Doctor Who: A Toast to the Dead
After a weary evening of listening to Albany politicians haggling over a particularly dull piece of New York state legislation pertaining to funding for the Grand Army of the Republic, Kevin McLeod was finally on his way home to his wife and two small children. After the meeting at the state capital, he'd gone down the hill from the capitol building, to the east end of the city, near the banks of the Hudson River, to dine at Jack's Oyster House. Joining him was his friend, Doctor John Smith.
Wiping his bushy mustache with his napkin, and a dab of horseradish sauce from the lapel of his dark gray suit, Kevin invited the Doctor to spend the night at his home, before they went to an important meeting with members of the city's Common Council the next day. Accepting the invitation to spend the night, the Doctor and Kevin caught the last horse-drawn trolley of the evening, back up the State Street hill
It was now quite late. The bell in the tower of the newly built City Hall rang out the hour with twelve sonorous bongs. The intrepid reporter for the Knickerbocker News and his friend jumped off the trolley, after it had proceeded a short way up Central Avenue. Crossing the road, he and the Doctor strolled up the western end of State Street, quietly talking and chuckling among themselves.
The Doctor had his long tan coat draped over one arm, and had all but one button undone on the jacket of his brown pinstripe suit. The late spring air was pleasant with a balmy warmth and a gentle breeze, which ruffled the Doctor's already unruly hair. It carried with it the scent of lilacs and crabapple blossoms. The occasional gas lamps they passed flickered, casting uncertain shadows on the pavement and neat rows of brownstone houses.
As they approached the State Street Burial Grounds on the opposite side of the road, the smell of the spring air became far less pleasant. Burials were often casually done, and many of the graves were caved in and neglected, with remains of corpses openly exposed to the air. It didn't help that body snatchers, looking for fresh corpses to illegally sell to medical schools were leaving the less-than-fresh bodies lying about, as well. People were outraged at this practice, but very little was being done by the police and city authorities to prevent it.
Kevin had begun a substantial campaign in his newspaper, advocating for the removal of the burial grounds to the fairly new rural cemetery just outside the city, in the hills near Menands Crossing. It troubled Kevin that so many people in recent years, including children, had died from diseases contracted from living in the proximity of the rotting corpses.
The city's leaders had fought Kevin on this, over the expense and difficulty of a mass removal, until the Doctor came along and agreed to help him to persuade them to remove the bodies. It was his friend the Doctor, who'd promised he could convince city leaders that the spot would make a grand location for a city park.
The reporter's short boots quietly clicked on the pavement, unlike the Doctor's strange footwear, which were relatively silent. It was very still. All that could be heard was the soft breeze rustling the trees bordering the burial ground, and the barely discernible sound of Kevin's footsteps. Kevin was about to tell the Doctor a joke he'd heard recently, when the Doctor suddenly held up his hand.
"Shhh-shhh-shhh—shhhh!" the Doctor hissed, looking towards the graveyard. "Do you hear something?"
Without preamble, the Doctor tossed off his long coat to Kevin, and dashed across the street. Crouching down behind a tree, the Doctor peered through the shrubbery there, at something inside the burial grounds. Ducking down, Kevin followed suit. Kneeling behind the Doctor, heedless of the dirt on the knees of his gray tweed trousers, Kevin tried to see what had caught the Doctor's attention.
"What is it, Doctor?" he whispered.
"See for yourself." The Doctor replied grimly, parting the bushes so Kevin could look through them.
Kevin saw nothing at first. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the black shadows of the cemetery, he noticed a dim glow, and realized quickly that it came from a covered lantern. It was then that new sounds came to his ears; the subdued whispers of two rough-voiced men, and the light scraping of a shovel in dirt.
"Body snatchers!" Kevin exclaimed in a angry whisper. "We can't let them get away with this. We must go for the police, Doctor." But the Doctor was no longer there. "Doctor?" Kevin said, momentarily nonplussed by his friend's sudden disappearance.
Then, Kevin caught sight of the Doctor's thin tall form, hunched over. He was flitting from tree to to grave marker, using them as cover to get closer to the two criminals. Leaving the Doctor's long coat carefully folded on the floor under the tree, Kevin followed suit. He too, silently shifted from tree to headstone, finally catching up to the Doctor, just a short distance away from the two men.
What Kevin saw was two middle aged men, neither of whom seemed to have bathed recently, in dirty, disheveled working clothes. One, the shorter and thinner of the pair, wore a cloth cap with a bill on the front, similar to what a farmer would wear. The other was much larger and fatter than the first man, and had a threadbare black suit jacket, with a battered derby hat on his head. He was watching the smaller man digging up a newly covered grave.
"Why don't you take a turn at digging, Gus?" the small man whined softly, his voice partly muffled, because his five foot, four inch body was standing in the bottom of a five foot hole.
"I prefer to leave the digging to an expert like you, Eben." The fat man explained patiently. "You're doing so much better a job of it then I ever could."
"That bloke could teach young Tom Sawyer a few lessons." The Doctor whispered, raising an eyebrow..
"Who?" Kevin asked, giving the Doctor a puzzled look.
"Erm—it's not important. But, when you next hear of that name, I highly recommend you buy the book for your children, they'll love it." The Doctor told him, cryptically. Kevin had gotten used to the Doctor's eccentric ways, so he let it pass.
