Jamie stopped and looked with me. Moments later, the soil stirred.
“Christ,” Jamie whispered. We watched in horror as fingers poked up through the soil. “How did she get out of her coffin?” Jamie wondered aloud as he started reloading his gun.
“Ethel said they did a green burial on her,” I replied and took a step back. My eyes darted quickly around the graveyard. There were half a dozen or so fresh graves. Were all the residents stirring?
A second hand appeared. It grabbed at the grass, pulling the body upward. We stood frozen with shock as Mrs. Winchester slowly dragged herself out of the earth. It was too horrible. Her hair was covered in soil, and her flesh was drooping. The rancid smell of decay wafted from her, turning my stomach. When her head was finally clear of the ground, Jamie raised his gun and fired; he hit her between her rheumy eyes.
With a gurgling cry, Mrs. Winchester’s body, half out of the earth, went still.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. Tears flooded my eyes.
Jamie grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
I took one last look at a woman who had once been so kind to me, and then we walked away.
We set off back toward Fox Hollow Road. We passed only one of the diseased and made short work of him.
When we got back to the cabin, the Fletchers’ bodies were still lying beside the steps, and Grandma lay in front of the barn where I had left her.
“I’m so sorry,” Jamie said at the sight.
I nodded, and we got to work. Behind the barn, we dug one wide grave for the Fletchers and a second grave for my grandmother. Wearing gloves, we lowered the bodies in. We covered the Fletchers first. Gross as it was, I retrieved Mr. Fletcher’s fingers too. Then we lowered Grandma into her grave. Once her eyes had been closed, my grandmother actually looked very peaceful. I wanted to kiss her one last time, to feel the soft skin on her cheek, but I dared not come too close to her flesh. I started to cry.
Jamie wrapped his arms around me. I turned toward him. He enveloped me in his thick chest, holding me tightly against him.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “I’m so sorry.”
Turning, I inhaled deeply. Composing myself, I grabbed the shovel and began to cover my grandmother with earth. Grief wracked me.
Now, now, it’s only a husk, I heard my grandmother say.
I stopped and looked around.
“Layla?” Jamie asked.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I looked down at my grandmother. She lay still in the repose of death.
“Nothing,” I said and began again.
Not long after, we finished.
“Why don’t you come in? Drink something? Wash up?” I asked Jamie.
“I should get back to Ian,” he said.
I nodded. I opened the back of my SUV and took out the weapons bundle. I then handed the keys to Jamie. “Take my SUV.”
“You sure?”
“Well, it saved me once already today. No doubt it will keep you safe too. Thank you, Jamie, for everything. You’ve always been like the brother I never had,” I said and leaned in to hug him.
A strange look crossed his face, but he covered it quickly, returning my embrace.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You can help me with the canvasing,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. “Nice,” he said with a smile as he ran his hand over the dash.
I grinned. I went to the gate and pulled it open for him. “Stay safe,” I called. He waved. The gate shut with a clang.
Moments later there was complete silence. In the distance I could hear the stream gurgling and the sweet sound of songbirds. The wind blew, picking up the earthy autumn air. I turned to go back into the house but spotted my grandma’s herb bag lying on the ground near the gate. I picked it up and looked inside. She had picked a large bouquet of wildflowers. Had she died for this, died for a handful of flowers? I walked back to her grave and laid the flowers thereon. Then, all at once, it hit me. She had not died because she’d gone to pick flowers. She already knew how she would die. She’d already seen the grave. She’d already seen the flowers. She’d just saved me the trouble of picking them for her. All this time, she knew she was not going to make it. Everything she’d done, she’d done to save me—not her and me—just me.
Tears flooded my eyes. I allowed myself a moment of grief and then pulling myself together the best I could, I went inside. After all, “it’s only a husk.” She had said it. And I had heard it. I had not imagined it. I had heard my grandmother’s voice.
Chapter 8