Pete was dozing heavily in his chair in the security booth. He was over sixty-five years old but had refused to go into retirement. To be fair, nobody else wanted his job.
StoneGate cemetery was a low-key tract of land where the plebes of Springfield buried their dead. Thorny bushes, weeds, and cracked gravestones were the best scenic view.
The grave keeper’s salary was a few hundred dollars a month, but Pete was content. Ever since his son died in the Pacific World War and was buried at this location, he decided to watch over the graves till his last breath.
People gossiped that Stonegate Cemetery was haunted, but Pete saw nothing go bump in the night over the last thirty years. That was going to change very soon.
Thud! Crack! Crunch! The sound of boots and metals against soil and gravel woke Pete up. He fluttered open his eyelids and peered into the night. The old man could see movement, and he froze.
Pete’s eyes focused on three shadows looming over a distant grave. Ghosts?! Was it true that Stonegate Cemetery was haunted?
The old man shook his head to ward off sleepiness. He couldn’t let his imagination overwhelm him. There was no way ghosts existed.
Pete squinted hard and realized the shadows were actually tall men. They carried shovels and were digging up a grave. Now, why would strangers do something like that? Unless they were… Grave robbers!
The deceased were often buried with precious accessories like golden lockets, necklaces, rings, etc., which grave robbers targeted. There was a shadier bunch called body snatchers who sold fresh corpses to hospitals and research labs.
Pete jumped to his feet, determined to capture the culprits. Nobody was going to desecrate the dead on his watch.
The old man retrieved his only weapon, a fully loaded Glock 19. It was not a powerful gun, but it could kill or incapacitate a robber, regardless.
Pete’s mind raced. How could he approach taller, younger men without being noticed? Sneaking up would be a bad idea since the ground was littered with leaves and twigs, but he had no other choice.
Pete clicked off the gun’s safety and dashed towards the grave being violated. “Hey! Stop right there, or I’ll shoot!”
As the old man closed in on the culprits, he could see two shovelers and one man overseeing the crime. The shovelers paused for a moment and consulted their overseer. On getting a reply, they smirked and resumed their work.
Pete was taken aback, and a sense of dread crept on him. Why were they unresponsive to someone threatening them with a gun?
“I’ll shoot you dead, bloody grave robbers!” he barked.
The man overseeing the grave’s violation turned around. He was a tall, wiry man, likely of advanced age. He was wearing a hooded cloak that hid his face entirely.
Pete stopped within firing distance and gave his final warning. “Didn’t you hear me, punks? Aren’t you afraid to die?”
The cloaked man stepped forward, apparently unconcerned about the gun pointed at him. “I didn’t know this shoddy graveyard had a keeper. Do you think you can hurt me with that peashooter?”
The stranger’s voice was so cold and tempered that Pete felt a shiver run up his spine. Every particle of his being sent him an alarm to turn tail and leave. However, the old man had already made up his mind. He had rarely ever been brave, but tonight, he wanted to.
Pete raised his gun to eye level, aiming at the cloaked man. When they saw his action, the shovelers paused their work and stood silently.
“I swear I’ll shoot!” he stammered. “Remove the hood and show me your face!”
The stranger didn’t respond for a few elongated moments. Then he stepped forward into the light.
Pete expected his face to be visible immediately. However, what he saw spooked him to the core. The light fell into the man’s hood but illuminated nothing. Because there was nothing inside but a hollow—just darkness.
Pete began feeling sick all of a sudden. His vision became blurry, and the gun fell from his grip. The old man fell down unconscious.
The stranger approached him slowly and kicked away the Glock. He retrieved a bundle of notes from his pocket and stashed it into Pete’s belt.
“Apologies for disturbing your sleep. We will be out of your hair in no time.”
He turned and returned to the grave’s location. The two shovelers smirked and continued digging.
“My lord Atticus… “ one of them said. “Shall I dispose of the old man? What if he goes to the police once he wakes up? That could endanger our mission.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Atticus Mars replied in a monotone. “It appears he was terrified and had a mini-stroke. When he wakes up, he’ll think it was a nightmare. Besides, you will leave no evidence behind that this grave was dug up. Are you not confident in your skills?”
“My apologies. It will be as you say.” The shoveler bowed and resumed digging.
In a few minutes, a sharp metallic twang was heard. The shovel had found metal.
The shovelers quickly unearthed the coffin and heaved open its lid. The trio stared at the corpse inside.
“It’s been a while, Victor…” Atticus said with temerity.