Midnight: A Foxvalley Thriller (First Draft)✔

Chapter II: Graves

May 23, 5:24 P.M.
Newland Cemetery, New York City, New York

The sound of blanks being fired crushed the silence of the graveyard. Several sorrowful people surrounded a hole reaching six feet towards the center of Earth. A line of men wearing white uniforms raised their white rifles into the air and pulled their triggers. Blanks once again split the silence. Six people in black suits marched towards the grave carrying a glossy red coffin edged with gold. They wore straight faces. It made Budsworth wonder how could someone have a straight face and not shed a tear when carrying a dead body in that red coffin, especially when he lived as such an honorable man.

The men set the coffin on the grass in front of the hole. They spun around and marched away toward the men firing the blanks. A pastor in a clean black suit separated from the sniffling group. He stepped out in front of the coffin. Silence fell across the entire cemetery, not even another blank was thought of being fired. "Greetings..." The priest paused for a brief moment. "I want to thank all of you for attending this funeral." He stared at the group of sorrow before him.

"We are here to celebrate the memory of David Avery Higgins. A fine man, husband, father, agent, and soldier. He was always there for us when we needed help. Even I, as his pastor, will admit that David was an extraordinary man. God blessed us to allow such a man on a sin-fallen world " A woman behind Budsworth busted out crying. Large teardrops rolled from her eyes down her cheek, then plopped on the grass-covered ground. Her husband wrapped her arms around her.

Budsworth recognized her, Bethany Garry, Higgins sister. Her husband and she snuck out of the crowd. It was far too hard for her. It was almost too hard for Budsworth. After the pastor finished his eulogy Higgins's brother, a tall lean man with neatly combed brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a thin face sauntered up to the pastor, sweat rolled down his face. He stared down toward the ground. The pastor stepped away to give room. "My brother, David Higgins, was a great man," Alex said, a tear rolled down his cheek leaving a streak on his skin. He quickly wiped it off. "He helped me on multiple occasions, just like he did all of us. When I was in high school I had gotten bullied a lot, but my brother was always there to watch after me. He... he was a really great man and brother. I wouldn't trade him for the world. Now I have a family, and I'm hoping, praying to God the same won't happen to them." Alex's eulogy continued another half hour, though no one minded. To them, Deceased FBI special agent David Higgins deserved all the time he received.

"David Higgins was a great man..." The words echoed in Budsworth's mind. He now leaned against a tree at the edge of the graveyard. A bottle of water dangled in his hand. He heard the words from Alex's mouth a couple hour ago. The funeral was just about over. They already took the American flag, folded it up, and handed it to Higgins wife. She stood in front of the coffin, which had already been lowered into the six-foot hole. She shredded tear after tear. "Mrs. Higgins, I'm so sorry for your loss," Said a man who stepped to her. He was the same man who visited Budsworth at the hospital yesterday. His boss, Assistant Director Schneider.

Budsworth lifted himself off the bark of the thick tree trunk. He started toward Mrs. Higgins. Schneider looks up at him and gave him a respectful nod. He brushed passed Budsworth. "Good to see you here alive and well," He gave him a pat on the back before continuing on his way to answer his ringing cell phone.

Budsworth stepped up to Mrs. Higgins. Long brown hair curled on top her head above a bulky pair of glasses that covered dark brown eyes. A pink rugged dress strapped over her tanned shoulders. Red high heel shoes sparkled on her feet in the sunlight. Long stains from tears stretched down her cheeks.

"Mrs. Higgins, my condolences. I worked with him, he was my partner," Budsworth told her, kneeling down over the grave beside her.

"Where were you when it happened, when they shot him?" She asked, mumbling. Budsworth didn't know whether she really wanted to know, or was accusing him of her husband's death. Neither did he understand what she meant by "They." Only one guy shot at them.