| Powder Monkey January 2009 |
Short Story #5
| Respect the Departed by RC Campbell |
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The flames from the burning pine needles roared high into the air. Enjoying the
heat three men stood beside the huge pile they had collected only minutes before.
They were not making any attempt to move away from the fire back into the cold
December air. As the fourth man joined them his hands went out to warm himself.
For a minute no one make any type of noise except the human purr of contentment. The
latest member was the first to speak.
“This is suppose to be the South. Where’s the hell’s that damn Global Warming
old fat Albert talks about? Damn it’s cold.”
“Too cold to work right?” Ned’s hands were almost in the fire.
“If it’s too cold to work, why the hell are you here?” Chase finally looked around
at the members of his crew who were there. When he arrived late Chase did not
bother to look to see who the three men were. He knew who would be sick and who
would show up wanting a good paycheck.
As Chase talked Rog picked up an arm load of needles and throw them on the fire.
WOOM!
The dry pine needles instantly erupted in fire. Flames of various shades of red
and orange burst forth. For a moment all anyone could see was the huge flare up. Rog
saw only the bright orange from the inside of the burst that surrounded him. The others
only saw the reds and oranges that prevented them from seeing the man inside the
colors. The flare up only lasted a second. Just as quickly the pile’s fire was back to
normal.
“Ah, I think I know what hell looks like.” Rog started checking to see if any part
of him was on fire. He expected to find something.
“We don’t bury you if you die on the job.” Chase turned his hands over.
“Ah, shit thanks, I love you too.” Rog patted out the only part of him smoking.
“Anytime. Okay guys, we have a choice. We can stand here and enjoy the fire.”
Chase stopped and listened to the comments on how that was an excellent idea. “We
can talk about those weird lights everyone saw last night.”
“The only lights I saw last night were the headlights on that blonde.” Ned smiled
as he spoke. “Oh, they were so bright they were blinding me.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about those three red lights most of
the town saw. Ain’t ever believed in UFOs before. But those lights sure didn’t look
like any thing I saw when I was in the Air Force. Never heard of a craft that could do
a 90% turn at that speed.”
“My two lights beat the hell out of your three.” Ned commented.
“Well if you’re going to stay in the gutter, we can at least earn our paychecks.”
Chase stepped back from the fire so he could safety unroll the map of the site.
“Ah, hell, what ditch does the Colonel want dug today? It’s too damn cold to
dig.” Jimbo turned around so his back side could get cooked.
“Not that cold. Once you start moving a shovel you’ll warm up.” Chase took a
look around the site to get his bearing. “There by those oaks - ”
“Ah, not oaks again. Those damn roots are hell getting through.” Bill was not
smiling.
“Tell that to the man who signs your check. I found out they did have a cemetery
for the fort. The depressions over there look like they might be on top of some
burials. The Colonel gave the go away to dig there. Now grab some shovels and
scrappers. Don’t worry about bringing the shaker. If we do find something, we can
use it later. Jimbo, start collecting some wood. Looks like a clearing where you can
build a fire. No, none of those damn needles except what you need to get it going.”
“Hey, boss, remember the Anderson dig? It’s against the law to dig up graves.”
Ned was shaking his head. “I’m not breaking any laws. I saw what happened to
Jones.”
“That idiot was digging in a federal cemetery. What the hell did he expect?
Relax, I’ll talk to any spooks that arise for the occasion.” Chase put the map away and
started off.
“Yeah? Well, I’m also against digging up any Indian graves. My mom is Creek. I
don’t like the idea of digging up any of my ancestors.”
“You got x-ray vision?” Chased almost snapped the question.
“No.” Ned did snapped the reply.
“Then how the hell do you know what’s down there? We don’t need to know how
many are down there. We only have to dig up one to know who’s buried there if
anyone. Back then whites and Indians weren’t put in the same cemetery.”
“We ain’t taking anything for the museum?” Ned sounded a little more normal.
