Chapter 3 Feathers of Fate

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay? Hey, girl. Wake up. What happened? Are you pregnant?"

Robin opened her eyes to see Ariel sitting beside her, and the pregnant question snapped her back to reality.

"What? Pregnant? Noway, girlfriend. What happened?"

"You'll have to tell me. Looks like you missed your fries, walk, and body advertisement. What happened?"

She sighed and struggled until she sat.

"It started with a nightmare and ended when the same figure stood before the bathroom door with a knife, and he tried to cut me. That's when Ihit the floor in a faint."

"Is this coming from Stella'sprediction?"

"I think so. This isn't my normal state, and it's getting me exasperated. Of course, you know that without asking."

"The friend side of me needs to say this: you need to talk with someone about it and what's happening to you. I'd recommend a priest or maybe a psychologist. Otherwise,

latch onto anyone in authority whom you trust and talk it out. I don't want to see you dead or sitting immobile and drooling from drugs to keep you alive and little else."

"I'm not trying to worry you, but it's starting to worry me. I promise I'll do that as soon as wereturn to Seaford. But, man, that scared me."

She checked the time on the clock radio and shook her head. "I missed a lot today.

I'll do lunch and drive around all six blocks of historic Denton, and I think I'll feel better. I'll do the boardwalk tomorrow morning or later this evening and watch the sunset."

"That sounds wonderful, but you need to shower first. I'll wait for you, and we'll have lunch together."

*

The lunch was fabulous, and afterward, Robin spent a half hour playing the slot

machines with the $25 that Ariel gave her. She won four $100 jackpots and one for

$1270, which excited her. Ariel joined her to cash in her winning tickets, and she put the money in her purse and left the casino to drive as she planned.

Denton proved to be larger than six blocks, but according to the map from a

convenience store, she covered all the streets of importance and saw a sign for Oil City. With visions of refineries, many oil storage tanks, and smoking towers, she followed the signs and found an upscale housing area instead of an industrial area. She admired the houses and the area for twenty minutes before returning to Denton and the hotel. Her

route took her past the Denton Cemetery. She waved a timid hello to Paula'shusband,

entered the deserted place, and stopped beside the only buildingshe saw. It proved to be the office/administration building, and she tried both doors and gave it up for being

closed. She read a small placard on the door above the lock and called a number for assistance.

"Hello, this is Roxana Perkins, secretary of the Denton Cemetery. How may I help

you on this delightful Denton day? Do you wish to purchase a plot for the burial? Do you wish to prepay your burial expenses? How may we help you?"

"Uh, no to all that. I'm Robin from Seaford, Delaware, and I'm researching my

ancestry. I hadn't planned to stop here first, but I did. I wondered if you have a directory of plot owners or something that shows where people are buried? Is a list of names

available to the public, like me?"

"I can help you with that. What's the name, or who are you looking for? I can tell you if they'reburied there. I've worked there for so many years; it seems like I know everyone who died."

"Cherie Pandora Waterman is the woman I'm seeking. She's listed as my great- grandmother, but I don't know where she'sburied."

"Ohshit! Screw that! Noway! Callus back when the office is open. We're closed for aten-year sabbatical starting yesterday!" The receiver slammed down with another

curse.

Robin stood shivering and listening to the dial tone for a few minutes before the phone beeped, and she hit the end call button.

"Now, that was weird. Ariel thinks I've got problems. I should have recorded that call to playback for her."

She pressed the green receiver key for the last numbers called andredialed the number.

"Hello, this is Roxana Perkins, secretary of the Denton Cemetery. How may I help you on this awesome Denton day? Do you wish to purchase a plot? Do you wish to

prepay your burial expenses? How may we help you?"

"Hello, Roxana. Can we try this again, and you won'thang up this time? If you don't help people, don't advertise your number. Do I make sense?"

"Yes, you do, but no, if you want the same information. I can'thelp you. You need to callback later. I'm the lone person here, and I'm not getting involved in stupid, useless, underhanded, evil bullshit. I won't!"

"Can you just tell me if she's buried here? If she is, I'll look for her grave on my own and leave my number for someone else to call me."

It seemed like hours before Roxana spoke again.

"She's there, and I wish she wasn't. I wish it was in Oakland, California, instead.

Better yet, maybe the moon would be the prime spot for that.... Nevermind! Dammit!

Take the right drive from the entrance. Drive until you must stop and park the car. Walk back toward the entrance and count when you do. On the east side, she'son the 23rd

plot, which will be on your left. And if anything bad happens to you, even if you stub your toe, I never talked with you, you never called! I don't want to be dragged into

something evil. Got that?"

