Take Heart
Our work is carried out in the shadows. Creatures of the night, we come out to play when everyone else is comfortably tucked up in bed. You should never see us. If you do, we’ve failed and the penalties for failure are extremely harsh. It’s why I run regularly - if you want to punish me, you’ve got to catch me first.
I hadn’t intended to enter into the family business. It hadn’t really appealed and I fancied something a little more… cerebral. Law, perhaps, or politics, even. Deep down, I’d always known I was dreaming, though. Without money to pay for education, not to mention a sponsor and an entirely new identity to hide where I’d come from, there wasn’t really much of a choice. Still. It was a living, I supposed.
“Hold that lantern still!” came a barked order from the grave. “I can’t see a thing down here.”
Normally we just lifted the entire body when we were on a job. It was what we got most demand for and it was pretty straightforward. Once in a while, though, we got an order for something specific and my uncle always preferred to get it out on site. Said it saved the hassle of body disposal, that no one would want the other bits and besides, if we had mistimed it and were chased, it was a lot easier to get away carrying our bounty if it was just the odd limb or organ than it was attempting to run with a stiff. We always had to ditch and run when that happened and Uncle hated working without pay. I’d have preferred to take the body home and worry about the rest later. I hated standing around freezing, but I wasn’t in charge so I had to go with what he wanted.
“Right. Have a heart!”
Woah! I almost dropped the lantern as something dark flew out of the grave towards me and I attempted to juggle the two. I hated when he did that. Of course, he hadn’t thrown the actual heart at me, it was just a clod of earth, but I fell for it every time, since he’d done it that once. He said he liked to keep me on my toes. I’ll never forget the shower of intestines he treated me to. Many’s the time I’d wished it were his body we were unearthing.
A moment later, a sack thudded onto the side of the hole we’d dug, Uncle pulling himself out after it. “That’s it, lad,” he said. “Who knows what they want that little lot for, but ours is not to question why. Let’s get out of here. There’s an ale with my name on it and it’s only getting warmer the longer we’re out here.”
A shout followed by barking came from by the church. Someone had seen us!
Uncle grinned at me. “Right lad. You know the drill.” He took off into the distance, leaving me to grab the bag carrying the requested body parts and our equipment. He could move fast for an old man and he knew that if he wasn’t carrying any of the paraphernalia of grave robbing, he’d be able to sweet talk his way out of prison, especially with a few coins to lubricate the deal. I wasn’t senior enough to have that luxury and Heaven forbid I come home without our tools, which cost money, and our order, which made money. I’d pay for the difference out of my hide if I was lucky. I’d heard rumours about what happened to an apprentice who had left a spade behind on a job once and I had no desire to find out if they were true.
I was organised though and it was a matter of moments for me to gather our gear and take off as if the hounds of Hell were chasing me, which they may well have been. I didn’t bother to look back to check.
There is one thing you can say about working with the dead. There’s nothing like it to make you feel truly alive.