Chapter Eight

Yorick and I trudged down the row of graves. Behind us, enthusiastic digging noises erupted as Jeff and Archie unearthed the Spicy King.
“So who’s the Spicy King?” Asked Yorick.
“Not a clue.” I shrugged. “It was too muffled to recognise the voice, and I didn’t pay much attention to that mug; Got my own one that lives in my desk drawer.”
I took a few more steps, then realised that Yorick was no longer walking beside me.
“I can think of a few candidates,” I continued as I walked back to where he was standing, staring at the gravestone in front of him. “But they were all at the restaurant, so that’s not much help.”
Unlike most of the others, the gravestone in front of us had a slab of polished black marble embedded into the rough and weathered grey stone. I’m sure it probably had something carved into it, but I didn’t notice; I was too caught up with looking at the flickering and distorted figures of James the Morlock and Headcrow reflected in it.
I looked behind me, knowing there was nobody there, but feeling like I should check anyway, just in case. Nothing there, just more gravestones.
Yorick leaned in close, and I copied him.
James the Morlock was squinting at us, his enormous eyes clenched almost closed. Behind him, Headcrow was enthusiastically gesturing at a slab being levered up out of a stone floor by a troupe of circus clowns.
“Yorick?” I asked, not looking away.
“Yes?”
“Why is there a tiny little monochrome TV in this headstone? And why is it showing us Headcrow and James and a bunch of actual clowns?”
“I don’t know what a Tee Vee is exactly.” He replied. “But I’m guessing that this vision we’re seeing is something James is doing to try to communicate that they’ve found someone one.”
As one we pointed towards the growing mound of earth that Jeff and Archie were creating, using wildly over-exaggerated motions. It worked well until we both realised the other was doing the same thing, and we collapsed into laughter when we saw the dumbfounded looks on James and Headcrow’s faces in the marble slab, just before the image flickered and faded away.
“James? Not Headcrow?” I asked.
“The vision? Not Headcrow.” Yorick confirmed. “Not a scarecrow kind of thing. I don’t know what Morlock things are, but I guess that’s one of them?”
I shrugged.
“No idea. I read The Time Machine thirty years ago or more; Don’t think it had any powers or anything, just underground creatures who understood technology and surface ones who didn’t.”
Yorick stroked his chin, or more accurately jawbone, in a thoughtful manner.
“And they were maybe cannibals?”
Yorick did his eyebrow trick again.
“And this is a good description of your colleague?”
“I did say it was unkind.” I shrugged, but also looked away. “Dwells in darkness, hard to lure out, kind of bad at people-ing … Look, I was having a bad day, OK?”
Yorick let that one hang in the air for a long moment.
“You and a lot of other people in that restaurant, it seems.”
Not able to meet his nonexistent eyes, I looked out over the boneyard.
“This is taking too long, isn’t it?” I asked.
A boney hand rested on my shoulder.
“You’re going as fast as you know how. So is James the Morlock.”
I stared at our reflections in the marble slab.
“If James figured out how to do … Whatever that was,” I started. “Is there something else I could be doing? Something I’ve not thought of?”
Yorick grinned a little and made a ‘go on’ gesture.
“Look at me.” I gestured at my reflection. “I’m clearly some kind of Zombie, with the sewn-up mouth and the paint markings, so … Can we use that?”
“Zombies were popular a bit after my time,” Yorick replied, then directed an obscene gesture in Jeff’s direction when a shout of ‘So was Stonehenge’ drifted over. “But a lot of how this place works is about how people think it works.”
I frowned.
“So James could do that vision thing because he thinks he can? Or that it’s something Morlocks can do?”
“Something like that,” Agreed Yorick. “But it’s also what the others think.”
I started to walk back towards Jeff & Archie’s earthworks, and beckoned Yorick to follow as he continued.
“The Ghostly Ringmaster is insubstantial unless she doesn’t want to be because that’s how phantasms work, Headcrow can suddenly be right behind you because that’s the creepiest place to find him, I can keep pace with someone who’s running even though I walk slowly, … It’s about their role in the legends.”
We reached the half-excavated grave, and I picked up a handful of dirt. Archie glanced at me as I stirred it around in my hand.
“You getting an idea?” He enquired. “‘Cause we could use a way to speed this up.”
“Dude!” Jeff shoved him. “Not helpful!”
“This is going to take a really long time.” Archie muttered as he went back to digging. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Jeff and Yorick and I tried to ignore him.
“I’ve got an idea.” I started. “But it’s based on something from a music video, and … It’s probably kind of offensive?”
Yorick cleared his throat, unnecessarily.
“You’ve already turned a coworker into a Morlock.” He pointed out. “I think that ship has sailed.”
“Really?!” Archie popped up from the grave. “Like an H. G. Wells Time Machine Morlock? How’d you do that? Why’d you do that?”
“I used the term ‘Morlock’ to describe someone, and didn’t know it would stick.” I replied.
“Lemme guess; They’re in IT and you said the quiet part loud?” Archie sniggered, then gave a multi-leg fistpump as his shovel scraped across something. “Yes! Got to them!”
We all lent a hand to get the casket clear of the earth and on it’s way up to the surface.
“You couldn’t have known,” Archie continued as we tried to keep the thing level. “But kind of a dick move, pal.”
“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about,” Came a voice from inside the box. “Then it’s entirely fair; Bought and paid for, no penance required. Do you know how many times I’ve heard about that fucking VW Microbus?”