing, no work."

She smiled again, "Sorry we're out of cereal." She stood up and put the box in the trash.

I didn't care, and she knew it. I never sweat missing breakfast, because when I eat it I always feel like shit for the rest of the day.

"I have to dig up a guy, I think."

"What?" Her smile faded. She found my job revolting.

"Some lady offed her husband, told the pigs, now I have to help dig him up for evidence."

"Sounds shitty."

"Yeah, what are you doing today." I was hoping she would say nothing, because when both of us where free we would do things together. Often we would go swim in the Tuscawarus under the bridge on the outskirts of town, or we would play tennis in the park, neither of us were good at it, but we didn't care.

"Sorry, I have to work." She smiled again and left to get ready.

'Damn' I thought as I went back to my room.

It was three more days before Rick called again, to let me know when we had to dig the guy up. I didn't want to exhume a body, I wasn't sure if I could handle it. It took a special kind of person to put one under, and a different kind to pull one up. I was the first, but I was unsure about the second.

"WE have to pull him out Friday. It seems quick, but they want to get him up before he ages much more. He's already going to stink like hell, they want to be able to get a good look at him, before he starts any decay. They know they have a while, but they're also hoping some tissue is alive, for some kind of sample they're going to take."

"Oh," was all I could squeeze out.

"Well, Tom, you need to be there by noon on Friday, the actual exhumation starts about one-thirty, but there is something's that the cops need to go over with us, before. I'm not sure what, but I have a feeling it has to do with etiquette of digging one up."

"All right, thanks Rick." I hung up, not caring whether or not that he was done.

"Shit, Shit." I said aloud. Today was Wednesday, so I had two days to think about it before we dug in. I would whether have found out Friday morning.

I went up stairs to find Julie, I thought I had heard her. She was in her bedroom, cleaning, she was always cleaning.

"What you doing," I walked in and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"What's it look like?" She gave me half-frown as she kept picking up papers and books from the floor.

"Sorry, what's wrong?" I could tell something was eating her, it radiated from her like a bad odor

"Nothing, just John, he's up to the same shit."

John was her sometimes boyfriend, who stood her up about once a week. I used to tell her to dump him and get someone else, but that only made her angry.

"Sorry," I said.

"Well, you know, he'll come around."

Just being able to say that cheered her up some. "What's up with you?" I knew that she knew that if I came up here like this something was eating at me.

"I have to exhume that guy Friday. Rick just called."

"Oh, sorry," she turned toward me, she looked revolted.

"It's all right, you know how it is." I lied, I didn't believe that shit for moment and I knew that she knew that too.

"Yeah, well I hope its not all that bad for you."

"IT won't be, want to go to town to get some food." I said and stood up. She smiled and agreed. I smiled back happy that she had accepted the invitation.

Friday came a little too quick. I woke up sick, but I knew that it was just my fear so I didn't let it get me down. By noon I made my way to the cemetery, arriving about ten minuets late. It was unusual for me to arrive late, and I could see that they all thought something was strange by the way that they looked at me. I was shocked to find Jeff already there waiting.

The cop started off with a short speech about how he was happy that we were all present, and that the state would pay us for the job. The amount he mentioned was only seven dollars an hour, disappointing since I already made six. He then went into a speech about keeping quite and trying to be civil.

"This is a very sensitive matter. Not only will the judge and myself be there, but the corner, the lawyers, and the deceased's family. Both of his parents and his little sister. So please be on your best behavior." The cop smiled that all-knowing-do-as-I-say-or-I'll-bust-your-ass-for-some-made-up-offense smile, that all cops smile when they tell you to do something.

'Damn pig,' I thought. He was just a little too arrogant. Talking to us like we where kindergarten kids on our first day of school. I looked at his obviously sun-bed tanned face and his nice Ray Ban metal rimmed sun glasses, with just a tint of yellow on the lenses and laughed. 'He's the perfect fucking stereotype,' I thought, 'I don't believe this shit he even acts the role.' I laughed again, this time it came out of me as a snicker and the pig looked at me and rolled his eyes.

"We know our job, tubby." Rick said patting the cop on his stomach as he passed him.

The cop looked pissed, and that made me laugh hard out loud. I had never seen a cop so pissed and so helpless. I was sure that some small town hick cop, whose most exiting bust was probably a couple of teenagers having sex on a backroad that tried to make the great get away, knew nothing about honest graveyard law, therefore he could find no legitimate reason to shoot us on the spot with his service revolver, or even arrest us.

We all walked away from the cop and started towards the tool-shed. Once there we opened the door and got out the shovels and the dirt box. The dirt box was a large wooden box, that we set up to hold the dirt from any grave that we dug, otherwise it would mess up the neighboring grass, this way it wouldn't. It took us about twenty minuets to get set up.

It wasn't until the people arrived that I threw up.

"You all right kid?" Rick said.

"Yeah, just a touch of the stomach bug, you know."

Rick was never one to dance around, "Yeah, I felt sick about this shit too. Don't sweat that shit, it's all right, its normal to react like that to having to dig someone up."

Jeff lit another cigarette.

"Jesus Christ Jeff, what the hell? You can't smoke today." Rick turned towards him.

"The hell I can't," Jeff took a long toke and expelled it slowly. The smoke drifted up through the air to form a new gray cloud.

The people gathered around the site and we waited, leaning on our shovels for someone to give us the okay. It came from a skinny little man in a business suit and polished shoes.

The first shovel full was the worst, I thought I was going to throw up again.

"Put 'em in and take 'em out, just like sex." Jeff said as he dropped his first cigarette still burning into the dirt, and fumbled into his pocket for another one.

"Shut up," Rick said, and we all laughed, after that I didn't feel sick.

I took us only about half-an-hour to hit the vault. The dirt was fresh and easy digging. We cleared all the dirt we could away, until the lid was clean and free. The vault man brought his crane over the hole and I attached the chains to the handles on the top. The crane had no trouble pulling the vault lid off and resting it on the ground beside the hole. The crane came back and Rick and me jumped down onto the coffin with straps. Jeff jumped in behind us and dropped his cigarette on the casket, smashing it with his shit-stained-farm-boy boots. Rick and I set up the straps around the coffin, while Jeff lit up again.

We all clambered out and the crane started up. The casket made its slow path out of the vault and out of the hole. When we could reach it we all garbed a hold to stabilize it. The vault man guided it to the side of the hole and set it down. We released the straps and he pulled the crane away.

Jeff threw another cigarette down, and the cop eyed him, prime candidate for arrest he must have thought. The corner and the judge approached the side of the casket and ordered us to open it. Jeff had found a way to be lighting up again so Rick and I were left to do it.

I got a good grip onto the lid and so did Rick and we opened it.

The stench was unbearable, he had not kept well. I looked down and saw his blackened flesh. It had wrinkled in the flames and looked like a burnt sausage. The body was unrecognizable. The odor that wafted out was like a bad day at the zoo. I stood back as the corner helped us lift the lid.

The man's mother screeched and fainted, then his father went down. His little sister looked away quickly, and fatty the pig puked hard. The judge looked a little uneasy and so did Jeff and Rick. The corner was unfazed, he walked up and started his examination. His crew lifted the body out of the casket and set it in an ambulance to be taken for autopsy.

I didn't feel sick at all, instead I felt curiosity.

'This shit ain't for me,' I thought.

Rick and I covered up the coffin and the dirt with a tarp. The lawyers and the judge helped the family away. I turned towards Rick and he smiled, he looked as green as I knew the cop felt. Jeff looked as green as Rick and I noticed that he wasn't smoking a cigarette or lighting one up. I turned and walked away. I never went back to that place.

END

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