“Only if I find a gold snuff box. Always wanted one of those. Relax, will ya. We’
re only digging just to see if that’s where the cemetery was. Course, if we find it’s a
white man’s, we could keep digging until we find the cemeteries for the blacks and
Indians.”
“Ain’t taken your daily dump yet have you?”
#
As his crew watched, Chase slowly studied the ground. For the first time that day
he was glad it was winter. The normal thick green foliage was not in the way.
“There,” Chase pointed to a low surface area, “that depression looks like it might
still have a casket down below.”
“You sure? Hate digging for nothing.”
“Ned, when you get thirty five more years of archaeology behind you, then you
can question my calls. Now take off the top foot of dirt and shave the surface. We
might luck out and find some sharp corners marking the hole. That’ll be enough for me
to declare this a soldier’s cemetery. Jimbo, why the hell ain’t there a fire? I’m cold.”
As Chase resumed studying the area and Jimbo built a fire Ned directed Rog and
Bill on how to start digging on a spot that might be a grave. On a site this old Ned felt
confident there was at least a foot and a half of new dirt since the fort was used. The
three did not have to be careful in the first foot. That soil was soon out of the way and
the new surface was slowly lowered another foot. It was smoothed flat so the two
trained archeologists could read the different soil colorings.
“I’ve never seen a grave that size and shape.” Chase had a puzzled look as he
spoke.
“Think it’s a grave? Not like any I’ve seen.” Ned also had a puzzled look. “We
did a number on the Mississippians Site. . . . If it is a grave, I don’t think it’s Indian.”
“I’m not sure what it is. That’s why we’re digging it up. Go slow so you don’t
shove your shovels into something. Don’t worry about the shaker. Right now I just
want to know what the hell needed that weirdly shaped hole.”
Much slower than the first two foot, the next two feet of dirt were removed. That
was the dept where Ned contacted something other than soil.
“Got something. Shut up boss, it ain’t no root. Bill, give me that scrapper by you.
Rog, keep removing the dirt at that end until you get to this level. Then stop.”
Now in his usual very slow digging mode Ned began clearing dirt a little bit at a
time. Slowly an object became visible. At that point Chase entered the slot for a
closer look.
“Remove the dirt around the edges. Let’s see how big the thing is.” Chase now
was on the other side of the trench slowly removing dirt. Five minutes later the pair
stopped to look at the now exposed top of the item. Both carefully touched the item.
“That looks like the body bags we used in Vietnam. But that sure ain’t no material
I’ve ever seen or felt before.”
“Feels metallic.” Ned gave the item a good rubbing between his fingers.
“I don’t see any type of opening on this side. Lets flip it towards you and see
what’s inside.” Chase grabbed the bag. “ On three, one two three.”
After an easy flip the pair again looked at the bag.
“Ah, boss, I don’t see any type of opening on this side. Looks like the entire bag
is one solid piece.” Ned ran his hand along the bag’s center axis. “Feels like there’s a
body in there. Want to call the cops?”
“Why? This is our speciality not theirs. Jimbo give me my coke. I need to do
something.”
“Got the rum to add to that soda?” Ned asked.
“I don’t drink before five.”
“Should be five in Iraq right now.” Bill commented.
Chase tossed him his keys. “Good man. I like your thinking. Get the bottle out of
my tank. This is going to take some figuring.” Chase leant back against the trench’s
wall and rubbed his chin.
For several minutes the crew enjoyed their rum and cokes. That was all being
enjoyed. All wanted to know how to get inside the bag. None were coming up with an
idea. Ned’s idea of using his knife got bend to hell. Four men watched in disbelief
when Ned tried to cut the bag and his steel blade bended as if it was butter.
“Eureka!” Chase screamed as he jumped up. “I’ve got it.”
“No, what you got is a wet bag.” Ned started wiping off the coke Chase spilled
as he rose. He stopped and stared when the area where the coke splashed onto the bag
began to bubbled. With a, what the heck look, Ned poured a little of his coke along a
line. As he suspected the coke eat though the bag.
