Dennis's reflection stared back at him in the mirror, copying him as he adjusted the black tie around his collar, first tightening it then loosening it as he decided that it had felt more like a noose. Two weeks ago, he had stood in front of the mirror, wearing the same suit, readying himself to say goodbye to his best friend. He hadn't thought he'd be having to do it again so soon, and this time more painful than the last. Losing Arnie had been bad enough, but losing his father had been devastating.

Leigh had not spoken to him since their argument either, and had avoided him at all costs. He'd thought several times about approaching her but had talked himself out of it each time knowing that it was a bad idea. But today he wasn't going to bother pleading his sanity or try to argue if she called him crazy again. It was the one chance he had to say goodbye to his dad, and the last thing he wanted to be doing was spending it arguing.

At last satisfied with his appearance, he followed his mother's lead through the hall towards the front door and then out to the Duster. The Station Wagon, they were told by officers, had been damaged beyond repair and remained in the impound lot, where it would most likely remain for many years to come. He didn't mind being the carpool for the funeral, it had been expected since he was the only one with a valid license and running car, but he was silently dreading the awkward conversations that would follow after the funeral. Almost all of his dad's old friends would be attending along with family that he hadn't seen since he was old enough to remember them, and he didn't particularly fancy answering questions that were too personal to be asked by people he barely knew.

Every pew in the church was filled, with the exception of the two back rows. Dennis, his mother and sister took up the first row, with a few distant family members filling the remaining spaces. The second row was filled with more family from his mother's side, and beyond that were all of his father's friends and work associates. On the opposite side were past colleagues from old jobs who he'd kept in touch with, and in the second to last row, Leigh. He had caught her eyes as he'd passed her on the way in, but neither of them had spoken a word, and now that the service was about to begin, he didn't bother to glance back at her.

Standing at the podium, the funeral officiant; the local priest who was well-known throughout Libertyville and some surrounding areas tapped on the microphone attached and the piercing whine quietened to a barely audible buzz. Then the welcoming began, followed by a sermon that went in one ear and out the other. He tuned back in when it came to an end, and rose to his feet as he was beckoned up to the podium. Now, it was his turn to speak, and he stood up, rubbed his sweaty hands on his trousers and took his place in front of all the funeral attendants.

"Uhh…" He muttered uneasily. All of the waiting faces that stared at him expectantly added more pressure than he was prepared for and he tried not to linger on any one person for too long. Eventually, his eyes fell upon Leigh and despite all that had happened between them, she gave him a half smile and nodded her head. Dennis, finally able to gather himself, nodded back.

"I'm not… good with words." He began. "And erh… my dad, on the other hand, always knew what to say. I guess that's something that wasn't passed onto me."

His weak attempt at cracking a joke earned no reaction from those listening, and he drew in a breath to recompose himself quickly. "Well, perhaps a good start would be to thank those of you that took time out of your day to be here today, you're the real ones and I'm sure that my dad would be thrilled with the turn out and to erh- to know how loved he was. Many, if not all of you, know the kind of man he was. He could be tough to crack at times, but he was also fair. When it came down to it, he would always drop what he was doing if he knew that he was needed somewhere, and even on his busiest days, he would take the time out to lend a hand. Generosity was just a huge part of who he was, and I somehow know that he has helped each and every person in this room in some way or another. As his son, I was lucky. With him in my life I never felt alone, because whatever I was going through, I always had him in my corner. Nothing could have prepared me to lose that, but especially not so soon and not in the way that it happened. That's just life though, it tests us in ways that we never think are possible. Now, the only thing I can think of is to make a promise to live each day to the fullest, and to always carry my father with me, as a part of me, even. He touched many, many lives and in my eyes, that keeps him as alive as ever. Even in death… that's it, all I've got. Thank you for listening."

Dennis let out a breath he had been holding throughout the speech and once again allowed his eyes to drift across the room from person to person, row to row. He stopped when he came to an empty space on the last pew, and couldn't tear his eyes away. It was empty only to every person in the room that wasn't him. Smiling at him from the very back, was Arnie. Unlike the last time he had seen him, his skin was not pale and his eyes weren't shadowed. His skin was peachy, his smile bright, and he wore glasses that were too big for his face, the same ones he'd worn for years.

"Arnie…" He whispered, and moved swiftly away from the podium and back to his seat, and when he stole a glance over his shoulder, the pew was, once again, empty.

A few more words were spoken, and then silence. The speakers on either side of the walls in the corners crackled and what followed was an instrumental track of 'Amazing Grace'. Soon after, coffin bearers led the way out of the church and through the cemetery to the empty plot that had been cleared earlier that morning, and everyone was gathered around for yet another speech.

Dennis's eyes strayed, barely listening as the priest went on about 'earth to earth and ashes to ashes', and as his gaze fell upon Arnie's headstone, he looked away. He had managed to keep all thoughts of last summer at bay so far, but after what he saw inside the church he felt as though he were clinging onto a cliff edge, trying not to let his fingers slip and fall to his death several feet below. A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the empty plot that he was gathered around, and he turned his head to see Leigh standing beside him.

