cemetery.
The tool shed did have a power lawnmower, but the lawnmower engine was bone dry. He found some gas cans; they also turned out to be empty. It turned out to be a moot point. On a hunch he turned over the mower and found the blade was rusted, and one side had broken off.
“Jesus!” he cursed out loud.
The shed had one of those non-motorized push mowers that when tested seem to work reasonable well. He found a rake, a small spade, and some leather gloves. Some of the fingers were missing from gloves, but they would do. He put the spade and gloves in a large bucket, then set off with the push mower and rake in tow.
Fortunately the cemetery was on a small plot of land, maybe half an acre, so it didn’t take long to use the push mower across the grass. He went around twice with the mower, and then used the rake and bucket to scoop up the grass clippings. He realized why Miller had abandoned the gas mower: the small grave stones would have made landscaping a challenge. But the push mower was just the right height to cut the grass and yet leave the stones untouched. Still he wished that he had his powered weed clipper to do some touch up. Next he did some weeding—using the spade to dig out the offending plant, and then the rake to smooth out the dirt. Along the way, he found some grave stones that had been knocked over, and did his best to set them right. The whole plot needed some new dirt, and new grass needed to be planted in several spots.
“Looking good,” O’Grady said.
The Duke looked up; the sun was starting to set. He wondered just how late it was. He stood up and brushed off the dirt from his pants. Deep grass stains formed around the knees.
“I’m pretty impressed,” O’Grady continued, “Looks like you did a lot of work.”
“Yeah,” the Duke answered, “Still a lot to do though.”
“You earned your keep for today,” O’Grady. “You deserve a beer. Plus, dinner is ready.”
“I didn’t know priests were allowed to drink,” the Duke said. Funny thing was, he hadn’t even thought about a drink since he started working.
“I’m off duty.” O’Grady said. “No Mass tonight. After dinner I’ve got something to show you.”
The Duke wasn’t sure how to take that last remark.
They started heading back to the Church.
“Say, Padre does this job have some kind of maintenance budget? There is a lot stuff I need. Some paint for the bathroom, lumber, cleaning supplies...”
“Tell you what, you make a list of what you need, and I’ll check with Harriet regarding the church budget.”
Dinner was boiled chicken with green beans. O’Grady got a couple of beers out of the fridge, and set them on the table. The priest had changed into his civilian clothes, and now wore a white t-shirt, along with faded blue jeans.
The Duke hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the smell of the chicken hit him. O’Grady had started to say grace, but gave up with a laugh, as the Duke gulped down his food. The beer tasted great, and gave him a mild buzz.
“Leave the dishes for Harriet,” O’Grady said. He grabbed a couple more beers out of the fridge, and nodded for the Duke to follow.
O’Grady led him to another part of the churchyard that was on the opposite side of the cemetery. A small outdoor garage was there that connected to a patio. Inside the garage was an old station wagon and a beat up rusted truck.
“See that truck there,” O’Grady said.
The Duke nodded.
“It’s yours. Soon as we get it fixed up.”
“What’s wrong with it?” The Duke asked.
O’Grady popped the hood; the hinges squeaked.
“What isn’t wrong with it?” O’Grady answered. O’Grady popped open his beer, then handed the bottle cap opener to the Duke, who soon followed suit.
They both looked under the hood.
“Just about everything needs to be replaced. Miller wasn’t much of a mechanic.”
“I’m really not much of a mechanic either,” the Duke confessed. He took a sip of his beer, and then added “At least, not when it comes to cars.”
“I can teach you,” O’Grady said. He also took a sip of his beer, and then handed Duke the keys. “Get in and start her up.”
The driver side door was slightly rusted shut, so the Duke had to pull with all his might. It opened with a gasp. The Duke slid the key into the ignition, and the engine roared into life. O’Grady, made a cutting gesture across his neck. The Duke turned the ignition off, and slid out. He joined O’Grady by the hood.
“See, the engine still works, so not a complete lost cause.”
O’Grady closed the hood and started walking toward the patio. “You can use the station wagon for now, to get your supplies and the like. It may not be pretty, but it will get you where you need to go.”
They sat down on a couple of long chairs.