“Damn, I hope that ain’t happening to my stomach. Oh well, I think we got our
opening.” Ned was smiling as he spoke.
“Not the way I wanted, but it’s better than my idea. Run a line the length of the
bag.”
When the bubbling stopped Chase and Ned looked at each other.
“You’re the head of this dig. You get the honors. Maybe it’s one of your buddies
from Nam.”
“You’re sick!” After a moment of doubt, Chase spread apart the two sides of the
opening.
For several minutes four men stood in silence staring at the bag’s contains.
“Ned, smooth that wall. I want to see how long this thing has been down here.
You two, clear off the top foot of soil for three feet all the way around the hole. Then
smooth the surface. I want to see if this site is clean. That no one has tried to sneak in
this bag.”
It did not take Ned long to smooth the trench’s wall.
“Looks like it been down here about a thousand years.” Ned counted the
different soil layers as he spoke.
“Good call. Maybe I did teach you something. Now who put it here?”
Ned turned and looked at his mentor. “You didn’t teach me that.”
“Cause there’s no way to teach that. You have to figure each case based on its
own factors. . . . Good, you guys didn’t take long to lower the surface.” Chase
slowly looked at the surface of the dirt. The large cleared area made it easy to see the
different colors.
“All the Indians graves I’ve seen weren’t this hastily done. . . . No whites or
blacks in the neighborhood at the time. . . . Not like any native burial site I know
about. . . . No tampering can be seen. . . . Guys, I think his buddies put
him in here.”
For a minute four brains thought about what to do next. Three had the same basic
idea. Chase reached over and closed the opening. “Put the dirt back in
here.”
“Sure as soon as we get him - ” Ned reached as he spoke.
“No, we cover him up. Then put the site back in the rough shape it was in when
we started. I’m telling the Colonel we didn’t found anything here.”
“What?” Three men yelled as one.
“Shut up and think with your heads, not your wallets.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Jimbo asked.
“I was at Roswell right after the crash. I saw what happened to everyone.” Chase
stopped to be sure they were listening to him. “Hear me, your fifteen minutes of fame
ain’t going to be worth the bull shit you’re going to get the rest of your lives.”
“Hell, I’m thinking of the money we’ll get for this.” Rog had big eyes as he stared
at the bag. “That alien’s worth a fortune.”
“Yeah? From who? The government? No way. They’ll take this and say it’s a
weather balloon. Er, well, something like that. You won’t get a penny from them. The
freak papers? You want your names in them? I don’t. My reputation isn’t worth
whatever they’ll pay.”
“Okay, what about the people’s right to know we have been visited.” Ned asked
seriously.
“What people? The religious freaks will write you off as servants of the devil.
The truth doesn’t matter to them. The UFO nuts will adore you until you can’t produce
the body. You know, the body the government’s going to grab as soon as they hear of
it. Won’t be a body left when they get done. In the name of science and national
security they’ll cut the body up into a thousand pieces. If you died on an alien world,
you want that done to you?”
Jimbo got up, grabbed his shovel and tossed a load of dirt on top of the bag.
“When you put it like that, doesn’t make you want those fifteen minutes. Come on
guys. All I’d do with my share is buy me a new hunting dog. One the old lady won’t
like. Besides, been meaning to dump her. She’d get part of this if I threw her out now.
No way. Rather be poor than give that bitch anything.”
As the men filled in the hole Chase had a thought. No wonder he’s been married
three times before his twenty fifth birthday.
heat three men stood beside the huge pile they had collected only minutes before.
They were not making any attempt to move away from the fire back into the cold
December air. As the fourth man joined them his hands went out to warm himself.
For a minute no one make any type of noise except the human purr of contentment. The
latest member was the first to speak.
“This is suppose to be the South. Where’s the hell’s that damn Global Warming
old fat Albert talks about? Damn it’s cold.”
“Too cold to work right?” Ned’s hands were almost in the fire.
