Authors: Andrew Neiderman
accepted all this. Up until last year he was still talking about
getting a job closer to the city, she whispered, as though it were one
of their personal secrets.
What changed his mind?
I don't know. Oh, I suppose it had something to do with his heart
problem. His life changed radically after that.
What actually happened?
He kept ignoring the symptoms and refusing to see Dr. Beezly. Finally
one day he collapsed and we had to rush him to the hospital. Dr. Beezly
said he had been a walking time bomb for weeks. Just like Bob to have
been stubborn and cause himself greater problems.
After that, security, comfort, and all that went along with it was more
important to him than anything else. He and Dr. Beezly have grown
especially close. They even have some business dealings together. My
husband, she said, not hiding her own surprise, has become some thing of
an entrepreneur. Far cry from an actor, huh?
You don't sound very happy about it, Tracy, Jessie said.
Well, I don't love him any less, but you already sensed from your first
encounter with him how cynical he can be. Funny . . . she said, her
voice drifting off.
What is? Jessie asked when the silence lingered.
How we lose our dreams and ambitions. They're like balloons, firm and
full when we're young and optimistic.
As time goes by, they lose air, soften; and then one day we wake up and
discover some strong wind has taken them off. You're left with a limp
string in your fingers and the vague memory of what it was supposed to
be.
I'm sorry, Jessie said softly, reaching for Tracy's hand again.
Oh no, please. I didn't mean to put a damper on our day. Really, I
exaggerate anyway. You mustn't take me seriously. If I ever sound off
this self-pity again, shut me right up. Bob gets furious at me when I
do that. We do have a lot more than I ever dreamed we would.
Besides, I'm feeling very stupid moaning and bitching to someone like
you. With all you've been through, you should be the one moaning and
bitching.
Jessie smiled.
You should hear me when I get started. She patted Tracy's hand. I'm
looking forward to your dinner I'll phone you tomorrow, Tracy said. Just
in case you need any errands run or want to run some your self.
Thank you. Bye, Jessie said, and started down the walk, moving with the
self-assurance of someone who had been living there for years and years.
Tracy shook her head in admiration and then got back into her car and
drove off as soon as she saw Jessie step onto the porch and approach the
front door.
But Jessie didn't open it and enter the hallway. She paused because she
heard the sound of digging far off to her left. It was coming from the
cemetery. Her first thought, of course, was that someone had died and a
grave was being prepared. She stood there for a few moments, mesmerized
by the rhythmic thud of a shovel stabbing at the earth.
As she listened a horrifying vision began to take form.
It was like having a waking nightmare. In it the digging was being
carried out by a skeleton who was trying to return to its coffin. Shreds
of rotted clothing hung from its shoulders and arms. As it worked,
shavings of bone began to peel away from its hands. It fell like
dandruff all about it and made it work with more fury. Finally it
struck the lid of the coffin and fell to its knees to brush away the
remaining soil. It worked its bony fingers under the lid and pulled up
with all its might, but the coffin wouldn't open.
The skeleton threw back its skull and opened its jaw.
A death rattle emerged. Seconds later the spine snapped followed by all
of its appendages. It fell in a pile of bones on the top of the coffin,
and the dirt that had been removed began to fall in over it again.
The grotesque imagery sent her scurrying through her purse for her key.
She entered the house quickly and inserted the key into her front door.
Not until she had closed and locked it behind her did she feel any sense
of relief and security. Then, with her heart still pounding, she made
her way to the bedroom to lie down. Lee's phone call from school woke
her.
Are you all right? he asked.
Yes. I fell asleep for a little while.
Oh, sorry.
No, that's all right, she said. I'm sure I should be getting up and
preparing supper. How are things going today?
Better, he said. How was your day with Tracy?
Very nice. We had a wonderful lunch in the village diner.
I'm glad. I guess you heard them come to take that truck away this
morning, huh?
Yes, there was the sound of a tow truck. Have you heard anything more
about it?
No. I see the Benson kid is present, though. Okay, I'll be home on
time tonight, he promised.
Have a good practice, she said, and cradled the phone. She got out of
bed and went to the bathroom to dab her face with some cold water.
Afterward, feeling somewhat revived, she headed for the kitchen. But as
soon as she entered it she heard something that took her to the side
window, the one facing the cemetery.
She worked it open to hear better and listened.
There was more digging going on, but now it was much closer to the
house. How many people could have passed away? she wondered. It was
creepy living right beside a cemetery like this, she thought. Perhaps
it would be better to talk to Lee about finding them someplace else. She
closed the window and went to prepare the dinner.
After she set the table, she went into the living room to listen to the
news, but before she turned it on, she heard the patter of footsteps on
the patio and then the porch. From the pace of the gait, she knew it
was old man Carter. Although they had hardly spoken up to now, she
thought it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with their
upstairs neighbor. She went to the apartment front door and opened it
just as he entered the house.
Mr. Carter? she said from her doorway. She could smell the scent of
freshly dug earth.
