The gentleman parked his car outside the cemetery gate, and walked towards the groundskeeper’s house as she hefted his bags over one shoulder.
“Got the bandages?” she interrogated, testing the bags’ weight. “Antiseptic?”
“Yes and yes,” he sang. “Lisa, there’s no need to worry.”
“No need to worry?” Lisa exclaimed. “We could end up dead!”
The gentleman chuckled. “It’s a family reunion, Lisa. You’ll get used to hosting in no time.”
“For Van Zant reunions? I don’t think so,” Lisa replied, and the gentleman laughed again. He was August, eldest living member of the Van Zants. He possessed a spritely step despite his age, for it was said that long ago, a witch had blessed the Van Zants with everlasting vitality. Lisa was fond of complaining that she’d given them far too much.
“So Lisa, how is the family business treating you?” he asked her.
“Morbidly!” she quipped, then looked pensive. “It comes with the terrain, I guess.”
“No problems taking on Walter’s responsibilities?”
“None except this one. Man,” Lisa remarked, opening the door and carrying the bags in, “it was such a hassle when Dad passed. Practically everyone was up in arms about it.”
“Well, he was the favorite son,” August said, stepping into the house, “and he still loves you very much.” Standing on his toes, he planted a kiss on her forehead.
As Lisa unpacked the bags, he sat down in his favorite chair near the fireplace. “You’ve got everything else gathered, I presume?”
“Uh, yeah.” Lisa rummaged through the house, checking the closets. “Yep, it’s all here.”
“Remember to lock the back door!” August called down the hallway.
A thumbs up peeked around the corner. “Got it!”
“That’ll keep her busy,” August murmured, finally getting up from the recliner to address the constant tapping at the window. He brushed back the blinds and opened the window outwards. “Ah. I figured you’d be the first to show up.”
A man stood on the porch, smiling back at him. There were dirt stains on his overalls from digging, plus one larger stain over his chest from what had finally killed him.
The dead man craned his neck, looking into the house. “Is Lisa here?” he asked.
“She’s fine, Walter,” August said. “Your little girl is all grown up.”
Walter’s eyes glistened, and he pressed his lips together, looking down. August caught his gaze and nodded, and the same, sad laugh passed between them, two brothers across life and death.
“August?”
August smiled. Here came the inevitable question.
“May I eat your heart?”
August scoffed and replied, “I should think not.”
Walter shook his head, smiling. “I thought I’d at least ask.”
With that, his mouth swung open, and he lunged at August through the window.
August produced a baseball bat from beneath the couch and whacked Walter upside the head. As his brother toppled backwards, August slammed the window shut. “Lisa!” he shouted into the house. “They’re here!”
As Lisa rushed down the stairs clad in spiked battle armor, August hefted the bat onto his shoulder and smiled. “There is nothing like a Van Zant reunion,” he remarked.
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