“If it’s too cold to work, why the hell are you here?” Chase finally looked around
at the members of his crew who were there. When he arrived late Chase did not
bother to look to see who the three men were. He knew who would be sick and who
would show up wanting a good paycheck.
As Chase talked Rog picked up an arm load of needles and throw them on the fire.
WOOM!
The dry pine needles instantly erupted in fire. Flames of various shades of red
and orange burst forth. For a moment all anyone could see was the huge flare up. Rog
saw only the bright orange from the inside of the burst that surrounded him. The others
only saw the reds and oranges that prevented them from seeing the man inside the
colors. The flare up only lasted a second. Just as quickly the pile’s fire was back to
normal.
“Ah, I think I know what hell looks like.” Rog started checking to see if any part
of him was on fire. He expected to find something.
“We don’t bury you if you die on the job.” Chase turned his hands over.
“Ah, shit thanks, I love you too.” Rog patted out the only part of him smoking.
“Anytime. Okay guys, we have a choice. We can stand here and enjoy the fire.”
Chase stopped and listened to the comments on how that was an excellent idea. “We
can talk about those weird lights everyone saw last night.”
“The only lights I saw last night were the headlights on that blonde.” Ned smiled
as he spoke. “Oh, they were so bright they were blinding me.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about those three red lights most of
the town saw. Ain’t ever believed in UFOs before. But those lights sure didn’t look
like any thing I saw when I was in the Air Force. Never heard of a craft that could do
a 90% turn at that speed.”
“My two lights beat the hell out of your three.” Ned commented.
“Well if you’re going to stay in the gutter, we can at least earn our paychecks.”
Chase stepped back from the fire so he could safety unroll the map of the site.
“Ah, hell, what ditch does the Colonel want dug today? It’s too damn cold to
dig.” Jimbo turned around so his back side could get cooked.
“Not that cold. Once you start moving a shovel you’ll warm up.” Chase took a
look around the site to get his bearing. “There by those oaks - ”
“Ah, not oaks again. Those damn roots are hell getting through.” Bill was not
smiling.
“Tell that to the man who signs your check. I found out they did have a cemetery
for the fort. The depressions over there look like they might be on top of some
burials. The Colonel gave the go away to dig there. Now grab some shovels and
scrappers. Don’t worry about bringing the shaker. If we do find something, we can
use it later. Jimbo, start collecting some wood. Looks like a clearing where you can
build a fire. No, none of those damn needles except what you need to get it going.”
“Hey, boss, remember the Anderson dig? It’s against the law to dig up graves.”
Ned was shaking his head. “I’m not breaking any laws. I saw what happened to
Jones.”
“That idiot was digging in a federal cemetery. What the hell did he expect?
Relax, I’ll talk to any spooks that arise for the occasion.” Chase put the map away and
started off.
“Yeah? Well, I’m also against digging up any Indian graves. My mom is Creek. I
don’t like the idea of digging up any of my ancestors.”
“You got x-ray vision?” Chased almost snapped the question.
“No.” Ned did snapped the reply.
“Then how the hell do you know what’s down there? We don’t need to know how
many are down there. We only have to dig up one to know who’s buried there if
anyone. Back then whites and Indians weren’t put in the same cemetery.”
“We ain’t taking anything for the museum?” Ned sounded a little more normal.
“Only if I find a gold snuff box. Always wanted one of those. Relax, will ya. We’
re only digging just to see if that’s where the cemetery was. Course, if we find it’s a
white man’s, we could keep digging until we find the cemeteries for the blacks and
Indians.”
“Ain’t taken your daily dump yet have you?”
#
As his crew watched, Chase slowly studied the ground. For the first time that day
he was glad it was winter. The normal thick green foliage was not in the way.
“There,” Chase pointed to a low surface area, “that depression looks like it might
still have a casket down below.”
“You sure? Hate digging for nothing.”
