As night officially stakes its claim, a calm peacefulness seeps across the graveyard’s grounds like fog. I reach the end of the path around the entire perimeter and start to pick my way through the moon-kissed headstones.
I get lost in reading the names on them and tracing the details of the intricate stone markers that now represent people’s lives. I’m surprised by all of the different last names I find. I figured, with it being a private graveyard, this would have a lot of family names, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
Just as I’m settling into what is looking to be a tranquil first shift, an incredibly loud and alarming whoosh sounds off to my left. The onslaught of it startles me, and my heart kicks up and starts running a race that would impress Secretariat.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, my eyes scanning my surroundings.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was getting crop dusted by a damn tornado, but the loud noise stops just as suddenly as it began. I start to move in the direction I think it came from, my eyes zeroed in on a cluster of mausoleums.
I probably should be scared, but mostly I’m a little salty that something is messing with my new cushy job already. Whatever that was needs to know that it’ll take more than that to send me running away from eighty dollars an hour and benefits.
Cautiously, I approach the largest of the mausoleums in the graveyard, shock filtering through me when I hear voices inside.
“Fuck, don’t tell me I’m going to have to face off with vandals on my first day?” I mutter to myself as I try to suss out how the hell people got in there without my catching them. I’ve been vigilant as fuck.
I let out an irritated breath and tighten my grip on my walking stick which now has a very weapony feel to it. This will be just like kicking a drunk out of the bar. Be firm and authoritative, I tell myself, and take no shit.
And here we go.
I hurry over to the stone mausoleum and press my back against the wall near the door. I try to listen to what’s being said, but I can’t make anything out. It’s just a low murmur of voices speaking back and forth. I don’t know what they did to make that loud noise, but they better not be breaking shit on my first night here. If they are, the cost of damages better not come out of my paycheck, or this Xena reject will be raising hell.
I try to wait for the voices to stop talking, but they just keep going on and on. It’s safe to say at least one of them likes the sound of their own voice. Seriously, who hangs out in a mausoleum? If they’re crazies trying to sacrifice a squirrel to the devil, I’m going to be so pissed.
I can tell that there are at least two of them in there, and they’re both men. That means that I’m outnumbered, but I’m scrappy as fuck, so I got this.
Tired of waiting for the assholes who seem to be taking their sweet time doing whatever they’re doing in there, I move toward the door, tensing and tightening my grip on the walking stick. After counting silently to three, I push the heavy wooden door open. I notice some intricately carved rings on the outside of the polished wood as it smacks loudly against the stone wall inside. I try not to cringe at the intrusive boom of sound that it creates. Although, if the noise scared the squirrel-sacrificing little shits, then I’ll call that a win.
I blink furiously as I try to adjust to the darkness inside the mausoleum, but when I scan the space, I only find that it’s...empty. “What the hell?”
I spin around in confusion, but aside from the closed stone coffin on the left and a pillowed bench on the right with an empty flower holder, there’s no one in here.
Confused, I walk back outside and then circle the whole mausoleum. My gaze sweeps everything around me, but there’s nothing there other than headstones and grass. Not a damn person in sight.
I check the inside of the massive tomb one more time, but it’s just as empty as the first time I checked, and the voices are silent. There isn’t a peep sounding throughout the entire graveyard other than the crickets that are chirping all at once.
I run a hand down my face and blow out a breath. “Get your shit together, Delta,” I chastise myself. It was probably my radio picking up a signal. Or the voices just carried from the event at the estate. Or my lack of sleep lately is fucking me up. That’s one of the downfalls of sleeping during the day—it messes with your natural cycle. Even my dreams are whack.
I don’t believe in ghosts, so that option goes right out the window. If they were real, my dead parents would’ve visited me at least once over the past nine years. It’s possible that there could’ve been some people behind the mausoleum before I checked it out, or my ears just picked up noise in the wrong direction entirely.
I spin slowly in place, my grip still tight on the cumbersome walking stick. Maybe I scared whoever it was away. My terrifying entrance could’ve had trespassers tucking tail and fleeing with all the noise I just made. I put my hand on my hip in thought, and my palm skims the short antenna of the radio.
Wait a minute…
“Iceman,” I grit out with irritation.
Is that fucker pranking me? I ponder that question for a moment, and the more I swish it around my mouth, the more I taste the possibility in the words. That’s gotta be it.
I yank off my radio and click it on. “Aren’t you a little old for practical jokes?” I snap into the speaker.
“What?”
“Instead of trying
