Chapter 8
Mother's hands shook inside the thick gloves. Two days of planning and they were finally back at the first house to clean. The first shell, the maybe man who was bloated beyond recognition, lay before her in a gelatinous mass of former-humanity. Chuck, Wolf, and Cindy were with her, Gus waited outside in the dump truck. They all wore hazmat suits, rebreather masks, gloves, and large rubber boots over their shoes. There was a stack of new plastic tarps freshly opened from the hardware store, and rope in case they needed to tie the rot up into a morbid burrito. She was secure in the knowledge that the rest of the town now had assigned jobs and something to do during the long day, and felt confident that her orders would be carried out by Eve who stayed to oversee it all. They were as prepared as they were going to be.
Mother looked at the mass in front of her. She could hear the raspy breaths through the masks of the others. Chuck was breathing hard in excitement and she wondered if he knew he made little noises. It chilled her, his eagerness. Cindy didn't look that upset, either, though her interest seemed to be from more of a scientific standpoint. She was a trained forensic assistant. She'd seen murdered bodies for years. Mother had to wonder if she'd ever seen anything like this, but didn't ask. It was a stupid question. No one had ever seen anything "like this".
"Okay," Mother said, glad that her voice didn't shake as much as her hands. "How do we do this?"
Chuck stepped forward towards the body quickly, as if he was just waiting for permission. "He's so peaceful," he said, his voice filled with an awe that made her shiver.
"Yes. Now. How do we get Captain Peaceful out of here?"
"I believe if we lay the tarp on the floor, we can roll the victim off the the bed," said Cindy, motioning with her hands.
"He's not a victim," Mother said absently as she considered Cindy's advice. Yes. It would work. "Shells. They're shells." She bent down and picked up a tarp, then snapped it out and gave it a shake to open the factory pressed folds. Wolf took the other side and they laid it on the floor as close to the bed as possible.
Chuck stroked the hair of the man-thing.
"Chuck, stop groping the shells," Mother said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.
"May I have permission to guide him to his plastic casket?"
Chuck was so damned weird. Mother looked to Wolf, who gave a little shrug. "Uh, sure."
"This amount of decomp may make your plan a little difficult," Cindy said, leaning over the body to assess. She pointed to a section of abdomen that had split open from the sores. "It'll take two. Chuck, you pull from up top and I'll try and match your speed with the legs. If you don't mind," she added, looking to Mother.
"Be my guest."
"I will name him Harold," said Chuck, gently placing his hands around the large body.
"Don't name them," Mother ordered.
"But..."
"No." On that point, she would not budge. Naming them would make them people, and they were not people. They were shells. They had to all be nothing more than shells.
Chuck decided to keep the names to himself. This man was Harold, and he would help him leave. "Are you ready, fair Cindy?"
"On the count of three."
They counted. They pulled. Cindy's prediction turned out to be correct and the body splatted to the tarp below in pieces and with much left behind and splashed around. Mother and Wolf jumped back, but some of the guy got on them anyway. The revulsion clawed inside Mother and she turned to Wolf for reassurance. His face was pale behind his mask and she got no comfort from that camp. She turned back to look at the others. Chuck was picking pieces off the bed to add to the tarp, but Cindy was stunned. She stood there looking at the legs she still held, hunched over and frozen in horror. It gave Mother a focus.
"Cindy, let go of the legs and step back." Cindy turned her wide eyes to Mother. "Let go," Mother said again, more firmly, feeling the riot of panic begin to recede. Cindy looked down at her hands and then let go. The feet dropped to the tarp and Cindy jumped back. "Good," said Mother calmly. "Good girl. Now, let's get the rest and we'll roll this up.
They pulled the sheet from the mattress and piled it up on top of their first poorly handled carcass. There was a little argument about how to roll it up, but in the end Chuck's suggestion of folding the flaps over the end first won out. It stood the best chance of keeping the bits in. They wrapped rope around the whole deal, then stepped out of the room into the hall, both to discuss how they would remove the body, and to get a second away from their ghastly detail.
