Page 2 of How to Annoy a Mountain Man

My truck bumped over the familiar ruts in the road as I drove off the mountain and back into town…or what passed for town in Woodbridge Falls.

This place felt like a movie this time of year. All the old architecture took on a new feel when it got dark by six o’clock and there were pumpkins on every doorstep. Local farms pushed corn mazes and pumpkin patches. Everything had a cozy fall gothic vibe that only Halloween could bring.

I could understand how the cemetery had been lost over time as I approached. The dirt road was impossible to see if you didn’t know it was there. I crawled my truck down the narrow path, cringing as tree branches scratched down the side.

With the truck parked, I walked towards the coordinates, aiming my flashlight at the ground. It wasn’t fully dark yet but the further into the trees I went, the less natural light came through.

The cemetery seemed to materialize between the trees before I realized I was standing in it. There was no fence or gate or sign. Just a mishmash of stones and markers, with a few above-ground structures that were half falling over. I immediately clocked those as a place for someone to hide.

Not that I was expecting an ambush on this job.

The whole place was encircled with towering pine and maple trees, casting shadows and making it way fucking creepier than necessary.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and pulled up the group chat with the guys from Equinox Protective Group, channel 1031.

Me: Made it to the cemetery, all clear

Alden: 10-4, check in again in an hour

Kingston: Call for backup if there’s a zombie uprising. I’ll just be over here heroically protecting a damsel in distress

Me: Should be a peaceful two weeks

Kingston: BORING

Me: not as boring as a costume party

Kingston: It’s for charity and I look sexy as hell in a suit

I rolled my eyes.

Me: Just try not to trip over your ego

He sent me a middle finger emoji and I chuckled, tucking my phone away.

Kingston, a fellow bodyguard, was ex-military and thrived on action. A job like this would drive him nuts.

I didn’t mind the quiet so much.

I took a sip of my coffee but something I saw had me coughing it right back up. A figure, stooped over all dressed in black moving silently between the grave stones.

Chapter Two

Briar

Ihated cleaning my apartment but a gravestone? Different story. This wasn’t getting rid of dust bunnies or spaghetti sauce stains on a plastic container. This was removing years of neglect.

Not that anyone had made it easy to restore the place.

I’d had to petition the county and explain why I wanted access to this neglected place. Then wait for the wheels of government bureaucracy to slowly turn. But I was finally here.

I clicked a few pictures of the uneven rows of gravestones. What I could see of them anyway, as the light faded. I didn’t want spooky, kitschy Halloween pictures. I wanted golden hour beauty. These stones marked the place real people were laid to rest. Where families cried or left flowers, or contemplated the cruelty of the universe.

They deserved better than overgrown weeds and unreadable names. Something Midnight Mercer would never understand. His schtick was to exploit and leave. My social media business, Names In Stone, did the opposite.

It made something already meant to be permanent, even more so.

Restore the graves and document them.