There’s no gate guards, the alarm systems are defunct, the barbed wire’s busted full of holes, weeds everywhere, but by God they still get those gravesites looking swank and undisturbed as soon as they humanly can. Maybe it’s all people really care about, the handful that still come to visit. I hope the pay’s good, if you’ve got that job. I bet it is. Nearly as good as a thano lab guard’s. We crouched in a patch of woods above Calumet Memorial, waiting. I gave Renee a shove. “Why are you so sure they’re coming? And why today?” Why the hell I’d agreed to sit with her, of course, was another question. “I just have a feeling,” she said, a stubborn twist to her mouth. “Nobody’s coming. You’re just lucky you got buried instead of burned, and they never like it when people come out to visit, they don’t want the publicity if someone gets—” “I just have a feeling.” Her voice was a high, breathy singsong, air whistling through the space where I’d knocked out her teeth.
