Read Online Twilight by Brendan DuBois - Free Book Online

nothing, just took the shovel and got to work. A few seconds later Peter joined me.
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    THE DIGGING WAS hard going, even though it was clear that the soil had been freshly turned over. The earth was thick and muddy and wet, and large chunks of it stuck to the shovel blade. I found that after just a few minutes of work I was sweating underneath the body armor and my helmet. My hands began to get sore, and the sounds—the sickening squishing and plopping noises as chunks of mud were piled up to the side—were obscene. As Peter and I dug we kept quiet. Then Karen and Sanjay went to one of the Toyota Land Cruisers and came back, each carrying a long dark
object, which they unrolled on the wet ground, speaking not a word. Rubberized body bags, in two sizes, for adults or children. How thoughtful.
    I dug and dug, my wrists and hands aching, and I wished for a break. But I wasn’t about to give Peter the satisfaction of seeing me give up first, so I concentrated on the digging and every now and then raised my eyes to see what was going on around us. I saw Karen and Sanjay laying out the body bags. I saw Miriam looking at the readouts on her black box. I saw Jean-Paul and Charlie talking to each other in low voices. I saw another flock of ravens going overhead, croaking at us as they flew to sit in the nearby pine trees, to watch what we were uncovering for them.
    â€œTime for a break,” Peter gasped, and I shoveled two more loads of muck out before agreeing.
    â€œSure,” I said, feeling good that I had outlasted our moody Brit. “Time for a break.”
    Peter got out of the hole, walked to the side of the barn and leaned back against the dark wood. I stayed in the hole, toying with the soil. Miriam came over and said, “How are you doing, Samuel?”
    â€œI’ve had better days,” I said.
    â€œLook, you see that?” she asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThose white streaks, in the soil. Not good, not good at all.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    She shivered and then hugged herself. “Lime. Helps speed up decomposition. The militias do that to hide the evidence.”
    I suppose I should have waited for Peter to return, but Miriam was looking at me and I felt like I had to do something. I started digging again and then it was as though the earth beneath me belched, for something foul and sour started wafting up. I gagged and clambered out of the trench, and Miriam called out, “Jean-Paul, we’re getting close now, very close.”
    She reached into her coat pocket, took out a small container of a white salve. She unscrewed the top and said, “Over here, Samuel. Just for a moment. For the smell.”
    Miriam delicately inserted her index finger into the open jar and pulled out a dollop of the salve on the end of her finger. She gingerly smeared the gunk on my upper lip, right under both nostrils, and a blast of peppermint seemed to roar right through my nose and into my head. I looked at the jar. Vicks VapoRub. She managed a smile and I smiled back at her, standing in a muddy field with the odor of decaying flesh now all around us, and the moment was so intimate that I wished I didn’t have to move.
    But now Jean-Paul was there and he said, “Peter! Please join us.”
    I grabbed the shovel and went back into the hole, feeling emboldened
now. I didn’t know who I was going to uncover, what I would find or how I would react, but Miriam was there, Miriam had prepped me. It would be all right. I carried on digging, the stench now trying to overpower the peppermint still wafting through my nostrils, and then I winced and my stomach heaved as the shovel struck something soft and yielding.
    Now Peter was there, saying, “Hold on, try this,” as he passed down a long-handled spade. Everyone was clustered around the hole, blocking most of the light, but I didn’t care. I was the center of attention, I was doing something real, doing more