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42

           ThedaysoftheDickensianResurrectionMen

           (there’sthatwordagain)

           wereover.Theright-handgateswunginwithafaintscreeingnoise,andafteraglanceoverhisshouldertomakesurehewasunobserved,Louissteppedthrough.Heclosedthegatebehindhimandheardtheclickofthelatch.

           Hestoodinthismodestsuburbofthedead,lookingaround.

           Afineandprivateplace,hethought,butnone,Ithink,dothereembrace.Who?AndrewMarvel?Andwhydidthehumanmindstoreupsuchamazingmiddensofuselessjunk,anyway?

           Jud’svoicespokeupinhismindthen,worriedandfrightened?Yes.Frightened.

           Louis,whatareyoudoinghere?You’relookinguparoadyoudon’twanttotravel.

           Hepushedthevoiceaside.Ifhewastorturinganyone,itwasonlyhimself.Nooneneedknowhehadbeenhereasthedaylightwounddowntothedark.

           HebegantowalktowardGage’sgrave,takingoneofthewindingpaths.Inamomenthewasinalaneoftrees;theyrustledtheirnewleavesmysteriouslyoverhishead.Hisheartwasthuddingtooloudlyinhischest.Thegravesandmonumentswereinroughrows.Somewheretherewouldbeacaretaker’sbuilding,andinitwouldbeamapofPleasantview’stwentyorsoacres,neatlyandsanelydividedintoquadrants,eachquadrantshowingtheoccupiedgravesandtheunsoldplots.Realestateforsale.One-roomapartments.Sleepers.

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