Free Flowers in a Dumpster by Mark Allan Gunnells

Even the insects held their breath. All Cane could hear was the rustling of leaves. But with electronic voice phenomena, the answers could often not be registered by the human ear. Only when the recordings were played back could the voices of the dead be heard.
    “Are you lonely?” Kinsley asked. “Do you want someone to play with you?”
    Cane zoomed in on the toys, hoping that maybe one of them would move, but nothing.
    “Do you miss your parents? Are you looking for them?”
    “Have you tried a Google search?” Topher said in a quiet voice.
    Cane instantly turned on him and growled, “Will you knock that shit off? You’re not helping.”
    “What is your problem? Why do you think ghosts are more likely to manifest to sour-faced stick-in-the-muds? Maybe the dead could use a little levity. Ever think about that?”
    “I really don’t get you, man. I mean, I’ve taken one of your tours and you don’t act like this.”
    “Well, I get paid for the tours.”
    “Oh, I see, so it’s all about the paycheck for you. Since you’re not making anything from this trip, why don’t you just go home?”
    “Hey, you can’t kick me out of here?”
    “I founded this organization so I assure you I most certainly can.”
    “Fine, maybe I will leave. And the first cop I find, I’ll just report to him that I know of two individuals who are in the cemetery after hours.”
    “You little bastard, I ought to—”
    “Enough!” Kinsley hissed. “I’m sick of dealing with your bickering. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were an old married couple. Maybe we should just pack up our stuff and get out of here, call the investigation off.”
    “No way,” Cane said. “This is too important.”
    “I’m not leaving either,” Topher said. “Whatever our fearless leader may think of my personality, I am very devoted to paranormal studies. I’m just as interested in finding hard evidence about the afterlife as you are, even if we approach things differently.”
    Cane felt a sharp retort bubbling up like vomit, but he swallowed it down and took a moment to calm himself. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out a crumpled twenty, slapping it into Topher’s palm. “There, you’re getting paid now. If you’re going to stay, I expect some professionalism.”
    Topher just stared down at the bill in his hand for a while, before he stuffed it into his back pocket. “You got it, boss.”
    With a sigh, Cane said, “We’re getting nothing from Gracie right now. I say we move on, come back later and try again.”
    Topher nodded, but Kinsley just walked past him, heading to the left. She stopped before a large plant. The thing was almost as tall as her, with large palm frond-like leaves, and cupped in the center of the fronds were some kind of round spores as big as basketballs. It looked tropical. “What exactly is this?” she asked.
    Cane walked over, scrutinizing the plant. “I think it’s a Sago Palm.”
    “You’re just an expert on everything, aren’t you?” Topher said, stepping up next to him.
    “Of the three of us, I’m the only one actually from Savannah, and these are fairly common.”
    “I don’t recall seeing anything quite like it before,” Kinsley said. “But they’re all over the cemetery. What are these big spores?”
    “I think it’s the plant’s fruit, or seed, or whatever.”
    Kinsley shone her flashlight on one of the spores. “They look almost woven from vines, creating some kind of mesh. And I think—” With a startled yelp, she jumped back.
    “What’s wrong?” Topher asked.
    “I swear there was something moving in there, inside the spore.”
    Cane laughed. “You’re just spooked.”
    “I’m telling you, I saw something moving.”
    She shone the flashlight on the spore again. Cane and Topher leaned forward to get a better view. Nothing.
    Kinsley looked at the two men, the blush in her cheeks evident even in the scant light. “Stop looking at me like I’m