Read Cemetery Club for Free Online Page B

“Doris? Tell Foster, Harris and Cruz to get their goddamned asses in here, pronto.”
     
     
    *  *  *
     
    The Adams funeral was a somber affair, made worse by the drenching showers that rolled in during the priest’s graveside sermon. The dozens of black umbrellas that sprouted up like giant mushrooms were next to useless as the wind whipped around in powerful gusts. Father O’Malley brought the ceremony to a quick conclusion, skipping several paragraphs in his prepared speech as the unseasonably cold rain soaked the small gathering. One by one the mourners dropped roses on the casket and hurried through the deepening puddles to their waiting cars.
    Lester Boone remained behind after the other mourners had hurried off. He’d told Aimee to meet him at the motel after the funeral but he could have sworn he’d caught a glimpse of her off in the distance as he walked from his car to the grave, a flash of black trench coat disappearing behind the very same mausoleum where they’d found Frank’s remains only a few days earlier. It would be just like her to show up here, thinking that doing it at a crime scene – and in a graveyard no less - would add even more spice to their illicit rendezvous. As soon as he was sure they were alone, he sloshed up the hill to where she’d been playing hide and seek.
    “Aimee! C’mon, don’t play games. It’s too fucking cold and wet. Let’s just go to the motel like we planned.”
    More movement, a flash of black against the dark gray of the crypt. Christ, what was it with her and cemeteries? They’d done it in every half-assed collection of graves from here to Albany. “Aimee! I’m not fooling. Let’s go.”
    When there was still no answer he walked over to the mausoleum, his feet soaked, his body shivering from the cold water running from his hair and down inside his collar.
    He reached the stone structure and stopped, overcome with a sudden desire to do anything except take another step forward. A chill ran through him that had nothing to do with the cold falling rain. His heart pounded hard and fast. He rested one hand against the stone wall of the crypt to steady himself.
    What the hell’s going on? There’s nothing here to be scared of. Lester took a deep breath. Get a grip. You’re acting like a little girl. Purposely ignoring the voice inside his head that was begging him to turn around, he stepped forward and peered around the back of the building. “Aimee?”
    It took a moment for him to recognize the shape on the ground as his mistress. Someone had pulled her black trench coat over her head, exposing her naked body to the elements. Only it no longer looked like a body; rainwater had filled in the giant hole extending from her chest to her pelvic region, turning it into a flesh bowl of cold, red soup.
    Lester opened his mouth to scream just as the ghostly shadow emerged from the stone wall of the mausoleum. He recognized it instantly even though he’d never seen one before, unless you counted pictures on the Discovery Channel. Aliens! The roughly humanoid figure stood as tall as his waist, with an egg-shaped head framing two slanted eyes, eyes as red as if the fires of Mercury burned behind them. Instead of walking, it floated a few inches above the ground.
    Lester had no time to react as the creature shot forward and entered his mouth in an icy wave. He gagged and clawed at his throat, fighting for air. Struggling to remain conscious, he fell to his knees next to Aimee’s body.
    Then he heard the voice. It spoke quietly but forcefully inside his head, telling him what he needed to do.
    No longer aware of the falling rain, Lester stood up and lifted Aimee’s corpse from the ground. He walked around to the front of the mausoleum. The door opened slowly and stiffly when he pushed on it, rusty metal hinges squealing like mechanical mice. Although only a hint of gray daylight entered through the doorway and the one small stained glass window, Lester had no trouble