Tony stomped the shovel deep into the dark brown earth and then pulled out the tip before tossing the dirt into the nearby wheelbarrow. The dirt was soft because the ground was warm, making the shoveling easy enough. But, even with the loose ground, Tony’s back hurt, from bottom to top.
Tony remembered the last dig. In the remnants of Seattle. Winter had set in good and the ground was frozen and the dig was slow and painful. Yet, Tony would honestly accept a cold winter and the backbreaking digs that came with the season. Happily accept it in fact. Because the cold air kept the stench of the rotting flesh at bay, at least a little bit. And that would be nice.
Throwing another shovelful onto the topped off wheelbarrow, Tony took a moment to wipe his white sweat rag across his forehead. The base of his nose and his upper lip were drenched in sweat as well, but Tony did not dare remove the mask covering them. The odor would be too much and Tony would like to leave his lunch were it was at, in his stomach. Besides, it was against the regulations of a dig. Mask on. Always.
Tony quickly passed the full barrow off to Johnny, who carted it up the wooden ramp and toward the dumping spot. Before Tony could start on the new, empty wheelbarrow, a shadow appeared, looming down from above the shallow pit.
Dig Foreman Combs stared down at Tony. With a twist of his neck, Combs motioned for Tony to exit the grave.
Tony nodded a response back to his boss.
“How you holding up, down there?” Combs was a short, dark skinned man with worried eyes. The creases above his eyebrows seemed to have doubled in the past 24 hours. “Hot as hell, today, my friend.” Combs had to get very close to Tony, because the masks muffled even the loudest of mouths.
Tony was in hell. Surrounded by the dead. Tony didn’t say so, though. He simply nodded again.
Combs patted Tony’s right shoulder. “I might have some good news, my friend. Don’t tell your men until I know for sure, but we might be getting in some gasoline for the backhoe. That would make the dig a little easier on you guys. I know your crew has been shortened as of late. This might help lighten the burden of the dig.”
There was no lightening the burden of a dig, Tony. Burying massive amounts of dead was always a burden.
“In case I haven’t said so already,” Combs began, “I am sorry for your loss. Ginger, Creed, and Lex were real good men.”
Tony nodded. They were good men, but only 3 of the billions that were gone. Either within the Cataclysm or during the Aftermath, people died, and all of those men, women, and children were good people. It was true that Tony had known Ginger, Creed, and Lex personally, them being part of his personal crew, but Tony had known many that had died. He was all cried out.
“I would have liked to give you and the rest of your men a day off to mourn,” Combs said, “but we all have someone to mourn. Not all of us can take a day off. Who would be left to dig?”
Tony nodded.
Combs patted Tony’s shoulder again and rushed away.
Tony took in a breath of stuffy hair, filtered by his mask, and fought off a brief wave of claustrophobia. Over and around him sat the structure that once served as a football stadium. It was a great building that had once been filled with fans and players, screaming with pride. But the fans were gone, most of them dead, leaving empty seats. The dome had been closed, seal tight. And the stadium had become a massive mausoleum, filled with rotting corpses.
If only they would open the dome, for a minute or two, just to let some of the old air out. But that wasn’t going to happen, Tony knew. A sealed tomb usually remained sealed. Just as long as Tony didn’t get sealed inside as well. At least not yet. There would be a time for that in the near future, Tony was sure.
Once back in the grave, Tony and his crew spent several more hours digging, making sure the pit was deep as well as wide. But finally the first hole was complete. Tony motioned for his crew to clean up their equipment and gather at the pile.
“Let’s make this short and sweet as well as respectful!” Tony shouted, standing next to the pile of bodies. “This is not a job but a duty to these people! They suffered and they died and their bodies and souls deserve to be put to rest! Let’s put our loved ones to rest, gentlemen!”
Tony knew his words to be pointless. No matter how much respect they tried to give the dead, the burying was always rushed, always messy. It was always horrible. What else could it be?
Tony grabbed the first pair of legs while Johnny instinctively reached for the shoulders. After 3 swings, Tony and Johnny sent the shell flailing into the mass grave, like an old, dirty doll.
The next ankles were bare, but Tony couldn’t feel the skin through his gloves. He wondered if they were warm, but immediately knew they were. Even the deceased could be warmed inside an oven.
As Johnny and he raised the woman up, Tony glanced at her face, even though he tried not to. Thin cheeks and brown hair. She reminded Tony of his sister Sarah. But he knew that she wasn’t the same person. Sarah was long buried out west. In a mass grave too. In a ramshackle pile of corpses. Messy. Tony knew this because he had been in the crew that buried her.
1…2…3…and down she went.
Tony had called his job a duty and in a way it was. But it was also just a job. Something that had to be done. Because surviving the Cataclysm and the Aftermath had not made him special. Not in any way. Survivors were not special, Tony understood. They were merely the ones who were left to bury the dead.
Compounded in Clay
A Devil in the Midst (A Collection of Stories) Page 5
