Evan tread along the footpath leading further into Ironbark graveyard. The gravelly surface was still somewhat damp from yesterday’s rain. Evan’s eyes traced over the lines of headstones. There were many here – more than he’d expect from a town like this. Most of them were old though, not of any current significance, and though Edgar had implied this place was a major boon to his business, Evan didn’t see many flowers on the graves. It was possible that the storm blew them all away, and they hadn’t been replenished since. It was also possible that there are so many graves here that even a low flower density is enough to sustain a business. The place was large – large enough that if something unusual happened it might take people weeks for anyone to notice, months perhaps.

Past the 30th row of gravestones he stopped walking along the track and continued perpendicularly along the rows of the dead. The moist soil squished underfoot when he stepped off the path. Evan moved past stone after stone, some with patches of moss, some with overgrown crabgrass, some with splotches of dandelions. The sun had almost completely set now. He’d ended work at the florist’s just after six but had waited a bit longer to come. It would be better if he worked under the cover of dark. He checked his tome; He was almost there.

Eventually, he caught site of it – a pit in the soil with a mess of uprooted earth around it, leftovers of what had thrust itself out and crawled away in shambles. The hole had caved slightly. Much of the dirt pushed out had collapsed back into the cavity. It had been matted down by rainfall. That might make things more difficult.

Evan checked his tome again to confirm, though at this point it was obvious. He placed the book on a neighboring stone and took out the garden shovel Edgar had lent him. It had taken a bit of convincing. He had told Edgar if he didn’t bring it back, He could take it out of his wages. Since Edgar agreed that his work for the day was worth at least $20, he conceded that even if he absconded with the shovel, Edgar would have more than broken even.

He sighed and began to dig. He needed to go quickly if he wanted to find the anchor in time: The object that binds an undead to the world. Judging from the tome, it was here. Living corpses could only survive a few days after resurrection, but that meant he had to hurry. If something were going to be done, it would have to be done soon, and the only way a dead man can return to life is with the life of another.

---

Edgar paced back and forth along the aisles of the store. Evan had left at the end of the workday, but Edgar like to hang around the store past closing time, just to take in the odd beauty of flowers bathed in artificial light, and, when the lights go off, darkness. What a lovely view. He supposed he should go to bed early today; He hadn’t gotten much sleep the day before, so…

A knock at the door – again! This one after hours. For a moment Edgar considered the possibility that Evan had left something behind and was returning to retrieve it, until laid eyes on the source. Another boy, this one in his early twenties. What are the odds he’d get a strange boy knocking at his door before and after he closed? Granted, the first one had been mistimed, but still. He leaned to get a better look. The boy had an anxious look about him. He kept shifting, showing discomfort. Edgar walked to the door.

“we’re closed.” He was much less keen to let someone in after business hours. Everything had already been shut down, and unpleasant things more often happened at night, or at least Edgar assumed so.

“I am here …” the kid shuffled, then had a look of realization and shot up straight “… on official business.”

“On official what business?”

“I am an FBI officer!” He declared unevenly.

“No, you’re not.” Edgar walked to his counter to pick up his phone. The kid looked harmless, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d call the police, or at least fake it to get the kid to go away.

“I have a badge with me.” The kid shuffled around his satchel and pulled out what looked like a leather billfold. He held it out to the closed door.

Edgar made sure the chain lock was still on as he opened the door a smidgen to take the item with a gloved hand. He firmly closed and relocked the door before flipping it open.

“This is a police badge.”

“Wait! I meant I’m a police officer.” The kid began to panic.

“I’m calling the real police.” Edgar took out his phone.

“Wait No! I’m just … I only need to … I … I …” The boy sunk onto his knees, leaning against the door before assuming a fetal position. “Please don’t call the police.” He begged, sobbing.

“Leave, right now.”

“But, I – “

“NOW!” Edgar shouted. The boy jumped back and skedaddled off into the night.

What was that about? Edgar wondered. Was it an attempted prank? Had he lost a bet? Either way, the kid was ill-prepared for going through with it. Edgar hadn’t seen the kid before, but he didn’t seem dangerous, even if his actions were incredibly suspect, so he didn’t report him. He hoped the kid got back on the straight-and-narrow, despite whatever made him act like this. Impersonating an officer is a crime for goodness sake. Maybe he was the graverobber Evan had mentioned … No, he couldn’t be.