Carved in Stone

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The door of the smart cab hissed open, and Juanita was half out onto the cemetery sidewalk before the smell of the place washed over her. The overwhelming smell was of honeysuckle and sweet, freshly-mown grass, but somewhere under it all, Juanita imagined, and perhaps it was just her imagination, the rancid smell of death.

She looked out across the expanse of manicured lawn, broad shade trees, and carefully tended islands of flowers in red, purple, and white. It might have been a park or a garden, but for the ranks of marble headstones, and the corruption and decay she knew lay only a few feet beneath the perfect surface. Harvey was down there, rotting. Bastard. If anyone deserved to be buried in the cold earth and eaten by worms, it was Harvey.

Juanita had queried the cemetery computer on the way from the airport and transferred a map to her hand-link. She knew the way to Harvey’s grave. So, why couldn’t she move? She considered getting back in the cab and returning to the airport. That would be stupid.

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