Hanging on Bones
Chapter 2 More Bones
*scratch* *scratch* *scratch*
….
This is quite annoyingly boring process here. Scratching away at lid of my own coffin… The wood is quite hard and sturdy. I would never expect such a good quality of something the dead are buried in.
Even though I don’t have any way to tell the time here, at least several hours must have passed. The fruit of my laborious work in reaaaaly confined space is just an elongated nick in the face of the wood. The water must have been leaking inside due to some imperfection of either material itself, or joining point. The glue carpenters use when connecting two pieces might have ran out at that point or simply corroded due to time. In either case, the obstructed and small movement of my hand, coupled with the thinness of this lid, might prove that simply sawing at it with my meagre rib bone will take weeks if not months. I would go mad from boredom by then. That is definitely not a happy thought.
Still, the small jagged indent that I created has to be of at least some use.
I just hope it doesn’t destroy my only tool… but I guess it’s worth a try. Making little more space by unwinding myself, I slam the bone into the groove I created. Ah success! It went little bit deeper!
Now time for the tricky part of moving it around…. No… seems it does not budge….
Damn… time to risk it. Lying flat on my back I move to the upper part of the coffin, brace myself, and kick with all my might downwards on to the bone. Success!
The bone shifted making the crack bigger! It spreads in straight line top to bottom. Then it must be connecting point huh. Shifting the bone from side to side and working here and there proves to give some results so I keep going at it. I’m lucky it’s on the edge, near one of the walls. Opening the crack that goes through whole length might have been too difficult, but with it near of one of the sides at least one part of the lid has been made more vulnerable. The fact that it goes lengthwise gives me easier access to it.
One solid swing between the crack and the wall, on the spot that looks weakest, and my bony fist plows through to the other side. Part of the wood and dirt fall on top of my shoulder.
Good good! Now I just have to swipe all the debris down to one side and work the hole a bit larger. But first I’d better check how deeply I’m buried. My hand and arm easily goes through the small hole. There’s not much flesh to obstruct it and the range of movements I can make is much wider. Luckily the earth is little damp and is not falling uncontrollably. It is easily workable. All the dirt I scooped out is placed in the furthest corners.
Little bit of work and I cannot reach any further upwards. Damn it. Seems I’m buried quite deep. I guess I have to get more reach by moving into the hole more than just my arm.
Widening the hole and then busting some of the lid goes smoothly. It’s still time consuming so I just make it barely large enough so that I can squeeze through. Down on my, ah so nice and cozzy bed it already started getting uncomfortably tight.
Longer reach and good support quickly proves crucial. After few more scoops of earth I find granite stone lid. Rotten luck again. I seem to be buried in traditional fashion of my region, with very big slab of rock covering rectangular pedestal like structure, at the head of which is headstone and engraved nameplate.
That has its pluses and minuses. Usually the slab is removable and they burry members of family on top of one another. I bet if I dug down I would find my grandmother. I’m also veeery lucky that no one was buried atop of me yet, since there seems to be enough space for it left.
All being told, it also means that for the graveyard keeper’s sake the slab should be light enough and can be slid across the stone pedestal. That still means heavy. When I was alive I bet I would not be able to move it. But who knows? At least I have good perch now. I just hope my bones do not break.
*gsshh* *gsshh* *gsshhhh* sound of stone craping stone.
Light! Damn finally I see something! With a bit of effort I slowly peak out.
Cemetery. Go figures. There are plenty of other graves all around but nothing seems to be moving in the immediate vicinity except for the branches. The area is filled with the trees and clumps of bushes disorderly sticking out between the graves. Also seems like it has not been cleaned in a while since there are old leaves, dried flowers and burned out candles on top of most graves.
I guess it’s safe to go out.
Slipping out something catches my attention. The bench next to my grave. Just behind it there is this huuuge oak. On around knee level the trunk splits into two even halves, which grow at an angle to each other, making it look as if there were two trees here.
There’s no way I would mistake this tree for any else. The problem is, the last time I’ve seen it, it was less than a meter high. Looking around on my grave I confirm my suspicion. Even through the engraved plate is broken and unreadable there is no way in hell I would mistake this grave. I was coming here frequently with my parents when I was little. It’s actually my Grand-grandfather that must be below my coffin.
