What Sits At The Bottom of Plot 105

                Charlie shrugged. “Most die leaving behind some nagging bitch, a bunch of debt and friends who forget about them two months later. So, that leaves us to start investing in ourselves.”

                “What’s the weirdest thing Pleky ever found down here?”

                “Lots of weird things,” Charlie said. “Found a photo of a little girl in the hands of a man Pleky and I took a gold pendant from. This one time, Sal had this notion that an old lady was wearing pearls. We opened the thing up, but all we found around her neck was some plastic hard white balls on string.”

                Dennis smiled. “Means the family robbed her before you could.”

                “Makes sense, I guess, you can’t really take it with you.”

                “You never know what’s down in one of these things,” Dennis said, then knocked his knuckles against the floor of the plot. There was a hard sound that caught Charlie’s interest. Something else was down here more than dirt. “Guy at the funeral home suggested this one, said it needed to be dug cause it had been there too long. No debts for this tycoon but the real estate was up on it.”

                Charlie grabbed the manifest, looking at the plot number for it. Plot one-oh-five. He ran his finger down the index, seeing that the plot had been occupied for at least a hundred-and-sixty years or more. Nothing by the name in regards to a body or who owned it. Charlie looked over at Dennis, shrugged. “So, what makes this one so special? We got tons going down the hill from this era.”

                Dennis shook his head. “Funeral guy said this was some tycoon, family died off or something during the consumption epidemic or something.”

                Charlie was surprised. “You know about the consumption?”

                Dennis tossed dirt, joking. “Hey, I watched The History Channel. Got all of the details, ain’t no dummy, you know.”

                Charlie pointed to the floor of the grave. “What makes you think he’s a tycoon? The funeral guy is a nut job, he could be telling you anything, right?”

                “Except for this,” Dennis said, then wiped at the floor with his hand. The concrete lid of the casket read: DO NOT UNSEAL.

                Charlie jumped up, excited. “I’ll bust through it with the backhoe. Give me five minutes.”

                Dennis nodded. They both left the plot. Charlie ran over the backhoe which was parked over by the main house. The place was quiet for six-thirty on a Saturday morning. The sun ain’t risen yet, we still got time this winter in the dark to do our thing, get out before the world wakes up. Charlie got into the backhoe cab, ignited the engine and drove over to Dennis, who stood at the side of the plot, eying it careful.

                Charlie set the stabilized into the ground, locking them into place. He used the control panel, made the articulate arm descend down into the plot. The metal dropped quick enough that Charlie heard the concrete crack under pressure. Dennis signaled, smiling, and they repeated the arm movement three more times. A plume of dust shot up from the plot, catching Dennis in the face. It was something awful that made Dennis wave his hand, trying to see clear into the plot.

                “I think I got it,” Charlie said, turning off the engine. “You think we got it?”

                Dennis didn’t respond, instead focusing on the contents of the plot. He push his hands on his knees, hunched over to face down into the plot. Charlie sat in the backhoe cab, watching Dennis, waiting to see if the arm had to go down once more into to crack the casket’s concrete lid.

                “You okay?” Charlie said.

                Dennis squinted his eyes, focused on the plot. “I think I saw something down there.”

                “Gold?”

                Something reached out of the plot, latched onto Dennis’ ankle fast. It yanked him to grave. Dennis fell onto his back, his hands moving around, screaming. Then he fell into the plot amid the cloud of dust. Charlie jumped from the backhoe, hearing a sickening sound of fluids. He ran to the plot, eying it careful as Dennis silenced his scream.

                “Dennis,” Charlie said. “This ain’t no joke, man.”

                From the dust cloud sprang a fanged skeletal creature drenched in blood. Charlie had no time to react as the skeletal creature reached out, grabbed Charlie’s leg, and pulled him into the plot. Charlie fell down, feeling his arm crack as it knocked against the concrete. There was Dennis, arms out, skin white, eyes open, scared. The skeletal creature hissed again, coming forward and biting Charlie down deep on his jugular, draining him of life. Pleky was right; you’ll never know what you’ll find in a grave.