Dead Men (and Women) Walking Read Online Free PDF Page A

things, shamefully departed from her house.
    At the funeral, we were
showing signs of the wake. I had bruises on my face, and everyone
else was showing signs of the fight. No one spoke of it, and we all
passed polite nods. I was among the men who loaded the coffin into
the wagon, and we performed our solemn duty with what dignity we
had, and in quiet contemplation.
    The funeral procession was
far bigger than the wake had been. Those who knew Tim but had not
been invited, or those who had not felt comfortable with being
there, lined up behind us. Mary rode next to William McEldoo, the
undertaker, and Father John, Tim's priest.
    As we set off, a gray rain
started to fall. We marched through it, trying not to see the
shabbiness of our homes and our neighbors' homes. Trying to ignore
the smoke and the soot as we walked through the roughly paved
streets. Anger warred with sadness in my heart; looking at us that
were poor, and thinking of the splendor men like Captain Kelly
lived in by comparison. I pushed such thoughts away, saving them
for another time.
    It wasn't a far march to the
cemetery, but the rain kept coming down harder. Most of us were
drenched to the bone. I glanced back for a moment, making sure my
mother was taking shelter under a companion's umbrella. We paused
long enough to help get those who most needed it under the shelter
we could find; often it was no more than someone's coat held above
a head. It was a job that needed doing; we were already having a
funeral, it wouldn't do for someone to become sick and catch their
death from this.
    The burial itself started
out normal enough. Father John said his words, and tears fell
freely from many an eye. Maneuvering the casket took a bit of work;
Frank slipped in the mud, and nearly fell into the open grave. When
everything was ready, we started to lower the coffin into its
resting place ... that's when things started to take a disturbing
turn.
    We took a grip on the ropes
and moved the casket over the hole. It started rocking, and we took
a moment to steady ourselves and tried again. Even with the ropes
perfectly taut and still, the thing kept rocking. Then the pounding
started. Every eye in the cemetery looked on in horror.
    From somewhere in the back,
I heard Conner's voice. "Hurry and drop it down! Hurry, you lazy
slugs, or we're all going to pay! It was the uisce beatha, you
never should have let it been spilled!"
    I took a tighter grip on the
ropes, and turned to look at Conner. The pounding got louder, but I
tried to block it out; I wasn't very successful, but I tried
anyway.
    "What are you talking about,
Old Man?"
    "The uisce beatha, you
shite! It's the water of life, boy, and you let it touch the dead!
Get that unholy thing down in the ground or surely we'll all be
damned to the fires...."
    As he trailed off, I could
see his eyes rolling in panic. I don't think anyone had ever seen
Conner in such a state. Even as I watched, he ran behind a tree,
only to emerge with that old pike of his. I tried to wrap my mind
around what he was saying, but my concentration was drawn to more
immediate concerns.
    Richard had let his rope
slip, and we were all tugged forward before regaining control of
the coffin. I don't think anyone could blame him for his lapse. The
top of the box was splintering, and we could see the beginnings of
a hand starting to emerge. Worse than the hand, was the
voice.
    "Thundering jaysus you bunch
of gobshites! What do you think I am, a corpse? If this is your
idea of funny, then by God I'll crack someone's skull."
    We'd been stunned and
rendered speechless more than once since Tim died, but never like
this. There was no mistaking that voice, now raised in an angry
bellow. That was Tim Finnegan's thick brogue, sure as I'd been
hearing it since I was just a small lad.
    I'm not ashamed to say that
I almost soiled my trousers. Truth is, I don't know what it is that
stopped me from it. I saw more than a few men with pants that
seemed to suddenly be a bit