Damn. At least I know where I am. This cemetery is nothing to joke about. I lived in huge tri-city, spawning across the banks of a gulf. The growth of the cities was hampered in two directions, one being the sea, and the other being enormous national forest reserve. Over the years that made the three cities merge into one another, taking up all the available space. Surrounded on all sides by the sea of trees this cemetery is housing the dead from all three cities. That is quite the number. Of course there are smaller ones scattered all over but this one takes the cake. It spawns hills and valleys on enormous area, to the point that back in the day I actually did get lost several times.
*sshh*
Some scraping noises snap me back from my reverie. I quickly crouch behind one of the tombstones and listen.
*sshh*
There it is again. I peek out to look in the direction of the sound. But I can’t see anything of note. Must be too far away. Slowly taking light steps I move in that direction. Hard going through. In some places the rows of the graves are packed very tightly to the point of touching each other, and I do not wish to step on any of them. But I am quite thin now so I somehow manage.
My intended resting place, like most graves in this cemetery, is on hillside. To accommodate for the slope, each row of graves is little bit higher or lower then the other. The level difference depends on the incline of the hill.
The shuffling seems to be coming from the same row I came out from the ground on. So it’s more the matter of squeezing through from time to time than jumping down. After another rounding huge tree I suddenly see it. The white is easily noticeable in the meagre starlight coming through the foliage. There is skeleton shuffling it’s feet between the graves.
I stand there dumb struck. So I am not alone huh.
The noise I was hearing was its bones scrapping on the gravestones from time to time.
“Hey there” - I try to say to it but no voice is coming out. Figures. Wait. I would not like to be called ‘it’ either. Though there’s no way to tell its gender so… Well… judging by height and shoulder width I will assume “he” is appropriate.
Stupid irrelevant thoughts seem to be my defence mechanism for stressful situations huh.
Well no use just standing here staring from the distance.
‘He’s’ facing away from me and I do not wish to startle him. There is not enough walking space for two persons to pass each other so I overtake him one row above. Stepping out some distance in front of him, I’m surprised at lack of his reaction. He simply continuous his unhurried pace as if I wasn’t there.
As I stand there, I take a closer look at the thing before me. He’s definitely in worse condition then I am. No visible tissue or clothes whatsoever. Rib cage is empty but whole. Bones on both his legs and arms have visible cracks on them. Several of the teeth are missing and there is big hole in his skull with cracks spreading in all directions. But the most disturbing fact is the red glow in the place where eyes used to be.
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I wonder if mine also glow like that. *Brrrrr* That makes me shiver…
I try to get his attention by waving my hand. Still no reaction. He’s so close I can touch him, but it’s like he can’t see me. Trying all kinds of things proves useless. I even poked him and he didn’t react. Just the moment his shuffling gate would make him bump into me, he stopped for a while and then made slight turn as if trying to pass by me.
Seems like no-one’s home. He either spent too much time trapped inside his coffin and went mad or was keeping to movie standards from the get-go.
John then! I will call him John! Ha! I always wanted to have an pet-skeleton!. Hahaha
Well jokes aside. I guess I will search my surroundings little bit more. Leaving John to his own devices I start following my row of graves to the bigger tract that should be somewhere close. The direction I should take to reach there is easy to choose as I’m on familiar gentle hill. Keeping the down slope on my right should take me where I want. Looking around all I see is just sea of graves illuminated by starlight. Though now that I think about it, the amount of starlight coming through the foliage should not allow me to see this clearly.
The things that I use for seeing, whatever they are, seem to do more than just give off evil feeling huh. Seeing almost perfectly with just tiny bit of light definitely is useful ability to have. Shame that it does not include perfect pitch-black vision. My panic in the coffin would be sooooo much more organized then.
I finally reached the familiar gravel path. One side winds up the hill and quickly disappears with its twists and turns. The other one leads down to main tracts. I might see clearly despite the dark, but the sheer mass of headstones, bushes and trees of various kinds, made it impossible to see far, even back when I was here alive and kicking during the day time.
I guess I will head in the direction of the main entrance of the cemetery. It’s about forty minutes to get there. I should be able to find some clues that way.
