The Extinct by Victor Methos Read Free Book Online

the people there only showed up because they thought it would look inappropriate if they didn’t. The way they were laughing and talking—trying to keep their voices to a whisper but never succeeding—it looked like they’d forgotten him already.
    Though she’d been emotional yesterday, his mother seemed fine today and Eric wondered if she’d taken something. There were periods when she’d go to a psychiatrist and get the latest anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medicines. It was a cycle; every fall she would get on medication and every spring she would stop taking it. Her moods were unpredictable at either time, ranging from ecstatic happiness to near suicidal depression. Still, no matter what she went through, Eric thought she always kept at least the appearance of independence and strength. Besides her psychiatrist, she refused to ask anyone for help with anything.
    His mother stood and began walking around the room, chatting with the guests. Before long she was mingling and men were flirting with her while Jeff stewed in his seat and watched her from behind sunglasses. Eric looked on with glee and could barely contain a smile.
    He began searching the room, looking for familiar faces. There was one face that didn’t look familiar at all. It was old and tan, leathery almost. Like it’d had too much exposure to sun and wind. The man sat quietly in the back, not speaking with anyone.
    The man saw him staring and smiled. Eric turned around, facing the casket again. The service was starting.
    It was customary to wait a day between a viewing and the funeral, but the director of the parlor had urged that they take place the same day and Jeff agreed. There was no doubt in Eric’s mind that some sort of deal had been worked out.
    After the service, the body was carried out to a hearse and Eric was one of the pallbearers. He drove behind the hearse with his mother and Jeff, aggravated that Jeff was listening to the radio and humming along with the melody of some old rock song from the seventies.
    The wind was blowing and leaves were all over the cemetery, rattling softly in the background as a priest stood to deliver a sermon that he had memorized and repeated to the point where he spoke it with neither passion nor conviction.
    Eric laid a flower on the casket which had stayed closed the whole time. He didn’t get to see his father again to say good bye. As he was walking with his mother back to the car, he noticed the man from the funeral home again. The man stood by the grave until the dirt piled high on top of it and then he said something and turned away toward the parking lot.
    “I’ll meet you at the car, Mom,” Eric said. He walked back toward the man and stood in his way as he tried to get by. “Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” the man said.
“Were you a friend of my father’s?”
The man’s lips parted in a smile. “You’re Eric, ah? Your dad talked a lot about you.” He thrust out his hand. “Thomas Keets.”
Eric shook it. “Eric Holden.”
“I was with your father in India when he was taken from us.”
Eric felt his heart skip a beat. “You were with him?”
“He talked about you quite a lot. Said that you were the one thing he didn’t regret in his life.”
“How long did you know him for?”
    “Well, me and your father went back a ways. But despite that, you’d be surprised how close men can get out in the jungle, away from the weight of civilization.” Thomas looked back to the grave once more and took out a pair of sunglasses, flipping them on and turning back to Eric. “I’m leaving tonight but I’d like to talk to you before I go. Can we meet somewhere?”
    Thomas spoke plainly and without circumlocution. He waited patiently for an answer, not seeming particularly worried that he wouldn’t hear what he wanted.
    “All right,” Eric said. “There’s a bar south of the university campus called McPaul’s. I can come by around four.”
    “That’s fine,” Thomas said. He put his hand