Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

"Nowhere around here, that's for sure," I said. "How's your back?"

"Hurts.But there's something wrapped under my shirt, so I think the bleeding's been taken care of. If I start gushing I'll be sure to let you know."

We got ourselves out of the ditch and began to walk along the side of the road, with Roger holding onto my shoulder for balance. I guess it would have been more dramatic had I been able to carry him rather than merely assist him in limping along, but unfortunately my best friend wasn't a tiny woman.

And why was he here at all? Why the whole setup about not calling the police if Roger was just going to be dumped in the ditch along with me?

"I miss anything important?" asked Roger, as we walked along the lonely, deserted road.

"Yeah.Jennifer was stabbed to death."

"Jesus. You saw it?"

"I heard it." I filled him in on everything that had happened since I'd been bashed with the chain. Roger shook his head with disbelief.

"So I came really close to never waking up again," he said with a shiver. "It's been a really good night to be a hypocrite and turn to religion."

"Well, I figure there are two explanations for you being released with me. Either something went really wrong, and the killer couldn't afford to keep you around, or he already got whatever he was looking for and didn't need you any more."

"Or else he has something worse in store," said Roger. "Who would have thought that the simple act of digging up a grave could get so complicated? And we didn't even get the twenty thousand bucks."

About fifteen minutes later, headlights washed over us as a beat-up pickup truck drove around a corner. I stuck out my thumb and it came to a stop beside us. The driver leaned over, threw open the passenger door, and gave us a look of surprise.

"Gosh, you're exactly the kind of people my mom would've told me never to pick up!"

The driver was a heavyset guy with glasses and a thick gray beard. He wore a bright red baseball cap with "Kiss Me" written on it. He was in his sixties or seventies...it was hard to say for sure, because his face sort of looked like somebody had yanked his skull out through his mouth then shoved it back in slightly crooked.

"Well, my mother always said never to hitchhike, so I guess we're even," I said.

"Hop on in, you two," said the driver, patting the seat next to him. "Actually,lemme find a towel to put on the seat first. No offense, of course."

"None taken."

He fished around on the floor until he found a towel that didn't look much cleaner than we were and spread it out on the seat. I helped Roger in, and then sat down next to him, shutting the door behind me.

"Where're you headed?" the driver asked.

"To the nearest phone."

The truck began to move again. "What can I call you two?"

I pointed to Roger. "This is RogerTanglen , and I'm Andrew Mayhem."

"Mayhem?That's aninterestin ' last name."

"Yeah, I think it explains a lot about my life. So what do we call you?"

"You can just call me The Apparition."

Roger and I exchanged a resigned look. With the kind of night we'd been having I guess it made perfect sense that we'd be picked up by a weirdo."Any special reason?"

"Nope.Just like the way it sounds. You two arelookin ' a little bit injured, if you don't mind mysayin ' so. What happened?"

"A rampaging weed whacker got us. We fought hard but in the end we were just no match for it."

"That's about what it looks like. I think there might be a rag or something in the glove compartment if youwanna clean up a bit."

I thanked him and found the rag. It appeared to have been used to clean heavy machinery, but I didn't want to be rude. I dusted my face off a bit, and then handed it to Roger.

"Looks like you took a few good hits," the Apparition noted, looking at me.

"Well, some of these marks are from last week's beating, not tonight's," I explained.

I began to straighten out my rumpled clothes. As I brushed off my leg, I noticed that something was stuck to the mud on my jeans. I pulled it off and held it up to examine it.

"What's that?" asked Roger.

"I'm not sure. Can I turn on the overhead light?"

"Be my guest," said The Apparition.

I flipped on the overhead light and saw that it appeared to be the corner of a playing card, though not from a traditional deck. It had the number 1 and depicted what looked like the end of a forked tail.

"I don't know what this is," I admitted. "Maybe it's Satanist currency.A Devil Dollar."

"I hate those damn Satanists," The Apparition muttered. "I haven't met any, but I sure have read about `em, and what I've read I hate."

I put the corner of the card in my pocket. It probably wasn't important, but it also wasn't exactly going to weigh me down. And any clue might be helpful if I wanted to track down the killer, not that I was necessarily going to try and do so.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked.

"The radio said it was about two-thirty, but I forget how long ago that was."

"Thanks," I said. I shared another look with Roger, and we made a silent pact to keep speech to a minimum for the rest of the ride.

THE APPARITION dropped us off at a convenience store and wished us luck in our future endeavors, especially if they involved bringing harm to Satanists. After finding out from the clerk that it was almost four and that we were thirty miles from Chamber, I went to the pay phone and dug out a quarter. I also thought to check for my wallet, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn't been stolen.

"Andrew?" asked Helen, after one of her co-workers finally retrieved her. "Are you okay?"

"Um, no, not really.I'm here with Roger. Do you think you could get off early?"

"I'll have to do some pleading, but yeah, if it's an emergency of course I can. What happened?"

"I'll explain it all when I see you. By the way, could you be a sweetheart and bring stuff to help tend to a couple of arrow wounds?"

After giving the specifics on my location, I hung up and we went inside to buy a few Hershey's bars. The talk with my wife was not going to be pretty, and we were going to need a serious sugar buzz to get through it.

Chapter 5

WHEN HELEN finally made it to the convenience store, I gave her one of the candy bars as a peace offering, though I was pretty certain that the astounding power of chocolate wasn't going to get me out of this one. She reacted to our injuries with no small degree of concern, and insisted on checking out Roger's wounds right there in the parking lot.

"What on earth happened to you guys?" she demanded.

"Maybe you should wait until you're done fixing him before I explain," I said. "I'd really hate for you to make a mistake because you were pissed."

She regarded me intently, and then agreed that might be a good idea and took off Roger's shirt. "Whoever did this certainly wasn't a doctor," she said, unwrapping the cloth. "Can you lift your arms above your head?"

Roger did so with a wince.

"It got you in the shoulder blade. A couple inches to the right and you could've been paralyzed for life. That's why you shouldn't hang around my husband."

She cleaned out the wound and redressed it, assuring Roger that he was going to be okay. The leg wound was also not going to cause permanent damage, though Roger would definitely be on crutches for a while.

"And I'm driving you two to the hospital for x-rays, just in case," she said. "Don't argue."

I'm pretty stupid on a regular basis, but I wasn't stupid enough to argue.

As Helen drove us back to Chamber, Roger in the back seat, me in the hot seat, I told her the truth about what had happened. Okay, that's a lie. If I'd told her what really happened, she would have been an absolute nervous wreck and I would have been dead from the stress of living with a woman in that state of anxiety.