“This place always creeps me out.”

Jayda was wearing her balaclava, as she always did when out and about as the MacBook Bandit. Leaning to one side, she looked idly about. “You’d think there’d be more people farting around this place, you know? It’s a small town, everybody knows someone who’s been here. Hell, I bet half the old ladies on East Downs already have a place reserved. But it’s always empty except for the days Eddie mows the yard. And of course me and Heath. Why do you think that is, Georgina?”

Georgina didn’t answer, but that wasn’t really her fault–after all, according to the headstone Jayda was leaned up against, she had died a “beloved daughter” about five years ago. It was a big family plot, with the other names already pre-carved (somewhat ghoulishly, in Jayda’s opinion) but the tenants not yet moved in.

“I tell ya, Georgie, it’s always kinda a thing. People are all over this place on Memorial Day, there band comes, they shoot fake bullets…and then everyone goes about like they don’t know anybody that’s come down with a bad case of death. Like they plan to live forever.”

She spied the groundskeeper, Eddie, glowering at her from near his lawnmower shack a fair ways away, down a gentle slope before the graveyard terminated at Tapps Dr. Jayda waved happily; Eddie had seen her loads of times and had never been able to summon the energy to do anything more than scowl in lawnmowerish.

“Hey!” Heath had appeared as scheduled, but coming from behind the stone, he shocked Jayda enough for her to leap about a foot into the air.

“Don’t sneak up on people in graveyards,” she said. “Unless you’re an undertaker on a slow business day.”

“Have you got what I asked for?” Heath said. He held out an envelope. “It’s all there, count it.”

“Oh, I trust you.” Jayda took the bills and shoved them in a pocket. “After all, I know where you live.” She tossed a small package at Heath’s feet. “All the console modding supplies you could ever want, courtesy of an illegal Radio Shack.”

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