"And anyway, Eben," Gus continued in a harsh whisper, "someone has to look out for the coppers, you know, and watch that that there hoss doesn't accidentally bolt back to his barn." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, the man called Gus indicated a black draft horse patiently standing harnessed to a open wagon. It was parked on a nearby dirt road which ran between two rows of graves.
The wagon was painted a dark color, but lettering on the sides could clearly be seen in the sharp light of a clear white half-moon. Painted in large, bright yellow lettering were the words: "Cole's Livery Stable."
"That rig is from the stable where I hire my own horse and buggy," Kevin muttered to the Doctor, "It's located in an alley off Washington Avenue."
Just then, the shovel the man called Eben was using, scrapped on wood.
"Got it!" Eben almost shouted in his excitement.
"Keep your voice down!" Gus whispered angrily at him. "Clear off the dirt and get busy prying that lid off," he told Eben, handing him down a heavy iron crow bar. "But do it quietly, for pity's sake!"
"I'd better go and find a policeman," Kevin suggested, starting to get up. The Doctor's hand on Kevin's arm stayed him.
"No, let's wait." the Doctor told him softly. "At this time of night it, would take forever to find a constable on duty in this part of the city. Maybe I can come up with a better plan."
Gus stood above the grave, and watched Eben open the wooden coffin. Eben had squatted down in the hole, to catch his breath, but his voice could still be heard.
"I dunno' 'bout you, Gus, but I think I'm getting too old for this kinda' work." said a tired Eben, panting exertions.
Eben heaved the coffin lid out of the way, up onto the grass by the edge of the grave. With either foot staddling the wooden box, he bent over and looked down, squinting to see who they'd uncovered. Inside the coffin was a yellow haired teenage boy in a white shirt and black broadcloth suit.
"It's a kid! This is perfect!" Eben whispered gleefully, "Them medical schools pay real good for young bodies!"
"Pee-eww! Damned if the brat doesn't half stink, though!" Gus complained, glancing down into the hole.
But he could see very little in the ebony cloak the night shadows had thrown over the deepest part of the hole. The light from the covered lantern resting on the edge of the open grave, didn't penetrate all the way into the darkness at the bottom of the grave. He couldn't actually see a boy with the waxy white face, lying with his eyes closed and arms crossed, inside his blue velvet-lined cherry wood coffin. But Gus surely could smell him. He tried not to breathe through his nose.
"Get out of that hole, Eben, and come help me with the wagon! We gotta' back that horse around so's the tailgate is facing towards the grave, and I can't do that on my own."
As they walked away, Kevin bunched his fists in anger, as he heard the pair of body snatchers casually discussing their find, as if they were discussing the weather.
"Gus, you want that I should remove the hardware on the box, too? That looks an awful lot like real silver, I bet we could get a nice price for it from Blackjack Bob, that fence over in North Albany." Eben suggestion.
"That Irishman could squeeze a dollar out of a dime! I have an idea, Eben." Gus said, snapping his fingers, "We could go to Blackjack Bob and trade him that nice coffin hardware for a few bottles of bitters or gin. You can take care of getting the silver, after we've loaded the body on to the wagon."
About ten minutes passed, when the pair returned to the graveside. Gus was carrying what appeared to be a square dark green gin bottle in his hand. He stood near the grave, and took a big swig from the bottle, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
"Ain't cha'' gonna' share none'a that gin with me, Gus? I could use a little snort after all the hard work I just did." Eben complained. "Being out in this night air ain't good for me, I'm gonna' get the chills. I reckon a few fingers of that liquor would warm me right up, Gus."
Suddenly, out of the open grave, came a high-pitched spooky sounding male voice.
"Please give me some of your liquor, sirs. It's a cold night and my dead bones are rattling. It's so freezing here in my grave! Death is so cold, soooo- very, very cold!" The disembodied voice sobbed miserably.
First Gus look down blankly at the gin bottle dangling from his filthy right hand. Then, he stared, horrified, at Eben. Likewise, Eben stared with terrified eyes at Gus. Then, as one, they both screamed like little girls.
Gus dropped the gin bottle, which thunked unnoticed into the pile of dirt beside the grave. Then, the pair of men ran for their lives, still screaming, past where Kevin was hiding, through the bushes, and down State Street.
A few seconds later, Kevin saw the Doctor's head pop out of the hole. Kevin came out of hiding and went to give the Doctor a hand out of the grave. Back up on top, the Doctor sat down on the grass.
"Meh, I don't really fancy gin, anyway." He shrugged causually.
Kevin couldn't help himself, he began laughing so hard, he had to sit down upon the grass next to the Doctor, to catch his breath. He looked at the Doctor, who was grinning like a child on Christmas morning. All of the sudden, the Doctor began laughing, as well.
"Maybe those two won't be tried by a judge and jury, or do any time in gaol," the Doctor told Kevin after they had their laugh, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes, "but I can pretty much promise you that they'll never steal any more bodies."
After helping Kevin replace the coffin lid and re-fill in the grave, the Doctor secured the wagon's reins to keep them from falling on the road, slapped the black horse on the rump, and watched as it plodded back to it's stable.
"I'm going to have a helluva' story to tell my editor when I next I see him." Kevin told him.
"Just between friends, I was never here, though." The Doctor replied with a wink.
###