It was a very small building at the edge of Maine Cemetery.
It looked quaint and appropriate for the setting. The outside walls were of
stones, mortared together and showed their age. The historians most likely knew
but no one else was sure when it was built. Some think it was in the twenties,
others thought it was from a WPA project during the depression. Also, no one
could remember why it was the Maine Cemetery. It’s not like it was in Maine, it
had just always been that.
The inside of the building only consisted of two rooms and
a bathroom. One room was an office. It was used only occasionally when someone
came in looking to get a burial site for a loved one. That didn’t happen too
often, it was well known in Ridge Park the cemetery only had individual plots
available, and most people who were still looking for burials thought in terms
of families. The second room was originally for the records, but the board had
taken the record keeping off site even before computerizing them.
The second room now contained a single bed, a table with a
microwave on it, a small refrigerator, and a small TV mounted on the wall and a
little closet. It was the caretaker’s room. Back in the ‘40s the Board decided
they needed someone to watch the place at night. The teens thought it was cool
to pull pranks on everyone and everything back then. What better place than a
cemetery to prank? As with most things, all it took was someone being there to
discourage pranking.
There was still the occasional missing tombstone, but for
the most part pranking was a thing of the past. Since then, there had always
been a caretaker. There hadn’t been many of them through the years. Once they
took the job, they kept it until they became a permanent resident of the
cemetery. The caretaker didn’t have many responsibilities other than to be there
and call the authorities if anyone was doing something they shouldn’t. The
grounds were taken care of by a landscaping company and the office was manned
(womanned?) by Miss Lydia every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 10 to 2.
The job didn’t pay much, but the room was part of the deal.
That’s where we find Jake, the current caretaker. Jake is much younger (early
30s) than previous caretakers, but he likes the job. He is somewhere on the
autism scale and doesn’t like being around people. While he doesn’t like being
around people, he loves animals and they seem to love him.
Jake certainly doesn’t look like a weightlifter as he’s
sitting staring at the table, but it’s easy to see that he’s fit. A closer look
shows he’s not staring at the table, but at a mouse that’s sitting on the table
eating a piece of cheese.
While still holding the cheese in his paws, the mouse turns
to face Jake when Jake starts talking. “I don’t know what I should do. I
certainly don’t want to live in that house! I hated it when I lived there. Mom
with all her stuff stacked everywhere. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The
little paths around the house. I’m surprised something didn’t fall on her and
kill her, but no, she has a heart attack walking down the street and left me the
damn house.”
The mouse took a nibble of the cheese and looked intently
at Jake but didn’t say anything. So, Jake continued, “I realize the only thing I
can do is sell the damn thing. But who’s going to buy the place looking like
that? I could have used one of those buy “as is” places, but
I walked in the front door and there,
on the floor, was the note in one of those envelopes off a box saying, ‘Guard
this with your life!’”
Jake threw up his arms in despair and the mouse looked
startled but didn’t move. The mouse again nibbled the cheese in silence and once
again, Jake continued, “The note wasn’t from a box or anything I could see.
Maybe it fell off a box, but which one? Lord knows! It could have fallen off
some box anywhere in the stupid house. What am I supposed to do, guard every one
of the damn boxes? If I do, I won’t be able to get rid of the house.”
With that Jake laid his head on the table and almost
sobbed, “What should I do?” The mouse finished the piece of cheese and walked
over to Jake’s cheek and brushed against it. Jake looked up and the mouse
scurried down the table leg and then down a hole in the floor.
Jake stared and stared and the broke out in a huge smile
and shouted, “You’re right little buddy that’s a perfect idea! I’ll do it.”
It was two years later, and Jake and the mouse were again
at the table. This time the mouse had a piece of sausage in his paws. Jake was
holding a large bag. He held it out towards the mouse and said, “They sure were
surprised when I told them I wanted the money from selling the house in cash,
but they didn’t have any choice. Let’s put it with the rest of the stuff I’m
supposed to guard with my life.”
The mouse finished the sausage and watched as Jake rose,
leaned down and opened the trap door that wasn’t in the floor two years ago. He
flicked a switch that was partially hidden and lights came on below. He climbed
down the stairs to the hand dug labyrinth of tunnels all lined with boxes. Not
only were they all guarded with his life but also by the quiet company in the
caskets a few feet above.