Advocate For The Dead (Complete Novel)

Chapter 2: Summer's Grave

It was mid-afternoon when we reached the cemetery. I opted to walk instead of drive, because drivers who seemingly talk to themselves make others on the road a little nervous. But no one pays attention to a man walking down the street holding conversations with no one. They just figure you for another crazy street person.

I have often wished that others could see what I see. The dead walking among us, wondering where to go and how they ended up in this state of non-being. But it's not like I see them everywhere. I can't see every dead person, only those connected to me, either in present life or the past. In fact, I wouldn't be able to see Miss Summer if she hadn't come to see me. By walking through my office door she made the connection that now binds us. Any other way and I would be oblivious to her standing there.

Still I can feel the dead around me. Obviously, I can't see them all, but I know they are there. If they don't consciously connect with me, they will remain just a feeling, the notion that someone is out there fumbling around in the dark. It's confusing I know, but you aren't the one who feels what they do when they brush by me. In the early days it was hard not to jump out of my skin when death passed by. Now it doesn't faze me. Often I feel them long before they're even here.

Summer couldn't see them either. She was new at this, lost in her own experience. Unless the spirits made a connection with her, she'd be just like me, walking blind to all the death around us. It's scary to think of all these ghosts swirling around you day in and day out, and yet you can't see them. If you think it's rough for me, imagine how it must be for them. No wonder most spirits go mad after several months of banging around...

New Sutcliffe only had four cemeteries. Summer's grave wasn't at the first one we came to. This kind of surprised me, as spirits who are confused usually don't stray too far from their final resting place. We wandered through the cemetery, me waiting to see if anything sparked a memory inside of her, and her looking to me as if her tombstone was going to reach out and touch me. One thing could be deduced from our walk through though. Summer obviously wasn't catholic, as this was the graveyard of the local diocese. The next cemetery was only five blocks away so it didn't take long to get there. Unfortunately, the search there was fruitless and time consuming as well. Though I was more familiar with City Cemetery, and knew my way around it, I felt we were going in circles. All the graves here were old, and we were looking for something fresh. Her grave would be fresh dirt packed down with no grass. Maybe just a temporary marker, as tombstones often had to be ordered and took some time to erect. I was of the opinion that Summer hadn't been wandering around for long. I told myself that if we didn't find her grave before evening, then tomorrow we would hit the library and check newspaper obituaries.

By late afternoon, we were at cemetery number three and hit pay dirt. I should have known. The wife once told me third time's the charm. Bitch. No, that's not true. Lacey's a good girl. It's just when we split she took pretty much everything with her. I guess she figured she didn't want to come back in case she forgot something, and so she packed everything in bags and took off one night while I was at work. But hey, I don't hold any grudges; I call her bitch because that's what her keychain says. I still have that thing in a drawer somewhere. It's funny how we don't like to let go of the little things when a relationship's over.

Wheaton Cemetery is a relatively new place. It's not one of the old graveyards like City Cemetery, the catholic graveyard or Everest Gardens. We used to make fun of the latter as a kid. Everest. Get it? Ever Rest. Yeah, I guess you're still with me.

A wrought iron fence surrounded Wheaton. Not one for entrances, I just climbed the thing. Summer walked through it. Being a spirit does have its small advantages.

"Does anything look familiar?" I asked, as we stood in the grass, looking out over the flat expanse of the memorial garden. My eyes searched the tombstones and statuary around us, most of them so new you could still read the writing on them from a distance. I imagine most of the folks here were still wondering where to go to. I wondered briefly if they were watching us. I'm sure they were. Someone always is.