The Resurrection Man

Lawwell slept soundly in the drivers seat of his car while I lay in the back, exhausted from digging a grave and filling it in again. At least the hard work kept me warm but it was beginning to wear off now and as the sun glanced over the horizon and the birdsong began, I shivered and wished corduroy was just a little warmer and then pondered whether or not I should switch to tweed. I was just considering this when Lawwell woke up with a cry of ‘Mother!’ then shuffled in his seat, noticed me in the rear view mirror and let me know in no uncertain terms if I breathed a word of how he’d just woken up, it’d be me being buried next, ‘and not in a magical grave yard, got that?’

We got out of the car and stomped about for a bit as daylight spread across the sky and then we walked cautiously towards the cemetery. A low mist hung over the place but it didn’t seem as eerie as hit had in the darkness the night before. Then we reached Lennon’s grave and we both stood and gawped at what we saw there. The grave was disturbed, like someone had climbed out of it and muddy footprints headed off in the other direction and disappeared in the field behind the graveyard wall.

‘Well, it’s worked but he’s gone. I didn’t see or hear anything, did you?’ I asked Lawwell but he didn’t seem too perturbed.
‘Are you not bothered that Neil Lennon’s a zombie and is probably staggering towards Ashton Lane as we speak?’ I asked but Lawwell just shrugged.
‘Who’s going to notice any difference?’ he asked and turned and walked back towards the car.