But before I head out, I walk upslope several meters to the water point. Before our each visit, my grandmother always used to stop there. Next to big trash container, filled to the brim with dead flowers and spent candles, stands rack and small stone structure with rusty faucet and drain. On the rack there are always some watering cans, rakes and other gardening utensils ready to be borrowed by the families to clean the graves of their dearest.
I pick one of several small spades that are hanging there. The biggest I can find. It’s not much but I can at least try to use it for defence and as a dull knife. Its rusty, wide and short so I doubt it will be of any use. Still, seeing as there are others similar to me, who knows what creatures might be lurking out here.
I turn around and start following the path downhill at slow, careful pace. Wouldn’t want to jump straight out into maws of some monster now would I?
Lower on the hill I notice the graves are steadily getting cleaner and cleaner, with occasional candle flickering here and there. Seems like the cemetery is being in use huh. I wonder if that is good sign or not. Seeing my parts so run down I was starting to suspect it might have been abandoned. But those are clear indications that live people are coming here regularly. I bet it’s not during night hours though. If I remember correctly except for the special religious days the cemetery was always closed between five in the evening and seven in the morning. There is only one road skirting the furthest edge of the cemetery with almost no parking space. During the day time there are plenty of metropolitan free buses, with last one leaving at half past the closing time or the like. So normally there should be no stragglers during the night time, except for the graveyard keeper.
After a while of walking something catches my attention between the trees.
Perking up I slow down even more and very carefully start moving in that direction. I’m getting used to my legs taking up less space, which allows me to squeeze through between the graves that would normally block my path. The differences in levels are also an issue. Still, the flash of movement I have seen must have been really far away, so it still takes some time. Approaching bushes that were in general direction of the movement I noticed I start hearing more of the rustling noises and scraping sounds. Coming to a stop I peek out from behind the bush.
There they are. Five of them. Three skeletons and two zombies. They didn’t notice me, but I don’t think that matters. They have the same feel to them as John did. Cracked bones, with some parts missing here and there and vacant stares in space. One is even missing jaw bone. As for Zombies the only difference would be that they have plenty of decaying flesh loosely attached to the bones here and there. Their stride is heavier and they also have remnants of clothes on them. To my surprise they are not moaning or grunting as I would expect of them. Utterly silent. All five of them are simply wandering about, seemingly oblivious of one another and anything around them. The only thing that is keeping them together in such proximity seems to be the fact, that they are on small gravel clearing. The slope on this hill is on rather sharp side and this place might have been meant as a resting point. For that purpose it has been artificially evened out more than usual and all the graves here are facing inwards. The ones that are reversed in comparison with the rest of the graveyard, have little metal barriers and sudden six meter drop behind them. On the other hand up slope has, in addition to high incline, a natural barrier of dense bushes that I’m hiding in.
No wonder they seem to be gathering here. They must have wandered in from above. The only way out is either sharp staircase on the left or even steeper – ladder like - down-ward staircase to the right that I would have problems using even when I was still alive.
Even though they have vacant, unseeing gazes, they seem to recognize and avoid any obstacles they encounter.
As I watch, huge piece of, what I think must have been muscular arm at some point, falls off to the ground. The zombie it belonged to didn’t even notice. As soon as it hits the ground I hear thunderous crashing sounds from behind and left of me. As I look around scared, the creature that is just blur of shadows passes at tremendous speed. It crashed through yet another clump of bushes and before I knew it, stopped on one of the far graves. It held to its mouth in both of its claw like hands, the piece of rotten meat that just dropped on the ground. The movement of tearing the flesh brought its head from huddled crouch to almost straight position, enabling me to see more clearly what it was.
The shape of a human, glistening with gore and red exposed muscles. There is no skin or hair whatsoever, and instead kind of wet red membrane is covering its face in patches. All of the visible teeth are jaggedly pointed, with both hands and feet that are more like claws then what they used to be. Only small red holes where you would expect ears. The starlight accentuates the wetness of perpetually rotting meat.
In my horror I’ve shifted my weight and slipped a bit, making a noise.
The ghoul’s face snapped in my direction and froze. If I had any possibility to do so I would shit myself right then and there. The creature’s mad gaze with its lidless eyes looked more like that of a feral animal then one of intelligent being. Slowly it lifted its head and sniffed the air several times. When it went back to eating I collapsed to the ground.
It’s the first time I thought that I’m lucky I’m already dead.
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