"Grave Robbers"

Respect is a coin toss. Some respect until a reason is given to take it back. Others see respect as something that should be earned before it is given in small amounts. No matter how you look at it, one question remain. A single question that may have never before passed your mind, would you have respect for the dead?

The night crept onward as my best friend and I staked out the town graveyard. Nightfall was nearing its peak as some people lurked around the graves, paying their respects and dropping flowers off. How sentimental.
I turned to my friend, Brandon, as he sat at the wheel, playing a game on his phone. Clearly he was getting into it, the way he leaned slightly from side to side as if he was actually in the game itself. I cracked a smile. I'm glad he was able to find some enjoyment before going out to get done what we needed to do.
He and I had the job of robbing a grave. One grave in particular. There was a man that paid us anonymously that asked us to find the grave marked 'Henderson'. Atop the grave, we were supposed to find a ring with a gold band and a decently sized emerald clasped on top. From the pictures he sent of it, it looked like a beautiful ring. I knew I'd be down to do it.
As for Brandon, he was new to this grave robbing business. I told him we'd be stealing from a grave. He had always been interested in what grave robbing entailed, so I asked him to tag along. Sure, this didn't exactly count as grave robbing. After all, we weren't even digging anyone up. Our job was simpler than taking candy from a child.
I nudged him away from his game before pointing him toward the graveyard, the last of the people were leaving. We unbuckled our seatbelts and waited for them to pass by before opening our doors and heading across the street.
As we made our way over, we hid behind grave stones and trees just to be safe. The last thing we needed was to be caught doing this.
Brandon and I finally made it over to the grave with the ring on it. The grave stone was tall and smooth. It must have been someone freshly buried, I thought as I snatched the ring and put it in my pocket.
"That's it?" Brandon asked, slight disappointment in his voice.
"Unfortunately, some days are better than others," I replied. I knew it's not what he wanted to hear, but the truth is, there had been no new bodies buried here in a few weeks. There were no new graves to rob.
As we made our way back to the car, we stopped when we heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind us, nearer to the grave we were just at. We quickly hid behind the nearest grave stone and waited for whoever it was to pass us by. I only hoped whoever it was didn't see what we did.
The footsteps got closer, as did the stench of rotting meat. I had to plug my nose, else fight back vomit.
"Who stole my ring?" a low, raspy voice floated through the air in our direction. What the hell was that, a zombie?
The voice repeated itself, closer this time. There's no way the body we stole this from could have possibly come back to life. It was buried six feet under after all, we would have heard the dirt being ripped from the ground.
I saw the rotting hand of a living corpse grasp the top of the grave stone we were hiding behind. It peered its head over and toward us. "Did you take it?"
We took off toward the car as fast as we could and made our escape.
Brandon and I did a quick drive by the next day, hoping to see if someone had dug up a body to play tricks on us, but the ground appeared completely unmoved, just as it looked the day we robbed the grave.