Chapter 6: Remembrance

"The Funeral home was built in 1939, right before World War Two broke out. We were a safe haven during the floods that happened in the 1950s. There is not as much excitement nowadays but I will say it is an honor to have visitors." A young receptionist guided Mr. Gregory and I through the main hall.

Jeremy stayed with the tow truck and the police, as he was the actual victim right now. But I have this feeling that…I am in danger. That the truck was just the first hint. The receptionist's voice rang numbly in my ears as she led us to a downstairs waiting room. Her cheery and bubbly demeanor dissipated quickly with every step. Mr. Gregory and I sat down in the ripped vinyl chairs. The receptionist mumbled something about needing to do some paperwork and rushing back up the steps. Mr. Gregory shouted a polite thank you after her. I stared at the yellowed tiled floor in the silence.

A few minutes went by before Mr. Gregory tried to strike up a conversation.

"Morgan, you've been awfully quiet ever since I showed up. It will all work out./ Jeremy will have the protection of an officer while the situation is being investigated. THe pick up is fine and I will be paying for the tow and replacement tires. He also chose to come and find you after your story was published so you did not drag him into this. None of this is your fault. It is not your responsibility to take care of or protect him. Your only responsibilities are to take care of yourself and chase your story."

I didn't know how to answer hi,. I want to thank him for being so caring, but do I tell anyone I feel in danger? I feel guilty for worrying more about myself than Jeremy. There is nothing actually pointing to the possibility that the strip was meant for us. It could have been anyone on that road. The spikes were just a terrible coincidence. There was just some horrible human trying to harm people on that road. It…it isn't my job to hunt down every killer or bad person.

Maybe, I need to start seeing someone while I work on this story, that way I can stay focused. Suppose I could call Celia again. Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Talking to someone not connected to the story or my job will be a wonderful step forward.

"Morgan?" Mr. Gregory placed a hand on my shoulder?

"Sorry, sir. I am just a bit in my head. These last few days have been fast and hard."

"Child, you're no longer alone. Ms. Dorothy is currently at the office sorting through the letters, phones calls, and emails to find any information. I asked a few officers to watch the building for us. Her granddaughters are also there. We are going to honor Sarah. Just please, use your support system."

I nodded quietly. A little old couple, dressed in faded matching church wear came through a set of thick oak doors. They looked sullen, slightly nervous in their hand twisting. If you saw them anywhere else other than here, you would want to stop and ask them if they were alright. Mr. Gregory's warm smile did nothing to change their disposition. They shook our hands without introductions, briskly leading us to a warehouse-like room. Metal shelves lined the walls and down the middle of the room. Boxes, totes, and crates decorated the shelves. There were name plates scrawled in front of them.

"You asked if we had anything left of Sarah's left. Her family requested that we keep anything we received for her or that they brought in. They seemed very insistent on washing her from their lives."

"Richard!"

"It is true Louise. They practically abandoned that poor girl."

"They were grieving Richard. That makes people do odd things. I'm sorry for the outburst. It is just that Sarah bore a striking resemblance to our Tabitha. We lost our girl right before that school year started. Drunk driving accident. There were just too many young lives lost that year."

Mist filled Louise Rockfield's eyes, her face shifting into a soft remembrance. She dabbed a cloth to her eyes and walked down the left side of the room. More lights flickered on. My heart ached softly at the sight of how many boxes were down here. Not judging why they were left, who knows the reason. It was just the thought of how easily you can be forgotten or lost…

Richard led us down the right side of the room, leading us closer to the back of the room. The shelf Sarah was on was more full than the other shelves. At least 10 other boxes belonging to passed teens sat on the shelf. They each had a photo attached. They all looked so ready for the future. I shook my head, slamming the door in my head that cracked open. There were more important things to worry about. Louise joined us on the right side a few moments later.

"When her family told us that she was, well her gifts and belongings were going to be left with us; a few of the parents who were grieving those lost in the wreck and in the boating accident decided to place some of their stuff down here too. Are you a spiritual person, Miss Graves?"

I blinked in surprise at her addressing me personally, "I'm not sure ma'am. I suppose I am still looking for the right story."

"When you work in this business long enough, it leaves very little room for disbelief. If these kids even come back to visit this side, we wanted them to have friends to be with. It can get lonely, I feel it."

"I am sure that they appreciate you for everything you've done for them."

