Cemetery Club (22 page)

Cory hit the mute button and turned to the others. “While we were playing fucking detective in the cemetery, those things were out killing more people.”

“Jesus Christ,” Todd whispered.

“How?” John asked. “We know the mausoleum is where they come from.”

“They must have another den, or lair, or whatever you call it,” Marisol said.

Todd shook his head in frustration. “Now we have no idea where to find them. We’re back to square one.”

“We’ll have to split up,” Cory said. “Two of us can watch the cemetery, while the others drive around town and hopefully catch sight of the creatures on the streets. Then we can follow them back to their hiding place.”

Marisol frowned. “That could take weeks.”

“I know.” Cory shrugged. “But what else can we do?”

“We’ll still have the daytime,” Todd said. “We can do more research.”

John gave a sarcastic laugh. “How much more reading about monsters can we do? Cory hasn’t found anything in the town records. None of what we’ve learned has helped us find them.”

“That’s ‘cause we’ve been going about it all wrong.” Todd glanced at each of them in turn. “Instead of trying to figure out what they are, we should be trying to learn
why
they’re here.”

“We already know that,” Marisol said. “It’s because of us. What we did that day.”

“Is it?” Todd sat down in his recliner. “I’m not so sure about that anymore. People - especially teenagers, like we were back then - have been fooling around with Ouija boards and all sorts of other mystical toys for decades. Séances. Spells. But you never hear of anything bad or evil happening. How is it we had the power to call something so evil into our world?”

Cory frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“I think perhaps instead of creating these creatures, what we did was wake something up, something already there, something just waiting to emerge again.”

“Again? You mean, this has happened before?”

Todd shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think it might be a good idea for us to start reading about the history of Rocky Point before twenty years ago, beginning with that mausoleum.”

Marisol rubbed her eyes. Dark circles hung underneath them, evidence of her lack of sleep. But her voice was still filled with energy. “Can’t hurt. Where do we start?”

“I’ll stick with the county records,” Cory said. “I’m already familiar with how the files are set up.”

“John and I will check the old newspapers.” Todd smiled. “We might be pariahs in our own community but we haven’t been banned from the library yet.”

“What about me?” Marisol asked.

“Police files,” Todd said. “You’re the only one with access to official reports that might not be in the public records. See if you can find anything there.”

“I’ll try but I’m not exactly in good with the cops right now.”

“Just give it your best shot. If that doesn’t work you can help Todd and John. It’s probably best if no one sees you with me in the records room.”

Cory stood up. “I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m dog-tired. What say we stock up on coffee and some nice, sugary donuts before we get to work? My treat.”

Marisol gave a wan smile. “Sure, why not? What better way to spend my last day of enforced vacation?”

John cast frequent glances around them as he and Todd approached the mausoleum. At that moment, there was no place on Earth he wanted to be less than Gates of Heaven Cemetery. Even with the sun shining and the birds singing their summer songs, he more than half-expected reanimated corpses to come leaping out from hiding places behind crypts and monuments, fangs bared and ready to chow down on human flesh.

The fact that they were also planning on tampering with a crime scene didn’t help his anxiety level.

“All those days and nights we spent hanging around here and we never wondered who was buried inside,” Todd said. “Why is that?”

Although he knew his friend was being rhetorical, John answered anyway. “’Cause we were wise-ass teenagers who didn’t give a shit. The real question is how do you know there’s a name on that?” He pointed to the small brass plaque next to the mausoleum’s door. Decades of rain and snow had created layers of corrosion on the metal until not a single letter showed through.

“That’s why we brought this.” Todd opened the plastic bag he carried and removed a bottle of brass cleaner and a scouring pad. “Don’t forget, I went to a lot of funerals here, more than I can remember thanks to my dad being the minister. He always insisted that me and my mom be there for every one of them, because it showed the congregation we were one big family. Along the way I learned that crypts always have a marker, with a number. That’s so the cemetery or the church can keep track of who’s buried where. A lot of people put their names on them too.”

