Page:Weird Tales Volume 36 Number 12 (1943-07).djvu/68

Rh and rapidly uncovering the horror. Spadefuls of dirt went flying out over the grave, to the accompaniment of hollow thumpings as their spades grazed the half-exposed coffin.

"There are three different ways of destroying a vampire,” said O’Rourke. "You can pour vinegar and boiling water into the grave, you can cut off its head, or use a stake, as we are doing. In the Ukraine they—”

"Get the hell up out of there!”

The voice was harsh, menacing and came from directly above them. Cummings gasped and stared up blinking. O’Rourke and Limerick stood rooted, their spades arrested in mid-air.

TANDING at the edge of the grave was a sandy-haired little man around fifty years old, armed with a sawed-off shotgun. His eyes were frosty.

"I said, climb up out of there, the three of you.”

O’Rourke and Cummings lost no time in complying. Sexton William Sharp was reputed to be a good shot and a very hot-tempered man when crossed. Limerick hesitated an instant but clambered up fast enough when the gun barrel started sloping down into the grave.

"I've heard tell of such outrages, but I never thought I’d live to—medical students, eh?”

Cummings caught O’Rourke’s eye and inclined his head the fraction of an inch. "He was just a nobody, Mr. Sharp,” he said. "He had no relatives or friends. We needed a subject and we thought—”

“You thought you’d rob a poor dead man of his repose. It’s a burning shame. You were going to dissect him, I suppose?”

"That was our intention, Mr. Sharp,” said Cummings, looking contrite.

"Well, you’re going to put all that earth back,” stormed Sharp. "Otherwise I’ll report you and have you expelled. I ought to report you anyway. You’re just a bunch of young hyenas.”

Refilling the grave under Sharp’s supervision was a back-breaking task. The sexton stood over them and gave them no respite. They were still at it when the sun passed from view below the horizon and darkness settled down over the cemetery.

Limerick had started muttering to himself. "I’m getting fed up with this. Digging him up, putting him back. Of all the fool—”

He stiffened suddenly. Beneath his spade the earth was stirring, heaving. A chill of horror passed over him. His eyes went wide and his throat became as dry as death.

Simeon Hodges was pushing up through the loose, dark earth with loathsome writhings. His pale, clawlike hands emerged first; then the bulge of his shoulders, and finally, his head. The upper portion of his body shot up straight.

Like a leprous gargoyle he swayed rigid in the moonlight, his gore-caked, tattered garments flapping in the night wind, his face contorted in a malign and hideous mask.

O’Rourke and Cummings saw it simultaneously. O’Rourke let loose a wild shriek, dropped his spade and went staggering backwards. Cummings stood as though turned to stone. He stood staring with wide eyes and gaping jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

The vampire was staring up at Sexton Sharp, its dead, white eyes fastened on his throat. Even in the midst of his terror Limerick found himself wondering whether the foul thing was not some sort of hoax.

But when it leapt soundlessly from the grave, flung itself on the cemetery’s guardian and bore him to earth his last doubts were dispelled.

He turned and fled in terror from a greedily feasting vampire crouching above its victim, hideous, sucking sounds