Skulls, Crosses, and Bones
“What the fuck?!”
Samantha stomped on the wooden shards of cross she had just pulled down. She ground the plastic yellow flowers into the mud, punted the dollar store vase into the nearby bushes.
“Why is this fucker still standing here with his last anchor in pieces?”
Samantha, jumping up and down, was the only thing moving or speaking in the graveyard. No owls. No crickets. Just rage and a little girl. Ethan and the ghost stood watching nearby.
Earlier, Sam was dumping gasoline in an old green Volkswagen. She emptied the can, dropped it, and left the door open as she got out and walked back over to where Ethan and the ghost stood watching.
“This is the only way. We know this guy’s anchors and we don’t have time for the murder mystery bullshit. This is the best way.”
The girl struck a road flare and tossed it in the car. The three stood motionless for a quick moment. Then, their reverence expended, they turned and walked to the graveyard.