“Well, let’s hope this family remembered to do that,” John said, while Todd poured cleaning solution on the rough pad and began scrubbing at the metal.

“Even if they didn’t, we’ll still have the plot number. We can look it up in the old records and find out who was buried here.”

“If they let us. I have a feeling our little group will be wearing out its welcome at Town Hall real soon and those records probably won’t be available at the library.”

Todd grunted as he scrubbed the pad across the metal. “We’ll figure something out. We...hey, I see letters. Maybe we’re going to get lucky after all.” He poured more solvent on the pad and resumed scrubbing.

John tried to contain himself but after another minute he gave up. “Well? What does it say?”

“Hmf. Gimme another...there, that should do it.” Todd pulled a dry cloth from the bag and wiped away the wet sludge from the plate. “Let’s see... 407 dash Z5A. That’s the plot number.”

“That’s it?” John asked, writing the information on a scrap of paper.

“Yes, no name.”

“Figures. Well, call Cory and see if he can look that number up.”

Todd pulled put the cleaning supplies in the bag and they started down the path to where they’d left his car. “I’ll call him on the way to the library. Reception’s never good on this side of the hill. I...hey, who’s that?”

John looked where Todd was pointing. A police officer was standing behind Todd’s Toyota, staring at them as they came down the small hill. “Uh-oh. Do you think he saw what we were doing up there?”

“I don’t think so. The crypt is out of sight from the car.” Todd raised his voice. “Excuse me officer, is something wrong?”

The man continued to stare at them, his expression hidden behind aviator-style mirrored sunglasses. A little shiver ran through John’s belly and up his back.

“He’s creeping me out,” John whispered.

“Yeah.” Todd stopped walking. “Something’s not right here.”

The officer chose that moment to step out from behind Todd’s car. John felt a chuckle rise up as he saw the mess on the man’s uniform - it looked like the poor guy had spilled his lunch on his lap. It was only when Todd muttered a startled curse that John thought to take another look.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he heard himself say, as he realized what he’d thought was food stains was actually clotted blood.

“Run,” John said. When Todd didn’t move, he reached out and hit his friend on the shoulder. “Run!”

Not waiting to see if Todd took his advice, John turned and sprinted back into the cemetery. A moment later Todd caught up to him and passed him by, something he’d never been able to do when John was in high school.

Damn that booze!

“Follow me,” Todd said, his breath already coming in heavy gasps. “We’ll cut through the woods to the church.”

John risked a look back, saw that the thing was coming down the path after them, moving as fast—if not faster—than they were. He tried to remember how far it was to the old church. His heart was already pounding in his chest and he pictured it getting ready to explode, its walls too deteriorated from years of alcoholism and malnutrition to stand the sudden strain he was putting on it.

I will not die today. I will not become food for an alien cannibal thing.

He willed his legs to pump faster, ignoring the pain growing in his lungs.

Then something caught his leg and he was flying through the air.

Cory’s phone rang just as he was opening the next file in the stack he’d put together. He glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Marisol.

“Hey, what’s up gorgeous?”

“You wouldn’t say that if you could see me right now,” she said. “I’ve spent the last two hours driving myself crazy looking through filing cabinets. First in the lab and now I’m hiding in the records room at police headquarters.”

“What? How’d you manage that?”

“I got someone to let me in without Travers knowing but now that I’m here, I’ve got no idea what the hell I should be looking for.”

“I guess you could start with murders. A town this small, there can’t have been too many of them.”

She snorted. “You’d be surprised. The little bit of skimming that I’ve done, you could fill a notebook with the people who’ve been killed just down in the Lowlands. On top of that, all the records for the whole damn county are here, not just Rocky Point.”

Cory frowned. “Shit. I forgot the Sheriff’s Department covers the whole county. All right, tell you what. Forget the police files. Head down to the morgue and see if they’ve got any results yet from last night’s crime scene.”

