Red's Family Diner

Chapter 21

May 2nd, 1969

Glam Undergroove –

Wilbur's gone off the grid from what I've been told. Nova said the last she'd ever heard from Wilbur was when we were all in the hospital. She insisted that maybe it was for the best–but she commented how he'd always hate being alone like this. So it didn't make sense, in her eyes at least.

I, however, was back working at the establishment. I don't understand the grief of losing someone like that, especially when it comes to two family members. But I'd at least hope Wilbur would take his due papers. Not leaving them untouched and empty. I sat in my office momentarily as I exhaled. The use of reporters flocking, asking about Wilbur since he's now the town's hotshot. They're even assuming it's an act of God against Wilbur. I highly doubt that. Despite my lack of approval with Wilbur's personal life, I wouldn't assume a god's actions to be needed to strike him down. His wife and best friend were brutally murdered–adding a son to the list too.

A knock came from the door as a young woman entered. "Hello–I'm assuming you're Mr. Undergroove?" She asked as I nodded. "What is it? If it's about Wilbur he's not here–'' I spoke bitterly as the woman chuckled. "Oh no–I'm here for you. I'm Cara, a reporter for the local news. We want to learn more about friends of Wilbur's and since one's still a whole entire case I might as well talk to an alive one." She said, catching and peaking my interest. "Oh. Well, you're the first to ask about how I think of this." I mentioned. A small smile plastered across my face. "Of course! It seems rather unfair to have only one of the owners talked about." Cara mentioned as I nodded in agreement. "Exactly! Why does everyone suddenly care about Wilbur?" I asked out. Cara closed the door behind her as we shut out any sort of light. She sat in the chair that was across from me and clicked her pen, pulling out rather a notepad. "Now, tell me everything from the start. Don't worry—this is completely confidential." She said, smiling gently as I started.

April 28th, 1969

Wilbur Beloved – A COUPLE DAYS PRIOR

My hands held the container stiffly as I stared at the grave. Edith Beloved. I grabbed the shovel that sat nearby and slowly placed it carefully into the ground. Why am I being gentle? She doesn't even have anything inside her casket, Wilbur. I placed the container down as I began slightly unburying Edith's grave. I've still been in denial about Drew's death, considering the fact I still hear him around the house. My breathing grew shaky as I tossed the shovel to the side. He still can't be dead. I glanced back at the container as I opened it. Ashes laid still, a horribly sad amount that is the remains of Drew, despite the small amount of ashes that lay inside the container—my eyes could slightly retrial the day vividly. I grabbed the edges of the cylinder and tossed it into the ground. Strong bits and pieces of chunks hit Edith's casket. I stood there for a while, hoping to see some morph of the two kids come alive. Maybe if I went into science I could just re-animate them. Though having those 3 as zombies would be a trouble. I buried back the grave, covering my tracks as I placed Drew's now-established urn, next to the grave. I walked away, carrying the shovel over my shoulders as I breathed rather upset. Is it too late to already bury myself? I wasn't paying attention—digested into my own suicidal thoughts—before spotting the same woman on the day of Drew's death.

"YOU!" I screamed out instantly, jogging to catch up to her. To her rather surprise, she squealed and started to run. "NO—YOU FUCKING BASTARD GET BACK!" I screamed. She tried to lose me around the exit of the graveyard but failed as I snatched at her little vest. She squirmed around, before sighing and stopping her attempts of escape. "Let me go!" She demanded, spinning herself around to look at me. "No! Haha...I finally caught the bitch." I muttered, using my free hand to extend the shovel out. "Eek! Hey man! You snooze, you lose! You weren't paying attention to him and now he's dead! Just like how you killed your wife!" She announced, squirming more to try to justify my brutal planned attack. However, to her dismay; I froze. "How...How the fuck do you know that?" I asked, fear provoking up. She gasped and smiled—the stupid cheeky grin she had. "I have some outside sources." She said, I shook my head. "No...No! The only other person who knows that is dead!" I spoke, dragging her vest closer to me as she groaned. "Well, I do! You leave a horrible bloody trail on the ground!" She contested before realizing she could slip out of the vest. I paused as I dropped the shovel. She took this as an initiative to run and did so. Leaving me as I glanced down at my shoes. No. I left no trail. I didn't do such a thing. My breathing hitched, assuming some sort of hallucination was behind me as I myself was around to be face to face with the groundskeeper. "Are you still using that sir?" The old man spoke as I grabbed my chest. "I—Uhm no," I said, quickly picking it up and handing it off. Speed walking quickly out of the area that smelled like death.