You wait for some time in silence, fishing for something to say.
"I'm sorry," is all you can dredge up.
"It doesn't care. This 'plague' or whatever it is doesn't care if you're good or bad or strong or if you have family. It just kills you, piece by piece, and there's nothing you can do but wait."
You purse your lips and begin walking towards the body.
"Are there any last rites he would have wanted?"
"I'm not sure, honestly. Hunters are rarely in a position to have..." Deep breath. "...to have any say in how their bodies will be treated. We've done sky burials in the past, but we're rather short on mountains." She begins walking stiffly up the stairs and, from behind, you see her remove her mask and bring a forearm across her eyes. "I'll make sure the way to the Chapel itself is clear. Do what you will."
With that, she steps through the upper archway and turns the corner out of sight. There's just you and the dead.
A lantern rises from the earth behind you and you pause to light it. What triggers these things? Who do you have to kill to dream?
You lean down and straighten the big man's legs before folding his arms across his chest. You're about to start the inhuming process before a notion crosses your mind. You turn and walk up the stairs towards the roof she's lying on.
She's so small. Three lines gouged deeply through her chest, dyeing it the same color as the bright jeweled brooch sitting untouched upon it. You lift her up and carry her back down. Fiddle really does look like her in miniature.
You place her next to her husband and close her eyes. It's only right that they not be apart any longer.
Fortuitously, you find a set of shovels nestled beside the protruding building. What with the number of bodies that apparently need burying, it's actually not that surprising that they'd leave them out for convenience's sake. As outside the clinic, the earth is soft enough for you to carve out a wide plot by the time Eileen returns.
"The Chapel is secure. The man who dwells there is odd, but he has a good heart. You can trust him."
"I'll confirm that for myself, if ye don't mind, but thank you."
You leap out of the hole and place the shovel on the pile of earth.
"Is there anything ye'd like ta say, Eileen?"
"There's nothing I would like to say, Father Anderson. My friend and his wife are dead. Nothing changes that."
You nod.
"Are there any effects that should be passed on ta the girls?"
"His pendant, I suppose. And her brooch. But not the axe. I'll die before I let them into this life."
You nod once again, kneel down, and begin undoing the chain around Gascoigne's neck while Eileen does the same for Viola. With that done, you lift the big man, with some effort, into the grave. You place his wife beside him, produce a Bible, and clear your throat.
"The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in their heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away ta be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death."
You lower your head, make the sign of the cross, and speak an Amen. You replace the Bible and pick up the shovel once more.
One final time, you look at Gascoigne and Viola, embraced by the earth together.
Eileen doesn't speak until you've completed the task. With a grunt, you bury the axe headfirst into the soil as a marker and dust off your gloves. You look at one another and walk back down into the city.
It's a long walk home.
[] Write in...