"I didn't think that you were talking to me." He said quietly, keeping his voice at a volume only loud enough for her to hear.

"Dennis, I… I'm sorry." She added, equally as quiet. "Those things I said were out of line."

"Thanks, Leigh. Perhaps we could talk after the- the funeral?"

"I'd like that." She said with a small smile.

Maybe things weren't as bad as he'd initially thought. Dennis couldn't help but feel a small bubble of hope build up inside of him at the possibility that everything would be okay. Maybe he really had let himself obsess over Christine to the point where he had imagined that she was back. Leigh had said it. He had seen it. Christine was gone. He must have told himself that over a hundred times already, but still found it hard to believe, and couldn't help but direct his eyes back towards the parking lot.

Speak of the devil.

Autumn red. Pearly white. Behind his trusty blue Duster, Christine was sitting idly by. As he watched her, he felt as though she was returning the favour. Then it clicked. This was his chance to be heard, to prove to Leigh that he wasn't losing his mind.

"Do you see that?" He whispered.

Leigh's head turned to him, eyes wide as she hadn't been expecting him to speak. "See what?"

Dennis pointed towards where he had seen Christine, but when he followed Leigh's stare, she was nowhere to be seen and his breath hitched in his throat, wondering if he had imagined her presence to begin with.

"Never mind, I thought I saw Ch-" He stopped. The last time he had said it she had called him crazy and said he was suffering from an illness. "I thought I saw…"

"Saw what?"

"A bird." He finished.

"Yeah, and what's so special about a bird? Sky's full of them."

"Nothing." He muttered, but as she turned her attention back to the burial, his own returned to the empty space behind the Duster.

She had been there. He was sure. But it was impossible for her to have left in the time it takes to blink.

It simply couldn't be. Not even a car like Christine could move that fast. He didn't dare to think of the alternative. As the priest continued to speak, he found himself no longer able to focus and his eyes once again found Arnie's grave, a move that he regretted instantly.

The space in front of the headstone was now occupied, though not by Regina Cunningham or anyone who used to know the kid (most of them were deceased- courtesy of Christine), but by… no, it couldn't be…

"Arnie!" Dennis exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of several of the funeral guests, including his mother, his sister and Leigh.

"Dennis, don't be so disrespectful!"

Shaking his head, he inhaled deeply. "Sorry, ma." But he didn't take his eyes away from Arnie.

It wasn't the same as what he had seen inside the church. This Arnie was different. He wasn't the awkward kid that Dennis had grown up with, he was almost like the last version of his best friend he'd seen on the night Christine was destroyed, but worse. Much worse. The night he'd died, Arnie's skin had been paler than the moon, and his eyes darker than the darkest night sky. He had looked almost vampiric then, but now he was more like a corpse. His skin, stretched and thin, clung to his bones so much that it didn't look like it was there at all. The hair atop his head was rotten and matted, and the clothes on his person, the same outfit he'd been wearing the night of his death, were torn where the glass had impaled him and worn away in other places.

Dennis retched. It wasn't the clothes, or even the fact that there was more bone than skin, but two black holes were where Arnie's eyeballs should have been, and in those sockets, worms or maggots (he couldn't decide which from this distance) wriggled. The longer he stared, the worse it got and he could swear that corpse Arnie grinned at him, and as he did, his mouth fell open and heaps of dirt tumbled out. Dennis felt his stomach tighten with terror, and he could look no longer. His eyes flicked from Arnie's grave, across the lot, to LeBay's. Yet another mistake.

Roland D. LeBay stood above the headstone, staring right back at him, looking worse than corpse Arnie had. Rotted, grey skin stretched across his bones, and the suit that he'd been buried in hung on him like a plastic trash bag, almost falling off his frail figure and through the untucked shirt, Dennis could just about make out the shape of the back brace that had supported the man's posture while he'd been alive. Unlike Arnie, LeBay's eyes were in their sockets, but it was as though they'd rolled right back into his skull as it was only the white that was visible.

Dennis bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself from yelling again, and the metallic taste of blood further added to his growing discomfort. His eyes widened as LeBay's mouth fell open and dirt tumbled out, never seeming to stop, and he remained frozen in place as the corpse extended its boney arm and pointed a long, decayed finger at him. Without really registering what he was doing, his hand found its way to his neck and he tugged on his tie, loosening it as his breath grew thinner and heavier. In a desperate attempt to get rid of the apparition, he refocused on the coffin that held his father's body and tried to manifest the happiest memory he had. Though in these grim times, it was something that was near impossible to achieve. All he could think about was the 'accident' and how they never got to spend that following Saturday together, and the image of his father's face the morning he'd left proved to be too much and he forced his eyes open again.

His stomach lurched when he saw his father standing opposite him, not as corpse-like as Arnie and LeBay had, but still not quite belonging amongst the living. He'd thought that seeing his father again would be a comfort, but not when he looked just like the rest of Christine's victims, and stood with his finger pointed right at him.

