In the afternoon sun, Jayson stands at the edge of Bliss Town Community Cemetery, ears drooped and nose twitching from a mix of cut grass and the sour stench of his own sweat. The black iron gates ahead and white stone walls surrounding the cemetery are the cleanest parts of Bliss Town. The gates are open, allowing Jayson to enter with no trouble.

  Neat rows of headstones, ranging from marble to concrete and many other materials, stretch out over the small hills and manicured grass. Some of the headstones have statues of people or angles, others are simple suns or moons, but most have the generic curved edged headstones. Four round mausoleums stand five stories tall, each with pillars and domed roofs, surrounded by rings of flowers and decorated cobblestone, and protected by statues of angels.

  Nearby the Bliss Town Community Cemetery graveyard is the Iron Wall Monument. It looks like a bayonet pointing to the sky. It is next to a reconstructed stretch of trenches to give tourists the authentic feel of trench warfare during the Toxic War, but the rest of the trench line is no more. Tourists drift around it, snapping pictures and pretending to care about history, while the wind flaps flags and rattles the chimes on the gift shop.

  Jayson walks forward, steps heavy, hands stuffed in his ratty coat pockets. Wind blows, people chatter, and leaves and flower petals twirl past his feet as he goes to the Bliss Town Community Cemetery Administration building. Halfway there, he stops and looks at the Iron Wall Monument. He sees the tourists take the pictures around a green flame in a metal torch, posing in front of statues of soldiers or being overly dramatic in front of a black wall inscribed with white lettered names. This brings him back to when he saw the beginning of its construction.

  *****

  The summer heat burned through Jayson’s clothes and stabbed his heavy, bloodshot eyes with the accompanying glare of the sun. Not even sunglasses could help. He’s sweating through his hastily assembled suit, wishing he’d never agreed to meet Oswald out here. As well as wishing he showered. And stayed home so he could enjoy another Reel Sight pill. His hand had been twitching the whole time he’s been without the fix.

  Now he’s out here at the edge of Bliss Town with Oswald Walsod and Vaness McNessa. Oswald was grinning from ear to ear, his bony hands on the hood of his luxury car, cheap sunglasses covering his beady yellow eyes. Next to him, Vanessa McNessa is fanning herself with a handheld fan while chewing gum, her white fur and blonde hair perfectly clean, and her designer clothes and sunglasses immaculate despite the construction dust swirling around.

  A few hundred feet away, bulldozers were grinding up dirt, knocking over chunks of what used to be the old trench line. Near them are concrete mixing trucks and flatbeds carrying construction supplies. The trench network, formerly called the Iron Wall during the Toxic War, stood strong, but now its busted skeleton was with weeds and pockets of mini-swamps.

  Further out are other construction vehicles filling crater holes and using giant magnets to pull out twisted metal, bullet casings, shrapnel, razor wire, and anything else that could be a danger to construction projects.

  “Look at this!” Oswald slapped his luxury hood with a dirty paw. “Bought this dump for cheap. Sold it to the feds for thirty seven percent profit, and now they’re gonna turn it into a historical park. That’s how you do business, kids.”

  Jayson tried to hide how impressed he was. And when he looked to the side, he saw more construction being conducted on a growing cemetery. From what he saw, they are building mausoleums, monuments, and a visitor center.

  “So, all you did was flip a patch of war trash?” asked Vanessa, swallowing her gum.

  Jayson looked at Vanessa, his frown small, and the sunglasses hiding the hardening of his eyes from her disrespectful interpretation of the battlefield. Which he still remembered the artillery going off and the rattling gunfire while going to school, going to summer camp, and dating Lexanne Haunt. But Oswald being Oswald, he didn’t care about Vanessa’s disrespect. His grin only grew, cracking the filthy, hardened gray fur on his cheeks.

  “I did more than that. Bankrolled the new guy for mayor. Whole point is to get Macanas out. The guy’s lousy and keeps getting re-elected at three a-m,” said Oswald.

  “Yeah?” Vanessa popped another piece of gum in her mouth. “What happened to the last candidate you supported?”

  “Car wreck. Coastal Syndicate keeps killing my guys. Macanas is their asset, but I ain’t budging. Bliss Town will be mine, one way or another.”

  Vanessa and Jayson looked at each other. Jayson felt a chill even though the sun’s boiling. The idea of him working for someone who was actively pissing of a crime organization in a much larger city was something he did not expect to hear today, but he was also not surprised Oswald was doing that.

  Oswald kept talking, but the words turn into static. Vanessa watched the bulldozer crews and the rusted bones of the Iron Wall’s trenches. Jayson tried not to imagine himself under a headstone out here, or worse, in a barrel somewhere because of Oswald playing with fire.

