Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

I knocked on the lid with the shovel. "Jennifer?"

Silence.

I could think of so many things I'd rather do than open this coffin. Root canals, alligator wrestling, parent-teacher conferences...bring `emon!

But I got the shovel in place, and then pried it open.

There was not a corpse inside.

There wasn't a live body inside, either.

The only thing inside the coffin was a video camera.

Great.I'd spontaneously generated six ulcers over a stupid video camera. I picked it up, and then shut the lid. It was an older model, heavy and clunky. Probably not something that would be missed if it were taken out of the Ghoulish Delights office.

I sat down against the wall of the mausoleum and examined the camcorder more thoroughly. I ejected the tape inside and saw that it was labeled "You'll like this." I stuck the tape back in, and then unplugged the headphones from the Walkman and inserted them into the headphone jack of the video recorder. I peered through the viewfinder and pressed "play."

A black-and-white image appeared. It was Jennifer, her hair much longer than when I'd met her. She wore a black leather outfit and high heels. As she walked onto the empty stage, the camera zoomed in on her face, and she gave a spank-me-you-bad-boy smile.

"WelcometoGhoulishDelights , " she said, sounding like she was on a commercial for a 1-900-DO-ME-NOW line. "I'm sure you'lllooooove what we've got in store for you. But before we get to the good stuff, let's hear a word from our sponsor, Profit Jewelers. You know, nose rings, lip rings, navel rings, and a wide variety of otherpiercings are the fashion right now, but Profit Jewelers, always the innovator, has taken things one step further."

The camera panned over to where a woman I didn't recognize sat on a chair, smiling broadly and waving at the camera like a professional model. She was very attractive except for the ring protruding from her left eyeball.

"Yes, eye rings," said Jennifer. "They're what all the top stars are wearing, and as an extra-special bonus, theyhuuuuuurt when they go in." She purred these last words, but for some reason I still wasn't convinced to go get my eye pierced.

She began to scratch her back. "Don't you hate that one little spot on your back that you can never seem to reach? Usually somebody is here to scratch it for me." She made this sound like one of the most erotic acts imaginable. "But tonight I'm on my own, so I'll have to improvise."

Jennifer ripped off her left arm in a spray of blood, and then used it to scratch her back. Even with a one-inch, grainy black-and-white picture it wasn't a very convincing special effect.

"That'ssoooo much better," she told the camera. She tossed the arm off-screen. After a series of loud chewing sounds, a skeletal arm was tossed back to her. "Now, before we get to our main attraction, it's time once again for CookingWith Chef Pierre."

The camera followed her as she walked over to an oven, upon which rested a large metal pot. A man who had obviously been dead for quite some time was standing by the oven, tied to a pole so he wouldn't topple over. "This is Chef Pierre," Jennifer explained."Master of culinary treats. So, what have you got for us today?"

Steam poured up into her face as she removed the lid. She inhaled deeply, and sighed with pleasure."Ooooh, my favorite. Now, this creation is for those who love spaghetti, but don't find it quite hearty enough." She dipped out a spoonful of the contents.Intestines.

"I wonder if it'sdone? " Jennifer grabbed a foot-long segment of the intestine and flung it against the wall. It stuck. "Ah! Perfect!"

I shifted my position, wondering what I was supposed to be getting out of this. Maybe they wanted me to promote a new restaurant.

"And now, it's time for our feature presentation," said Jennifer. "His name is...well, you don't really need to know his name to enjoy it, so here we go!"

The scene switched to a bedroom. There was a young man on the bed, maybe in his mid-twenties, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He'd been tied there, spread eagle, a gag over his mouth. The camera zoomed in close on his face, revealing eyes wide with terror. If this guy was an actor, he was good. But I didn't think he was an actor.

The camera pulled back from his face, and then began to circle him as the person taping this walked to the other side of the bed. The man watched it the entire time. There was no sound, but you could tell he was whimpering.

Then the camera operator's gloved hand came into the frame, holding a pocket knife. It was opened to aspork .

I pressed the fast-forward button just as the camera operator went to work on the man's upper leg. For nearly five minutes I watched what was happening, and even in speeded-up motion on the tiny screen it made me violently queasy. Thespork was not the only tool used. The corkscrew was especially grisly.

I wanted to believe that it was all just special effects, but I knew that it wasn't. It was all one continuous shot, with no opportunities to replace the live actor with aKaro syrup-filled dummy. And when the pocketknife was upgraded to a hatchet, the man flailed around too much for his missing right arm to have been simply tucked out of sight.

No actor could maintain that level of terror and agony for so long.

This was real.

I took it off fast-forward as the man was finally allowed to die. The gloved hand, now drenched with blood, gave a thumbs-up sign to the camera. The screen faded to black.

Jennifer reappeared, smiling mischievously. "Ooooh,thathad to hurt, don't you think? That's all for this episode, but let's see some coming attractions."

The picture cut to a young woman tied to a chair. The scene shifted four more times, showing two other women and two men, all tied up and ripe for the torturing. Then the scene returned to Jennifer.

"I hope you've enjoyed Ghoulish Delights, and I hope you'll come see us again some time."

She blew a kiss at the camera,then ran her tongue over her upper lip as the picture faded out.

I fast-forwarded to the end, but there was nothing else on the tape.

Now what?

That was an easy one to answer. I was going straight to the police.

Chapter 11

I DIDN'T bother to rebury the coffin. Screw it. The cops were going to get the full story. The whole situation had been out of control before, but now it was too much for me to handle. Let the police deal with the lunatic making snuff films. This stretched well beyond the death of Michael Ashcraft, and I was done with it.

I walked along the side of the road at a brisk pace, the video camera tucked under my arm. No cars passed as I made my way to the church where Roger had parked. I half-expected The Apparition to show up and offer me another lift. It had been that kind of bizarre evening.

The flashlight battery died about halfway there, forcing me to walk in total darkness. I found it hard to be surprised.

I got in the car and took a couple of minutes to compose myself before I started the engine. I didn't want to get in a wreck and leave my kids with two parents in the hospital, or one in the morgue.

I pulled onto the road and searched the AM radio stations until I found the easiest listening music on the dial. I needed a station that would advertise itself as "Music for the aging, comatose kind of guy." My nerves were in desperate need of soothing. I thanked God I'd never tried drugs, or this would have sent me into an acid flashback for sure.

I let the music calm me down for about two minutes. Then a phone rang.

Roger didn't own a cellular phone. Unless he'd bought one within the past couple of days and forgot to mention it, I had a pretty strong suspicion that this was not going to be a call I wanted to hear.

The phone rang again. It wasn't difficult to locate, wedged between the front seats. I picked itup, noting that it looked just like the one Jennifer had given me, extended the antenna, and answered. "Hello?"