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But bitching about it wasn’t going to get the job done, so I went into the trunk, grabbing the shovel, and heading out.
There was a deep rumble, making me glance up to notice the stars and moon which were suddenly hidden behind a thick fog.
A storm was rolling in.
Which was only going to make this already strenuous task more difficult.
I got right to work, digging into the dirt, saying a silent prayer that the ground wasn’t frozen. Though who knew what it was like four feet down.
The rain would only help with that, I guessed, as the sky opened up, and started pouring down on me.
Grave digging by hand wasn’t as simple as you might think. Someone doing it for the first time would likely spend a solid eight hours working on just one six-foot hole.
Once you had some experience, you could usually get a grave done in four and a half to five hours.
This one was going to need to be an extra foot or two deep, though, since I had two bodies instead of one.
Then there would be the piling the dirt back on, and carefully making the area look like it hadn’t been disturbed.
That task was sometimes just scattering some leaves. Other times, I would move logs, or even fell a damn tree over it. Once or twice, I’d even planted a couple of trees around where the body was placed.
I didn’t have an axe with me this time, so it was likely gonna be dragging some logs into the area instead.
The rain pelted down relentlessly, cascading down over the brim of my baseball cap, keeping most of the water out of my face as the thunder clapped and the lightning cracked through the sky.
I was rushing against the sheets of rain to get the bodies out of the car, out of their bags, and into the ground before their graves filled up with water.
And, honestly, I’d been stressing out.
Which was probably all it was.
A flash out of the corner of my eye.
Red.
Something red.
But in the split second it took for me to turn, it was gone, leaving me sure I had to have imagined it. Sleeplessness and hard work just playing tricks on my mind.
I couldn’t shake the strange feeling, though, as I dropped the bodies into the hole, and started to fill the graves back in.
It was a prickling at the back of my neck.
The sensation of not being alone.
I couldn’t shake it.
Not even after I finished staging the scene.
Not even after I finally drove out of there, tossing the body bags and old suits in black bags into random people’s trash bins at the curb as I drove out of their towns.
It was still niggling at me as I pulled into a self-service car wash, vacuuming out the car, then pulling out all the mats, soaping them down, and spraying the fuck out of them. Same with the bins, though the rain had likely washed most of the evidence off of them.
Hell, I still couldn’t bury the feeling as I dropped off the bins stocked with dog and cat food supplies at a dog shelter, never wanting shit to go to waste if it could be avoided.
Even as I stood at the junkyard, watching the car get crushed, then paying the attendant handsomely for not putting that shit on paper, the thought was still there.
What if I hadn’t been seeing things?
