She put it into, Scar's hands. “I’m sorry for what I said to you the other night. I had no right to judge you, no one has.”
Scar stared down at the small button, lost for words.
They both hugged each other one more time then she turned round to us, with a look that could be best describe as ready - you could sense she wanted to leave.
“I am sorry also for what I said to you all the other night, I was wrong to turn my mistake into anger towards you, but I am glad I met you all. I think we would have made good friends if things had been different. I do hope it works out for you all, I really do. I don’t know why all this happened, but I’m glad I got the chance to put things right in my own heart. God bless. Goodbye, goodbye, time to go, time to fly away.”
Then with almost a skip in her stride she left us to meet her grave - her resting place. The wind picked up and blow softly through the tall trees that were throughout the graveyard. I think at that moment, we all felt a breeze of what she said about God and reality.
All except Sam, not once had he been moved. He turned away and sat alone. He was always the outsider, always the one acting with indifferent. No one liked him.
Doc was a tall man while, Mr Kydd was short they looked like a comedy act stood next to each other.
Mr Kydd reached out his hand to, Doc. “Well, Doctor. I think I owe you an apology. You’ve hit the nail on the head. You were right all along. We need to dig deep into our hearts.” They shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr Kydd, but there’s still a long way to go. There’s still a lot that simply makes no sense.”
Suddenly, Sam snapped. He rushed over to us; there was utter rage in his eyes. “You know what. There’s no heaven bullshit up there and if there was.” He pointed a hard finger towards the ground. “I should be burning in hell right now.”
“Hey easy Sam. you just can’t start shouting like that.” Scar said.
Sam spun his face towards hers. “Lady, I don’t even know you, how can you think you know me. I’ve had enough of this talk. I’m a bad man, who’s lived a bad life. This is all bullshit man, bullshit - you’re all just fooling yourselves.
If there’s one thing I know about this. We’re all doomed in some fucked up zombie way. And at least I’m not pretending to go off to some nice warm pretty light, like that crazy woman or go round like some mad professor with all the clever answers - you’re all just talking sentimental bullshit.”
Doc gave him a hard look. “Then what are you doing here then?”
Sam pointed towards himself. “That’s my business fool.”
With that he ran off and tried to jump the railings that surrounded the graveyard. We could hear him screaming and cursing.
“What’s he trying to do - we all know we can’t leave here.” Scar said.
“Yes we can my dear, but in a different way.” Mr Kydd said humbly. “Our Doctor here is right.”
She thought for a moment. “Do you think so?” She rubbed the silver button in her hand. “But what about Sam - why is he screaming like that?”
“Some people my dear can face the truth.” He pointed his walking stick towards, Sam. “And some people can’t.”
After a while he gave up and walked back to us. His face was full of tears and disappointment.
“Don’t you realise.” His voice sounded broken and torn. “Haven’t you worked it out? I’m not supposed to be here, there’s nothing for me. I got no soul, no hope. No nothing at all.”
“Can’t you...” Scar began to say.
Sam screamed back at her before she could finish. “SHUT UP, BITCH.”
Doc stepped towards him, his eyes flashed with anger. “You talk to her again like that and I’ll...”
Sam’s face quickly bore into Doc’s. “And you'll what?”
Doc quickly stepped forward and punched him square in the face. Sam stumbled backwards and then slowly pulled himself straight, spitting blood onto the grass. Doc stood his ground, fists clenched, ready. I thought they would start to fight. Instead, Sam gave him an embittered blood filled smile - it was horrible to see such a cruel face.
“Don’t you understand? There’s no redemption for me, no self forgiveness, just blackness. I’m what happens when you really don’t give a fuck for anything, nothing at all. I’ve killed, raped and burned my life through and I’m glad for it.
I don’t care about any of you and I don’t care for the blackness I know I got coming to me, 'cos you know why?”
For a few seconds, all he did was look each one of us in the eyes, there was something dark and terrible burning inside them. “I’ve seen this world, seen its true colour and its black… Black to the core.”
He ripped open his cheap dirty shirt. “And this is what I made life do to me. For all the blackness I put into it.”
Across his chest he had six bullet holes.
“Forget about me. No more - no more, it’s over. It’s just blackness for me. Maybe this place gives you a second chance, but I don’t want it, I just want the blackness. No remorse. There’s an answer Doc, if that makes you happy.”
He spat some more blood on the ground and walked back towards his grave, knowing he was facing an abyss of total nothingness.
Scar called out to him. “Hey. Sam.”
With rage still burning in his face, he half turned round towards her. “What...” he all but growled.
Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted at the top of her voice. “FUCK YOU! YOU CLICHE.”
He laughed cruelly at that, more to his self than anything else, because it was true. I was glad I never saw him again.
Mr Kydd sat wearily down on a headstone, brushing dirt off his suit. The soil from our graves was beginning to make us look like a group of wandering hoboes - in some ways we were.
Scar sat down next to him on the grass and carefully pined the silver button that, Mary had given her to her coat. “Too much has been said now, hasn’t it? It works, it really works.” She said with amazement.