  “Okay, just so we’re clear, when you’re saying Coastal Syndicate, are you talking about the criminal guys in Red City?” asked Jayson.

  “Yeah. But don’t worry about it. They’re in some kind of power struggle, so they’ll implode soon enough. When they’re gone, I’ll have nothing to worry about,” says Oswald.

  “Oswald, I don’t want Lexanne or I to get killed by a bunch of mobsters because of you!”

  “Relax. They don’t give a shit about you. It’s me that’s pissing them off because I’m not taking their money or cutting them in on my Bliss Town revival projects. Hell, I’m even pissing off the Bliss Syndicate for the same thing. But the beauty of it is that the Coastal Syndicate is going to die and the Bliss Syndicate is too inept to do anything of consequence to me.”

  Vanessa continued chewing her gum and quietly staring at Oswald, and Jayson blinked sweat out of his eyes, his muscles tight.

  “How do you know the Coastal Syndicate isn’t going to be a problem?” asked Jayson.

  Oswald wiped oily sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s mathematics. This new gal leading the Coastal Syndicate, Mama Bear, got enemies within and all around. Old guard is pissed that she took over, so she’s fighting them in a civil war. Other syndicates are beating her up, too. Taking territory left and right. Her small crew here in Bliss Town is just a bunch of losers who’re only surviving because the Bliss Syndicate is comprised of idiots who think the Corleones and the Mob Father are how crime is done.”

  “Technically they are showing how crime is done. The characters are just awful, and the show is garbage in general,” said Jayson.

  “I think they’re great and well rounded characters and the show is deep if you have any media literacy,” said Vanessa.

  “Oh, don’t give me that. The Corleones is just a show about a bunch of fat guys who backstab each other, flip for lighter sentences when they get caught, then get whacked for being…”

  Jayson stopped and looked at Oswald, and partially lowered his sunglasses, revealing his sickly yellow eyes.

  “Being rats?” finished Oswald, smiling to expose his ugly teeth.

  “Next you’re going to say the Mob Father sucks,” said Vanessa.

  “It insists upon itself,” said Jayson sharply.

  Vanessa sneered. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you two shut up and look at this amazing site,” said Oswald.

  He grabbed and turned Vaness and Jayson to observe the construction crew filling up trenches with gravel and cement.

  “This was the Iron Wall of Bliss County during the Toxic War. Nothing could breach it, no matter how hard the Axis tried. And now it has been defeated by me and my amazing business skills,” said Oswald proudly.

  He slapped Jayson’s back and grinned at him.

  “I know we’ve got our differences, but hang out with me a bit longer, and you’ll get another shot at the promotion and make big sales like this. Your future is bright with me,” said Oswald.

  *****

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The memory dies when someone sets off a party cannon, bringing a rowdy, chaotic chorus of cheers. Jayson shakes his head and continues walking.

  His pace slows as he approaches the cross-paths where the Administrative Office squats behind a row of carefully pruned trees. Flanking its entrance is a pair of faceless Angel statues, heads bowed, hands pressed together, and wings folded inward. Like the rest of the cemetery, they are well cared for.

  Jayson stops in front of the Administrative Office entrance, his hand twitching and throat clogged from a wet bubble.

  The structure is a squat building made of bricks and white wood, and blue awnings over the entrance and windows, and a red shingled roof. Near the cobblestone path leading to the entrance is a brick sign with fresh, black letters, reading: BLISS TOWN COMMUNITY CEMETERY ADMINISTRATION.

  Jayson stands there for a few more seconds longer, fighting the tears, the clog in his throat, and the ache in his heart.

  He inhales. Exhales. Then forces himself to walk forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his cosmic wood sword, which is really more like a fighting stick instead of an actual sword. But he prefers to call it that instead of “cosmic wood stick”.

  He steps inside, his nostrils instantly filling up with the smell of old parchment, cologne from the lone rabbit who looks like a skeleton more than a living rabbit, pinecone from a basket of hobby store pinecone decor, and tropical breeze from an air freshener plugged into the wall. There is also a pine tree shaped air freshener meant for cars hanging from the ceiling fan, but Jayson thinks it might be a dud since he can’t smell it.

  Jayson eyes adjust to the dim yellow light from the ceiling fan, and the soft sunlight filtered through the tinted windows. He approaches the skeletal rabbit, watching him quietly as he looks through names in a big book.

  “About time you came inside,” says the old rabbit.

  “You were expecting me?” says Jayson.

  The old rabbit, Claudius Calizario, flips through the book, slowly, carefully, not wanting to risk tearing the pages. From the header, Jayson can see Claudius is in the “H” section. The old rabbit’s skeletal paw quivers as he turns the pages, his faded grey fur is thin around his eyes and nose, but thick on his cheeks, and his ears sag, yet his eyes are still sharp behind his bifocals.

