GRAVE ROBBERS part 2

Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

GRAVE ROBBERS

Part 2

        By R. Peterson         

It was almost dark when the Ford Customline came to a stop in the woods next to the old Hicks farm. An October moon was rising in the eastern sky, turned blood red by the reflection of the setting sun’s rays.  “You sure you want to go through with this?” Ardel shivered as he zipped up his coat. Rodney guessed his best friend was starting to have doubts.

            “Remember robbing an old grave was your idea,” Rodney smiled as he took two shovels and gloves out of the car’s trunk.

            An owl high on a branch demanded to know their names as they plodded around tangled mulberry brush and weathered cottonwoods. Darkness came quickly under a canopy of soon-to-fall leaves. Rodney followed behind Ardel. He moved close behind his friend and leaned forward to speak. “How far is this Amanda Hick’s grave?”

Ardel made a show of whispering back in great exaggeration to mock his friend. “Not far. Whatever you do don’t let that barn owl know where were going. He is surely the Devil’s pet and will fly off with your ear while you’re busy digging.”

They both stopped at the same time. Twigs snapped. Something large was moving through the brush off to their left.

Rodney turned to look back and then ducked as the owl swooped low … just over their heads.

“Dang! I thought you were joking!”

“I was!” Ardel crouched and raised his shovel over his head like a weapon. A great shadow created by the moon flapped once and was gone. The trees had thinned and they were in a small clearing. The thick clump of brush in the center looked like it had been planted sometime in the dim past.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a fence around all graves?”

“There was … forty-seven years ago.” Ardel skirted a large clump of poison ivy and used the shovel to pry-up a length of decorative but now rusty cast iron from the heavy loom.

The tarnished head of a gargoyle, looking something like rotting skin under the  moonlight but was probably once just part of a gate-handle smiled up at the two from the disturbed soil.

Suddenly a sound like a woman’s scream split the night and sent cold chills cascading down their spines. “What the hell was that?”

            “A fox?” Ardel’s eyes looked almost as big as the moon. “I hope.”

Rodney put on gloves and tossed a pair to his pal. “Do you think the fence was to protect people from the grave … or the poison ivy?”

            “I don’t know … but I think we’re going to find out!”

They began to dig.

-------2-------

                The full moon hung like a photographer’s light in the eastern sky as the boys dug into the humus rich soil. Shapeless forms surrounded the violated grave and watched from the darkness like a leaf-wearing audience at a horror movie. The moss-covered headstone bearing the name Amanda Lee Hicks lay on a pile of uprooted poison ivy. In the far-distance, a lone wolf howled - completing the scene.

            Rodney’s shovel hit something but it was not the dull thunk of metal into old wood they had expected. At first they thought it might be just another field-rock but after two more hour of digging they exposed a huge concrete vault, reinforced with thick bands of stained iron and an oxidized lock the size of dinner plate. “If I took the wheels off I could almost bury my father’s tractor inside,” A sweaty Ardel whispered as Rodney used a shovel to pry-off eight rusted hinges. In the distance the wolf wailed again … he sounded much closer.

Rodney’s face was devoid of all color as the top sprang loose. “Either they didn’t want any looters getting into this underground crypt …or they didn’t want something getting out!”

It took both boys to slide the huge cover to one side and then topple it from the edge to the ground. A cloud of rancid breath like from a broken and exposed sewer-pipe rose into the night air. The vault was deep and dark; Rodney was glad that he remembered his flashlight.

            Mummified skin and tendons in the shape of a skeleton lay curled next to what looked like an enormous tree root? “So that’s why this vault is so big,” Ardel gasped. “They buried half the forest with her!”

Twigs snapped a few feet away in the darkened trees. Both boys looked in all directions.

            “Quick,” Rodney whispered. “Look for jewelry … anything that might be valuable.”

A bit of tarnished gold glimmered from the bony remains of one finger. Ardel closed his eyes muttered a short prayer pleading to God for forgiveness then leaned into the vault to slip the ring off. The brittle skin around the finger turned to dust as he grasped it. The huge root shape lying next to the skeleton felt strangely soft to his touch … as if it were alive. He jerked his hand back as if it had been shocked. The root appeared to be growing.

A low, rumbling, almost earthquake-like growling came from the trees surrounding the clearing and shook the ground. More than a dozen pairs of malicious eyes targeted Rodney as Ardel tumbled with a shriek into the open grave.

Rodney held his shovel over his head like a sword and screamed “Let’s get the hell out of here!” as a vicious pack of wolves appeared from the trees …  and surrounded them.

Ardel seemed to have springs on his boots. He leaped from the grave like a high jumper; one leg catching the edge of the pit while the other hurtled forward on a dead run. A tendril like root whipped from the grave and failed to snag his boot.

Rodney knocked one of the wolves off its feet with a vicious swing. Ardel paused long enough to pick up his own shovel. They were more than fifty yards down the trail before they realized they were not being pursued.

            “Let’s not do that again,” Rodney gasped. Both boys were out of breath when they reached the car; they clambered inside and locked the doors.

Ardel used the Ford’s glove box light to examine his prize. “I thought this felt kind of light for gold,” he muttered.

Rodney leaned to the side to look what Ardel had in his hand. The ring looked to be made of woven fibers instead of precious metal. Ardel thought the ring’s shape resembled the braids that some Scandinavian women wore in their hair. By twisting the ring slightly Ardel could see the glimmer of tiny mineral fragments probably gold flecks reflecting the light. “This is made of wood from Motha Forest,” Ardel said.

            “How do you know that?” Rodney was staring out both windows as he started the car expecting the wolves to appear.

            “My uncle Rance used to be a woodcutter,” Ardel said. “He told me it was impossible to cut trees in Motha because everything growing there absorbed metal, mostly iron, through its root systems. Their chainsaws used to put on a fireworks show whenever they tried to cut the wood and they were constantly changing the blades.”

            “So where did this come from?”

            Ardel was holding the ring close to his eyes. “It looks like the seventh, eighth and ninth growth rings from some kind of oak slab with the center punched out …”

Rodney put the Customline in gear and they were just starting to leave when all the trees on the right side of the road began to shake violently. Two cottonwoods, with more than twelve inch diameter trunks, were pulled from the ground sending tree limbs branches and roots flying high into the sky. Part of the gravel road was torn apart by the uprooting and the back wheels of the Ford spun frantically in a jagged trench. Ardel was beating his fist on the dashboard and tugging on his fingers.

            “What did you do?” Rodney screamed.

            “It looked like a ring … I only wanted to see if it would fit,” Ardel stammered.

Something larger than the trees moved from the shadows onto the road. “Take it off,” Rodney begged.

            “I can’t,” Ardel, said. “It’s like it’s become part of my finger.”

There now appeared to be two tree trunks blocking the car’s path. Finally Rodney remembered to flick on his headlights. Both boys screamed.

Two growing legs spread across most of the gravel road. More than twelve feet above the ground thick limbs stretched outward like hideous arms. Just below the leafless branches a single eye and a mouth opened from the tree trunk. “Mama” the thing bellowed. “You hurt my Mama!”

TO BE CONTINUED …