The First Church by Ron Ripley Page B

and led the way into the cemetery.
    He kept a steady pace and glanced back only once to make sure Luke was able to keep up.
    The man did so, easily.  The cane tapped on the cracked asphalt of the cemetery road and Jim lent his support.  Reverend Joe walked behind them.
    With each ghost they passed, Brian could feel their undead eyes upon him.  He could sense the unasked questions, the desire to know who he was and why he was there.
    Soon, they were near the back of the cemetery, and the Rev said, “Turn left here.  This is lot Q.”
    Brian did so.
    He found the right row, and then the proper grave.
    “Jonathan Daniel Boyd,” Brian read aloud.  “Born September 4, 1917.  Died January 4, 1968.  Gunnery Sergeant, United States Marine Corps.  Purple Heart, Bronze Star, Silver Star, Navy Cross.”
    Brian shook his head.  “Man was tough.”
    “He was indeed,” Luke agreed.
    “Is he here?” Rever end Joe asked, looking around.  He seemed uncomfortable.  It was as though the idea of the dead being anywhere other than Heaven was extremely upsetting.
    “I don’t know,” Brian said, looking around.  And then he stopped.
    A ghost stood off to one side.  He wore a Marine Corps uniform, and he looked to be about fifty years old.  The dead man looked steadily at Brian.
    “You can see me,” the ghost said.
    “I can,” Brian answered.
    “You’re looking for someone,” the dead man continued.
    “I am,” Brian agreed.
    “Who?”
    “Jonathan Boyd,” Brian said.
    The ghost’s eyes widened slightly.  “Well, you found him, boy.  What do you want with me?”
    “We need help,” Brian said.
    Jonathan Boyd looked at the others, who gazed intently at Brian, yet said nothing. Then Boyd asked, “Who are they?”
    “The one with the collar is Rever end Joe Malleus,” Brian said.  “He’s the Rever end over at the First Congregationalist Church.  The teenager, his name’s Jim Bogue.  His grandfather, there, well, you know him.  He’s Luke Allen.”
    Jonathan looked at Luke, took a step closer and asked in a low voice, “Why’s he blind?”
    “Luke,” Brian said.
    “Yes?” Luke answered.
    “Mr. Boyd would like to know why you’re blind,” Brian said.
    The dead Marine shimmered slightly, and from the simultaneous gasp from the Reverend and Jim, Brian knew the ghost had made himself visible.
    “Hello, boy,” Jonathan said.  “You’re not a boy anymore.”
    “No,” Luke said, smiling, “I’m not, sir.”
    “Still polite, though,” Jonathan said, nodding.  “So, rather than have a go-between, you want to tell me what happened to your eyes?”
    “Mr. Boyd,” Luke said.  “Enemy sniper.  The bullet passed clean through one eye and out the other.  One of the neatest shots the doctors had ever seen.  They had to rebuild my nose, though.”
    Jim looked at his grandfather with surprise.
    Jonathan nodded.  “I’m sorry to hear it, Luke.  I’m glad you’re not dead.  You’ve enjoyed life? ”
    "I have," Luke said.
    “Good, boy, good,” Jonathan said.  “Now listen, we’ll see each other again, and I mean see.  You get everything back when you go.  We’ll swap war stories then, and you can tell me whether you came to love it or not.”
    “I look forward to it, sir,” Luke replied in a low voice.
    “ Me, too, Luke.  Me, too.”  Jonathan turned his attention back to Brian.  “ You need my help?”
    “Yes, sir,” Brian said.  “We’ve got a couple of headless Japanese soldiers who are pretty upset.”
    “Just two of them?” Jonathan asked with a chuckle.  “ Usually, all six get worked up at the same time.  Well, the best thing to do is get them some saké and heat it up.  And why are they headless?  Last thing those boys like to do is go around without their heads.”
    “We were hoping you could tell us,” Brian said.  “See, we don’t know where the heads are.”
    “They’re in my war room,” Jonathan said, frowning.  “All of the skulls