Happy Death Men

‘Have ye got it?’ MacNeil emerged from behind a gravestone, lugging a form only too like himself, wrapped in coarse sacking. The Edinburgh scene was lit by only a sliver of moon. The lamplight in the adjacent street flickered.

     ‘Aye. Come on, let’s go.’

     ‘Wait, wait. Is it the one?’

     ‘We’re all the same here. I mean, they are.’

     ‘Yer forgetting yerself.’ Richardson moved to grasp the limp shape by the feet, and concentrated on moving through the graveyard: they were on a timetable. The fitful light from the street by the church showed the dark stain of the ground, forced like a lock. MacNeil found it hard to take his eyes off it, still in his line of sight as he backed towards the cemetery gate, the head of the body in his care lolling from side to side. The arms, which had been pressed together in a serene pose, flopped apart, trailing on the ground and seeming to claw at MacNeil in passing. He jumped, almost dropping their charge. Richardson glared. ‘Get a grip.’

     ‘The Professor should be waiting. Soup and bread, he said-‘ MacNeil negotiated a rough tussock in the older part of the cemetery, and nearly tripped, looking behind him towards the gate.

     ‘Shut it. He promised money, that’s all we need.’ The figure between them seemed reluctant to leave, one of the hands catching in a briar bush and tugging at the thorny stems. Richardson swore under his breath, and released his end. MacNeil did likewise, mopping his brow and crossing himself, looking around in fear. ‘Stop that,’ snarled the other. ‘You know it’s no good. Well- get on with it, then!’

     MacNeil bent over, reluctant for such direct contact. He pulled the sleeve of his overcoat over his hand, and untangled the stiff, unrelenting fingers from the bush. He looked up briefly to check the rest of their path was clear. ‘We havena all night!’ he was reminded. They picked up the pace again, and emerged onto the cobbled street of the Cowgate. MacNeil was clearly relieved as they tipped the body into a small handcart, and covered it over. The wheels creaked slightly as they set off for the back door of the hospital. A bare arm flopped out again, unseen by them in their haste. It seemed to be pointing back at the graveyard.