The former person wasn't skinny. It was no supermodel skeleton they had to handle. There was a significant amount of remains left behind, and they weighed far more than Mother would have guessed. It was all they could do to get the tarp to slide across the carpet. They wrapped more rope around and decided to try pulling it. Mother and Wolf pulled the ropes from the front, while Chuck and Cindy walked behind to make sure nothing fell out. At the top of the stairs, they decided to leave the package and roll out enough rope to stand at the bottom and tug. It was a good plan, or would have been if they didn't underestimate the force of a couple hundred pounds of dead weight. The body fell forward on the first tug, and Mother couldn't get out of the way fast enough. It plummeted down the stairs and landed right on her, pinning her to the floor.
"Are you hurt?" Wolf asked as he and Chuck pulled her out from under the human burrito.
Hurt, no. Horrified, definitely. Mother shook and shook. She knew she would never be able to forget the sound of it hitting her, the feeling of it cold, crinkly from the plastic, heavy and... Her stomach lurched. She turned without a word and forced her feet to walk, not run, out the door. She ripped her mask off and took a deep breath of fresh air. The scream welled inside again and she swallowed it down. It threatened once more. "No," she whispered. "No." She felt her body absorb the scream as it had so often over the past few months. Someday the scream would come out. "But not today," she said firmly.
One more deep breath, and she put her mask back on. She turned, not surprised to find Wolf right behind her. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she nodded, letting him know she was fine. They turned back to the task at hand and soon had the body outside on the porch. All they had to do was get it into the dump truck, and the first horrible removal would be done.
"Guess we didn't think this part through," said Gus as they all stood and looked from the ghoulish blue present to the top of the dump truck.
"Maybe we could make a hoist with a rope," offered Cindy.
Mother shook her head. "Where would we fasten it up there?"
"The back hatch opens," said Gus. "We get that open, and it's only what? Five feet?"
Mother sighed. Every day there was a list a mile long of things she hadn't thought about, hadn't planned for. "I guess we'll just have to muscle him up there."
"We should have just thrown him out the window," Wolf said.
Mother gasped. "We can't do that!"
"Why not?"
It was a very good question.
"Oh, I like the way the Wolfie thinks!" said Chuck, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Back the truck up to the window and throw him over."
It was horrifying. But wasn't life horrifying? It was unthinkable. But weren't they already doing the unthinkable? "We can't just throw them out the window like..." she looked at the dump truck. Trash. She felt the icy jiggle of self-disgust deep in her guts.
"Let's just get this one done and worry about the next when we get there," said Gus. He could see that Mother was on the edge. Hell, they all looked like they were, all but Chuck, and that little fruit loop didn't count. Even Wolf looked pale. Gus knew he drew the long straw. All he had to do was drive. He couldn't imagine how soul-crushing it was for them, and he'd do his level best to make it as easy as possible on his end. "I'll back up here to the porch, and we'll just have to pick him up a little."
Wolf nodded his approval. Mother was still looking up at the second story windows. Chu
ck was squatting by the body patting the plastic, and Cindy was leaning against the porch post looking like she was going to vomit. Gus moved the truck back and pressed the button to open the hatch. He, Wolf, and Chuck moved before Mother could react and in just a few moments had the body secured in the truck. "That's that," said Gus, pleased it went so fast. "Next house?"
"No," said Mother, snapping to. "Now we have to redecorate."
Much to their chagrin, the tarp leaked. It had leaked the entire way, saturating the carpet with a slime trail of decomposing human. They stood at the bottom of the stairs as one and let their eyes follow the path all the way up.
"Fuck," said Mother. No one had anything else to contribute; that about summed it all up.
They took care of the obvious problem first: the bed. It didn't take long to get that out and into the truck. Mother looked away when they tossed it up and in, and winced when she heard the wood bounce off the crinkly plastic. Not a person, she reminded herself. A shell. We didn't just throw a bed on a person. We tossed more garbage on the shell. A shell. She repeated it to herself as they struggled to rip up the carpet. It wasn't a person spread across the floor, it was a shell. A gross, disgusting, nasty shell. They weren't throwing away a life. They were throwing away a mess so new life could take over.
It took nearly an hour to rip the carpet out of the bedroom and they all leaned on the dump truck to catch their breaths. "We can't do this for every house," Mother said, taking off her mask to take a drink from her bottle of water. "It'll take forever."
"We can't possibly clean it enough to live in," said Cindy. "That kind of biological debris...we'd never get it clean enough. Not to mention the threat of disease. We have to trash it."
Mother sighed. She knew it, she was just trying to think of a faster way. "Well, we've got plenty more to do. I'm sure we'll get good at it eventually." They had more to do. So many, many more. She took a deep breath. "This next one has family upstairs. Maybe..." she swallowed hard, then forced herself to sound sure. "We'll back the truck up and do what Wolf suggested."
