Here's what nobody tells you about a sequel. The dead come back louder.
The first lot had the decency to shamble. Silent. Dignified, in a shuffling sort of way. This lot came up hollering and they have not stopped since — about the damp, about the century, about the price of everything, and above all about the ache, which apparently never goes away and which they would like to describe to you at length.
The graveyard heaved the whole crowd back up. Can you blame her? Four hundred tenants and every one a complainer.
They walk the night now. They also talk the entire way. Oh, the horror!
