Trick or Treat - The Annual Teen Massacre

Chapter Seven 4AM - 5AM

Chapter Seven. 

The graveyard was the last place David wanted to be right now. He didn't suffer enough injuries to really reap the benefits of being here. Not only that but staying here had a lot of disadvantages 

For one they did not receive any announcements here. The people that organized the Halloween night made it so that even mobile phone reception was impossible. Not that he thought of bringing it anyway. The screen had killed his uncle when he was his age. He was surrounded by five phone company fanatics who loved to send around SPAM. When His screen lighted up, and made him easy target practice for some phone store executives who had set up the trap weeks before the event. 

The no reception part wasn't the worst. He knew that his GPS signal was jammed here as well. This meant that his parents, if they didn't pay close attention to his location before entering the graveyard, would assume he was dead right now. In the past it made parents go outside and look for their children which sometimes meant their children's death rather than their survival. He knew his parents weren't like that. But still he didn't like the idea to meet them before the end of this night. 

Then there was the issue of the corpses. All the children who were killed in the night and picked up by the cleaners, were dumped into graves at the local graveyard. They thought it would be fitting that children who were not injured bad enough should take care of the corpses of their friends. So everyone who sought refuge were forced by the few adults that were here to protect the kids to dig graves for the new brought dead.

David saw a lot of children sob and mourn over corpses that seemed to have been familiar to them. He even recognized some of the dead. He had spotted some of them at school. Some were in his class even. But he didn't seem to care too much about that.

Once you turn twelve and the teachers start to prepare you for this night, you start to create distance between your classmates. Most might not be alive a year later. They may as well be the ones causing you to die at that very night! You never know. David used to have close friends before that. Friends he played soccer with. Friends that stayed over and they played together all night long. But once he turned twelve everything had changed. The trust was gone. Even the fantasies of them all miraculously surviving disappeared. It was a nasty brainwash the teachers had attempted on them, he thought. And they had been right. 

The worst thing about the graveyard isn't the burying of the corpses. After twenty or so minutes, David got used to the dirt and the digging. It wasn't really that the grown-ups here forced them to dig. But if he stopped he was told to carry on immediately. He saw kids around him becoming very tired. Some had a lot of wounds from this night already. Some even looked nearly dead already.   They all wielded the very heavy spades that were handed to them. He refused when they tried to hand him one. He had a gardening trowel. When he showed it to the guards they smiled.

"It's good to know there are people still trying to make the best of the night. You seem fully prepared, boy. Carry on."

He looked at the young corpses that were piled up a couple of feet away from him. He saw all kinds of nasty ways that their lives ended though. Some had lost quite a lot of limbs, others had their insides removed. Poison, burn marks, pierce wounds. Then he suddenly realized something. He turned his head to one of the adults that were guarding him and a few other kids. He was equipped with four crossbows, two daggers and it seemed he was wearing a very heavy body armor. Almost like a suit of armor perhaps, only more flexible. And for some reason a helmet seemed over the top to him, because he wasn't wearing one. 

"Sir, can you answer a question please?", David asked.

"Well of course my dear boy. What's the matter?", the man sounded kind. Not like one of those killers outside the graveyard. He remembered his father telling the people at the graveyard were merely volunteering. Every year less and less volunteers had showed up.