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YOU CAN’T KEEP IT UNDER THE SURFACE

By Kenneth Dube

The two itchy desperadoes sailed their thoughts on pints of stout in the back room of a small local bar. They were college graduates who, like the rest of their generation, had no reservation at the table of successful careers. They were overworked and paid near-poverty wages. There was no step up from the ditch, only a step off of the road. Steve and Joe knew they had to create their own opportunities, or else they would drift forever in a life of poverty and lack of fulfillment.

“There is money to be made out there,” said Joe. “You just have to look where no one else has. I have an idea that can make us rich and we won’t have to work very hard to get it. As long as you’re not afraid of ghosts.”

Steve, with blond hair to his shoulders and lightly stubbled face looked at him dismissively then searched the head of his stout for some truth and stared back into Joe’s eyes for his secret, “Yeah, what’s that?”

“It’s sitting under the ground uselessly just waiting for someone to take it,” Joe continued with his pitch behind salesman’s eyes and short dark hair. “There is gold to be found. There are lot's of gold teeth in dead people. That’s all we have to do is dig them up and take it!”

Steve broke out in laughter. Joe joined him, but kept eye contact with him, waiting for him to turn serious again. “You’re crazy man,” Steve chuckled. “That’s just plain sick.”

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“Wait, wait,” Joe interrupted. “Think about it. There’s a lot of gold teeth out there. Not only that, but gold rings and maybe even some watches. After the civil war, they buried a lot of them with pocket watches. Think about it.”

Steve vetoed a response with a pull from his stout. “I used to dig ditches and I know it wouldn’t take more than two hours to dig a six foot ditch,” Joe continued. “Probably only an hour. It would have to be graves fifty years or older because I think they started sealing the coffins in concrete after that. Just dig them up, pull out their teeth with a pair of pliers, take off the rings--if you have to, use the pliers to take them off--and take their watches out of the pocket if there is one. We would have four hours to work with.”

“We would get caught,” Steve played along. “A guard, the police, or some relative would catch us.”

“No, we would choose an old cemetery that the town doesn’t look after anymore and where there aren’t any living relatives,” Joe went on. “It would be overgrown and unkempt.”

“I couldn’t touch a dead body,” Steve said as he imagined it. “That’s too gross.”

“They would be over fifty years old,” Joe pitched. “They would just be a skeleton. You wouldn’t have to do that part if you didn’t want to, you could just dig.”

“I would just dig,” Steve answered.

“I would pull the gold,” said Joe seeing his idea materializing. “One grave would be enough to last us a month. We would just melt the teeth down with what is it, an acetylene flame?”

“Yeah.”

“We could put it into a mold and make our own rings or something. Pawn it off to--”

“Gary!” they laughed in unison.

“So what do you say?” Joe asked seriously. “You want to do it?”

“You’re crazy,” Steve responded unsure.

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“Come on,” Joe begged. “We won’t get caught and we’ll make more money in a few months than we do all year slaving at a terminal for the airline.”

Steve paused, unsure. Then he finally gave into the ever-strengthening pressure and put some high-stakes chance into his life, “Al right, but I still think this is crazy.”

In order to be more selective in their choice of graves, Joe bought a metal-detector he saw advertised in a classified ad. He altered it using the technology from a Radio Shack manager he knew. Steve bought some town maps and decided on an old, unused cemetery in Avon. They scoped out the cemetery for activity during the day and then at night. Scared to death, they combed the cemetery with their metal detector and noted the grave that gave off the highest gold reading. It was a grave marked by a short tombstone that read “Here lies John Boone, died October 13, 1911, Rest In Peace”. They made plans to go to the cemetery in one week, at midnight.

They ditched the car down the road and walked their tools to the cemetery. It was a cool spring night, with some low clouds and a full moon. It was a typical early spring night, just cold enough to see your breath.

They placed their equipment around the targeted grave and Steve held a shovel at the ready. He looked over at Joe who gave him a look that ordered him to proceed. Steve hesitated as he looked down at the grass that covered what lay below. He knew that once he sunk the shovel into the ground, there would be no more chances to change his mind.

He made up his mind and struck hard into the ground with the shovel. He could hardly feel the force of the shovel under him, as the adrenaline was rushing through his body from the fear that had consumed him. The ground yielded easier than he thought it would. The strong smell of moist soil rose to his nostrils like the smell of an old wound being opened.