Doc sat down next to them both, he’d looked strangely distant about the whole thing, you could even say troubled. He took out his papers and shuffled through them, deep in thought, crossing out lines here and there.
We were beginning to feel drained by it all. Things had come so far, yet not far enough. We needed time to think, time to put things into order. For the first time since being here, something began to make sense. We had to see it through, had to know in our hearts, what it was that made us keep coming back, night after night. The dawn finally came, we almost felt glad to go back to our graves.
The following evening it was almost a clear night sky and the moon was full and misty yellow. Scar began to pick some flowers for, Mary’s grave - I helped her find some more. As we walked along we stopped by Sam’s grave, his headstone simply read in large black letters.
SAMUEL HALL
“Scar what was that all about last night? How could that man say them things about himself, how could he hate that much and still find an answer.”
She thought for a moment for something to say, but instead took a single purple flower from the bunch she had and placed it on his headstone.
“How can you do that, he was a murderer.” I said.
“Because it is our forgiveness, Sexton that shines away his blackness, anyway he’s gone now that’s all that matter isn’t it.”
She pointed towards, Mr Kydd and Doc and handed me her Zippo from her coat. “Why don’t you go back and light a fire. They look cold. I just need to put these on her grave.”
I watched her walk across the graveyard and gently put the flowers she had picked down upon, Mary’s grave. She lingered there for a moment, as if saying a pray or thank you. I saw, Doc looking too, his eyes danced over her, he turned quickly away when he saw me approaching.
I sat down next to them both and started making a fire. Scar soon returned and sat down next to us all.
“I could really do with a wash right now.” She said has she tried to
run her fingers through her matted hair.
“You know.” Mr Kydd blurted out. “Everyone I know is dead. I got nowhere to go but here.”
At the exact same time we all turned to him. If there was one thing that was certain, one thing above all else, we had to stay. No matter how much each of us might secretly feel like running away, to grab back what little was left of our lives, we had to stay.
Giving a nervous smile, he composed himself best he could. “Just saying.”
Then in the distant sky a humming could be heard, it began to get closer. We all looked up towards the sound and out through the high clouds came a small plane, the old fashioned kind with propellers. It slowly passed over us and continued on into the dark night.
Mr Kydd watched it intently. “Scar, may I ask you something?” He said thoughtfully.
“Sure Mr Kydd.”
“I remember, Doc saying you were the last of us to die, the youngest here so to speak. Did we win the war?”
She looked at him confused. “What do you mean war, which one?”
He looked back at her with the same look of confusion. “You mean there were more, more than the one to end them all, the war in Europe, against Germany and those damn Nazis swine’s. You see I died in 1944.”
“Oh yes, we won that one.” She said with a confident nod.
Again he looked at her, but this time with a sense of dread. “What other ones were there?”
She bit her lip for a moment. “Stupid ones, that wasn’t worth fighting for.”
“Did we win them?” His face had a flicker of hope and pride in it.
“You don’t really want to know, Mr Kydd. The country out there is a different place - has different values to what you knew.” She looked glumly down. “It tells lies.”
He turned away from her muttering that he needed to take a walk and clear his head, the stress we were under was being to show. I watched him strolling around the graveyard, deep in thought; he looked to be at odds with himself.
Doc moved up closer to, Scar. I could sense, Doc wanted to talk to her alone, so I pretended we needed some more sticks for the fire, but kept within ear shot. I needed to know the full story. I needed to tell you every last scrap of it.
She beamed him a friendly smile. “Hey, Doc I forgot to say thanks for you know with, Sam last night.”
“That’s Ok.” He said.
Folding her arms tightly around herself, she leaned over to him. “So it looks like you were right then.”
His face suddenly frowned. “I guess so, Scar.”
“Look I know it’s hard, hard for us all. Let’s talk about something else shall we, how about this?”
She took out her cards from inside her coat pocket and began to shuffle them.
He gestured towards them. “Who taught you to use those?”
“I did. No one can teach you, Doc. Not really teach you, you have to find it out for yourself. Why do you ask, you’re a man of science?” She said with a look of curiosity on her face.
“Just asking, that’s all. What else do your cards say?”
“Would you like me to do you a reading? You’d have a better understanding of it then, maybe even learn something?”
Doc shook his head, like a man backing out of a funfair ride. “No, no. I think me and fate are not on talking terms at the moment, Scar.”
She laughed girlishly at his joke and raised her eyes slowly up. “Fate is only fate if you let it, Doc. Please - I love reading the cards for someone new. I used to do the summer fairs, earned a few bucks from it too, till the cops moved me on."
He looked at her nervously.
“Come on what you say, can’t hurt can it?” Scar said as she reached out and touched his hand. He winced sharply in pain. “Oh I’m sorry, Doc. You must have hit that, Sam a good one.”
“That was the first time I ever hit someone.” He said, as he slowly pulled back his hand and began rubbing it.
“I’ll have to remember not to get you angry, how about it then, Doc, for me?”
Slowly he nodded, like someone