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trudged down the steps and through the poor excuse for a
lawn, then looked both ways for prying eyes and jogged across the
road, quickly making his way to the trunk of his car. The
twenty-seven-year-old psychopath, always planning ahead, had
already spread out a tarp on the floorboard, keeping Jared’s blood
from soaking into the carpet. Since Jared’s heart had been
punctured, most of the blood was internal. Carver knew, as long as
he kept the body upright, there would be no messes made; he would
drive accordingly.
    ***
    After calmly transporting the body through
town, Carver exited Sorrow’s Sky and got on the highway to Cosmos.
Four miles to his destination and he already felt as though he was
home free, a perk of working for the police department. If he were
to get pulled over, they’d soon see that he was one of them and
send him on his way with nothing more than a pat on the back. It was , however, quite odd to have a male in the trunk. It was
one thing to have hairs and fibers from a female, but the thought
of a man’s DNA back there gave Carver the shivers. He would clean
it before his next kill, he decided.
    On the quiet drive Carver thought of Julia,
her beautiful smile and her soft touch. She made him want to be a
better person. He thought of killing her, then thought of marrying
her. He couldn’t wait to hold her naked body in his arms, lifeless
or not. For the first time in his life, Carver Thorton was
torn.
    He turned into Arpac Hills Cemetery and cut
his headlights. Welcoming him to the sacred land, the black
entrance sign above him disappeared from his windshield and over
the roof of his car. A light rain trickled down, and the full moon
lit his way and then some, casting eerie shadows all around. It was
spooky, looking at all the plots on either side of him. A misty fog
covered most of the headstones, and the thick trees looked like
dark silhouettes, towering islands in the massive sea of graves.
Carver kept an eye out for any movement; he searched the area for
looters and thrill-seekers, anyone who could identify him or his
car.
    The dead had always intrigued him. He didn’t
fear dead bodies; he feared ghosts. His opinions on the afterlife
were well thought out, and, oddly enough, he did believe
that what a person did in their life was either rewarded or
punished in the end. As he kept his driving to a slow pace, his
mind tricked itself into seeing ghouls running through the markers,
ducking behind them and jumping out at him. There was something
strange about the old cemetery.
    Carver headed to the back of the grave
garden, and, where the road ended, he put his Chevy in Park and
killed the engine. Not wanting to spend any more time than he had
to in the land of the dead, he popped the trunk. The young murderer
reached into his pockets and pulled out four dollars in
change—quarters, nickels and dimes mostly. He tossed them on the
grass in front of the car. When he got to the trunk, he found that
Jared’s body was heavier than before; he soon realized he must have
burned off the adrenaline he used during the excitement of the
kill. Carver struggled to get the deceased to the tree line of the
forest—about fifteen feet from his front bumper—and couldn’t figure
out why the grass was so wet. His back felt strained. The dark
woodland trees towered over him, and he dropped the body, then ran
as quickly as he could to his car, feeling a chill on his back the
entire way.
    Wanting to make sure his plan would work, he
got in his car, closed and locked the doors, then turned on his
lights, illuminating the body. The loose change slowly rose from
the grass, each one reflecting the light and twirling around, as if
there were no gravity.
    In the glow—a bit too soon for his comfort—a
gray leg stepped from the trees. The skin looked rough, like
leather. Carver clenched his hands, trying to keep them from
shaking. The alien body was malnourished, and its arms were long,
sending the tips of its fingers to