The Ferryman by Christopher Golden Page B

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    To Janine’s mind, God had allowed far too many accidents of late. She tried not to think much about the Almighty, however. When she did, it pissed her off. As far as she was concerned God was a sadist, and that was the end of that. He had provided her with friends like Annette and David, but that was about the best she could say about Him.
    The car was mostly quiet on the way to the cemetery. Janine had felt a vague sort of unease since she had woken up that morning, but even more so after the conversation with her mother. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Life went on, or so people said. That was what she wanted. For life to go on.
    Yet she was not willing to pretend that she had never carried the baby inside her, that it had not existed. Her loss was part of her now, the baby still with her, in a sense.
    It seemed only right to visit him. Already she felt guilty about the days that had gone by without her doing so. Those days seemed like one long night to her, a restless night where twisted, disturbing dreams came too often to visit. Some sweet dreams, too, but those were the exception. She had stayed in the house, mostly, going out only to the store, speaking on the phone only to Annette and her mother and to Tom Carlson at the high school.
    The entrance to Oak Grove Cemetery came into sight.
    Her father had been born and raised in Medford. His parents were buried at Oak Grove, and when he died, he had been laid with them. Janine’s aunts had been kind enough to offer to let her bury the baby in the family crypt, and to give her the place that had once been intended for her mother.
    â€œIt’s sweet of you to take me,” Janine said.
    Annette nodded. “It’s no problem.”
    Her smile was only halfhearted, though, and Janine frowned. “You all right?”
    As though surprised by the question, Annette pushed a lock of her short hair behind her ear, and shrugged.“I’m good. Just ...” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
    â€œNot if it’s bothering you.”
    Annette turned through the cemetery’s gates, then glanced over at her. “Considering where we are and why we’re here? It’s stupid.”
    Janine glowered at her.
    Finally Annette sighed. “It’s just ... I saw Melinda last night.”
    â€œYou guys are getting back? That’s great!” Janine said, trying to be encouraging, though she had not been overly fond of Annette’s last girlfriend.
    Annette kept her eyes straight ahead, slowly guiding the car up into the wooded hill at the back of the cemetery.
    â€œI saw her at a bar.With someone else.Very much a couple.”
    Janine’s heart sank. “Oh, Elf, I’m sorry.”
    But Annette shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She put the car into park. “I think about why we’re here, and I feel like a moron, not to mention heartless, for even letting it get to me.”
    Janine reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I appreciate it. But just because I ... just because this happened, that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to hurt.”
    When Annette looked up, her eyes were moist. “Just gets lonely sometimes.”
    â€œTrust me, I know.”
    Janine squeezed her hand again, then opened the door and began to climb out.
    She was half-in, half-out of the car when she saw a man in a long coat standing over the Hartschorn crypt. His coat flapped in the wind; his hands were jammed in the pockets.
    The world fell silent around her.The rumbling of Annette’s engine, the wind rustling mostly bare branches above, the sound of her own heartbeat; it all went away.
    Janine stood up and stared at the man. A memory, or just the ghost of a dream, skittered across her mind like a squirrel darting into a tree for safety. Her lips felt cold.
    Then the man turned.
    It was Spencer.
    Fury replaced dread within her. Her fists bunched as she