They managed to wrap the second body faster, and decided not to waste rope if they were just throwing it out the window. They opened the bedroom window. They looked down into the bed of the dump truck.
"That lined up okay?" Gus shouted up at them.
Mother gave a thumbs up, then told the group to get it done. They picked up the tarp-wrapped remains and, with surprisingly little effort, pushed it out the window. To Mother's horror, the tarp came off and separated, the body seeming to fall in slow motion, tumbling completely over in the air. The tarp wafted gently to the truck behind it.
"It's like a ballet," Chuck whispered with reverence.
A ballet. A morbid, terrifying ballet. "Come on," Mother said, her voice hoarse with self-hatred. "Time to get the next."
They managed to remove ten bodies from four houses. It wasn't nearly as far as Mother hoped to get in their first day, but it wasn't as bad a showing as it could have been. No one lost it. No one lost their cool. They all stuck with it, though she could now see ghosts in all their eyes for having to. The dump truck was parked in front of the fifth house, waiting for them to resume their job the next day. Gus trudged up the street to the van and brought it down to them. He held out a trash bag for their soiled gear. The disposable suits would be trashed with the bodies, the rebreathers and boots would be hosed down and then splashed with alcohol to make sure they wouldn't spread contamination. As they stripped, they actually took a minute to look down, to see the stains of the day on their clothing. Mother was so close to the edge that for one second, she thought she'd tip over. There were bits of people on her shoes. Bits. Of. People.
Shells, her mind screamed. Shells, shells, shells! Not people. The people were long gone. Shells. It was garbage, nothing more. She stepped out of her boots and ignored the cold under her stocking feet as she lined them up with the others to be cleaned off. She pulled the hazmat suit off and tossed it and her soiled gloves into the garbage bag. Garbage. It was only garbage. She lined her rebreather up with the others and slid her feet into her own regular boots as Gus began hosing off the line of gear with a garden hose hooked up to one of the houses. She watched the red turn pink in the running water as a river of wash water cut through the snow at the side of the road to form a chunky pool near the sewer grate. She walked over and kicked the snow packed by the plow through the gate, and in a rush, the pink river of gore disappeared under the road to hide their sins.
After everything was washed down, Gus took out a spray bottle of alcohol and spritzed the gear until they were satisfied that no bits or germs remained. Wolf tied the garbage bag closed and walked over to throw it into the dump truck. When everything was as clean as they could make it, they all piled in the van to go home. Once parked in the barnyard, no one felt like moving. They were sitting there, numb. All but Chuck. He had his eyes closed and a small smile on his face.
"We did good today, people," Chuck said. He seemed peaceful, and the thought gave Mother pause.
"Yes," Mother said quietly. "We did. Now, go eat and get a good night of sleep. We'll regroup in the morning." They moved to open their doors. "I'll understand if anyone wants a different job," she said quickly.
Chuck looked upset. "You're not kicking us off the team, are you?"
"No. But it...I don't think any of us knew what today would be like. I won't hold it against any of you if it's not something you can do again. There is no shame in knowing your limits."
"I'll be here," Chuck said firmly.
"Me too," agreed Gus.
"You know I'm in," said Wolf.
Only Cindy seemed to be considering backing out. "Think it over and be sure," Mother told Cindy. "You have to be sure you can live with it."
Cindy opened her mouth, then closed it. She wanted to say she'd be there. She wasn't one to back away from a difficult situation. But she just wasn't sure. She gave a nod and followed Gus towards the barn for dinner.
Wolf watched Mother. She stood staring at her people with a blank look. Her eyes were dead. She was numb. He frowned. "Come on, time to eat."
She shook her head.
"You have to eat."
She didn't respond.
"You didn't eat last night, I didn't see you eat breakfast this morning. You've got to eat."
"I can't," she whispered, still staring at the barn.
Wolf ran a hand over his face. "Go in and get coffee. I'll be there in a minute."
Mother turned and numbly walked up the porch steps. Eve was at the sink, cleaning up, and Janice was helping her. Mother had seen for herself how deeply her admonitions had affected Janice, and she had no qualms about letting the woman continue as kitchen help. She knew Janice would never again betray the trust that was placed in her.
"You're back," said Janice. "Did you eat?"
