Page 2 of Wednesday

In the cloudy moonlight, I could make out the shape of Lawrence Emmett's fresh grave. The tarp had been pulled aside, and the mounded soil was misshapen as if something had burrowed into it.

I eased back from the window. I should call Winters. Or the police. But what would I say? That I heard a noise? That dirt looked disturbed? They would think I was paranoid or incompetent on my very first night.

I hurried down the hall to the front door. Just a quick look to see if it was anything. I pulled on my boots and jacket. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the clouds had thinned enough to allow moonlight to illuminate the cemetery in silvery light.

A light fog hung just above the wet grass, lazily drifting between the headstones. I walked down the main path until I was parallel with the mound of fresh dirt. The noises had stopped, and part of me wanted to go back to the cottage. Forget I heard anything.

But I needed this job. I nervously shifted in place before stepping off the path into the grass. I approached the fresh grave cautiously, my flashlight beam moving over the dirt. A large hole gaped in the center of the mound.

"Shit," I muttered.

Was it animals? Growing up in the city, I rarely saw anything bigger than a squirrel. No squirrel could make that big of a hole, though. Grave robbers? Was that still a thing?

That is when I noticed the trail of mud. Drag marks led away from the grave, heading toward the oldest section of the cemetery. I hesitantly followed, each step filling me with increasing dread.

The trail led to a crumbling mausoleum. The stone structure, once grand, now sat cracked and weathered at the cemetery's furthest corner. Its heavy door stood slightly ajar, absolute darkness inside.

I hesitated, every instinct screaming. But something drew me closer. I leaned forward to press my ear to the gap and caught a hint of noise. Too faint to make out, but it made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. I slowly unbuckled the strap for my taser.

I raised my flashlight and gently pushed the door wider. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing the mausoleum's interior. And a figure hunched at its center.

At first, my brain could not process what I was seeing. The proportions were wrong, unnatural. A gaunt, elongated form crouched over something on the floor, its back to the door. The skin visible through tattered clothing was a mottled gray-green, stretched tight over a protruding spine. Wet, ripping sounds filled the small space.

The beam of my flashlight trembled as I saw two suited legs on the floor under the crouched figure. One was missing a shoe, revealing a mud-smeared foot. Horror washed over me. Was that Mr. Emmett?

The sounds suddenly stopped. Slowly, the creature’s head began to turn. Not just the head. The entire upper body twisted at an angle no human spine could achieve. I stood paralyzed as the face came into view.

Where a nose should have been was only a hollow cavity. The jaw hung unnaturally wide, revealing multiple rows of needle-like teeth stained dark with gore. And the eyes. Black, reflective pools that caught my flashlight beam and threw it back like an animal's.

Those eyes locked with mine, and at that moment, I knew I was seeing what no one was meant to see. Something inhuman and wrong. I could feel a scream building in my chest, choking me as I tried to understand what my eyes were seeing.

The creature’s bloodied mouth stretched into what might have been a smile.

"You shouldn't be here," it said, its voice like stones grinding together.

Chapter Two

Ilurched backward, my flashlight dropping to the stone floor with a clatter that echoed in the confined space. The beam rolled wildly across the walls before settling on the half-eaten corpse. Lawrence Emmett's chest cavity gaped open, ribs cracked outward like the petals of some grotesque flower. What remained of his burial suit hung in tatters around the ravaged flesh.

My back hit the cold stone wall. I could not tear my gaze from the thing that slowly stood from its crouch. Tall, taller. It was so much worse than I had realized at first glance. Each limb seemed to have an extra joint. Even its gore-covered fingers were spider-like and wrong.

I was alone with it, no light aside from my fallen flashlight casting long shadows up the wall. The creature moved toward me, oddly graceful despite its twisted appearance. One elongated arm reached past me to push the mausoleum door closed with a decisive thud.

The creature inhaled deeply through the cavities where a nose should have been. "Fear adds to the flavor," it said, voice raspy. "But your fear is... excessive."

My lips parted, but no sound came out. It spoke. I gasped for breath, as panic began to darken the edges of my vision. The thing could talk.

"Speak," it commanded, moving closer without seeming to take a step. "What brings you to my feeding grounds?"

"I—" My voice cracked. I pressed my back harder against the wall, desperate for even an inch of extra space.

“You?” the creature asked, crowding closer. Looming.

I swallowed hard and tried again. "I'm the new security guard," I whispered.

"Ah." The thing's head tilted at an impossible angle, its neck bending like softened wax. "The cemetery employs smaller guardians each decade. The previous man was twice your size."

My eyes darted to the corpse on the floor, then back to the creature. Had the previous guard met the same fate as Lawrence Emmett?

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