Cemetery Lake Read Free

says.
    ‘They might sink like the other one.’
    ‘What are we going to grab them with?’
    ‘Jesus, I don’t know. Something. A branch, maybe. Or your
    hands.’
    “I’m not using my hands,’ he says, and the other two nod
    quickly in agreement.
    ‘Well, what about rope? You gotta have some of that, right?’
    ‘That one there,’ the truck driver says, looking at the corpse closest to us, ‘already has some rope.’
     
    ‘Looks rotten. You gotta have something newer in the truck,
    right?’ I ask, and we all look over at the truck just as we hear it start.
    The caretaker is sitting in the cab.
    ‘What the fuck?’ the driver asks. He starts to run over to it, but he isn’t quick enough. The caretaker gets it into gear and pulls away fast. The coffin isn’t secure; it slides across the edge and hits the ground but doesn’t break.
    Tley, come back here, come back here!’ The guy keeps running
    after the truck, but the distance quickly grows.
    ‘Where’s he going?’ the digger operator asks.
    ‘Anywhere but here is my guess.’ I pull my cellphone from my
    pocket. ‘You got some rope in the digger?’
    ‘Yeah, hang on.’
    I phone the police station and get transferred to a detective I used to know. I tell him the situation. He tells me to sober up.
    Tells me of course there are going to be bodies out here in the cemetery. It takes a minute to persuade him the bodies are coming up from the depths of the lake. And another minute to convince him I’m not joking.
    ‘And bring some divers,’ I say, before hanging up.
    The digger operator hands me the rope. The truck driver is
    back; he’s swearing as his partner uses the cellphone to call their boss for someone to come and get them. I tie an arm-length
    branch around the end of the rope and make my way down the
    gently sloping bank, intending to throw the branch just past the nearest corpse to bring it closer, but it turns out the slippery grass beneath my feet has other ideas. One moment I’m on the bank.
    The next I’m in the water.
    My feet are submerged in mud, the water up to my knees.
    Something grabs my ankle and I lever forwards, my arms slapping the surface next to the corpse before I start sinking. I pull my legs from the mud, but there is nothing to stand on. This lake is a goddamn death trap, and now I know why it’s full of corpses.
    These people came to grieve for the dead and ended up joining
    them. The water is ice cold, locking up my chest and stomach and
    cramping my muscles. My eyes are open and the water is burning them. There is only darkness around me, compounded by the
    silence, and I can sense hands of the dead reaching to pull me deeper, wanting me to join them, wanting fresh blood.
    Then suddenly I’m racing back to the surface, my hand tight
    around the rope that is pulling me up. I kick with my feet. Point my body upwards. And a second later I’m right next to a bloated woman in a long white dress. It looks like a wedding dress. I push away from her, and the three men help me onto the bank. I sit
    down, gasping for air. Both my shoes are missing.
    ‘Goddamn, buddy, you okay?’
    The question sounds like it is coming from the other side of
    the lake, and I’m not sure which one of them asked it. Maybe all three of them in unison. I lean over my knees and start coughing.
    I feel like I’m choking. I’m shivering, I’m angry, but mostly I feel embarrassed. But none of the men are laughing. They’re all leaning over me, looking concerned. With two floating corpses
    nearby, it’s easy to understand why nothing here is a joke.
    ‘There’s something else you need to know,’ the digger operator says. “I was trying to tell you before.’ He slips that last part into the conversation as if each word is its own sentence, and his face screws up slightly. He makes it sound like that whatever he has to say is going to be worse than what just happened, and I can think of only one thing that could possibly