Unearthed Truths

This story is by Rebecca Jean and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Harold didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at. It was a dead body, that he knew, and he even recognised the man, Mr Thomson. They had dug up his body days ago and brought them to this very lab. He mostly remembered as this one cost £10 rather than the usual £7. Of course, back then he had been dressed in his best while now he was naked with his chest cut open and his heart in a bowl next to his head. Harold looked at his partner Jimmy, the giant man was holding his fist to his mouth, trying to hold in a gag, tears welling in his eyes. Harold almost laughed, for a grave robber his friend had a weak stomach. It was lucky he held in his laugh as he could feel Dr Hardman’s eyes burning into him.

Dr Harman was the oldest of the three, he was also the richest, while the two he had invited here tonight wore dirty overalls he wore a suit, covered with a bloodied apron. For the past five years Harold and Jimmy had worked for him, selling corpses exclusively to him. Mr Thomson corpse was the first he had personally requested, hence the higher price.

Tired of staring at the body, Harold broke the silence. “We have other things to be doing Doc, why’d you want us here?”

Hardman looks between them, Jimmy had finally walked away from the table, not much caring why they were here and only hoping to leave. “See his heart.” He gestures to the bowl. “His death was ruled as natural causes but look at it.” Harold couldn’t tell much, but even he noticed some dark spots on the organ. Hardman continues, “He was obviously murdered.”

Another heavy pause this time for effect, Harold was really losing his patience now. “And?”

“And?” Hardman echoes, his voice rising. “He was murdered, and it was covered up.”

“That’s not our business.”

“Even if it puts our lives in danger?” He leans his palms down onto the head of the table, his eyes dancing between Jimmy and Harold. “This isn’t our usual body, Mr Thomson was a man of means, his grave being disturbed and body stolen has already been reported in the newspaper. The police are investigating and no doubt the killer will be too.”

Harold’s blood boils over, he steps to the doctor, his finger in the man’s face. “You better not be telling anyone our business.”

Hardman smirks before stepping away. “I’m not the one who needs worrying about.” His eyes flash to Jimmy. “None of that has to be an issue anyway. I already have my suspicions on who the killer is. Dr Williams. He was the one who ruled it as natural without an autopsy, he was also Mr Thomson’s next of kin and inheritor of all of his belongings.”

“Did you already know? Is that why you had us dig him up?” Harold needed a drink, one as stiff as Mr Thomson.

“I had to know the truth. My suspicions were almost confirmed when I found out that Dr Williams was to inherit everything from Mr Thomson, but I still needed proof.”

Harold took a breath before asking. “What do you need from us?”

“I’m not sure need is the correct word.” Hardman pauses, taking the time to wipe his glasses. “As old business associates, I thought a word of warning was due, but I also thought you might be inclined to help me in my next steps.”

“We have to tell the police.” Jimmy snaps, joining the conversation. His voice was stronger now, filled with conviction. He’d always been great when it came to the heavy lifting but when it came to thinking and judgement he wasn’t as strong.

“We can’t.” Harold resigns, his anger melting away.

Hardman carries on, ignoring them. “We have two choices, either be rid of the body and move on with our lives, or… we can use this to our advantage. We have the body, the proof of foul play and Dr Williams has more than enough money to keep us quiet.”

“Blackmail?” Jimmy spits out the word like he doesn’t like it in his mouth. He looks to Harold for some back up, but Harold is already imagining what that money could bring. “You can’t be honest.”

Harold walks to his friend, his hands raised in submission. “Think about it Jimmy, we could leave this sort of work for good, wash our hands of all this filth. You’d love that, you’re not suited for this, we take one big payout and never have to steal anything again.”

“What’d stop that doctor from killing us too?” He almost pouts. He’s just scared, Harold reminds himself.

“He’ll never know who we are.” He tries to reassure him, hiding the excitement buzzing through his body. He could do whatever he wanted with that money. He’d no longer need to break his back for straps, instead he could fix up his house and perhaps even heat it during in winter. Just one more dirty deed.

Jimmy backs away from him, his bottom lip quivering. “Stop it. We’ve got to tell the police. No money is worth our souls.”

“Jimmy, if we go to the police we’re done for.”

“He’s right Jimmy.” Hardman agrees, his voice calming, a hint of his life back when he was treating patients. “I’ll likely only serve a few years with my connections, and the murderers are unlikely to serve any as it’ll be a criminal’s word against theirs. But you two? It’ll be life.”

“We won’t tell then, just leave the body with a note for them to find.” His arguments grew weaker, he was desperate.

“They’ll know, you’ve spoken too much at the local too many times, it’s only by the skin of our teeth we haven’t been caught yet.” Harold touches Jimmy’s shoulder. “You’re too kind-hearted, if any grave robber was to do a good deed it’ll be you, they’d know it was you. They’d arrest you in days, and that’s only if the killer doesn’t get you first.”

Jimmy looks so scared; it was cruel how well Harold knew to control him. Tears fall down his face and he seems to shrink before the smaller man. “But it isn’t right.”

Hardman steps forward, his hands behind his back. “It isn’t, and I am sorry for putting you in this situation. Why don’t you go home, and we can take some time to think about this. We won’t decide anything without you.” He sounds so kind, so unlike the man Harold knew, it was unnerving. Jimmy nods, wiping the tears from his face as he walks past them.

Harold’s breath hitches when Jimmy nears the doctor. Hardman pulling out a hand. Harold steps forward, sure there was something in his fist. But only his open palm bats Jimmy’s shoulder. Harold lets out a breath and schools his face as Jimmy shuts the door behind him.

Neither speak until they can no longer hear Jimmy’s footsteps. “He won’t agree.” Harold finally says.

“If he goes to the police, he’s dead.” Hardman coldly states, his gently tone gone as if it never existed, even his face looks sharper. Harold preferred it this way. “You should go as well. I need to sort a few things before we continue. I’ll contact you in a few days, in the meantime prepare some letters. Be straight to the point and threatening, I’ll handle the rest.”

“The rest?” Harold hesitates. A cruel smile grows on Hardman’s face as he holds up Mr Thomson’s hand, the one with his family ring.

Harold leaves, excitement coursing through his body. Over a week later he receives a note from Dr Hardman, with just two words.

Bring Jimmy.

He hadn’t seen Jimmy since that night in the lab, but coming face to face with him again wasn’t as hard as he expected. At least looking at him wasn’t. His cold still features were just the same as any corpse they’d stolen, Harold actually found it quite nice seeing his old friend in his best clothes. Pulling him out of the grave though, that was hard. It took double the usual amount of time getting him out and into the cart as it would normally take Jimmy. Harold was a gasping, sweaty mess by the end. Dirt streaked his clothes, hands and face.

Before dawn Dr Hardman had discovered that Jimmy was killed by the same poison that had killed Mr Thomson. Again, no prior autopsy had been performed, but with Jimmy’s background that came as no surprise. Perhaps Harold should have wondered why Dr Williams only went after Jimmy, or why Hardman had burnt his body rather than use Jimmy to bargain for a higher fee. Instead, he just imagined all the money he’d get, there was even a bounce in his step as he posted the first letter, along with Mr Thomson’s ring finger enclosed.