Hello, he said. He closed the heavy, oak door behind him.
You had a lot of work to do today? she asked, smiling. Even though he
was only a few feet from her she couldn't get a sense of him the way she
usually could get a sense of someone. It was as if she were speaking to
a voice with no body. It unnerved her and she embraced herself quickly,
for the pause between her question and his reply seemed endless.
No more than usual, he finally said. Some prunin'
some trimmin'.
Oh? I thought. . . I mean, I just assumed you were preparing some
new graves today. All that digging, she added.
Diggin'? I didn't do any diggin' today, Mrs. Over street. Nobody new
died. Yet, he added.
But I could have sworn . . .
Got enough hot water? he asked.
What? Oh, yes.
Sometimes that damn hot-water heater don't kick in and I gotta go down
to the basement and hit the restart button. No sense callin' Charley
DeGroot if you don't have hot water. Just call me. He'll only call me
anyway, Carter added. She heard him take the first step.
Oh, thank you. I bet you were wondering what all that commotion was
late last night, she said quickly.
He stopped on the stairway.
Commotion?
Someone got drunk and fell out of his truck right out in front here. We
had to phone the police.
Never heard a thing, he said. I sleep better than the dead, he added,
and laughed. I know. I hear them tossin' and turnin' all night out
there.
He continued up the stairway. She started to close the door when she
caught a whiff of that horrendous stench again. It seemed to move past
her, following the old man. In seconds it was gone and all that
remained was the lingering scent of freshly dug earth.
Why did he say he wasn't doing any digging? She distinctly heard it. If
he wasn't digging in the cemetery, who was?
After she closed the door, she stood there listening to the sound of the
old man's footsteps now above her. Yes, she said to herself, there it
was again. His footsteps and then that shuffling. There's definitely
someone up there with him, someone who could use a bath.
She went into the living room and tried listening to the news, but her
mind kept drifting. She replayed some of her conversation with Tracy
Baker. She had heard something in Tracy's voice, something more than
disappointment or depression, something that had suggested fear. The
Bakers had been married nearly fifteen years and they had no children.
Jessie had been wanting to ask her about that, but since Tracy hadn't
brought up the subject, she thought she would wait until she became
better acquainted. Her experience was that people volunteered
information about their personal lives freely these days.
They didn't need much encouragement. It was the age of exposure and
confession.
Jessie was so lost in her thoughts about Tracy and about the things she
had heard in the afternoon that she didn't hear Lee enter.
Well, this is a first, he declared. You, not hearing me?
Oh Lee. She rose and went to him.
What's wrong? he asked when he felt how she was trembling. Something
happen since I spoke with you on the phone?
She told him about the sound of the digging and her conversation with
old man Carter.
Lee laughed.
Jess, I'm sure the old guy is starting to lose it.
He probably doesn't remember what he does from one moment to the next.
Besides, what would be his reason for Lying to you about something like
that?
I don't know, she said.
So? Don't worry about it. I'm starving. Let's eat.
You had a good practice?
It was better than yesterday. There was less fouling and other
shenanigans and no one complained about my fitness program. Oh, and the
Benson kid . . .
Yes?
He played very well. If his father's behavior is bothering him, he's
sure good at hiding it. He behaved as if nothing had happened and his
father wasn't in jail.
He couldn't have been in better spirits.
Maybe he just doesn't care about him, Lee.
Yeah, I suppose that happens. So, tell me about your day with Tracy
Baker. I'm sure you have plenty of gossip to relate.
Now, Lee, you know we don't gossip. We discuss, she said, and he
laughed. You don't have to shower and change for dinner?
Naw, I did it at school.
I guess you're getting into it then, she said happy I guess so. It just
takes time. Like anything else, it just takes time, he repeated, and
followed her to the kitchen to help get their dinner.
It wasn't until after they had sat down at the table and had begun
eating that he noticed the oddest thing.
Well, I'll be damned, he said suddenly, interrupting her description of
the Gardner Town diner.
What?
I just noticed the craziest thing.
What?
After I showered and got dressed in my office . . .
Yes?
I put on the wrong sneakers.
What? How could you do that?
They were just there in my locker, one of Kurt Andersen's extra pairs. I
guess I just grabbed them with out thinking and put them on.
But the oddest thing is they fit . . . perfectly, and I had gotten
the impression from his description and from some of the pictures of him
in the office that he was a much bigger man than I am.
He could be taller and heavier and still have the same foot size as you,
Lee.
Yeah, I suppose so. I tell you, honey, I was reading through some of
his old correspondence today, and at times I must have been just as
angry and frustrated as he had been.
You pick up where a guy left off, he continued almost as if he just
passed you the ball, and you continue down the court, even wearing his
shoes.
Just as long as you don't end up the same way, Yeah, he said. Right.
The long moment of silence between them was unnerving. He was happy
when she began to talk about her day with Tracy Baker again. But he
couldn't stop wondering what the hell he was thinking of when he put on