“Nice night,” O’Grady said.
The Duke nodded. It was warm, but not hellishly hot, as the Texas summer could be.
“When I used to drive a haul, nights like this were always my favorite. You would be out on the highway at two or three in the morning, no cars on the road, and everything would be calm and peaceful.”
“How long were you a truck driver?” the Duke asked.
“Good twenty years,” O’Grady answered. “It probably ended my marriage, though. I’d be out on a job, and my wife well... spent too many nights alone. It didn’t bother her back when David was still alive, but after he died...”
The Duke nodded.
“You ever hear of Resurrection Mary?” O’Grady asked after a sip of beer.
“Yeah,” the Duke said. “Young girl hitchhiking along the road gets picked up by some fella. Girl asks the guy to take her home. Half way there she asks the guy to pull over. Guy obliges. Guy decided to be a gentleman, gets out the car to open the door for her, but she’s vanished into thin air. Fella turns to look where they are, and they’re in front of a cemetery.”
The Duke remembered the story from an episode of “Haunted Mysteries” that the girl and the boy watched on TV one night. Normally he would have screamed at them to stop watching this shit and change the channel, but the episode had caught his fancy.
“That’s the one,” O’Grady said. “Happened to a friend of mine over in Denver.”
“Guess that ghost gets around,” The Duke said taking a sip of beer. Then he told O’Grady about the “Haunted Mysteries” episode that was set in Chicago.
“The church doesn’t really like us to tell ghost stories,” O’Grady said somberly. “If you talk about evil you are giving it an invitation.”
“But you’re off duty,” The Duke reminded O’Grady.
“That’s right. I forgot” O’Grady said. “One of the scariest things that happened to me was when I was driving haul up around the Arizona and Nevada border...”
O’Grady paused to gulp down the rest of his beer. Steadying his nerves the Duke figured. O’Grady put the empty beer bottle by his feet, and then continued.
“Like I said I was driving a haul up around the Arizona and Nevada border. Came to this empty stretch of road, and over on my left I see these rock formations that seem to go on forever. Suddenly in front of me there is this green mist. Something didn’t seem right. I bring my rig to a stop, and the mist is just hanging there—taunting me. There’s not enough room to back up my rig and turn around. No way around this thing. And my haul needed to be in Nevada by the morning. So I steel myself, send a prayer to Saint Christopher to keep me safe, start my rig, and drive forward...”
The Duke also decided to steady his nerves, and gulped down the rest of beer. Following O’Grady’s example put the empty bottle at his feet.
“...Soon as I hit the mist, the road disappears. I decided to speed up, hoping to clear this thing as soon as possible. All around me there are these lightning flashes. I don’t hear any thunder. Just flash, flash, flash. I speed up a little more, because I want out of this thing. The flashing gets more intense. It’s like the lightning is try
ing to match my speed, right. Suddenly, there is flash but this flash last longer than the others, and I have to close my eyes because it’s so bright. When I open my eyes again, I see this man sitting in the cab next to me. Close as you’re sitting to me right now. The man is completely bald, but his face is painted red. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s not paint. It’s blood. He tries to say something to me, but I shake my head. Then he turned around and I see that the back of skull has caved in. There was another flash, and now I see stars in the sky above. The road's back in front of me. I’m going so fast, my rig nearly rolls over. I want to hit the brakes, but something tells me if I do that I will definitely roll over. Thank god there is no traffic on the highway. I gradually slow down, and finally bring her to a stop. I climb out of my rig and look down the stretch of highway behind me. Nothing there, just the clear night sky. My passenger, well he’s gone too.”
“Did you recognize the guy?” the Duke asked.
“Never seen him before in my life.” O’Grady answered. Then he added: “Funny thing was a couple of days later I ran into a buddy of mine at a truck stop. He’s part of one of the Navajo tribes over there in Arizona. We get to talking and I tell him this story, same as I told you. My buddy, he’s really quiet. I ask him what’s wrong and he says under his breath The Gateway of Souls. Well I wasn’t going to let him get away with being all mysterious, so I pressed. He tells me that his grandfather used to tell him stories about weak spots on the Earth where the Land of the Dead