himself in line with the trees so he wouldn’t be seen.
This was the first time he saw such a crowd in the cemetery since waking here. When he did see someone, it was usually just one or two people at a time to visit the grave of a loved one.
Zach went behind a tree around thirty feet from the gathering and looked on. Some of the people were crying. Others merely stood there with blank expressions. A few were huddled together in an embrace. Were they all here to visit someone now deceased? There were about thirty people in all, ranging in age from around ten to over seventy.
Zach listened intently, and the man in the black shirt and pants beyond saying, “. . . Father, Son and Holy Ghost. May Your servant, O God, rest in peace. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen.”
The man in black moved out of the way, revealing two figures at the fore of everyone else.
They were the same people from the flashback after his first feeding. The man, tired and worn—and the girl, beautiful and mystifying.
♦ ♦ ♦
Rose’s father closed the door to the columbarium , and locked it. It would be sealed up later with a plaque put in place with her mother’s name, date of birth and date of death, and a note of sentiment.
Marcus put a hand around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”
The tears fell anew and Rose put her face in her hands. Her dad brought her in to a full hug and rubbed her back.
“ It’s okay,” he said, “let it all out.”
Rose’s eyes glanced over the columbarium . She could envision her mother’s ashes in there, the same ashes that once composed her actual body. Her mom. Already she missed her mother’s smile, her laugh, the occasional nights she tucked Rose in despite her being a teenager.
A sharp pain running through her heart in waves, she told her dad she wanted to say good-bye to her mother one last time, alone.
“ Sure, go ahead,” he said softly.
Rose went up to the columbarium and laid her fingers on it. “Mom . . .” she said, but was cut short when she saw the face of a young man looking at them from behind a tree not too far away.
A thunderclap slammed through her heart and her mouth went dry. No . . . “It can’t be . . .”
The young man pulled away in behind the tree.
“ Zach?” she whispered.
Her father came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Rose?”
“ Dad, I saw—” She glanced back toward the tree and she thought she saw someone running past the tombstones beyond, the person’s motion so fluid it looked like they were gliding across the grass instead of running on it.
“ Honey?” her dad said.
“ I have to—” And before she realized it, her legs were already moving under her. I can’t believe this. Is it him? Can’t be. What would he be doing here? She ran around a row of tombstones, past a few trees, her father calling her name somewhere behind her.
She tripped over a stray tree branch and fell, her hands blocking her fall before her face hit the grass. She lay there a moment, catching her breath, elation and hurt pulling her feelings to either side.
Broken and tired, she slowly got to her feet. Palms stinging, she checked them over for scratches. They were only grass-stained; she gently brushed them together and dusted off the blades that stuck to her skin.
The cemetery around her was empty aside from her party, just a sea of tombstones and trees.
“ I’m losing it,” she said. “I thought I saw—” Someone was behind her. Rose spun around and a wave of dizziness passed through her when Zach stood before her.
Her legs gave out; he swiftly caught her before she hit the ground.
“ Zach?” she said, scrambling to get her own two legs under her. No, it’s impossible! “You’re . . . you’re . . .”
“ How do you know my name?” he asked.
“ How do I—Zach, it’s me, Rose. Remember? We’re dat—”
Mr. Jordan called out to her a few rows away.
“ I can’t stay,” Zach
This was the first time he saw such a crowd in the cemetery since waking here. When he did see someone, it was usually just one or two people at a time to visit the grave of a loved one.
Zach went behind a tree around thirty feet from the gathering and looked on. Some of the people were crying. Others merely stood there with blank expressions. A few were huddled together in an embrace. Were they all here to visit someone now deceased? There were about thirty people in all, ranging in age from around ten to over seventy.
Zach listened intently, and the man in the black shirt and pants beyond saying, “. . . Father, Son and Holy Ghost. May Your servant, O God, rest in peace. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen.”
The man in black moved out of the way, revealing two figures at the fore of everyone else.
They were the same people from the flashback after his first feeding. The man, tired and worn—and the girl, beautiful and mystifying.
♦ ♦ ♦
Rose’s father closed the door to the columbarium , and locked it. It would be sealed up later with a plaque put in place with her mother’s name, date of birth and date of death, and a note of sentiment.
Marcus put a hand around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”
The tears fell anew and Rose put her face in her hands. Her dad brought her in to a full hug and rubbed her back.
“ It’s okay,” he said, “let it all out.”
Rose’s eyes glanced over the columbarium . She could envision her mother’s ashes in there, the same ashes that once composed her actual body. Her mom. Already she missed her mother’s smile, her laugh, the occasional nights she tucked Rose in despite her being a teenager.
A sharp pain running through her heart in waves, she told her dad she wanted to say good-bye to her mother one last time, alone.
“ Sure, go ahead,” he said softly.
Rose went up to the columbarium and laid her fingers on it. “Mom . . .” she said, but was cut short when she saw the face of a young man looking at them from behind a tree not too far away.
A thunderclap slammed through her heart and her mouth went dry. No . . . “It can’t be . . .”
The young man pulled away in behind the tree.
“ Zach?” she whispered.
Her father came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Rose?”
“ Dad, I saw—” She glanced back toward the tree and she thought she saw someone running past the tombstones beyond, the person’s motion so fluid it looked like they were gliding across the grass instead of running on it.
“ Honey?” her dad said.
“ I have to—” And before she realized it, her legs were already moving under her. I can’t believe this. Is it him? Can’t be. What would he be doing here? She ran around a row of tombstones, past a few trees, her father calling her name somewhere behind her.
She tripped over a stray tree branch and fell, her hands blocking her fall before her face hit the grass. She lay there a moment, catching her breath, elation and hurt pulling her feelings to either side.
Broken and tired, she slowly got to her feet. Palms stinging, she checked them over for scratches. They were only grass-stained; she gently brushed them together and dusted off the blades that stuck to her skin.
The cemetery around her was empty aside from her party, just a sea of tombstones and trees.
“ I’m losing it,” she said. “I thought I saw—” Someone was behind her. Rose spun around and a wave of dizziness passed through her when Zach stood before her.
Her legs gave out; he swiftly caught her before she hit the ground.
“ Zach?” she said, scrambling to get her own two legs under her. No, it’s impossible! “You’re . . . you’re . . .”
“ How do you know my name?” he asked.
“ How do I—Zach, it’s me, Rose. Remember? We’re dat—”
Mr. Jordan called out to her a few rows away.
“ I can’t stay,” Zach
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