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So far, so good.
Inside our tent, the esteemed doctors Mayet and Emeri wear navy blue coveralls and knee-high rubber boots.
I mean, I suppose it makes sense they’d want to cover up and not ruin their clothes. But to see them dressed this way brings an added element of realness to what we’re doing here.
We’re exhuming a fucking human.
While the machinery—literally called a KC33 Grave Digger—pulls up five feet of dirt, careful not to crush the coffin below, Minka stands just two feet in front of me, her eyes eagle-focused on the forks of the digger each time it bites into the earth. She holds a clipboard, and documents, documents, documents, while right beside her, Aubree photographs.
The mayor stands close by, his suit perfect, his hair slicked back. He watches the dig as intently as he watches our doctors. And next to me, Fletch rolls his bottom lip between his fingers. Studying. Processing.
Across the way, perched high to get a bird’s eye view of our scene, another camera films the entire unearthing, so when we take this to court—ifthis goes to court—there won’t be a soul able to call foul and say we screwed up.
If this exhumation was family-led, we would’ve allowed Lacey, Henry, perhaps even Hillary to be here. But because Henry said no and a judge was forced to overrule, family has been pushed out.
They wait somewhere on the other side of our temporary shelter. Guarded by cops. Watched by the media. Judged by all of Copeland, who sit at home and watch the news.
“Hold up.” Throwing her hand in the air, Minka has the KC33 stopping with lightning-fast reflexes.
Tensions grow thick, considering Fletch and I, and most everyone else here except the doctors, have never dug up a fucking body before. But the machinery operator controls his tools with precision. And Minka… she controls the rest of us.
“I’m stepping in for a moment,” she announces. Glancing across to the KC, she meets the man’s eyes through the glass windows. “I’m approaching your machine. Keep still.”
Don’t decapitate me with your six tons of steel, she means.
Passing her clipboard to Aubree, she steps toward the hole and stands on the edge for a moment, studying the portions of pine we’ve already uncovered. The gap dug around the edges, which will give her space to stand when she lowers herself in.
She wears gloves on her hands and her hair tied up high to keep it out of her eyes. She’s as ready as anyone could be, yet as she lowers to a crouch and drops her legs over the side the way someone might prepare to dip into a pool, my heart thunders in my chest. My pulse skitters, and my hands turn clammy.
Because my wife is putting herself in a grave.
She’s safe. But the symbolism messes with me.
Breaking formation, though I know I shouldn’t, I cross to the hole in the ground and crouch at Minka’s back as her feet touch down.
Her head is below ground level. Her body, completely swallowed up by the depth of the hole. All it would take to steal her away from me is the KC33 dropping a bucket of dirt over her head.
“You can’t touch anything.” Minka doesn’t have to turn to know I’m close, and she doesn’t have to speak loudly to know I hear. “You can’t even be this close.”
“I don’t like standing back there while you’re in here.” I keep my hands to myself. My feet beneath my body. “This doesn’t feel good for me.”
“It’s my job. I’m safe. Doctor Emeri?” Turning now, she looks to Aubree. “Sample bag and tweezers, please.”
“Of course.” Lowering her camera and digging her hands into the depths of the medbag, she takes out what Minka needs and rushes to stand on my left. “What have you found, Doctor Mayet?”
“Jewelry.” Accepting the sample bag and tearing it open, Minka turns back to the crumbling casket and reaches forward with the spike-ended tweezers. Gently tugging on a glinting chain, she’s careful not to break the rusting links. “It’s a locket. The silver heart is slightly bent out of shape.” Pulling it free of the earth, she drops the silver into the bag and seals the top. “The clasp is broken.”
The women are robotic in their movements when Minka hands the bag to Aubree. Competent in every step they take.
Turning back to the casket, Minka opens a second bag and works to extract a small white square of fabric. “Two-thirds of an inch wide,” she murmurs for the record. “Half an inch long.” She tugs gently, fighting the earth as it tries to cling to its prisoner. “It could almost be the petal of a fabric flower.” Dropping it into her bag, she seals the top and repeats her steps.
Hands it to Aubree. Turns back to keep going.
“Make a note to ask what flowers were buried with the body. The city should have that on file somewhere.” Pausing, she looks across to the mayor. “Requesting permission to access burial records from nineteen eighty-six, Mayor Lawrence?”
He smiles, knowing he can’t say no. “My office is at your disposal, Chief Mayet.” Then he tips his chin over her shoulder. “You’ll be climbing out of there before the digger continues, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” Humored, Minka collects another half dozen pieces of white cloth that may be from a flower, then she passes everything to Aubree and sets her hands on the lip of the grave. “Back up so I can climb out.”
