The second death (part 14)

– What are you doing out here at night?" Lost?

"Good evening... who are you?"

– Watchman. The caretaker of this cemetery. Who are you?

I reached into my pocket for my overdue journalist ksiva and handed it to my grandfather, adding a hundred-dollar bill to it.

- The newspaper "Criminal capital" ... to us called in edition, speak, something here not that... at you here necrophiles are not present?

Grandfather examined the hundred, sent a flashlight in his face looking her up to the light. He didn't open it, but handed it back to me and shrugged.

– Necrophilia in a long time.

Taking a bottle of vodka from his coat pocket, he gestured to us; when we refused, he took a SIP himself.

– The last time we caught them was in ' ninety-four." I already worked here at that time... Winter, I remember, was. Doing the rounds of the night, looking around the pit There are two... the girl was just buried. You know, virgins in wedding dresses are put in the coffin, so they're not old maids in the next world... This one isn't. Two of her asshole dug out, and dead as stone, it was cold... One on the head set – different, apparently, do not insert, hardened everything. And the second was standing next to himself and pulled... to look at came.

Well, I yelled, my partner came running. Well that he sober was, when drunken-his can be the most burying, not will awaken. And those, means, swears have become. Then money have proposed.

And for some reason we refused, called the cops. Here were fools... We then for the case of two prize give – one hundred and fifty thousand, it is now one hundred and fifty rubles... Bitch! B ... I! I hate you! Necrophilia us two lemons gave... Oh, remember scary.

Grandfather again took the bottle, emptied it, and violently tossed it aside. The bottle came in a bronze monument and broke into pieces; the pieces flashed in the starlight. Colleague asked his assistant:

– What are the necrophilia of winter came? Summer is probably easier to dig, the earth is not so solid.

– Yes, you know, summer, light, people a night hanging around. And the dead stink. No, necrophilia – they often go in the winter... right now is not the season.

But maybe we'll get lucky." Let's go through the cemetery. Just put the flashlight out, okay? And the if there is who, will scatter. I hear they're very skittish.

The guard extinguished the flashlight, and we walked for a long time in the darkness and silence between the crooked crosses, monuments, military pyramids... Fear crept into consciousness gradually. At first it seemed that the noise of the footsteps of Valery and the watchman were mixed with some creaking in the bushes nearby. Then among the patches of moonlight, gliding through the gaps between the trees, began to seem reflections of rotten skulls and lattice chest, later to the smell of fallen leaves as if added the smell of decay ... in my head for some reason turned the words of grandfather Ilya: "... as if there is a man with a shovel. And beyond it, a little farther, something white. It was moving... behind that man with the shovel. Then already, after, dmitrich said, that on the contour of the this as would figure human, but any a strange, and something white on it. As a shroud..." a Disease, listened to any nonsense.