Terst was fairly sure he died a little more with each word that came out of Mr Williamson’s mouth. The terrible old teacher droned on constantly, seemingly perfected in the art of not having to breathe. The slight breeze coming through the window to his right carried sounds of the Football team, cheer squad and the junior Phys Ed classes up from the oval into the bone dry history room.
The teenager’s eyes gazed out of the window, wishing that if he looked hard enough, he might actually be able to teleport himself out into the brilliant blue day of Bellville, Maryland.
He didn’t notice the silence that blanketed the room until he noticed every pair of eyes turned and focused on himself. Sitting up, and flicking his mid length black hair off of his face he pulled his attention back to the waiting teacher, who tiredly repeated his question.
“Mr Roberts. Obviously, this knowledge is already well versed too you, would kindly enlighten your peers, and myself, as to the exact date, time and action that marked the beginning of the Civil war.”
Had he put in the time to search his memory, the young man very well may have found the answer. But he was in no mood to play this game with this old man,
“Why don’t you, sir?” He responded sarcastically, “You were there, weren’t you?”
A round of snickers echoed through the classroom, and the old man’s face contorted with a mixture of indignity and rage. Stammering and yelling at the same time the white haired history teacher demanded an apology, or,
“You can march right up to the principal’s office, young man!”
Pen already tucked behind his ear, and a doodle filled history book under his arm, Terst said nothing. He simply smiled as he made his victory march past his fellow students out into the hallway. It was empty and silent out here, he noted, colder than the classroom, darker. He made straight for his locker, and with a sharp twist unlocked it throwing it open. Once his book was tossed inside with the rest of them he made quickly for the staircase. He might as well head home; it was a short walk from the school. Cross one road, cut through the graveyard, then he was literally there. The truant officer hadn’t caught him yet, and he was confident he would finish his twelfth year at the school without ever being pulled up. He’d take the consequences of his actions in the history class on Monday, after the weekends hunting trip with his brothers and father.
A quick glance left and right, and he vaulted over the short school boundary fence. Quickly crossing the road he slipped under the fence and onto the mown green grass of the graveyard. He jogged lightly up to the row of old trees guarding the path that led through the cemetery to the gate, from which he could reach his house in a matter of minutes. He reached into his pocket and fished out his iPod and Headphones when a scream tore through the air.
Terst was immediately on edge, his grey eyes flicked through the graveyard. There was no one in sight. He stood, silent for a moment. Then followed the direction the scream had come from. After a minute or two of searching, something out of place caught his eye. A few rows down from him there was a gap in the row of headstones. He cautiously made his way over to the mysterious gap.
He swore under his breath as the gaping hole came into view, the missing headstone had been knocked over and a crack ran through its centre. The headstone bore the name “Phillip Morris”, the worn stone was obviously aged. A dull sense of dread and confusion settled in his gut. Swallowing his fears, he edged on his hands and knees toward the hole.
What he saw baffled him, the young attractive blonde laying unconscious over the otherwise empty casket was most the last thing he’d expected to see. He rolled away from the grave, his mind racing. He decided he had to girl out of the grave; it was the only thing to do, right?
He slowly himself into the hole, feet scrabbling against the dirt for any purchase before he realized that this wasn’t going to happen. But, unfortunately for both them, his revelation came too late. As Terst tried to lift his weight back up onto the surface, the soft dirt gave way and he fell fourteen odd feet down into the grave.
Remarkably, he landed on his feet, and somehow had managed to avoid landing on the unconscious woman. Terst sighed, and swore again, now all he’d succeeded in doing was trapping them both. He slid his back down against the cool damp soil of the wall, until he was in a sitting position. A quick glance told him that the girl was a college student, he remembered her from his own high school a few years back, when he was a junior. The same glance also told him that her spine wasn’t broken, and other than the small trickle of blood running down her forehead, she was relatively unharmed.
Her eyes fluttered for several minutes before hazily opening, and gradually focusing on him. Looking like she was about to scream again, Terst cut in quickly, offering his hand to shake.
“Uh, Hi. My names Terst, and, well. I’m in the process of rescuing you.”