Mother shook her head and dropped heavily into a chair.
Eve frowned. "I think I've got the rest of this, Janice."
"You sure?"
The last thing Mother looked like she needed was Janice's yammering. The woman was kind and meant well, but she didn't know how to shut up. "Yes," Eve assured her. "I'm good. Head on out and have your dinner."
"Would you like me to bring you some, Mother?" Janice asked as she donned her coat.
"I've got it," said Eve, guiding the woman out and closing the door behind her before Janice could get another word in. "God she doesn't shut up," Eve said. She turned to Mother. "Are you okay?"
Mother looked to Eve and wanted to laugh. Was she okay? I just spent the day throwing dead humans into a dump truck, she wanted to say. I had to wash bits of people off my shoes. I had clumps of hair and scalp stuck to my gloves. No, Eve, I'm not okay. But she couldn't say that, could she?
"I'll make coffee," Eve said after a minute of deeply uncomfortable silence. She turned to the pot and began to fix the brew. She didn't know if Mother would have any or not, but she needed something to do.
Th
e door opened and Wolf came in carrying two bowls and two plastic spoons. The smell of the food made Mother's stomach lurch. It was meat. It smelled like meat. Like the dead meat they handled all day. Without a word, Wolf put the bowl in front of her and stuck the spoon in the middle.
"Eat."
Eve turned. "She doesn't look like she wants..."
"Eat," Wolf said, giving Eve a pointed glare.
Mother looked at the stew. There were chunks in there. There had been chunks on her feet, her gloves. She couldn't eat. She wondered if she ever could again. "No," she whispered.
Wolf took the handle of the spoon and scooped up a mouthful. He put it up to her mouth as if she was a baby. Eve scoffed, but Wolf's look stopped whatever she was going to say. "Eat."
Mother knew he was right. Somewhere inside, her brain smelled the food her body desperately needed and some part of her knew she had to eat. She needed the nourishment. She knew this. And yet, she just could not take the spoon and put the chunks of meat in her mouth. The scream echoed in the chasm deep within. If she opened her mouth, the scream might finally come out.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth and do what you have to do." Wolf said it quietly, just for Mother's ears.
His words sank in through the haze and anguish. Do what she had to do. Just like yesterday, just like today, just like tomorrow. This was just one more thing she had to do. She clamped her eyes closed, ignored the horrified scream inside, and opened her mouth. She clutched the edge of the table and forced her body to stay put, forced her jaw to chew, forced herself to ignore the terrors of the day and just swallow.
Wolf put the spoon down and let her feed herself. He motioned toward the door, giving Eve the signal to leave. "I'll go down and get her some clothes for her shower," Eve said quietly as she slipped out of the kitchen.
Wolf nodded, then picked up his own spoon and forced himself to do what he made Mother do. It took forever for her to pick up her spoon for another bite, but she did. She picked up the spoon and took another bite, coldly, mechanically. She shut it off. She shut everything off and ate, and Wolf's admiration of her grew. He'd seen bigger men, strong men, highly trained men crumble under less. When the bowls were empty, he gathered them and threw them in the trash. She would benefit from a few hundred more calories, but he didn't want to push it. "Come on," he said, standing at the door.
Mother rose and followed. Wolf lead her downstairs. Eve was nowhere to be seen, but a pile of clean clothes and a fresh bar of soap sat on the counter of Mother's bathroom. Wolf stepped aside and motioned for her to have her shower. "I won't even time you tonight," he said, trying for a laugh. She just nodded numbly and went into the bathroom.
Wolf turned around and leaned his back on the door, finally allowing himself to feel the weight of the day. He heard the shower start, heard the water run. Good. He knew that her shower time was when she processed things, time to herself when she could clear her head. It pleased him that Eve had already picked up on that trait, too. It meant he was right about the girl, and he liked being right, especially about important things.
His body was tired. Those corpses were surprisingly heavy, and pulling the carpeting strained muscles he rarely used. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the popping noise the left one made. He should go check on people and make sure they bedded down without incident. He could run up and check on them, then be back before Mother was done and they could have their nightly meeting.
A sob caught Wolf's attention. He listened through the noise of the running water, then heard it again. Mother was crying, and part of him wanted to go in and comfort her. His job wasn't comfort. His job was her safety, her protection. He couldn't rush in there like some knight in shining armor and take away her pain, because that wasn't his role in life.
