otest to the incredible heat that must have been present. Once they reached it, they received a new surprise. The ground was strewn with the charred husks of hundreds of bodies.
“Wait here,” Kevin warned as he grabbed a section of the fence and gave it a good shake. The metal screamed its protest, but seemed to hold.
Climbing up in short order, he threw a leg over the top and paused. Reaching down, he grabbed his binoculars and scanned the area.
Aleah, Heather, and Catie all wanted to ask questions, but each kept looking at the other and shrugging. Later, all three would agree that they felt a presence that demanded their s ilence. Kevin threw his other leg over and very carefully began to climb down.
Aleah noted that the fence, which had looked jet black when they first saw it, was indeed a metallic silver as Kevin was now covered in oily soot. He subconsciously wiped his hands on his pants as he stepped into the sprawling graveyard. Almost imm ediately, a low wailing moan began to drift on the breeze that suddenly seemed several degrees cooler. Each of them, Kevin included, broke out in goose flesh that marbled the skin of their arms.
“What is that?” Heather broke the sacred silence with a harsh whisper.
“I have no idea,” Catie said as she took a few steps back.
All her life growing up, her grandmother had tucked her in at night with a story. By the time she was eight or nine, Grammy Rose told Catie her first ghost story. She had loved it and insis ted that Grammy do away with fairy princesses and little pigs that had serious flaws in their construction ideologies. From then on, it was ghosts and witches and all sorts of denizens of the dark. When she turned thirteen, Grammy had taken her to a “real live” haunted house. They had seen nothing; they had heard nothing. Still Catie was convinced that she felt a presence. Catie believed in ghosts.
“I know what it sounds like,” Aleah managed to say around what felt like a mouth full of sand wrapped in cotton.
On the other side of the fence, Kevin was struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. It looked as if ever single grave had been dug up and unceremoniously emptied of its co ntents. The mounds of dirt were all washed out and reduced to miniscule hills of brown. Caskets were reduced to an assortment of tarnished fittings that could only be seen if you were up close. The bodies were just scattered about with no rhyme or reason.
When that moaning sound came, he froze and waited for any sign of movement. His first thought had not been ghosts. He was firmly fixated on the possibility of zombies. Even worse, he was initially worried that all these charred remains were the u ndead. Would roasting the brain do the same as a shot to the head?
He recalled a park that he, Aleah , and Heather had seen with hundreds if not thousands of decapitated bodies. The zombie could ‘survive’ decapitation in a matter of speaking. All those heads were animated. Mouths snapped and eyes followed. It was, at the time, the scariest thing he had ever seen.
With the prosthetic foot, he nudged the closest husk. It did not react. Kneeling, he was able to make out what looked like some staples in a cluster around the split breast plate.
Standing back up, he waded further into the cemetery. The moan rose and fell in pitch and volume. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. That only heightened his curiosity. He looked for any place where a person might be able to hide and settled on a small concrete structure that looked like it probably housed the grounds keeping tools.
“You three stay put,” Kevin called over his shoulder.
He smiled when he heard all three gals make assorted squeaks of surprise or fear. He was going to file this away for later and be sure to give Aleah a good ribbing.
“I ain’t afraid of no ghost…” Kevin began to sing softly as he crossed the expansive grounds to the lone structure sitting atop one of the very gentle rises.
By
“Wait here,” Kevin warned as he grabbed a section of the fence and gave it a good shake. The metal screamed its protest, but seemed to hold.
Climbing up in short order, he threw a leg over the top and paused. Reaching down, he grabbed his binoculars and scanned the area.
Aleah, Heather, and Catie all wanted to ask questions, but each kept looking at the other and shrugging. Later, all three would agree that they felt a presence that demanded their s ilence. Kevin threw his other leg over and very carefully began to climb down.
Aleah noted that the fence, which had looked jet black when they first saw it, was indeed a metallic silver as Kevin was now covered in oily soot. He subconsciously wiped his hands on his pants as he stepped into the sprawling graveyard. Almost imm ediately, a low wailing moan began to drift on the breeze that suddenly seemed several degrees cooler. Each of them, Kevin included, broke out in goose flesh that marbled the skin of their arms.
“What is that?” Heather broke the sacred silence with a harsh whisper.
“I have no idea,” Catie said as she took a few steps back.
All her life growing up, her grandmother had tucked her in at night with a story. By the time she was eight or nine, Grammy Rose told Catie her first ghost story. She had loved it and insis ted that Grammy do away with fairy princesses and little pigs that had serious flaws in their construction ideologies. From then on, it was ghosts and witches and all sorts of denizens of the dark. When she turned thirteen, Grammy had taken her to a “real live” haunted house. They had seen nothing; they had heard nothing. Still Catie was convinced that she felt a presence. Catie believed in ghosts.
“I know what it sounds like,” Aleah managed to say around what felt like a mouth full of sand wrapped in cotton.
On the other side of the fence, Kevin was struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. It looked as if ever single grave had been dug up and unceremoniously emptied of its co ntents. The mounds of dirt were all washed out and reduced to miniscule hills of brown. Caskets were reduced to an assortment of tarnished fittings that could only be seen if you were up close. The bodies were just scattered about with no rhyme or reason.
When that moaning sound came, he froze and waited for any sign of movement. His first thought had not been ghosts. He was firmly fixated on the possibility of zombies. Even worse, he was initially worried that all these charred remains were the u ndead. Would roasting the brain do the same as a shot to the head?
He recalled a park that he, Aleah , and Heather had seen with hundreds if not thousands of decapitated bodies. The zombie could ‘survive’ decapitation in a matter of speaking. All those heads were animated. Mouths snapped and eyes followed. It was, at the time, the scariest thing he had ever seen.
With the prosthetic foot, he nudged the closest husk. It did not react. Kneeling, he was able to make out what looked like some staples in a cluster around the split breast plate.
Standing back up, he waded further into the cemetery. The moan rose and fell in pitch and volume. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. That only heightened his curiosity. He looked for any place where a person might be able to hide and settled on a small concrete structure that looked like it probably housed the grounds keeping tools.
“You three stay put,” Kevin called over his shoulder.
He smiled when he heard all three gals make assorted squeaks of surprise or fear. He was going to file this away for later and be sure to give Aleah a good ribbing.
“I ain’t afraid of no ghost…” Kevin began to sing softly as he crossed the expansive grounds to the lone structure sitting atop one of the very gentle rises.
By
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