Джеффри Дивер - Nothing Good Happens After Midnight - A Suspense Magazine Anthology

“Thank you so much, Officer Claymore,” Marcy said. She smiled brightly. “We’re all in for the night.”

He nodded to them briefly and turned to go.

Marcy closed the door and leaned against it. “At last! Give him ten minutes and then we can go out and set up our little tents and tell more tall tales.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Hayley said. “Marcy, maybe we should just stay in.”

Frank made a squawking sound and acted like a chicken.

“Hey!” Mary protested.

“Ah, come on,” Art said. “Claymore was making fun of all of us — he’s probably laughing his ass off right now, thinking he’s scared the shit out of us and we’ll just stay here, quaking or running on home. Let’s do what we came to do — sleep in the cemetery!”

“Let’s do it,” Frank said. He smiled and headed to the back of the house; the canvas sacks containing their sleeping bags and two pop-up tents they’d acquired from an on-line shopping source waited there, out of sight from the front of the house.

“He’s right. Let’s do this,” Tommy said, striding after Frank.

“I don’t... I don’t like it,” Mary said.

“You can go home,” Art suggested. “I mean... we’re all here, but if you’re afraid in a group of six, well...”

Mary shook her head. “No, I want to be with you all, but... okay, let’s go.” She looked at Hayley, maybe hoping that Hayley would protest.

“There are six of us,” Hayley said.

She wasn’t sure why she had an uneasy feeling. But then, she’d thought it a strange thing to do from the get-go. Even after moving to New Orleans, she’d come back frequently to spend the weekend with her cousin.

She’d grown up with the cemetery as part of her family life.

Maybe she was just being like Mary — spooked by the legends, or by Officer Claymore. She knew, of course, that the things he had told them were true. Her uncle knew, too, but he didn’t believe in curses — he believed in bad people doing bad things.

As she followed the others out, she looked up to the sky. There was no rain forecast; it was spring, and the night was just right, hovering around seventy degrees. Here, even the nights could sometimes be sticky hot once summer was in full bloom, but tonight...

The temperature was beautiful; there was a light stir of breeze in the air. And overhead...

It was a full moon. A shimmering, bright full moon. As beautiful as the weather, except... tonight, it made her shiver.

“A full moon!” Mary breathed, walking beside her.

Frank, just a bit ahead, heard her. “Hey, the place is cursed by a vampire, Mary, my love.”

“Right,” Tommy called. “Sorry, the place is home to no werewolves.”

Hayley gasped suddenly, looking through the tombs in their neat rows, noting that the moon had certainly made the night brighter — but it had also allowed for strange shadows to form. And...

She thought she’d just seen a shadow move.

“What, what, what?” Mary asked worriedly.

Hayley laughed. “Sorry, I just... I think I dropped my ring. I’ll be right back.”

She was an idiot. No, she knew this place, had grown up knowing this place...

Still, dumb! It was after midnight!

What the hell am I doing? She asked herself.

Well, running through the vaults alone because you saw a shadow. Brilliant.

She’d only gone two rows in and stood in front of the McCafferty vault when she saw her “shadow.”

The vault was unusual in that it had an open alcove, an area before the giant gated door that was covered and offered two benches in front of a statue of St. Francis. Hayley’s history had taught her that Judith McCafferty had loved animals and brought about some of the first laws that punished human beings for cruelty to animals. She loved the vault; she sometimes brought flowers herself for the metal holders that held them while they were fresh and living and allowed them to be easily removed when they were not.

Her shadow was there; she thought at first she had come upon an unknown form of monster because she just saw a dark form seated on one of the tile benches. Then she realized it was just a man. A bearded and somewhat scraggly-looking man, slightly bowed as he sat, hands in prayer as she came upon him.

He looked up fast, as startled as she was.

“I... hi!” Hayley said.

She saw him wince, saw the weariness in his sad eyes — powder blue, she thought — as he looked at her.

“I’m sorry; I can get out. This alcove here... it shields you from the wind and rain. When there is rain. I know I can’t be here. You’re the caretaker’s daughter.”

“I’m his niece, but... no. You’re fine there, sir. Please, feel free to rest.” She hesitated and indicated the family tomb. “One of the ladies interred here was super kind to people — and, of course, animals.” Hayley wasn’t sure why, but she felt a tremendous empathy for the man. He was so down and out. So down and out that he had to sleep in a cemetery. “Please, I’ll just slip away. And I’m sorry, my crazy cousin is having a slumber party, so there will be some noise.”

She had an unopened water bottle stuffed in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled it out and set it at the end of the bench, smiling at him. “Have a nice night,” she said. “And try to ignore us.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Hayley hurried back out to the main lane in the cemetery, ready to catch up with her friends as they set up for the night in front of the Barclay family mausoleum. Tommy was busy using the little plastic hammer that had come with one of the tents to get the stake to stay in the ground just off the gravel path.

Frank had come with a battery-operated “fire-log” and he was setting it up on the gravel. Marcy, giving instructions, was telling them tents would be on the grass next to the Barclay tomb, the fire “thingy” would be on the gravel, and whoever was telling the story would sit on a little mat by the light from the fire “thingy” and the others could lie on their sleeping bags in the tents.

She was just finishing her instructions when Mary, who had wandered a bit farther along the dirt and gravel central path, started to scream. Scream and scream.

“What the hell?” Tommy demanded. A stray cloud danced across the moon; what light they had paled — and the shadows seemed to darken and grow.

As he walked toward her, Mary turned and threw herself into his arms, half screaming, half shouting out gibberish.

“What, please, Mary, what?” Tommy begged.

“Oh, God! Oh, God, oh God!” Frank breathed at his side, pointing.

The stray cloud covering the moon had moved on. And they could all see.

There was rigging between two tombs, ropes that stretched from one small family tomb to another.

They were tied to...

A corpse. One that was barely real... bones, bits of flesh, pieces of cloth, and a skull with hair and ravaged pieces of cheeks and lips still attached. Hayley stared, stunned.

Tommy Hilliard, tough Tommy Hilliard, let out a scream that might have wakened the dead.

Then they all turned to run; Tommy was so rattled he pushed away from Mary who had been leaning on him. Mary fell, Frank leaped over her.

Marcy still gaped; Hayley came to and rushed for the fallen Mary, along with Art, who had also retained some of his senses. But even as they helped Mary to her feet, Hayley could hear laughter — high-pitched, delighted feminine laughter.

She stood still.

Tiffany Myers, unable to control her amusement, walked out from behind one of the tombs from where the body had been hung. She tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder as she appeared, followed by Bobby McGill, who dressed as the “wolf” mascot for their high school games.