A dirt pile started to mount and, with each shovelful, his fear grew with the expectation that he would reach his goal of hitting a sold casket. As Joe stood by and watched, he kidded Steve and reassured him that they would be rich. Steve rested now and then, peering into the hole which started to look endless. He dreaded going back into the hole. He pictured himself getting pulled into the soil by the dead, as he had seen in many movies and comics.

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As Steve dug, he heard an unexpected “crunch”. He had expected to hear a hollow thud, if anything. Joe shined the battery-powered light into the hole. In front of Steve was what looked like bone and flesh. Steve climbed out of the hole in a panic and Joe jumped in. He examined the pieces that Steve had cut through with the shovel. The wooden casket was soft from rot. A piece of what was probably a rib had broken the surface along with what looked like flesh. A cold tingle raced up Joe’s spine, which quickly turned to a warm rush as he thought about how close they were to their fortune.

He took the shovel from Steve and carefully dug away most of the remaining layers of dirt and wood. He worked with frenzy, like a mad scientist, forgetting that what he was unearthing was human remains. Bones, clothe, some leathered skin, and the outline of a coffin projected from the soil. The corpse, now unearthed, reminded them that it was once a living and breathing person. In Steve’s mind, there was a chance that it could still be a living and breathing undead person. Joe called to Steve for the pliers. He dug the dirt from the jaw with his hands. His effort revealed five gold teeth in the front and a few rusted teeth in the back. Half of the teeth were missing. He grabbed the pliers from Steve and started pulling on the gold. They snapped off with a snapping sound that made Steve cringe. There was no gold ring or watch like they had hoped, but this was a good start.

A car came up the street. Steve jumped into the grave with Joe, crushing a leg bone that was partially exposed. They watched as it drove by; it was not a police cruiser. The brake lights flashed as it approached their car. Steve held his breath for a second, afraid that it would stop. The back lights dimmed and it continued on. Joe and Steve looked at each other and laughed.

“We did it!” Joe said. “It’s like taking candy from a baby, only this baby is a lot older.” They climbed out and Steve shoveled the dirt back into the hole. “I’m going back to the car to stash this stuff,” Joe said as he gathered his pliers and the gold and walked off.

A cold wind picked up. The velocity created a chorus in his ears. Steve halted his shoveling as dirt flew back in his face. He was all alone with the dead. A chill ran down his sweaty back while he watched thin clouds race by the moon. His blond hair appeared as white as the corpses in the moonlight. Did the dead know the deed they were doing? Did their souls watch over their bodies? Who really knew for sure?

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Steve heard some footsteps and went back to shoveling as he noticed Joe coming back. While he raked the dirt onto the fresh fill, Joe meshed in new turf over the grave. It stood out, but not as much as just dirt would have. Another car approached and they took cover behind a couple of tombstones. After it passed, they escaped back home.

Joe melted down the teeth in a process that took almost an hour. Some of it stuck to the container and was considered lost. Despite these setbacks which were due to inexperience, they were able to make three unpolished rings. They tried pawning them off to Gary, but he did not trust them or like them, so Joe put ads in the paper and sold them off at just over sixty percent of what they were worth.

The night after the event, Steve would never forget that cemetery again. He had finished digging a grave and decided to pull the teeth himself while Joe went to the car. He shakily applied the pliers onto one of the teeth. The wind picked up and he heard a sound behind him. He turned around in time to see Joe fall lifeless into the grave. His mouth was bloody and all of his teeth were gone. A final cry of horror was frozen in his eyes. Steve looked up and saw a corpse with bloody pliers at the edge. Other dead joined it as they salivated with anticipation at Steve. “You did not listen to the wind,” came a gargled threat from the corpse. “Now it’s your turn!”

The corpse below him grabbed hold of his arm and pulled the pliers away with a bony grip that shot pain into his arm and up into his head. The other corpses fell into the grave and held him down while the corpse below him pulled at a tooth. “Noooooooo!” Steve yelled into the night.

Steve woke up from his nightmare with a toothache. A few days later, he saw a dentist. He had a cavity in a molar. One root canal and gold filling later, he was plotting the next grave heist with Joe. The affect of the nightmare never left him, but he knew he had to be rational about it. It was only a nightmare. His subconscious was feeling a little guilty about what they were doing. After all, it was normal. He told Joe about it. He looked at him thoughtfully for a second and told Steve not to let it get to him.