"I got that. Thanks. Sorry to have bothered you for public information."

All she heard was another receiver slam, beep, and dial tone. She shivered from the icy response, moved to the east side of the building, and looked back at the right

driveway.

"That's along way back to the end. It seems to run forever, but I don't see how that's possible. Every cemetery has its boundaries and limitations. Since we're here, let's go

and try to keep Roxana out of trouble while we do. Naughty, Self. Cause her to curse,

and she doesn't even know you. We don't want her fired because of searching for a dead relative, do we?"

She checked the distance, and it was just over 3/4 of a mile to the end. So, she

turned in the generous area and parked facing the front. She counted plots on her left

side, with the gravel crunching and shifting as a solitary sound under her feet. She

stopped when she reached 23 and stood looking at the plot that appeared different from its neighbors. It took a moment to figure that the gravesite had grass that had not been mowed, but it was auniform height and taller than the rest. An impression flashed

across her mind of someone cutting it with scissors and doing it everyday to keep it looking spiffy.

She looked at the plain tombstone with Cherie Pandora Waterman, born

01/25/1882 and died 01/26/1976. Under the last date, someone had scrawled with a

black marker, BUT NOT SOON ENOUGH FOR THIS BITCH. A dried bouquet of flower stems lay on top of the stone, with another stone holding them in place.

Robin shook her head and looked sadly at dried weeds that appeared to have rested there forever. It boggled her mind how they could have lain for maybe forty years or

more and still be that intact, just dry and without flowers, leaves, and green color.

She wondered what flowers they were when fresh and stepped forward to remove them. A thorough inspection of her area revealed a barrel marked TRASH near where she parked, and she held it in her hand for a moment and said a prayer for her just

discovered relative.

"I never knew before today, but I'll remember now. I'll be back tomorrow with some fresh flowers, and I'll return once or twice a year to keep your grave looking loved and

cared for; I promise you that."

She blew the grave a kiss from the graveland walked towards her car, feeling noble and right about herself and her visit under extreme difficulty.

The cries of some birds reached her when she dropped the stems into the trashcan, and she looked towards the entrance. Above it and somewhere inside the cemetery

limits,a crow flew in circles and made sharp darting movements. It appeared to be

flying in fear for its life, and it did not take Robin much time to locate the threat. A

falcon flew about 100 feet above the prey and on the same course but not circling and zigzagging. It maintained a steady path until it squalled and dropped like anarrow.

Feathers flew, and screeches filled the air as the crow stopped and spiraled down to hit the ground.

"Damn, what a rough way to die. Sorry for your luck, buddy," she said, moving toward the car.

The falcon squalled again, and Robin turned to see it flying toward her, and she knew she was the next intended target.

"Uh,bullshit! You'll not get me like you demolished the crow. I'm not your prey!"

She hastened toward the car when the falcon squalled again like it killed the crow.

She felt relief when she had her hand on the door handle and jerked it open. She paused long enough to see it dropping toward her new location in an apparent attack maneuver, and she scrambled inside and locked the doors. She started the engine and looked

through the windshield but could not see it.

"Just leave, dummy!" she shouted.

She did not have the car in motion before the falcon hit the driver's glass and the

ground, leaving a streak of blood and more feathers. She squealed and leaned to the left to see it better.

The falcon flopped afew times and then lay still, but for Robin, her last thought of him was the wickedness in the one eye that faced her.

It said to her, "You're mine, Curious Bitch. I'll get you somewhere and someday. You belong tome in this world and the next."

"Get the hell out of here!" she yelled at herself and drove toward the front of the entrance as fast as prudent.

"What the hell happened there? Was that because of me? Or was it some spiritual alarm system that ghosts use for their protection? Whatever it was, it got my attention, and I'm sorry for lying, Cherie. I don'tthink I'll be back to see you and bring fresh

flowers. You lack good graces and social skills in receiving guests and relatives. Wow! What a demonstration to say get out and leave meal one."

She stopped outside the entrance and called the last number. Instead of Roxana

answering, it went to voice mail. She waited and left the message, "Roxana, this is

Robin. I'm sorry. I should have listened, but I'm family, and in Seaford, everything, even cemeteries, is peace and love. Please call me. You have my number on Caller ID, I'm

sure. I need to talk with you about this, or if you can't, give my number to someone who can and will. After what happened tome, I can't turn my back and walk away. If you

were family, I'd not do that to you. Please call. Goodbye."