Wolf clenched his jaw as her deep, heartbreaking moans knifed through him. He leaned his head back on the door, for the first time in his life wishing he was someone different. He couldn't help her, not with the emotional part. It wasn't his job, it wasn't his role, it wasn't his place. And even if it was, even if he was supposed to be "that guy", he simply didn't have it in him. He wasn't good enough. Wolf slid down to the floor and leaned his tired arms over his drawn knees. He couldn't help her, but he wouldn't leave her, either.
When Mother stepped out, she was calm again. When Wolf saw her next, she had bottled up her demons and pushed forward. He said nothing about her crying, and was glad she didn't, either. She was calm and composed and if all it took was a bawling session in the shower to pull herself together and move forward, Wolf considered himself lucky. She wasn't over it, and Wolf didn't delude himself into believing she was. There were flashes, mostly fleeting looks that let him know that it would take her a long time for her to truly cope with their horrendous work detail. But, for the most part, she was okay. He had to believe she was okay.
It took a week for them to clean out the fourteen houses, but only because a storm interrupted their progress. It was still fairly warm, so the storm came in sheets of sleet that made a sheen of ice on the ground not even the plows could combat. It raged for two days, then it took another full afternoon of sunshine before they could safely get down the hill and make it to the DOT to load up on rock salt to spread around. Mother decided the break was probably a good thing. After three days of hauling bodies, even Chuck had become subdued.
Chuck was an odd one, that was for sure. But working with him daily gave Mother a new insight. He felt that death was beautiful. Though he said it from the beginning, Mother thought it was more an act, a persona. After the first day of cleaning, it became clear that he truly felt it to his core, that it wasn't a persona so much as his very form of being. It wasn't an act, the macabre facade. It was simply Chuck. He wasn't being creepy when he'd caress the bodies, he was showing his love and respect. Though it still sent shivers up her spine when he did it, at least she understood. She no longer feared Chuck, she felt a growing respect. He could do what others could not. He had value. He had a place in her burgeoning society more important than any other.
Mother wished she could get others to see it that way. She suspected Wolf shared her point of view, but, as he did more and more, he refused to agree or disagree out loud. "Not my place to comment on town-y stuff," he'd say. But, she never saw him disrespect Chuck, or treat him as a lesser citizen. From Wolf, that alone was a resounding nod of approval.
Others didn't see it the same way. At the community meals, people began to sit apart from all of them. Mother noticed it the morning the weather finally allowed them to continue. She had stepped in the barn to give morning announcements, and saw Chuck, Cindy, and Gus sitting in a corner, and the rest of the people with their backs turned to them. She asked for fresh volunteers, as she did every morning for the past week, and when no one new raised their hands, she caught some people sending looks at her cleaning crew.
"So none of you have it in you to put your own discomfort aside for the good of the community?" She sounded mad. Good, she was mad. Her people were being treated like outcasts for doing what they had to do. "Afraid you'll get cooties?" she asked in a harsh tone.
Her words hit their mark for most, and the people had the good grace to look embarrassed. She assigned the daily chores. With the roads salted and clear again, the scrubbing crew could get down to begin on the houses they'd cleared. She wanted to have a couple days' head start since she didn't know how long it would take the ten people to scrub a house from top to bottom. She gave the assignments, called Gus, Chuck, and Cindy to join her, and left the group in disgust.
They cleaned out bodies until the entire fourteen-house neighborhood was empty. The dump truck was full of corpses, furniture, rugs, and anything else that got slopped up in the process. They hosed off, stashed their gear in the van, and stood around looking down the street.
"It's a good job," Mother said to them as she passed a water bottle to Wolf.
"Damn good," Gus agreed.
"When are we going to do
the rest?" asked Chuck.
Mother looked at him blankly for a minute, then swore to herself. Of course they weren't done. Of course there was more. This was only a temporary housing situation. They had an entire town to clean out. Fourteen houses wasn't "the job", it was a drop in the bucket. There must be hundreds of homes. Maybe thousands, for all she knew. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She couldn't focus on that now. It would swamp her and she would drown under the weight. "I think we should get this done, then take a break."
"The longer we wait, the warmer it's going to get," Cindy said.
Chuck nodded. "And you know what that means."
More smell. As if there could be more smell. "We've got to focus on prepping the fields soon, setting up the crops..."
"Fields are still frozen," Gus pointed out.
