Page 11 - FINAL DESTINATION

FINAL DESTINATION
rotting floorboard led to a front door crisscrossed with boards nail to the frame. No one had lived here for a very long time and never would again. Neil made his way around the side of the house. The thicket thinned out to a clear area at the back. From there a dirt drive cut through the trees to a sturdy metal gate fifty feet away.
"Great," Neil muttered, knowing that if he had just walked around the outside of the fence he would have found an easier way in. He could have saved himself torn clothing and flesh. Oh, well, at least he would have an easier time getting out.
The back of the house was in better shape than the front. The rear door was not boarded up and the steps leading up to it looked like they were repaired in the not too distant past. Also, there was what appeared to be a garden, though not a well-kept one. It didn't have the even rows of a vegetable garden and had not been tended to keep weeds from infiltrating it. The ground had been tilled and something harvested though it wasn't possible to tell for what. This struck him as odd, but he didn’t linger on it–he had duties to attend to.
His first thought was to spread her ashes in the garden or by the old oak next to it, but the words of the guy in the pickup truck came back to him "...don't seem like a respectful thing to dump your momma in the middle of a cow pasture," or maybe a garden either.
The house certainly seemed accessible from this side. Perhaps she would be happier on the old fireplace mantle, or in her bedroom if it was safe to go in. So he climbed the steps and tried the door. It opened with a squeal of rusty hinges. The grimy windows did little to illuminate the interior, but he could make out that there was no longer a stove or refrigerator, table or chairs. Nothing left to show that people had lived here. The room was not empty though.
There were several large black bags that did not appear to have been left behind by long-gone residents. They, unlike the
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