“We need to work on your definition of ‘fun,’” he complained darkly.
Rather than respond, I cocked my head. My mother was still at the storage building door. “What’s in there?” I asked.
He had to look up to gauge what had garnered my attention. “Nothing of interest,” he replied. “Shovels, landscaping supplies. I think there’s still a mower in there.”
“Then why does she keep trying to get in there?”
“How do you know that’s what she’s doing?”
I didn’t have to answer the question. At that moment, my mombie futzed with the door handle. She wasn’t cognizant. She couldn’t problem solve. Yet she was trying to open the door.
“Huh.” Galen moved the file to the bench and stood, his gaze fully focused on my mother. “That’s weird.”
“I believe that’s why I brought it up,” I confirmed.
Galen moved closer to the window. “Maybe there is something in there.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Zombies only care about one thing — eating people — so maybe someone is in there.”
That was a chilling thought. “How would someone get in?”
“We still have groundskeepers. They only work during the day. They’re not supposed to stay past three o’clock in the afternoon. That’s the rule.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“Maybe he got left behind and had to lock himself in.”
It was a terrible thought. I couldn’t imagine anything worse. “How do we find out?”
Galen said, “We don’t. If someone’s in there, they’ll stay until morning. It will be fine.”
My mother went for the door again. Before I could point that out, there was a muffled noise from inside the cemetery. It almost sounded like a complaining kitten.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
Galen pressed himself against the window and closed his eyes, listening intently.
I was going to say something, but Galen blindly reached up and slapped his hand over my mouth.
I heard the noise again. It was faint … and almost piteous. It had to be an animal. How did it get in there? A horrible thought occurred to me: Had someone decided they didn’t want their dog any longer and locked it in the cemetery to get rid of it? I would track them down and kill them. Animal abusers are the worst.
When Galen opened his eyes, he looked shellshocked. “Someone’s in there. Someone is calling for help. They’re weak, like maybe they’re sick or injured.”
“Or bitten by a zombie?”
Galen looked momentarily perplexed but ultimately nodded. “It’s a man.” His gaze searched mine. “Hadley, I think it might be Wesley. I can’t be certain, but I think I recognize his voice.”
I looked back to the building. “Well, we can’t leave him there.” Had he been in the building the entire time? Had he been injured and locked away against his will?
Galen seemed torn. “The smart thing to do would be to wait until tomorrow morning when they’re back in their graves.”
“Then I guess I’m not smart.” I started in the direction of the cemetery gate. It was locked eight different ways, but I could get past with my magic.
“Wait!” Galen gave chase. He grabbed me around the wrist before I could blow open the gate. His tone was grave. “If we’re going to do this?—”
“We’re doing this.” If he thought I was walking away now, he was crazy.
