242 The Cloaked Man

Pete was dozing heavily in his chair in the security booth. He was over sixty-five years old but had refused to go into retirement. To be fair, nobody else wanted his job.

StoneGate cemetery was a low-key tract of land where the plebes of Springfield buried their dead. Thorny bushes, weeds, and cracked gravestones were the best scenic view.

The grave keeper’s salary was a few hundred dollars a month, but Pete was content. Ever since his son died in the Pacific World War and was buried at this location, he decided to watch over the graves till his last breath.

People gossiped that Stonegate Cemetery was haunted, but Pete saw nothing go bump in the night over the last thirty years. That was going to change very soon.

Thud! Crack! Crunch! The sound of boots and metals against soil and gravel woke Pete up. He fluttered open his eyelids and peered into the night. The old man could see movement, and he froze.

Pete’s eyes focused on three shadows looming over a distant grave. Ghosts?! Was it