Mother looked at him as if he was a traitor. She needed a break. Didn't they understand that? "I know," she admitted. "I know, I know, I know." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Let's just get through tonight and then we'll go from there, okay?"
Tonight. The first burn. She swallowed hard and looked to Wolf. She could do this. She had to. She be damned if she'd make anyone else. He gave her a nod and held his hands out for the keys to the dump truck.
"You sure you don't want me..."
"No," she said, cutting Gus off. "No," she said again with more kindness. "You all get the night off."
Cindy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Because it's sunshine and roses with everyone looking at us funny."
Mother tamped down the anger. Hell, in the rest of the towns' shoes, she'd probably think people who volunteered for this kind of work weren't right in the head, either. "You're important to me," she said firmly to the group. "And if anyone has a problem with that, feel free to send them my way." Cindy gave a small smile. God, they all look so beat. "Tell you what. You three get a special night." She took a small notebook from her pocket and scribbled Eve a note. "Show this to Eve and she'll set you up inside with a candlelight dinner and table side coffee."
Chuck grinned and snatched at the note. "In the very lap of luxury of the Mother herself?"
Mother couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "The very lap. You earned it."
Gus looked like he was going to object, then shook his head. "I should bow out gracefully, but you know what? I think a meal to ourselves and a nice cup of joe sounds too good to pass up." He walked the group to the van and they all waved as they pulled out.
"Come on," Mother said to Wolf with determination she didn't feel. They got into the truck, Wolf behind the wheel. He didn't push her to drive this time. This night would be hard enough. "You got the gas?"
Wolf nodded. "Five cans in the back. Should be enough."
Maybe. The truth was, they didn't know, and wouldn't until they actually went through with it. Mother swallowed hard, once again wondering if they made the right decision, and knowing that even if they hadn't, there was nothing else they could do. The ground was still frozen, so they couldn't bury the bodies. Besides, a heated discussion around the table a few nights before highlighted some facts of the situation no one wanted to think about before. Eventually the municipal water system would fail. Pipes would crack, or electricity would shut down. The plant wouldn't continue to pump the water to her people and the day would come when they had to rely on their own wells, on ground water. Even if they waited for the ground to thaw, she couldn't risk contaminating their ground water.
The bodies, and all the other garbage from the houses, would have to be burned. Wolf had taken Steve, and the two had found a hill with a clear cut face on the back side away from the town. It was an old logging site, and there was plenty of cleared area for burning. Plus, since the clearing faced to the east away from the town, the ash would follow the wind pattern down the valley and away from Arlington. The townspeople would see a glow, maybe, but nothing more. It was a close enough location to be feasible, and far enough away to keep the nightmares at bay.
For them. For the others. Not for Mother. Not for Wolf. Not for anyone who actually had to do the burnings.
Mother's foot tapped nervously on the floor of the truck as they turned up the logging road that would take them to the top of the hill. "You sure it's a safe place?" she asked.
Wolf knew how scared she was. Hell, he'd be lying if he said the whole idea of what they were about to do didn't chill him to the bone. They were going to stack bodies and burn them. Only monsters did that. Only maniacs did that. Only inhuman despots ever actually did that. And yet, life left them with no choice. "It's the safest I think we're going to find."
Mother nodded and stared out the window into the darkness. The truck rumbled over the deep, frozen ruts in the dirt road. They bounced and chugged up the steep slope until there was a bend, a turn, and then they looked out across the barren hilltop into the clear stars of night. Mother caught her breath at the beauty, and bounded out to have a better look as soon as Wolf stopped. She walked forward and just stared into the dark, peaceful night. Her breath puffed a little white cloud in front of her, the stars glittering through.
"Oh Wolf," she said softly, her voice filled with regret. They were about to kill the scene. They were about to take the place of utter beauty, and change it, soil it, ruin it. She heard the rumble of the truck bed being tilted up, and against the backdrop of the pristine beauty of the late winters' night, heard the surreal sound of a dump truck load of human bodies and gore-covered furniture slide down the metal bed and hit the ground with a dull, wet thud. She closed her eyes and apologized to whoever was listening, then turned to do what she had to do.
The pile was huge. "It didn't seem that big in the truck," Mother said to Wolf as they stared at the heap in front of them.
"Put your mask on," was all he said in reply.
