It was like running an obstacle course. The tombstones were placed in haphazard fashion as though the architect of the cemetery had an aversion to symmetry and order. The hound on his heels was unaffected by the need to zig and zag. He could feel the dog's hot breath on the back of his exposed calves. What had he been thinking wearing shorts in a cemetery in the dead of night?
A stone mausoleum was just ahead. He leapt first to one of the stone urns on either side of the iron gate, then vaulted so that his toes fell in a shallow recess made to look like a window. From there he scrambled on to the roof.
Looking down, he saw the tombstones were not hodgepodge after all. They formed a swirling pattern that led to a single concrete slab placed alone in a corner that had not seen a gardener's hand in years.
He resolved to discover what lay beneath that slab.
No comments:
Post a Comment