"No!" He cried out before he could stop himself. "No, no, this isn't real! It's not real!"

"Dennis!" His mother snapped.

"That's not my dad! I know what's happening, Christine… what you're trying to do… and it's not going to work!"

"Enough is enough!"

"No, mom I'm not- can't you see them?"

"See who, Dennis?" His mother quizzed impatiently, folding her arms across her chest.

"A- Arnie… LeBay… Dad…" He panted. "They're here, they're all here! Leigh knows… she can see them!"

"Dennis-" Leigh interrupted, hesitantly taking a small step towards him.

"You can see them!" He urged, placing his hands upon her shoulders and searching her face. "Tell me you can see them! I know you can, there's no way that-"

"I'm sorry, I don't see anything." She shook her head, and shrugged his hands from her shoulders. "You need to-"

"No! I don't need help! I know what I saw, I'm not crazy, and I'm not sick." He protested, setting his sights on his mother. "Mom, please… Dad would have believed me!"

"Dennis please, I'm begging you… stop this now!"

"But I can't, she's going to kill us all and-"

Dennis didn't have the chance as he advanced towards his mother, and two of his father's work colleagues gripped him by the arms and forced him away. He dug his heels into the mud in an attempt to resist moving with them and yelled until his voice was hoarse, but the two men combined were stronger and continued to drag him until he was under a tree, three feet away from the burial.

"Hold him." His mother ordered as she approached the three of them, Leigh, Elaine and a few other funeral guests not far behind her. "You need to calm down!" She growled.

"Mom, please… listen to me! Dad was killed by Arnie's damn car, just like everyone else… Buddy Repperton… Moochie Welch… Michael Cunningham! If you don't listen to me I'm afraid that you might be next or- or Elaine. I'm not crazy, I swear!"

"Boy needs some serious help." One of his father's colleagues commented.

"I can recommend a good doctor, they'll refer him to a great institute and have him cured in no time."

Dennis trembled in the grip of the older men and watched, with his heart slamming against his ribcage at a pace too fast and sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes, as his mother dabbed at her own eyes with a handkerchief and then straightened up. He could read nothing in her stoic expression, and it wasn't until he felt the sharp sting in his cheek followed by burning, that he realized she had struck him.

"Please, mom…"

"Don't!" She warned. "I want you out of here right now, and I don't want you home tonight. You have ruined your father's funeral!"

"What?" He exclaimed. "Come on, where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't care where you go but you are not staying in my house tonight."

"But mom!"

"No!" She snapped. "And I want you home first thing in the morning so that we can fix your illness, for now you need to leave!"

"Are you serious?"

"Want them to physically remove you?"

Dennis shook his head as his father's colleagues released him, and as his eyes flashed between his mother and everyone else staring at him, and without another word, he ran. He didn't stop until he reached his old blue Duster, then fumbled with his keys and hurriedly got in the driver's side. He stole a glance out the window, watching as the funeral progressed nicely without him. All of the fear and panic that'd gripped him only seconds ago slipped away as he saw his mother throw a rose onto the lowered coffin. Though when he saw Leigh sprinting towards the car, he twisted the key in ignition and slammed his foot down on the pedal, speeding away before she could reach him, leaving only a cloud of dust in his wake.

He had no clue where he was headed. It hadn't occurred to him since his sole focus was to get as far away from the church yard as possible, but as he swerved onto the main stretch of road he realized that he couldn't drive on forever. Sooner or later he'd have to stop. With the needle on the gas meter pushing towards empty, it would likely be sooner. Dennis sighed, pulled over to the side of the road, and for several minutes, just sat there staring blankly into the distance.

"Not crazy… I am not crazy, I am not crazy…" He muttered.

Darnell's. That's where he would go. Last time he had been there alone, Christine was nowhere to be seen. If she was really in the church yard, it would be impossible for her to be back at the garage already. Dennis had to know he wasn't losing his mind. Making his decision, he got out of the car and hurried around to the trunk. He hesitated for a second, pondering whether or not it was a good idea after the scene he'd already caused, and then opened the trunk and retrieved the carton of fuel he always kept inside. Everyone else could believe he was crazy, if that's what they wanted, but he couldn't settle for that explanation because if it turned out he was right, many people- people he cared about- were about to die, and he had a horrible feeling that his father was only the beginning.

As soon as the tank was full, he threw the empty carton back into the trunk, then slammed it shut and got back into the driver's side. His eyes widened and he jumped in his seat when he looked in the rear view mirror and saw Arnie sitting in the back, and just as soon as he'd sat down, he bolted from the car. In his haze, he stumbled away from the Duster and lost his balance, falling on his backside in the middle of the road. He shuffled back as Arnie climbed out through the open door and started towards him, and continued until the corpse stopped moving and pointed out into the road. Dennis swallowed hard, once again feeling sick as he turned his head slowly to see Christine only a short distance away, engine revving and headlights beaming, ready for the kill.