The Meat Market (Jonathan Harkon Adventures) by Chalk James

Author:Chalk, James [Chalk, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JRH Publishing
Published: 2013-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Who Let The Cat Out?

“Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us who finds the strength to get up first, must help the other.” - Vera Nazarian

“Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.” - Aberjhani

“Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.” - Benjamin Franklin

*******

“Oh shit!” I thought. “Now what? Where the fuck is she?”

Quickly, I got back out of the BMW and started to look around. I really had no idea where to search and was feeling pretty panicked. “Did she go for another piss, and how the fuck did she get out?” I wondered.

I heard soft voices behind me and whirled around. A young couple emerged from a footpath into the rear of the parking lot and then hurried toward the cathedral. Something about their posture and movements seemed agitated, perhaps frightened? I headed for the path they had been on. Hope and dread battled in my heart as I searched for my furry companion. I began to jog down the path, my head swiveling to take in my surroundings.

The path led to a “cemetery” - a beautifully gardened park, where the strange people of Sanctity choose to store their dead. No shit! They store their dead! They stick the corpse in a sealed synthwood box called a “coffin,” and then they bury the coffin beneath the top soil on the park grounds. They mark each spot with a synthstone sign, giving the dead person’s name, family affiliation, and other information or sentiments. Many of the signs - they call them “tomb stones” - were accompanied by statues depicting angels, religious characters, or various animals. Some of the families had built little synthstone structures - “mausoleums” - where, instead of burying the coffins, they store all their loved ones above ground together. I wondered about the difference. Why do some prefer underground storage and others prefer synthstone storerooms? Well either way, if you ignore the creepiness factor and the fact that in a truly modern society most of those people would still be alive, it is kind of romantic how religiopricks cling to the remains of their loved ones. Maudlin, but romantic.

It’s really only the body storage part that makes it so creepy. I know another colony where they compost the corpse and the remains are used to nurture a tree planted in the dead person’s name. The tree is also marked with a sign, but instead of “Jesus Christ” or the “Holy Ghost,” they give thanks to the “Great Mother” or “Grandfather Spirit.”

The path led down a hill and then split three ways. I paused, unsure which to choose. I didn’t even know if my instincts were right about where Baihu might have gone. I needed to decide, but the cemetery was dark and quiet and provided no clues. I turned up my ears until even the slightest flutter of leaves in the breeze roared and crackled in my head.

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