"I'm Ima," said the man's dead wife, and she came closer and peered into Kylie's face.

Kylie hesitated and then glanced to her right and read the tombstone. "Lolita Cannon. That's my aunt's name." She still didn't know if she should acknowledge the dead man's wife or not. Kylie's heart beat around in her chest with indecision. But if she didn't tell the man about his medicine, he could-

"Why, I think that grave is right around here somewhere." He turned and started looking, pointing his cane at the markers as he read.

"Are you sure she can see and hear us?" Another spirit appeared. Kylie glanced at the newcomer briefly, trying not to give away that she could see anyone. This spirit was another woman, younger, late twenties, wearing a dress that looked like something popular in the 1970s.

"I'm pretty sure," answered Ima, and then she leaned so close that her icy presence burned Kylie's arm. "Tell him about his medicines," she pleaded. "If not, he's gonna pass without ever seeing his third generation."

"Here, right here." The old man pointed with his cane and waved for Kylie to follow him.

"Thank you," Kylie said, stopping at his side and still wavering on what to do.

"It's a nice marker," the old man said, and had to use his cane to get his balance. "Well, I should be going. Enjoy your time with her." He started to take a step and then paused. "You know, I somehow feel my Ima can hear me, so go ahead and talk to your aunt if you have anything you want to say to her."

The man's wife held up her hands as if frustrated. "I can hear ya, old man. But it's you that don't listen to a word I say. Don't know why it surprises me." The woman looked back at Kylie again. "The ol' fart never listened to me when I was alive. And he's talked to me more since I've been dead than when I was alive. But I love the ol' coot. And you gotta help me help him. Please, missy. I don't know what you are, or how come you can see me, but I'm begging ya."

Kylie watched the old man take a few steps away from her. If she told him, she knew the barrage of spirits would return, but if she didn't ... Kylie wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to the old guy. "Wait, sir. I..."

He turned around.

Crap! How was she going to tell him? "I ... I couldn't help but notice you're a little shaky. You know, this happened to my aunt and it was caused by a mix-up in her meds. She was taking the wrong pills twice a day. The blue ones instead of the red ones."

The man's dead wife let out a victory yelp. The younger woman beside her stared at Kylie with complete awe. "She can hear us. Jiminy Cricket. She can. My name's Catherine. What's your name?"

The same look of amazement flooding across the younger ghost's face now filled the old man's expression. "Why, child, I ... I swear you might have ... I mean, Ima was always telling me to be careful. And I have been feeling not so good lately. I think I'll go home and check my prescription." Then he turned and headed toward the gate.

Kylie forced a smile, even though the chatter was now louder than ever since all the spirits knew the truth. Knew she could hear them. Knew she could help them. But could she? So far all the spirits came to her for help, but could she help those she accidentally came into contact with?

Just as the old man turned to leave, another wave of cold landed beside her. Jane Doe's ghost materialized. She looked at Kylie as if confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't this where you are buried?" Kylie asked, struggling to ignore the cold and the noise.

"You say something?" The old man turned back around. His words were almost lost in the loud chattering again.

"Just to myself," Kylie answered, and prayed he'd turn around before she ... A wave of dizziness almost overtook her. She struggled to remain standing.

The spirits had moved in again, surrounded her, all talking at once. Wanting her to do something for them. Asking her questions. Her gaze flipped from one dead face to another. Her heart felt heavy with sadness for them. It made her realize how insignificant she was-one person and so many souls needing something.

The wave of dizziness crashed over her again, only harder this time. Her head started pounding-pain exploded behind her eyes. Hugging herself against the cold, she lowered herself onto the green grass, wrapped her arms around her shins, and dropped her forehead on top of her knees.

"I can't do this," she muttered.

"Move back," Jane Doe said. "You are hurting her."

Kylie felt some of the cold begin to ebb, the pain behind her eyelids lessened, and she could only assume the ghost had been talking to the other spirits. The noise level lowered almost to the point where it didn't hurt to listen anymore.

"Are you okay?" Burnett's deep, concerned voice came at her ear.

Kylie raised her head and saw the only spirits remaining were Jane Doe, the old man's wife, and the other younger spirit.

Kylie looked at Burnett. "Yeah. I'm fine. Or getting better," she said.

Burnett nodded and then backed away. Kylie stared at Jane Doe and waited a few more seconds before she asked, "Isn't this where you're buried?"

Jane's brow wrinkled in that confused way of hers. "I ... don't know."

"Oh, phooey!" said the younger woman who'd said her name was Catherine. "Of course you're buried here. Your grave and marker are right over there. You were put in the ground by the Texas prison system. You'd been given life for killing your own baby."