The next few times went without too many problems. Joe started to get cocky, though. He thought of ways of making it more fun. He started putting messages addressed to future archaeologists that said, “Sorry, Joe & Steve got here first--1996.” One time he even put a written confession that was to be by the corpse confessing to many world-known crimes.

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The money started to add up, though. They even found a few rings on the corpses, which were easily removed, but no watches were found. The undertakers were unethical enough, even back then, to steal them before they were buried.

“I’m not sure what to expect on this one,” said Joe as he looked at the tombstone. “This one is the freshest grave yet.”

“Do you think the body is going to stink?” Steve asked as he continued to wave the metal detector over the grave.

“No, it’s still long past that,” Joe answered. “The grave is 1942. It’s still long past that stage. I’m just not sure how much hair, skin, or clothes will remain. This one is going to have a lot more excitement to it.”

“The one over there had almost as strong of a reading and it goes back to 1853,” Steve pleaded. “It might have items that are rarer.”

“No, this is the one,” Joe said. “We have only one shot and we’re going to go for it all.”

They staked it out and returned a week later with their tools. The newness of the grave troubled Steve as he dug. His nightmare returned to haunt him over and over while the sweat poured down his face on that muggy evening. Mosquitoes buzzed in his face and bit him in hard to reach areas. The going was rocky and took almost twice as long before he hit something soft that didn’t give. He hadn’t even hit wood like he had expected. Instead, he hit a thick dress.

He hesitated and looked at Joe, who gave him an encouraging nod. As he went to clear the surface and the area of breakthrough, he started to hit wood. It appeared to him that the casket had split under the pressure of the ever-shifting ground. Besides that split, the casket was unexpectedly pretty much in tact.

After clearing all the dirt, Steve got out of the grave. “You open it,” he said to Joe. “You’re the one who didn’t care if it was newer.”

Joe shrugged his shoulders, “Okay,” and he jumped into the grave. He used the shovel to pry open the lid at the end with the head. The nails gave way relatively easily, although a few gave a weak grating noise as they were pulled up with the lid.

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The head had long hair and wore what looked like a wedding headpiece. A veil covered the face. Joe pried off the rest of the cover all the way down. A necklace of pearls glowed around her neck and a long-stemmed rose made of gold and dewed with diamonds rested in her bony, white-laced hands. Her wedding dress was long and tucked-in below her. Joe climbed out of the grave.

“We hit the jackpot my friend,” he said to Steve who just stared at the corpse. “Looks like she died around the time of her wedding. I’m going back to the car to get something to put that rose in. That’s got to be worth a fortune. Why don’t you try to get it out of her hands while I’m gone?”

As Joe left, Steve stared for what seemed like a few minutes. This didn’t feel right all the way down to the pit of his stomach. The wedding dress gave her too much life. There was only bone sticking out of the lace, but she seemed more complete. He didn’t dare lift up the veil to see if only a skull remained. He picked up the shovel and attempted to pry the fingers from the rose. He was too queasy about touching the bones. The thought of the corpse moving and taking revenge on him kept reeling through his mind.

While Steve fidgeted with the fingers, he noticed some dirt fall in behind him. He searched the edge of the grave but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The same thing happened again. Steve became consumed with fear, “Joe, is that you?” There was no answer. Steve stared for a while and then looked back at the bony hands and the dirty wedding dress with the hidden face under the veil.

Steve screamed as he suddenly heard a thud behind him. It was Joe and he had blood coming out of his mouth. He was lifeless. From outside the grave he could hear gargling noises. He held the shovel tightly in his hands as he expected the corpse below him to rise. He wasn’t going to die if he could help it. Something tugged at his pant leg. He turned around and swung the shovel hard at what grabbed him. It was Joe. His head now bled from the side. Steve climbed out of the grave too afraid to worry about taking on the unseen mob of corpses he was going to confront.

When he got out, there was nothing there...except for a tape recorder. Gargling sounds continued to come from it. In shock, he looked down into the grave. A deep fear rushed through his body--not from what unknown was out there, but from what he now knew he had done. Out of stupid fears, he had accidentally struck his friend.

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Joe should have known better, he thought. Why did he have to play with his fears? They were to get in and get out and that was it. How could he be so carefree about it?

Steve turned off the tape and jumped back into the grave to check on his friend. The blood in Joe’s mouth was phony, but the puddle next to his head was too real. Steve checked for a heart beat, but none was found. He had to think.

