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were called, and they don’t like it. All these years they paid no attention. They forgot we were here. That was our only hope. Now they are coming to see the state of things, and that will be the end of it. They’ll shut us down.”
    Pete sat at the foot of the bed. “Maybe they won’t,” he said. But maybe it would be for the best, he thought.
    â€œThat’s not the worst of it.” FatherGabriel pulled a pillow out from under him and hugged it, squeezing it to his chest. “They have given me a task. I am to preside at the funeral of the unknowns.” He shuddered. “It’s a burial service for those whose remains have not been claimed. Everyone lines up at the graveside, one poor sod from each church just to be on the safe side because they don’t know what the dead people were. Probably they were heathen but never mind. Then you mutter a few words while they put the ashes in the ground. Oh, how depressing it all is. I’ll have to stand there like a muggins, alongside a Protestant and who knows what else. Probably a Hindu for all I know.”
    â€œWon’t it be a comfort?” Pete suggested.“To go back to doing good works, I mean.”
    â€œGood works,” Father Gabriel scoffed. He flung the pillow against the wall. “It is not an honor. Far from it. They only make the flunkies do it—the ones who are on their way out. It’s the last stop on the crap-out train, and I’ve got a one-way ticket.”
    â€œIf it won’t comfort you, won’t it help to know that it might comfort others?”
    Father Gabriel glared at him. “I don’t know why you go on like this. It only makes you ridiculous.” He drew himself up. “Oh well, if it’s not one kind of poison it’s another. I had better gird my loins. Bring the car around.”

15
    The old Jeep made its way down the mountain toward the village, with Pete at the wheel and Father Gabriel beside him. The engine made terrible grinding noises and the seats creaked as the truck bumped along. The sun was brilliant and the sky a deep, deep blue. It had been a long time since Pete had gone this far into the world, and everything looked strange and dazzling. He was afraid he would not remember how to drive and was pleased at how it all came back to him. Father Gabriel pulled a flask from out of his vest and took a swig from it. “My tooth is killing me,” he said. “This is for the pain. After this is over I willnever have another drop. So don’t say a word.”
    â€œI won’t,” said Pete.
    They drove through the village with its large frame houses and its tree-shaded roads, nearer to the city, where the sun was harsher and the streets were wide and cracked, skirted with liquor stores and pawnshops and bail bonds offices. The graveyard was just off a busy avenue. The plot they were directed to was in a far corner on a little rise backed up against a high fence. Beyond the fence was a tall concrete wall. It was a highway overpass. Traffic rasped and bleated above. The grave lay under a stand of sickly palm trees. A few people in black stood around it. “This is grim,” said Father Gabriel, hunching down in the creaking seat asPete parked the Jeep. “Oh, it’s worse than my worst nightmares.”
    A man holding a clipboard with a pencil behind his ear greeted them. He wore a red tie and a light blue short-sleeved shirt. “Thanks for coming, Father,” he said. “You’re the only one. Nobody else showed.” He shrugged. “I’m from the county. We can start whenever you’re ready.”
    â€œWho are all those other people?” asked Father Gabriel.
    â€œThem? Well, a couple of them knew one or another of the deceased, as far as I can tell. Most just like to go to funerals, I guess. The ones we’re putting in didn’t have much in the way of kin.”
    â€œHow many are