“Come on, man,” one of the guys holding the lid says. “I hate working in these conditions, and I want to be home in bed already.”
“Quit your whining,” one of the other men says. “You want to end up like this guy?” Luna gasps again.
“What does that mean?” Luna whispers at my ear. “What are they doing to my dad?”
“I don’t know.” I lean into her but don’t turn my head away from the scene around the coffin. “But I’m hoping we figure it out soon.”
Luna clings to my arm and cranes her neck for a better view.
The man yet to participate, aside from handing cigarette man something to shove in Mr. Flores’ mouth, lifts Luna’s dad out of the coffin and over his shoulder.
“This guy is heavy,” he complains.
“Just get him to the car.” Cigarette man swings a finger in the direction of the car.
The guy lugs Luna’s dad down the back row and turns the corner. Heads toward the center aisle and the car.
“Oh, bat crap.” I yank Luna and we both drop to the ground. I’m praying, praying, praying the shadows hide us from view. He moves past our row and keeps moving.
“Be quick, will ya guys?” one of the men at the vault tomb says.
Luna tugs on my arm to follow her dad, but first, I peek back, wanting to know what the others are up to. The men are shoving the empty casket back into the vault. One of the guys scoops a thick lump of mud into the opening, and I realize they plan to seal the opening back up so that it looks like nothing ever happened.
My insides are a jumble. I don’t know what to do with this information.
“Come on,” Luna whispers, yanking on my arm again.
“Yeah, yeah.” I give, let her lead the way. We sneak from row to row, until we spot the man carrying Luna’s father. With the extra weight on his back, the man is moving slow and has only covered about half the distance from the grave to the car. We watch him from behind the safety of any and every available crypt.
The man adjusts the body on his shoulder, and Luna’s dad jolts.
“What was that?” Luna asks, pressing closer to better view the man carrying her dad.
“A reaction to the force the dude applied,” I say. “Simple physics.” Not that I’m particularly knowledgeable in the subject.
“I don’t think so.” Luna points, her arm extending across the roof of the tomb in front of us. The body slumped over the man’s shoulder jerks again. This time, the bokor’s henchman reacts with a jolt of his own.
“Crap,” he mutters and drops the body. Luna chokes. “Um,” the man says and steps away.
An odd, gurgling sound ruptures from the ground at his feet. Or, actually, from Luna’s dad. Mr. Flores moves… on his own. His hand presses at the ground, lifting him to his knees. His head swivels around in a ragdoll fashion, and he rises to his feet.
“Yo. Elijah,” the man calls toward the back-wall vaults.
Luna’s dad turns and staggers down the row of tombs, heading our direction.
“My dad,” Luna says, hints of awe and fright in her voice. “He’s alive.”
My lips remain sealed. I’m not ready to announce any judgement. I’m not crazy about what I’m seeing.
“The dude is walking away,” the man calls. “What do I do?”
“Keep it down, you idiot,” a voice calls back.
“Get him,” another says.
Due to the layout in the particular area of the cemetery where Luna and I are situated, the row in which we stand doesn’t connect directly with the adjacent row Mr. Flores now staggers. A quick L curve around a clustered square of family tombs connects the two pathways.
Luna’s dad staggers into the opening of the L curve. Swings right around the first tomb, and shuffles directly at us.
Luna lurches forward and grabs her dad’s arm. “Papa?” Her voice is a mere whimper.
Mr. Flores’ head swivels to her, his gaze falling upon her for all of five seconds. That’s all it takes for my thoughts to burst into complete darkness.
Luna’s father is wrong. So, so wrong.
My feet are rooted and... I. Can’t. Move. I want to move. I’m trying to move. But my legs refuse to answer my demand.
Luna’s dad leans forward, bringing his face up to hers. His mouth opens, and a sound somewhere between a groan and a wail, expels from his lungs.
Luna lets go of her dad and stumbles back, presses into me, and I press into the wall of cement at my back. Her body is attempting to melt through me and into the tomb behind us.
No spark of recognition registers in Mr. Flores’ eyes. His reaction is inhuman. Monster-esque.
My lungs and heart crush into nothingness. My everything is breaking to pieces for Luna.
Mind and body forever owned by the bokor.
“Rudy, where’d you go?” The call is a mere tomb away. The bokor’s men are coming for Luna’s dad. We need to hide. Get out of the cemetery.
I grab Luna’s arm and yank her sideways, down and around the next tomb. We slip and fall in the mud. Scramble to our feet and press our bodies to the shadows.
“Rudy. There you are,” a man’s voice says.
We shimmy, then crouch in a tight sliver of a space between two closely set tombs.
“Come on, Rudy. We’re going to go for a ride.” Slushy steps move away from us. “You’ll find it fun.”
Two men usher Luna’s dad to the car. We watch from a safe distance, keeping to the shadows and small spaces. The other two men return from the back vault, store their tools in the trunk, and slip into the backseat with Luna’s dad set between them. All four men, plus Luna’s dad, drive out of the cemetery in a green, four-door Mercury.
I only manage to retain half the license plate, but it’s a place to start.
Luna and I drop to our butts on the side of one of the tombs. My heart