They donned their masks, then walked around dousing as much of the pile as they could with gasoline. They used three containers, and Wolf suggested they hold back on the rest in case it took a few tries to get the pile to catch. He held out the box of matches and waited. She'd take it. She might be standing there, staring like a deer caught in the headlights, but she'd take it. She'd light it. She'd do what she had to do.
Mother reached out her hand and took the box of matches. It was time, and everything slowed down. She looked at Wolf and tried to gather the strength she needed. Her hands took out a match, she turned to the pile. She took a deep breath and struck the match before she lost her nerve. There was so much gasoline vapor that the match didn't even reach the pile before it caught in a huge whoosh that made them both jump back.
Flames licked high into the night, and it took her a few seconds of blinking to adjust to the brightness. There was a wave of heat, then the crackle of all the plastic catching on fire. A thick wall of black smoke wafted over them, and they both circled the fire until they were well away from the cloud of noxious fumes. Once the plastic began to shrivel, the bodies were uncovered, and Mother found that she couldn't look away. Wolf turned around. Some part of her mind registered the fact that the mighty Wolf had limits. He didn't move, he stayed right by her side. But he couldn't look. He stared out across the valley, trying to focus his attention on anything but the burning people behind him. He simply couldn't bring himself to watch.
And Mother couldn't look away. She felt an icy horror at what that might mean. She watched as the bodies became clear under the melted plastic. An arm. A leg. There were faces, fat, bloated faces rendered unrecognizable by the combination of the pox that killed the owner and the months of rotting after. They were faces nonetheless. Former people. Their hair caught fire. The piles of hair squished under the chunks of carpet or squashed beneath the bed frames or mattresses caught and shriveled into wispy, ash crisps.
She couldn't look away. She watched individual strands dance against the heat and pull in on themselves until there was nothing left. Clothes burned. Blops of melting mattress material began to drip down, setting whatever was in their molten path to smolder. T
here were a few loud pops and cracks that sounded like wood, and Mother's brain numbly told her that the wood was catching. Good. That's good. Right?
Wolf pulled in one deep breath after another. He stood in the familiar guard stance, on alert in case of any trouble. He made himself remain part of the scene, and yet separate. Away. He had to distance himself. He had to cool down. He had to keep a calm head and he could not make himself do that if he was watching people burn. Wolf had limits like everyone else. The difference was, he knew every single one of his. It wasn't weak to turn away, it was what he had to do to stay sharp, and he felt no shame in admitting it. Let her watch if she wanted. Hell, maybe something in her had to. He knew she'd feel guilt over this. He knew it the moment they all came to the conclusion that this was the best way. She'd feel guilt, and when she did, he'd have to be sharp and pick up the slack.
The night seemed eternal. The fire caught and held solid until the plastic and wood had burned away, leaving only the fat of the bodies to keep the flames going. At some point, Mother grabbed a branch to poke the hot coals up and over the shrinking pile. The smoke took on a heavy, sweet smell that even seeped into the rebreather. Wolf had the ghastly thought that it smelled a lot like southern barbecue before he forced his mind to shut off again. He scanned the surrounding dark forest, looking for potential threats, thinking of any possible danger to take his mind off the task at hand. The first rays of sunshine lifted over the far hills before Mother announced that she thought they were done.
Wolf turned around and looked at the pile. There wasn't a lot left. There were some large chunks of what he assumed were bone, and the metal springs of the mattresses hadn't melted. They'd have to cool before they could be pulled out. He struggled to find something to say.
"I think it's burned down enough so it's not a danger," Mother said, her voice wooden. She had ash spread on her cheeks above the mask and stuck in her hair. She looked tired and small, yet stood with her back straight.
"Then let's get back to town," Wolf said, feeling proud. He wondered if she even knew how big a test she just passed. Maybe someday he'd tell her. They got in the truck and rumbled home without a word. As they had planned, he parked the truck in the clean neighborhood so no one would have to smell it and left their rebreathers in the cab.
They were going to walk the half mile up the road to the house, and though Mother's body was bone tired, she was glad to have the time in the clear, cold air to try and let go of the evils of the night. She reached the house. She ate. She showered and glanced at her bed. It was full morning, and thin streams of light came through the high basement windows. She should lay down and catch at least a nap. The memories crowded in and she turned from the haunting images inside and ran up the stairs. She'd sleep later. Right now, she had to keep busy. Right now, she had to outrun the ghosts.