The final touches were put on the new carpet of grass. This was his best job yet. The patch seemed to flow with the rest of the grass rather well. Steve smudged a few leaves into it. He gathered up his tools and gold and drove off alone. That would be his last graveyard shift. The moon glowed an accusing spotlight on him as he drove home.

Steve invested the money he made off of the gold and got his job back at the airline so he could get by from week to week. His teeth hurt him from that night on, but he was deathly afraid of dentists because now he had reoccurring nightmares. Joe was reported missing by his parents a week later. Steve had spent that week reprogramming his memory until he truly believed that he did not know where Joe was. He remembered last seeing him leave the bar the Saturday before and had no idea of how he disappeared. Everyone was sympathetic to Steve, because he was his best friend, and that sympathy tore at his insides like the stitches on a day old wound being pulled apart. It brought back the memory of what he had done like a submerged corpse rising to the surface. Steve pushed that corpse back under with all of his strength. As long as what had happened that night was fiction to him, he could keep below the surface.

The following week, Steve was back at the same terminal he had worked at before. Everything looked the same as when he and Joe had left it. But Joe was gone and the people weren’t the same. They all seemed to give him suspicious looks. Even the customers had accusing tones over the phone. He was hiding something and everyone seemed to know it.

He didn’t sleep well that night. Joe appeared, uninvited. He was covered with dirt and his features were stiff and leathery, “What’s wrong buddy, you don’t look happy to see me?”

Steve shrank as deep into the bed as he could, “Leave me alone. You don’t exist anymore!”

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“That’s not true,” answered Joe. “I’ll always exist. You can’t erase a friendship. It’s rooted too deep. You pull it out like a plant and the root breaks. But part of it remains and grows back up to the surface. Anyway,” he said cracking and straightening his neck, “You need me.”

“Why?” Steve asked timidly.

“Because they’re still after you,” Joe answered with a smile. Just then, clumsy footsteps presented themselves outside of his room. Steve’s heart pounded nearly through his chest.

“You see,” Joe continued. “They got me, but you got away. They can’t rest until they get their teeth back...and you.”

Decayed corpses walked into his room with pliers. Steve backed up against the wall behind his bed. The eye sockets of the corpses glistened at him like black jewels. Steve looked at Joe for help. Joe continued to smile, “ I can forgive you, but they can’t.”

The first of the corpses grabbed him, their bony fingers painfully digging in. More continued to walk into the room. A toothless man hissed at him as he brought the pliers towards Steve’s mouth. Steve shut his mouth tightly and tried to scream through it. The man’s arm was suddenly ripped off. The rest of him was thrown back by Joe. He pulled at another corpse who had Steve in his grip. The arms kept their grip, but the rest of the corpse was pulled away. Other corpses filled the vacated spots, “You see, I’m trying to help an old buddy out, but they’re going to get you in the end.” The corpses became so many, that he could not see Joe pulling them away anymore. A corpse in a white wedding dress held pliers over him. She brought her veiled face down next to his. His fear rushed through him like the wind. She brought her bony hands up to her veil and lifted it. Steve tried to scream, but only a feint sound came out as some dirt and worms fell onto his face.

Steve woke up, unsure if it had been real. He searched the dark room with his eyes, but did not move his head. He looked over at the clock which read 2:18 am. He was still in the bewitching hours. He realized that it had only been a nightmare, but he still didn’t feel safe. He turned on the lamp by his bed and seized the remote control. He used the blaring television to distract him from his fears. He couldn’t help but listen for the footsteps, though. Occasionally, he looked over at the door to see if it was being opened. After about an hour, he fell back asleep. His alarm clock woke him up to the news on TV and bright sunshine which made him feel safe once more.

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On his way to his downtown job, he noticed a bridal shop while sitting in a long line at a traffic light. Mannequins dressed in wedding gowns stood in the window display. They stared at him, even the one with the veil over its face. Steve wanted to escape, but he had nowhere to go until the traffic moved. He saw dirt fall from the top of the window to their feet. As the dirt poured in, it quickly filled up the display window until all the brides were totally buried.

The traffic moved and a horn blowing behind him got him moving. He decided he couldn’t go to work after all. He sped around the block until he drove up the same street. This time he drove up the sidewalk and crashed through the bridal store display. Glass danced on the car’s hood like diamonds. Steve’s bloody head dropped from the smashed windshield. He banged his left elbow violently at his side window until it broke. His blood-covered eyes searched blindly out the window as he screamed, “Joe don’t let them take my teeth! Don’t let them take my teeeeeth!”

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