An aged hand pointed to one of the boxes on the middle shelf. There was a cord keeping all of the boxes together. Sarah's face was on the main boc. It was one of her senior photos, she looked so happy. There was so much stuff on the shelf. But, as I looked at the photo, I started to get confused. There were many rumors about Sarah looking very pregnant by the time September came around. The photo looks like it was kaen around mid-August. I understand that there are multiple ways to hide a bump but…she was wearing a scout leader shirt tucked into her shorts.

"Mrs. Rockfield…I have a question. All reports I can find and everyone that, I guess the term would be gossiped that Sarah was very pregnant around the time she passed away. Did you happen to notice any signs?"

"We did see signs. The issue is, it was sign of a traumatic birth. I'm not a medical professional, but…when prepping her body for the funeral, I would say that she had the baby 2 weeks before she passed."

Mr. Gregory stiffened quickly before looking off down the hall. He was still shifting uncomfortably. I watched his body language. It was different than I had ever seen before. I will… I want to ask him why the sudden change. Before I could ask for some alone time, Mr. Rockfield took Mr. Gregory out of the room, whispering to each other. Mrs. Rockfield looked at Sarah's boxes with a sad smile.

"She's not alone at least."

I nodded, "Yes, I'm sure the other teens are keeping her company."

"Not all her family abandoned her."

"That's a good thing, right? You knew then that it wasn't that…bad?"

She shook her head sadly. She placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it and leaning into me like she needed support. Her face looked aged 20 more years of sorrow and worry. We stood there like that for a few minutes.

"Her eldest brother is here. In this hall as well."

"Theadore? The last I heard he was alive in New York City."

"No no no, child. Her eldest brother was named Eric, after their great-grandfather. Eric was killed in battle. Marjorie had him at 16. No one around town was to know about him. His box is in the corner."

I turned towards where she pointed and gasped. I don't know if it was a trick of the lights or..if I saw what I really saw. There was a boy, no more than 16 dressed in some type of military fatigues. I could just make out the fuzzy photograph tucked in his helmet. He gave me a nod and a smile. He raised his hand in a wave and faded away. Something metal hit the ground, ringing through the room. Mrs. Rockfield squeezed my shoulder again, bringing me back to reality. She turned me back towards her, her eyes brimmed with tears. She pulled me into a surprise hug. Her grip was knocking the breath out of me. The hug forced me to place my head on her shoulder. Her breath shuddered painfully in my ear. She was scared. She was sad. I didn't know how to help. She held onto me so tightly, a little sob gripped my throat. It felt like my grandmother was back, that she knew I was trying my best to make them proud. Mrs. Rockfield's breath shuddered again before she whispered in my ear, "You remind me so much of my Tabitha. Of Sarah. Please do right by her. More importantly, be safe. A few days before the funeral, two men and a teenager came in. They were rough looking people. They left something. If they find out you're digging…"

She trailed off and quickly released me from the hug. There was a weird tone in the air. I watched her stiffly wipe her eyes. She stood up straight and dismissed herself without a word.

Once I was alone in the room, it got cold. I kept having to shake my head. Everytime I would try to open Sarah's first box, I would become nauseous. It felt like the room was shrinking. The shadows danced on the walls. Something was scratching at the back of my mind. To try and recenter myself, I started to wander around the room. As I was mindlessly walking around the room, something metal scraped under my shoe. I bent down to pick the metal off the floor. It hummed in my hand. In my hand sat a rusty dog tag with the name Eric Donelly McClain. I squeezed it in my hand when I heard footsteps coming back into the room. Mr. Gregory walked over to the shelf holding Sarah's stuff and picked up a box. "They have agreed to release these boxes into our hands for the time being."

Jeremy came down the stairs behind Mr. Gregory, "They are leaving soon, so we need to get going. I'll take these back to the cabin."

We got the boxes out quickly. Richard and Lousie stood at the front door. They were tucked respectfully in the back seat of Jeremy's pickup. Mr Gregory waved us on, as he was going to go with the Rockfields to their event. I glanced around at the buildings across the street. The feelings of uneasiness and being watched became stronger. Not being able to see anything out of the ordinary, I started to climb into the passenger seat. As I closed the passenger door I froze, a man with the darkest eyes I had seen locked eyes with me. It was a few minutes before a rusty Greyhound bus passed in between us and he was gone.

"Jeremy, I need to go home. If you could drop me off at my house and I will meet you at the cabin. Plus, I need to get a go bag in case I fall asleep in the cabin again."

He nodded silently and pulled slowly onto the road out of town. I glanced in the rear view mirror, the midday sun doing nothing to warm the chills running down my spine.