The Tin Bird

The Graveyard Shift

Chapter 4: The Graveyard Shift

-Some time later-

It was a damp evening, perfect for digging. The ground had that squishy, loose feel to it that always made Miff’s stomach churn when he was on the hunt. But it kept his and Breather’s footsteps muffled as they meandered between tombstones in Newbird Cemetery. It made the shoveling an easy task.

“Here it is,” said Breather, “this is her alright, Miss Margaret Collector. Imagine that, digg’n up one of the great Collectors an’ its us he gives the job to. Keep your ‘ead lad and there might just be a decent tip in it for the both of us.”

“Keep quiet!” Miff hissed rather loudly. “Want the whole city to know what we’re on about? And don’t think I hadn’t thought of that. Just remember who the brains of this operation is.”

“Aye. Brains, you got some, not much, but some,” Breather admitted. “Just you remember who’s got the stomach for it.” He lurched over the new grave and threw the shovel at Miff’s feet. “Dig.”

Miff took the shovel with a scowl and started to tear away at the loose dirt. He didn’t see why he always had to dig. Breather was the big one, what with his burly arms and six and a half foot stature. Miff was scrawny in comparison; a skinny thing with eyes much too big for his head and feet much too small to support them. His disproportionate appearance had a way of making the girls go squeamish even when Breather was nearby. Breather was handsome enough despite his occasional asthmatic wheezing. And Miff had often envied the thought of being strong and broad shouldered like his older brother.

“What’s it look like?” Asked Breather after a few minutes had passed.

“I don’t know yet, keep watch,” said Miff. He continued tossing the dirt in a pile until his shovel hit the surface of something hard. The noise it made was enough to get Breather’s attention and together they scraped away the last remnants of soil. The coffin sat revealed and undamaged; a fine black oak for a fine lady of society.

“This is it,” said Breather, “let’s have a look-see at the old bird now, shall we? And don’t look so scared, Miff. She ought to be good and fresh.”

Miff tried to hide his anguish as they cut the latches one by one. Most coffins were not so well protected, but the rich liked to bury themselves with the knowledge that their fine jewels would not be stolen off their fingers. And, in their defense, that was exactly what Miff and Breather planned on doing.

Once they’d gotten their fingers wedged between the boards, they lifted with a great heave-ho. They tossed the lid off to the side and got a real good glimpse of the noble lady who lay at rest inside.

Miff turned away and vomited onto the dirt he’d just dug up.

“Wha?” Asked Breather. He stared with his mouth hanging open.

“Moron!” Said Miff. He chanced one more glance at the cadaver before turning away again. Of what he’d allowed himself to see, there was only a hint of flesh, the white of bone, and the collective pulse of worms and larvae festering inside the corpse.

“You took us to the wrong grave. This aint Margaret Collector!”

“Yeah it is,” Breather insisted. “I know the insides and outs of this place. You really think I’d misplace where a Collector got buried?”

“She was supposed to have been buried yesterday,” said Miff. “This one’s been here at least a month, maybe longer! It’s got a beard for all-mighty’s sake!”

“Oh, yeah.” Breather scratched his head over the conundrum they now faced. “Strange,” he said, and pointed his lantern at the stone engraving of the tombstone. It read very clearly: Margaret Collector. Loving mother, caring sister, aged sixty-seven years. “Strange indeed.”

“Ugh, would you stop leer’n at it and put it back in the ground?” Asked Miff. “I can see it’s eyes a’bulg’n from it’s head.” To his horror, Breather opted instead to stick a hand in the dead man’s pants pocket.

“We didn’t do all this work for noth’n,” he said. “Might as well see what he left with.”

Miff kept his eyes shut, but could still hear the squish of flesh and rattle of bones as his brother searched the dead man. When he did open his eyes though, he saw something that caused him more worry than cadavers. It was a faint light flickering from the other end of the cemetery. And it was getting closer.

“Breather,” he hissed.

“I think I found something,” said Breather. “One second-”

“Make it quick,” said Miff. The urgency in his tone translated to Breather, but not enough to get him to leave whatever it was he'd discovered. “There's someone com'n.”

“Alrigh', just one moment-”

“Breather, I don't wanna abandon you out 'ere, but so help me I will leave you in this pit if you don't hop out right now!” The light was getting closer. If the person hadn't spotted them yet he'd be sure to soon. “Mother always said; don't you boys get yourselves caught do'n someth'n stupid. An look at us now, Breather, look at us now. If she could only see us what do you think she'd say?”

“Got it!” Said Breather. With that, he climbed out of the hole. The two of them dashed off just as a shout was called after them from several yards away. It took nothing but a few moments for them to escape over the fence and disappear, but Miff was certain they'd been spotted in the light of their pursuer's lantern.