When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

“The first place…” Adrian had said before he died and I was about to find out if he was a liar. I drove up to the ominous front gates of Simpson’s Skin Tanning and Preservation for the Deceased then sat listening to the rustling whispers of the dead in the Landfill below. I drew deep on a cigarette, and let my mind catch up.

My partner had looked as happy as a kitten when we climbed out of the battered transport, but I’d given him little time to enjoy the feeling. After shoveling Julie Hawksbridge onto the seat between us I told Elmo where to go. As he drove, he told me how he had found us.

After I hopped the elevator at the Galaxy Tower, the receptionist and doorman had promptly ejected Elmo from the lobby. He hurried to the car where it sat in the parking lot and waited just like we had planned. After fifteen minutes two Authority Enforcement vehicles arrived. “Troop Transports! I thought they come for me.” Elmo scrunched down in his seat as the transports converged in the parking lot. There were a few tense moments as the troops deployed into two lines facing each other. “It looked like armies about to fight!”

“Well,” he had said. “Just as I thought they was about to set to, this sedan pulls up and out jumps that lanky individual—the tall one, that Willieboy. He comes out shouting—all waving arms and stuff.” Elmo’s eyes had turned angry. “Then that little fellow that pushed you around the office, he come forward, argued a minute, shook hands and walked into the building with him like best friends. The armies stopped glaring at each other and stood there watching them go—staring at the building now, like that would bring it down—maybe forty of them or so just staring. Then the one bunch went around the side of the building and up the fire stairs, and the other went in the lobby. Well, I’d just lit another cigarette, when another bunch comes up in two transports. These ones jumped out, took a look at the other transports, then ran into the building. And I thought, Oh Jesus, goodbye, Boss!” Elmo had looked momentarily weary at this point in the tale. “Then I heard gunfire, somewhere, like it was faraway, and echoey like—and I’m thinkin’ I don’t know what to do! You needed back up, but only an army can back you up. Then, a man falls out the window at the top and goes splat on the driveway,” Elmo’s nose wrinkled. “He hits hard, and I know that even dead, his life is over. I got out of the car and looked up, I was sure the fellow hit the pavement wasn’t you so I think, Oh Jesus, goodbye, Boss! And kind of half-expect you to c-come flying down after.

“Then out of the clouds—way, way up there—comes this big helicopter. Soon as the thing gets level with the windows at the top it blasts away until there’s fire everywhere. I had to get back in the car, there was so much stuff raining down. I was sure you were gone then. But I thought, well, maybe I’ll wait. I could go up and check once things quieted down. The helicopter flew off then, and about fifteen minutes later, a group of Enforcers come out of the building, all of them smoking and steaming, carrying you between them. Then I see that Willieboy again! His Enforcers put you in one of the transports and he points at the body that dropped out of the building. One of them Enforcers bags it and Willieboy drags it into the transport too and away they go. So I start the car and followed.

“Then, we came up to this big place that I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was the King of the Dead’s place. Cause I heard, well you know fellows talk. So, I had to be careful because people don’t speak well of the King. I just got parked, and saw them take you in. Then another bunch of transports come up and Enforcers get out and start arguing with the guys behind the bars at the front gate.” Elmo had smiled then, because he realized the story was growing overlong. “Anyway, I’m waiting, when this war breaks out and again I’m thinking, Goodbye, Boss! Then just when I guess I better go, or do something, there’s that transport, crashing out of the ground like a monster or something. And when it goes smashing through the w-wall I’m thinking, that’s something the Boss would do, so I follow! I wasn’t sure, but I knew I couldn’t do anything else. And here we are. It was a hunch!”

“Just a hunch,” I had said. “Just a hunch, and a thousand syllables. Thanks Fatso. Good work!”

By the time Elmo had finished his story, we had arrived at the address I’d given him. It was the bar, Berlinz. There were rooms for rent upstairs. Elmo walked in, got a room, and then we took Ms. Hawksbridge up, much to the pleasure of the little Latino bartender with the gold tooth. I let Elmo dress my left shoulder—the wound had bled clean—just some alcohol and a bandage. I pressed a towel full of ice cubes against my face. Ms. Hawksbridge had grown nervous by this time. She was in a hotel room with a dead man and a clown. I could understand her concern. I had assured her that I was a detective—I showed her my license—and that she would be all right with Elmo. She’d have to trust us. I gave Elmo the auto-shotgun and a box of ammunition from the trunk. I left after telling Hawksbridge that I would be back soon; I told Elmo to take her to her brother if I wasn’t. I went to the Chrysler and pulled another coverall out of the trunk, then reapplied my makeup. The way my face had swollen up, it was an improvement for a change. I loaded the .9mm from the trunk and realized I was fast running out of backup weapons. That was fine, because I was fast running out of the urge to use them. I stopped at a drug store to buy a pint of whiskey and a couple of sandwiches then I had headed out along the highway west.

Now I stood looking at the gates of Simpson’s. Strips of yellow Authority caution tape were stapled over it in a prohibitive spider web. It bore the words: “Removal of tape a criminal offense!” I tore it down with a sneer. I walked up to the miniature door set in the gates. It was locked, but I had brought a crowbar with me. I worked it into the groove by the lock and yanked it back and forth until I heard something snap. I pushed the door open.

There was darkness in the courtyard in front of the black stone mansion, and momentarily I wondered where the patients had gone after the Authority closure. I shrugged, my moment of compassion over. There were a thousand such establishments dying for patients. They would be given good homes. I instinctively checked the action of my gun, then slipped the automatic into my pink skipping rope belt. Yes, I have spares of those as well. I