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after dropping off most of the other passengers along the way — was a cemetery tucked in amid a copse of ancient trees. It was high on a hill above a narrow, sylvan valley and normally solely populated by a small scattering of headstones.
    But not tonight.
    Joe and Willy eased themselves out of the vehicle and stretched in the fading rain, which was at long last reducing to a steady drizzle. A young man dressed in a yellow coat labeled EMS approached them, looking wet, unshaven, grim, and beyond haggard.
    "You the police?" he asked hoarsely.
    They merely nodded, perhaps sensing the inanity of displaying their shields in a place and time like this.
    "I'm Joe," Gunther thought to say. "He's Willy."
    The man didn't introduce himself, turning on his heel instead and leading them across the small cemetery's uneven surface. Usually, trees are planted in such a setting to add grace and peacefulness. Here, the graves had come later, dug among the trees so that the huge trunks and gnarled roots appeared to have grudgingly made room.
    "It's over here," their host said, speaking straight ahead in a loud voice, no doubt finding it less taxing than turning his head. Around them, small clusters of men and women, mostly dressed in fire department gear, watched them walk toward the very edge of the burial ground.
    "There's no river or creek to speak of up here," the EMT was saying. "But once Irene let loose this morning, pretty much everything that could run water did." His right arm flapped out to his side as he added, "And we have about two hundred feet of elevation above us here, so a lot of water ended up coming along this western boundary."
    He stopped near a roaring generator attached to three lights that his team had hung from an assortment of nearby branches.
    Now he was shouting over the engine to be heard, and Joe and Willy leaned in close. "This is a small local cemetery. I don't even know its name, and I've lived here all my life. But it's still used, if not much. Anyhow, people take care of it and watch out for the stones, and mow it in the summer. It was the caretaker who got worried about what the runoff might be doing, and came up to see what was happening."
    He took a few steps toward where the light was focused, and his two guests finally saw the custodian's source for concern — the water had indeed sliced alongside the lot, and created what looked like a six-foot-deep archeological trench, exposing the sides of several coffins in the process. There remained a trickle along the bottom, but the evidence spoke of a far more destructive cataract earlier.
    "That's dust to dust with a vengeance," Joe heard Willy say softly to himself, adding, "Or mud to mud."
    The young man jumped down into the ditch and pointed at the row of more or less exposed boxes. He looked up at them, still shouting. "Pretty much speaks for itself, and no big deal when you get down to it. Not like anybody was actually carried away. That would really suck."
    Joe nodded to show his agreement, although he was beginning to question why they'd been called here.
    Their host beckoned tiredly. "I'm real sorry, but you're gonna have to come down here. I guess it's not the first time you've gotten wet today, though."
    That having been said, they complied, slithering down the side of the ditch and joining him as he squatted down and played his flashlight along the side panel of the centermost coffin.
    "Don't know if it was a cheap box, or the passage of time, or maybe both, combined with the force of water, but you can see right here how the side caved in."
    Joe shifted around so that his sight line followed the light, dreading the macabre nature of what he was about to see.
    "First time I saw it," the EMT explained, "I thought it was just rubble that had piled up against the damn thing. But it's not."
    He moved, handing the flashlight over. Joe lowered himself to his knees, feeling the water curl around his thighs. He pointed the shaft of light into the gash of