Radiant Dawn

Author:Goodfellow, Cody [Goodfellow, Cody]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Perilous Press
Published: 2010-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

The sign at the Colma city limit claimed the population was seven hundred fourteen, but Storch never saw one above ground. Rolling green hills girded the freeway on both sides, studded with row upon row of headstones, plaques, monuments and mausoleums. The graves to the east commanded a majestic view of the gray San Francisco Bay. Storch was hard pressed to decide what was weirder, the city itself, or the creeping feeling of relief and the sense that he could learn to live here.

Buggs turned off the 280 at Route 82. They rolled past a deserted mall: florists, chapels, stonemasons, banquet halls and liquor stores. They turned south on El Camino Real, the main drag in California's grand necropolis. They passed more cemeteries than Storch had seen in his entire life. As expected, Buggs took upon himself the role of tour guide.

"Like no other city in America," Buggs said. "Over half a million residents, the real silent majority. Look at all this fucking real estate. In the future, archaeologists digging this up will conclude one of two ways: either we worshipped our dead or we were heavily into worm farming.

"About a hundred years ago, San Francisco took a good look at its zoning laws and realized all its cemeteries were illegal. Besides which, they needed the space. So they dug up every last one of them and carted them down here—except for the Presidio and the Old Mission. See that? That's Cypress Lawn, where the rich ones go. William Randolph Hearst, Spreckels, Coit, Gertrude Atherton…"

Storch closed his eyes and pulled his ears into his skull, let himself squeeze in one last five-minute catnap. He felt himself slipping away just as the van came to a stop and the engine died. Buggs opened his door and hopped out, feet crunching on gravel as he came around and opened Storch's door. He fought not to stumble as he climbed out and surveyed Buggs's new job.

"It sure as hell looks like a funeral home."

"Used to be. The people I work for meditate a lot. They say they can't have the psychic vibrations of the living around, or something."

The building was a two-story gambrel-roofed farmhouse in the New England style, impeccably maintained, with fresh pearl-gray paint and black trim. A gravel driveway wound up to a six-car garage. Towering weeping willows framed the converted funeral home on three sides, and iron fences separated it from the crowded, neglected Greek Orthodox cemetery that encircled the property.

"Come on. Check it out."

They crossed the lawn and ascended the portico steps. A porch glider swung silently in the evening breeze, and scores of wind chimes hung from the eaves. Storch could feel an electric tingling in the lobes of his ears, but couldn't quite hear them.

Buggs slipped off his shoes and motioned for Storch to do the same.

"You've got to be really, really quiet until we get back into my workroom, man." Storch nodded and stooped to unlace his boots. Buggs unlocked the door and peeked inside, scanning the place for something.

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