“Okay,” Marisol said, her relief evident even through his cell phone’s tiny speaker. “Have you heard from Todd and John yet?”

“No. They’re probably at the library by now. I’m sure they’ll call soon.”

“All right. Are we still meeting back at Todd’s for dinner?”

“Unless we hear different. It’s my treat tonight. How’s Chinese sound?”

“Make mine sweet and sour chicken with brown rice. I’ll see you there.”

“’Bye,” Cory said. He thumbed the disconnect button, surprised to find the words “Love you,” sitting at the edge of his tongue. He’d almost said them out loud; the only thing that had stopped him was a feeling that the time wasn’t right. He was certain Marisol liked him, perhaps even loved him. He knew he loved her. He also knew that telling her too soon might send her running for the hills, especially after how badly her marriage had ended.

There’s no rush,
he thought.
When this is all over and we can spend time together without worrying about the town falling apart around us.

Of course, who knows when that will be?

With a sigh, he opened the next file and started reading.

*  *  *

Beneath Rocky Point, in tunnels and caverns both man-made and natural, the Horde opened its many eyes in response to a disturbance on the surface.

The cemetery. One of the appendages had come upon humans near a point of egress.

“
Return home
,” the Horde told itself.

Dozens of faces frowned as one. The Horde remembered the last time humans had descended below the surface. Many decades ago but still the memory burned, as painful as the damage the interlopers had wrought.

The Horde considered the possibilities. Their numbers were strong again but not strong enough. Not yet. It sent a message throughout itself, imprinting the orders in the minds of all the appendages.

“Do not use the cemetery to exit or enter the home.”

The Horde considered the town above and the humans that infested it.

Soon,
it thought.
Soon we will be free. Free to grow.

And feed.

*  *  *

John threw his hands up, cushioning his fall just enough that he didn’t hit his face. He felt like he’d taken a bowling ball to the chest but was still able to move. He rolled to the side, kicking out with both feet, expecting to find the reanimated cop clutching him with dead fingers.

Instead, all he saw were the gnarled, bulging roots of an old tree rising from the dirt path Todd had chosen.

“John!” Todd’s frantic voice seemed like it was a mile away. It took a moment for John to realize that was because the pounding of his pulse in his ears was overpowering all other sounds.

“I’m...I’m okay,” he said, fighting to get the words out while his lungs struggled to take in enough oxygen.

“C’mon.” Hands grabbed him under the arms. “I don’t know why but that thing stopped chasing us and turned around. I don’t trust it though. I still think we should take the long way back into town. We can come back for my car later.”

“Whatever you say.” John coughed and wheezed as Todd led him up the hill. When they reached the top, he saw the old church standing there, its whitewashed walls stained a dismal gray from decades of exposure to the elements. Those same elements had stolen several shingles from the roof. Plywood covered the windows and front door, and the cement steps were cracked and broken.

Todd paused. “John, if you’re feeling up to it, maybe we should go into the church and check the old records. We might find something about that crypt.”

John held back a groan. The last thing he felt like doing was going inside a run-down, spooky old church, especially after they’d already been chased by one monster. Who knew what was waiting inside for them? But the look on Todd’s face told him his friend was going in with or without him.

And friends didn’t desert friends.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

As they walked up the crumbling stairs, he hoped they weren’t making a mistake.

Two hours later, John’s worries had changed from sudden death by monster attack to slow, lingering death from toxic mold poisoning. Digging through the file cabinets and boxes in the church storage room - not in the basement thank God; he didn’t think he could have dealt with that - had churned up clouds of dust and fungal spores worse than anything he’d endured living on the streets. Thanks to years of abandonment, a leaky roof and too many humid seasons, half the papers they needed to look through were stained black and gray with mildew and worse.

“Jesus, this place reeks.” He opened another drawer, exposing more yellowed, mildewed files. The upwelling of fresh dust tickled his nose and throat, sending him into yet another coughing fit.