The air grows thin as the sun rests upon the horizon. Low bearing white clouds consume the sky and a gust of chilling wind licks the air. A shiver jolts down Clyde’s spine when the wind passes through him. Winter is well on its way. The veins on his hands turgor more and more every day, weakening his muscles. But he manages enough strength to clutch a freshly cut bouquet of thirteen tulips. Her favorite flowers. Or so he remembers. His memory fogs or fades to black every time he tries to remember. But he knows where her body lies. Twelve feet below the earth’s surface. She’s safer that way.

​

Clyde approaches the entrance of Clementine Cemetery. Two sturdy concrete columns stand tall between a hollow metal gate. The intricate details of vines and curled metal magnifies its grandeur appearance. He nudges the gate and it opens with an eerie screech. The wind billows dead leaves in continuous spirals across the rolling hill graveyard. They dance to the rhythm of the dead. She’s probably dancing too.

​

He saunters through the yard, glancing from headstone to headstone. Some are corroded with years of change and disturbances; Others freshly carved. The markings of his past or recent killings. Her stone lies at the center in a mausoleum. Her very own sanctuary of peace. No one can touch her or uncover more of her secrets. He reaches another gate the size of a dwarf human. A marbled path of pebbles leads from the gate to an ancient mausoleum. Vines rape the outer walls like they’re seeking shelter or water. But she makes sure they never reach the inside.

 

Across the front of the mausoleum displays an inscription. The Tomb of Parker and Barrow. On the side of the door hangs an empty flower pot. Clyde removes a single tulip and sets the rest of the bouquet in the pot. The weight tilts the pot back and the stone doors glide open. From his pocket he pulls out a lighter. He clicks it a few time before it sparks. A small haze of fire glows in the dark, enough to light the path of a staircase leading down into the earth.

​

Decay and cold stone fill the air. Roaches and beetles crawl in and out from crevices in the walls. Clyde takes a step and the roaches move around his foot, avoiding being crushed. Halfway down the steps and a soft hum resonates throughout. When he reaches a ramshackle door, he hugs the tulip tight to his chest. He moves the lighter closer to the door. A line of words is etched into the wood. Someday they’ll go down together and they’ll bury them side by side. He grins and pushes the door open.

​

A dimly lit room with melted down candles, portraits of a young couple, and a drawn-out tomb in the center of the room greets Clyde. In the corner, a woman faces the wall, rocking back and forth in her chair. Her long blonde hair falls gracefully on her back. She hums, then speaks. “Someday they’ll go down together, and they’ll bury them side by side. To few it’ll be grief—”

 

Clyde intervenes. “To the law a relief.”

​

The woman stops rocking and stands from her chair. Her white gown sways with her movement. She turns, careful not to startle her guest. A broad grin grows on her face and she lunges for Clyde.

​

She wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes tight. She’s colder this time. “Oh, my dear. You’ve returned. How long has it been?” She pulls away and stares into Clyde’s foggy brown eyes, mesmerized from its glimmer in the candle light. His turgor veins travel from his hands to his face. Moles and liver spots cover his skin. She caresses the side of his face. “You haven’t aged a bit.”

 

“Neither have you,” Clyde says. “I’ve brought you something.” He holds out the single tulip to her.

 

“Oh, how marvelous. I don’t want to ruin its beauty, lie it there.” She points to the tomb at the center of the room.

​

“As you wish.” Clyde lays the tulip on the tomb and caresses it like departing an old friend.

The woman gazes at the flower. “So beautiful. Let’s come back as flowers, so we can be beautiful too.”

​

“Someday we will,” Clyde says. He pulls a blade from his pocket and staggers over to the woman. She sees the knife in his hand and smiles even brighter.

​

“I’ll find you. Don’t you worry about that. The law won’t keep us apart this time,” Clyde says.

She glides her hands behind Clyde and leads him toward the chair. She recites her poem.

“Someday they’ll go down together, and they’ll bury them side by side.” Clyde grabs the arm of the chair and circles his body around. She settles him into his seat and she continues her poem.

“To few it’ll be grief. To the law a relief.” Clyde raises the knife to his throat. “But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.”