Nocturnal Read Free Page A

mow, so the grass is thick and tangled. Rocks are strewn about, and I have to tread carefully so I don't fall. Moss clings to everything, and it's like the air is different here. The oldest stones are nothing but crumbles of stone. No one bothers to come this way anymore. Especially with the hulking mausoleums.
    There are only five, built back when how important you were was determined by how ostentatious your grave was. What a stupid thing to spend money on. 
    I'd often wondered what it was like in there, but all of them are sealed. I raise my cell-phone light to read the plaque over one of them, but the words are too small. I move on to the next one and stop. The doors are wide open, the two angels standing guard having failed in their duty. I hear two voices. Taking a step back, I consider trying to go back without being noticed. 
    “We go through this every year.”
    “I know.”
    The voices are both male. Using my amazing powers of deduction, I can guess they aren't here to visit a relative. In the middle of the night. And they're not here to cry their eyes out about their mother's terminal diagnosis. So that leaves adolescent hijinks. My fave.
    “She will never let you go.” I might as well figure out what they're doing so I can call the cops. My hand twitches on my phone. I'll have to get farther away so they won't hear me.
    “I know.”
    “Why try?”
    “I have to.”
    “Your success rate leaves a little to be desired.”
    “I know.” They're speaking quietly, but I hear every word. They certainly don't sound drunk or adolescent. They sound... I don't know. Like they're reciting lines from a play or something. One of the voices is British, his accent sharp and clear. The other speaks in monotone, no apparent accent.
    “Why don't you forget it for this year, and have a treat with me? I know you can feel her. Hear her heart. When was the last time?” Wait, is he talking about me? I try to breathe more shallow, and wish my heart would stop pounding. I'm far enough from the entrance that he can't have heard me. Maybe this is some sort of gang code. If so, I'm in more trouble than I thought. I should have just gone back to the damn car. Isn't there some kind of hand signal you can make so they know you're one of them? 
    My mind goes to some strange places sometimes.
    “No.”
    “Then if you won't, I will.”
    One minute I'm trying to hear what they're saying and the next there is a cold hand around my throat.
    “Hello, pretty,” the British voice says in my ear. It takes almost a full second for me to realize that someone has their hand around my neck. Clawing, I try to thrash and kick him the way they taught us in that one self-defense class they made us do in gym last year. The problem is that he's behind me. What did they say about that? Something about throwing them off balance. I try that, jamming my ass backwards, but instead of hitting warm flesh, it's like hitting a brick wall. I attempt to jab him in the eyes, but he's so much taller than me, I don't think I'm anywhere close.
    “Nice try.” Going for the element of surprise, I make a fist and go for his face, but it isn't there. I get air. My muscles are starting to fail me, and lack of oxygen is seriously hampering my ability to think clearly. Black spots swim in front of my eyes. I can't even get enough air to scream. The last hope is my cell phone, but it fell out of my hand when he grabbed me. In other words, I'm screwed.
    “Ivan.” A voice echoes out of the mausoleum. “Stop.” Yes, Ivan, please stop. I make out something moving in front of me, but I can't focus on it. My legs and arms thrash some more. I am not going down without trying. I am not dying in this goddamn place. 
    “Changed your mind?”
    “Let her go.” I want to reach out to the second voice. It's calmer than the one choking the life out of me. I try to form the word please, but I don't have enough air. The world goes black for a moment. Or maybe it's an