  “I saw you coming on my camera. Then saw you standing outside for a couple of minutes. You hadn’t been here in a while. So, I was surprised to see you,” says Claudius.

  “You remember me?” says Jayson.

  “I remember everyone. The dead. The living. Names. Faces. I remember it all,” says Claudius.

  “I doubt that.”

  “My first client was Abel. Nice guy. His brother? Not so much. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

  Jayson clicks his tongue. “Right…”

  “I can name off more names if you’d like.”

  “No, I’m actually here to move Lexanne Haunt-Hopper to a better location.”

  “I know.” Claudius stops and taps his sharp tipped finger on the line where Lexanne Haunt’s information is. “I thought I was going to see you twice already. But you’re a stubborn rabbit.”

  “I’ve got work to do. When my work is done, then I’ll die.”

  “Careful with your words, boy. Sometimes they come true.”

  “I want Lexanne’s grave moved to the crest of the tallest hill. Underneath the tree, if available.”

  Claudius scribbles down Lexanne Haunt’s information on a notecard and shuffles to a rotary phone.

  “Before I call my assistants, I should warn you that it will be very expensive,” says Claudius.

  “How much?” asks Jayson.

  “Sixty thousand bucks.”

  Jayson nods. “I’ll do it. Fifty down. The last ten paid in increments of thousand per week until paid in full.”

  Claudius raises a brow. “Bold proposition.”

  Jayson pulls the card from his pocket and sets it down on the Claudius’s desk. It shimmers in the light, the holographic flowers swirling. The old rabbit stares at it, his whiskers twitching.

  He runs a paw over the card, then puts it in a scanner and sees the full fifty thousand waiting to be used. His shoulders loosen, but he looks at Jayson sharply.

  “We have a deal. But I must warn you…” Claudius holds the card up. “You keep going like this, and Hell will take you. Make peace while you still can.”

  Jayson’s yes harden. “Just do the transfer.”

  “It shall be done, lad.”

  Claudius spins the rotary on the phone, presses the receiver against his ear and waits. A few rings later, he looks at his card and says, “It's Claudius. Get your team ready. You're moving a grave.”

  *****

  It is now the late afternoon. The sky has turned to a purple and orange hue behind the darkening clouds while the blue cracks shift high above. Jayson paces at the bottom of the hill, just inside the tree line, watching as four battered rabbits wearing stained coveralls quietly use their tools to lower Lexanne Haunt’s simple casket into a fresh hole by an oak tree. The tree's limbs stretch far, giving cover to the small stone statue that marks her grave.

  The crew is methodical and respectful in lowering her casket and refilling the grave. They pat the dirt down to make it level, and then roll grass sleeves over the dirt, using large water canisters to soak the ground.

  Jayson clasps the cosmic wood so tight his paw cramps. His mouth is dry, tongue glued to his teeth as he watches them make their final touches. When they are done, the workers go into their flatbed truck with their tools strapped down and carefully drive away, their tires grinding the gravel coating on the cobblestone road.

  The truck passes Jayson, but he doesn't look at them.

  Jayson walks up the hill, his steps heavy and heart aching. Every steps feels like a step in a muddy river, and when he reaches Lexanne Haunt’s grave, he drops to his knees, putting him at the feet of her statue, the oak branches rustling above him while tourists holler in the distance.

  Lexanne Haunt's statue is a mix of white and black. White body, black dress with white web patterns, and black wings, hair, and eyeliner. She is barefoot, and her head is bowed and her hands clamped together.

  *****

  Plastic wrapper ripped in the quiet room. Black foam wings snapped out of its case, and after some struggle, Lexanne Haunt managed to get the wings strapped around her, using the costume's belt and shoulder straps. She spun in front of the bedroom wall mirror, holding her arms wide and grinning. The costume wings looked almost real, or at least as real as thirty bucks plus tax at the party store could buy. The soft light from the ceiling fan made the white veins and black feathers shimmer, giving her an extra level of ominous that maade her smile.

  Thick eyeliner. Gelled, spiked hair. Black lipstick, black mesh, black everything except for the cheap white plastic tiara glued to her head because “Gothic Dark Angel Princess” was what she settled on.

  “Do I look menacing?” asked Lexanne Haunt, putting on her most dramatic stare and raises her hands, fingers curled like claws.

  Jayson adjusted his blue ninja outfit, his eyes sunken, body twitching, fur and hair a mess, but he still smiled and gave her a quivering thumbs-up.

  “You look great. I almost want to surrender my wallet right now,” said Jayson.

  Lexanne snorted and threw her arms around him. “Ninjas don’t have wallets. That’s the whole point. They’re broke and desperate.”

