The cemetery was quite old. Quite old and quite forgotten. Rows upon rows of stone, once proudly white, sat withered and worn in the gray moonlight. Their rough unintelligible faces told tales of intricate craftsmanship, now weathered by nature. Knotted trees guarded the walkways between graves, moss hanging from their branches. Almost nobody knew the people behind the marble names, so almost no one ever came to visit.
Almost nobody stirred in the darkness.
Three figures crept across the cemetery ground all dressed in dark clothes; their faces concealed by hoods. All except one: a rather lean girl, taller than the rest of the company, she made no attempt at disguise, her short curly brown hair bouncing in the moonlight as she strutted down the aisle, the clear leader of the group. Two members bore shovels over their shoulders, and the leader held a hand drawn map of the graveyard; certain names highlighted and others crossed out. As they passed each headstone she read them aloud.
“Jackson... smith... miller... another smith...Samantha get out of my light I can't read this thing!”
“Sorry El.” Samantha muttered.
“.. Okay brown... garcia.. Jeez another smith... here we are! Julia R. Moore!.” She stopped by a grave and pointed a finger at the dirt. “Dig.”
The two gravediggers, whose names were Sam and Jake, began to dig while El made herself comfortable on the grass. After a while, El noticed a sour look on Sam’s face and broke the silence.
“Sam?.. What’s the matter sweetie?”
Sam pulled the scarf from her face to reveal a very unimpressive fake smile. “It's nothing Really El.. just first time jitters I guess.”
El smirked and replied “well if you need anything or have any questions let me know.” there were a few moments of silent digging before sam spoke up, her voice an embarrassed whisper.
“Will it be gross?”
Jake stifled a chuckle.”no, he’ll be all bone by now.” Sam considered this, and continued her dig. It felt to Sam that they dug for hours, she she tried to distract herself from thinking by watching the moon cross the sky, and her sweat drip into the dirt. She did her best to ignore the grim nature of her task. Her muscles were already starting to burn, and she hoped it wouldn't take too long. Sam sped up her digging and let her mind wonder, worrying and thinking. She thought of what might happen if they were caught. She thought of Michael Peterson.
Michael Peterson was your average homeless man. He had been homeless for four years, divorced for five. He had a thick untamed beard, rough hands, and he lived on Samantha’s block. Everyday Samantha would pass Michael on her way to the bus, and everyday she would buy him a bagel. They would wait in line and talk. Samantha felt good to help him, and Michael was happy to have someone to talk to. It didn't take long for them to develop a friendship. Then one day something changed. he still met Sam everyday for breakfast, but dressed in fine clothes, clean shaven, and offering to pay for their food.
“How did this happen? Where is this money coming from?” She would always ask him, but it was no use, he would grin and wink and change the subject anytime money came up. The newfound wealth didn't last long, however. About three weeks after Michael’s sudden wealth, he disappeared from Sam’s life. The first day Sam ate breakfast alone she was curious, the next day worried, and after a week she became determined to find him and make sure he was alright. She checked the homeless shelters around town, they all said that Michael had stopped by to make a donation several weeks ago, and they hadn't seen them since. Next she called the local hotels to see if maybe Michael had been staying there with his mysterious income. She called 32 hotels and was nearly ready to give up until she spoke with the rather stupid desk clerk at hotel number 33.
“Hello I’m calling to see if there is a man named Michael Peterson staying in your hotel?”
“And how many people will be staying Ma’am?”
Sam paused. “What?” she asked.
“People,” the clerk sighed, “staying in the room. How many?”
“Uh I assume just the one”
“But you don't know?”
Sam paused again, this time to calm herself
“can you just look inside your guestbook and tell me if he’s there?”
“Who?”
“Michael Peterson!!”
He said he had to put her on hold but clearly just set the phone on the desk, she heard him swearing and shuffling through papers. After a minute or so he picked up the phone and spoke up.
“Yeah I found him, Mister Pichael Meterson in room 322, he paid for the whole month.”
“Excuse me who?”
Now it was the desk clerks turn to pause in confusion, “the guy you were looking for? Pichael? He's in room 322.”
“His name.” Samantha said, trying to hide her frustration,”is Michael Peterson.”
“No.. I’m sure this says Pichael.. Yeah Pichael Meterson. October second to november second. Paid cash.”
Samantha thanked him and hung up.
It had been two weeks since Michael had disappeared and this was the first lead she had found. She had called in sick three times in the past week alone, and her boss had already warned her in a very rude email that another absence would result in her termination. She knew she had made the wrong choice, standing in Pichael Meterson’s abandoned hotel room, but she had to know what had become of her friend. She had no other choice, or at least that's what she wrote in the email to her boss, hoping for mercy in the face of unemployment, though she had little hope. The hotel lead had given her hope, and the room had definitely belonged to Michael, Samantha found his jacket along with several bundles of cash hidden around the room. She pocketed the money, telling herself she would give it back to Michael when she found him. Sam was reaching for the doorknob to leave when to door suddenly swung itself open, the maid coming in to clean the room. The maid was shocked to find a woman in Pichael’s room, though she proved herself helpful when she directed Sam to Eliot.
Michael had apparently spoken with the maid on several occasions; and had especially spoken very highly of Eliot. According to the maid Eliot was his boss and his source of money, and she visited his room every few days. Sam staked out the hotel for the next four days, staying in the room across from Pichael Meterson, until Eliot showed up to visit. Sam confronted her in the hallway. Eliot had apparently come to investigate Michael's disappearance disappearance herself, and offered to help look for him. They searched together for two weeks and found nothing. Even so Sam was glad to have found Eliot; she had a positive way about her, sure that they would find Michael soon. “We’ve just got to keep looking” she would say. It was hard for Sam to stay so hopeful every day brought her a little bit closer to bankruptcy and no closer to finding her friend. When Sam brought up her financial concerns to Eliot, her eyes lit up. “You know.. With Michael missing I could use a little help...”
