Joey looked out into the clearing, confusion on his pale freckled face.
"The hell is that?"
"The hell is what?" Abrem turned to face Joey, who seemed to be sinking back into his absent-minded demeanor.
"Those- those rocks, with the words on them."
Abrem froze for a moment. Did this boy really not know what a gravestone was? Had he never seen a gravesite? Abrem knew he was sheltered - he knew Joey was even more so than he - but still, the thought of not being aware of the very thing that was keeping him safe? Abrem couldn't help but feel at least a bit stunned.
"You never seen a gravestone?"
"A what?" Joey snapped back into reality. He turned towards his new friend, finally making eye contact with the boy as they spoke.
"You know what a grave is?"
"No…"
"Well then what do you call us?" Abrem pressed his thumb against his own chest as he said this. If Joey didn't know what a grave was, what did he call the grave kids? What did he think the Wilsons did on this side of the dome? Surely he knew they worked; surely he knew they risked their lives.
Joey faltered for a moment, attempting to find a way to answer the question without putting the same disrespect on Abrem's name as his father did. He looked back out into the clearing, the trees above them swaying peacefully and occasionally dropping a leaf to twirl down gracefully onto the stones below them as they cast long shadows beside themselves.
"Daddy doesn't like to mention y'all."
"But when he does?" Abrem leaned closer to Joey subconsciously as he said this.
Joey placed his hand on the back of his sweaty slippery neck, he gave a nervous laugh.
"I don't think it matters that mu-"
"What do y'all call us?" Abrem's temper seemed to be slowly slipping from his lips the more he pressed for the answer. He crossed his arms against his chest and kept his gaze locked on Joey, despite not receiving the same eye contact in return.
Joey bit his lip, looking back out into the gravesite for a moment of awkward silence before responding.
"There's a few different names…" Joey paused for a moment to nibble on the tips of his own fingers.
"Most of the time daddy just says them, "Don't talk to them ``''They ain't like us." Joey took his fingers out of his mouth and leaned over slightly to spit a piece of fingernail into the dried foliage at his feet.
"But when he does give names it's the shadow people or the Aliens. I'm not sure exactly where he got those names from-- I ain't even sure what they mean. That's why I didn't wanna tell you cause if they were bad you'd be upset."
Abrem nodded slightly, his temper seeming to have settled into a subtle disappointment. He wasn't sure of the connotations of shadow people, he knew shadows were the things that followed you when you stood in front of the sun, he knew shadows were made of darkness, the absence of light, but he wasn't exactly sure what that would mean for a person.
He remembered reading a book that his mother had delivered with Chiaki almost five years ago. Clyde had slobbered on it so bad it was unusable about three years ago, but he could remember Athol reading it to him. He remembered that the thing called an alien was an outcast, from a whole nother planet, and wasn't even from earth.
..Is that what the BarClay's thought of them?
Abrem looked back at Joey.
"Well from now on you call us gravekids ya hear? We ain't aliens."
"You still ain't told me what a grave is."
Abrem rolled his eyes, then gestured to Joey to follow him into the clearing.
Weaving his way through the clearing, he made sure to place his steps in between the graves. Joey seemed to do the same, taking Abrem as an example--even though he wasn't sure why. Suddenly, Abrem halted in front of one of the stone slabs, knelt next to the slab, and placed one hand gently on the top of the rock.
Joey squated next to Abrem, staring intently at the fancy lettering engraved into the cobblestone slab.
"You know what dyin is?"
Joey gave Abrem the stink eye.
"Well I suppose you must, your father seems to specialize in pessimism." Abrem caressed the rock for a few more seconds before continuing.
"When somebody passes we put their body underground, dig a big hole, put em in it, and fill it up. Sometimes we put 'em in a thing called a coffin first, like a big human case." Abrem turned his gaze from the stone slab and onto Joey's wide blue irises.
"Make sense?"
"Uh huh." Joey muttered, his voice wispy and faint as he seemed to ponder the idea that he was currently standing on top of thousands of dead bodies. He again snapped out of the trance he had placed himself in through his own deep thoughts just as quickly as he had seemed to sink into it. Turning to Abrem, he squinted his eyes.
"I never thought about what happened when we died, reckoned our body went away right along with us."
"Nope, we're just like those deer carcasses your daddy makes you skin; once the spirit's gone the bones and skin are still there. It does rot away, but the bones stay, sometimes the hair too."
Joey pinched a bit of the dirt that sat in front of the gravestone Abrem had been fiddling with. They both watched intently as he released it, focusing upon the particles as they fell down at an angle as the wind pushed them northwards.
Abrem then stood up. Reaching a grimy hand out to Joey, he smirked a bit in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Joey gruffed before standing up, ignored Abrem's offer, and placed his hands on his hips angrily once he stood upright.
"That's where the spirits come from ain't it?"
There was a stiff silence following Joey's observation. The wind picked up, flooding the both of them with a cool breeze which existed in stark contrast to the dry throat-pinning heat of the regular texan summer.
"I- suppose you could say so."
Joey's head whipped around violently; his gaze pierced Abrems, his eyebrows furrowed and his entire face riddled with grave betrayal. Where the betrayal stemmed from what exactly? Abrem didn't know.
"Explain." he hissed through chipped yellowing teeth.
Abrem took a few steps back before remembering what Athol had told him about staying firm with strangers.
He too placed his hands on his hips as he did his best to emulate Joey, puffed out his chest slightly, and took a step towards him. He kept his voice low, but gentle while also striving to retain a bit of assertivity that in no way came naturally to him.
"These graves belong to casualties of the war. They hide the scent of our curse from the fae, but with that we hafta live amongst them, and they want us dead. That's what we do out here, we keep the spirits in check; the barrier don't do crap, it's us you gotta thank." pressing his thumb into his own chest he leaned uncomfortably close to Joey, almost spitting onto his face.
Joey wiped his face with his sleeve before spitting a wad of saliva onto the dirt.
"Your old man made you think we were coffee boilers didn't he?" The hurt on Abrem's face shocked Joey. From the second he could form his own thoughts, Joey had disagreed with his father, however, he realized now it was more due to his hatred of being controlled rather than a love for the underdogs. He had been friends with Abrem as a young child and wanted to play with them, but he had never pushed his father to refer to them with more respect--something he now felt a great guilt for.
"Well..." Joey tilted his chin upwards as he placed his hands on his hips, looking directly up at the setting sun which sat behind various swaying branches. He looked back at Abrem, his eyes glaring straight into his new friend's.
"Well, I know now don't I?"
Abrem nodded briefly before turning his head northward.
Joey placed his hand on Abrem's shoulder. There was a stretch of silence with nothing but the violent beating of Abrem's heart, and the slight huff of Joey's breath before he spoke.
"Thank you, all of you."
Abrem nodded yet again, this time without looking at Joey.
After an uncomfortable reticence, Abrem forced a gravely grunt as if he were clearing his throat.
"We better get goin Joe."
Joey nodded.
"Let's get."
"It's half a mile of graves till the hut; don't be walkin' slow."
With this, the two set off across the graveyard, weaving respectfully between the beds of the dead as the sun set ahead of them.