  “That’s why we’re going to Oswald’s party. Free food,” said Jayson. He tried to wrap her in a ninja stealth squeeze, but the black foam wings made it impossible to get a good hold, so he wound up squishing them both into the corner. The smell of fresh makeup mixed with air freshener and the faint but ever-present glue odor of his ninja costume.

  Lexanne Haunt kissed Jayson's nose, barely missing the edge of the ninja mask. “You’re adorable.”

  “I’m deadly,” corrected Jayson. “But next year you're dressing up as Xenia.”

  “Oh? If that's the case, you're dressing up as Coby the Barbarian.”

  “No, it'd have to be Heracules. They were totally a thing in the show.”

  Lexanne Haunt scoffed. “That was one crossover event.”

  Jayson kissed Lexanne Haunt’s lips. “A multi episode crossover event.”

  Lexanne Haunt returned the kiss. “Still one crossover event.”

  Jayson kissed her again. “By the way, you look hot as a soul sucking angel.”

  Lexanne Haunt kissed Jayson again. “Dark angel, Jayson. They’re different from a succubus.”

  “That’s something a succubus would say.”

  Lexanne Haunt smirked and poked Jayson in the stomach as she gently grabbed the back of his head, locking their eyes. They sway back and forth, holding eye contact and smiling in a slow dance.

  “Succubi are way lamer than dark angels. They just mope around and seduce boring old men with heart conditions. Dark angels break doors. They eat sadness. Then they perform forbidden rituals over your rotting carcass. It’s in the lore,” said Lexanne Haunt.

  “I’m pretty sure you made that up. But since you already chose evil, I have no choice but to vanquish you, as it is my duty as a ninja,” said Jayson.

  Then he tried tugging her into a headlock, but the wing belt and the tiara got in the way and Lexanne Haunt flailed, shrieking with laughter.

  “Let me go, or I’ll cast a spell!” laughed Lexanne Haunt.

  “Do it! Prove your strength, beast of the abyss!” said Jayson.

  Lexanne Haunt grabbed a plastic wand and bonked Jayson’s forehead with it.

  “BAM! Sadness times a million and negative twelve credit score. It’s a debuff, so you can’t remove it,” said Lexanne Haunt.

  Jayson dropped his arms and clutched his chest, groaning as he fell to his knees. “No! My stats! I challenged what I couldn’t comprehend and paid the price!”

  Lexanne Haunt grinned and struck a pose in the mirror, her crooked, and the wings dented. Jayson also noticed she was wearing mismatched socks. One was black with white skulls, and the other was white with black spiders. She was perfect. As Jayson stared at her, Lexanne saw him in the mirror, and her pose and glorious smile relaxed.

  “I wonder what the afterlife is just more parties or if it’s like… a never-ending cozy nap,” said Lexanne Haunt as she adjusted her tiara.

  Jayson cocked a brow and stood up. “That’s an odd thought.”

  “I mean, it’s Halloween. Day of the Dead. All Hallow’s Eve. Whatever. You know what I mean. It’s about the afterlife at the end of the day… And…. well, we’re all going to die eventually,” said Lexanne Haunt.

  “Wow. Buzzkill,” said Jayson.

  “I’m sorry, but…” Lexanne Haunt turned and waved at Jayson’s messy form, her eyes watering and throat bobbing. “Seeing you like this. You’re working so hard, every day, and when you come home you look like you want to be somewhere else. This job with Oswald is killing you, and every day I worry it will be our last. And then I think to myself, if you die what if we can’t find each other in the afterlife?”

  Jayson blinked the wetness out of his eyes, unable to take the tears and black mascara running down his wife’s cheeks. He tried to break the wet lump in his throat with a laugh, but the laugh came out as a weak, ragged cough, and tears trailed his cheeks. His chest tightened, his vision blurred at the edges, and he grabbed Lexanne Haunt’s hands, rubbing his thumb on her knuckles.

  “You know I’d find you,” said Jayson. “Even if I had to break Hell’s front door and wrestle a demon to save you.”

  Lexanne Haunt’s mouth twitched. She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled him close, her plastic tiara digging into his chin.

  “I love you, Jayson,” said Lexanne Haunt.

  “I love you, too, Lexanne,” said Jayson. He held her for a few more seconds, and then gently pulled away from her, stroking her wet cheeks and offering a comforting smile. “Let’s put this depressing talk behind us. Oswald’s got candy at his party, and I know you love candy.”

  Lexanne Haunt sniffed and smiled. “Yeah… I do love candy…”

  *****

  Jayson’s breathing is ragged. Tears clean dirt off his face, leaving a thin trail of shiny white through the dull brown coating his white fur. He is sitting against Lexanne Haunt’s statue, his back pressed against her legs and his eyes watching the sun slowly sink in the distance, like the God slowly closing his eye for the day. He claws the loose soil, fingertips grinding in the grit, and he can’t do anything but cry.