“Ned, when you get thirty five more years of archaeology behind you, then you
can question my calls. Now take off the top foot of dirt and shave the surface. We
might luck out and find some sharp corners marking the hole. That’ll be enough for me
to declare this a soldier’s cemetery. Jimbo, why the hell ain’t there a fire? I’m cold.”
As Chase resumed studying the area and Jimbo built a fire Ned directed Rog and
Bill on how to start digging on a spot that might be a grave. On a site this old Ned felt
confident there was at least a foot and a half of new dirt since the fort was used. The
three did not have to be careful in the first foot. That soil was soon out of the way and
the new surface was slowly lowered another foot. It was smoothed flat so the two
trained archeologists could read the different soil colorings.
“I’ve never seen a grave that size and shape.” Chase had a puzzled look as he
spoke.
“Think it’s a grave? Not like any I’ve seen.” Ned also had a puzzled look. “We
did a number on the Mississippians Site. . . . If it is a grave, I don’t think it’s Indian.”
“I’m not sure what it is. That’s why we’re digging it up. Go slow so you don’t
shove your shovels into something. Don’t worry about the shaker. Right now I just
want to know what the hell needed that weirdly shaped hole.”
Much slower than the first two foot, the next two feet of dirt were removed. That
was the dept where Ned contacted something other than soil.
“Got something. Shut up boss, it ain’t no root. Bill, give me that scrapper by you.
Rog, keep removing the dirt at that end until you get to this level. Then stop.”
Now in his usual very slow digging mode Ned began clearing dirt a little bit at a
time. Slowly an object became visible. At that point Chase entered the slot for a
closer look.
“Remove the dirt around the edges. Let’s see how big the thing is.” Chase now
was on the other side of the trench slowly removing dirt. Five minutes later the pair
stopped to look at the now exposed top of the item. Both carefully touched the item.
“That looks like the body bags we used in Vietnam. But that sure ain’t no material
I’ve ever seen or felt before.”
“Feels metallic.” Ned gave the item a good rubbing between his fingers.
“I don’t see any type of opening on this side. Lets flip it towards you and see
what’s inside.” Chase grabbed the bag. “ On three, one two three.”
After an easy flip the pair again looked at the bag.
“Ah, boss, I don’t see any type of opening on this side. Looks like the entire bag
is one solid piece.” Ned ran his hand along the bag’s center axis. “Feels like there’s a
body in there. Want to call the cops?”
“Why? This is our speciality not theirs. Jimbo give me my coke. I need to do
something.”
“Got the rum to add to that soda?” Ned asked.
“I don’t drink before five.”
“Should be five in Iraq right now.” Bill commented.
Chase tossed him his keys. “Good man. I like your thinking. Get the bottle out of
my tank. This is going to take some figuring.” Chase leant back against the trench’s
wall and rubbed his chin.
For several minutes the crew enjoyed their rum and cokes. That was all being
enjoyed. All wanted to know how to get inside the bag. None were coming up with an
idea. Ned’s idea of using his knife got bend to hell. Four men watched in disbelief
when Ned tried to cut the bag and his steel blade bended as if it was butter.
“Eureka!” Chase screamed as he jumped up. “I’ve got it.”
“No, what you got is a wet bag.” Ned started wiping off the coke Chase spilled
as he rose. He stopped and stared when the area where the coke splashed onto the bag
began to bubbled. With a, what the heck look, Ned poured a little of his coke along a
line. As he suspected the coke eat though the bag.
“Damn, I hope that ain’t happening to my stomach. Oh well, I think we got our
opening.” Ned was smiling as he spoke.
“Not the way I wanted, but it’s better than my idea. Run a line the length of the
bag.”
When the bubbling stopped Chase and Ned looked at each other.
“You’re the head of this dig. You get the honors. Maybe it’s one of your buddies
from Nam.”
“You’re sick!” After a moment of doubt, Chase spread apart the two sides of the
opening.
For several minutes four men stood in silence staring at the bag’s contains.
“Ned, smooth that wall. I want to see how long this thing has been down here.
You two, clear off the top foot of soil for three feet all the way around the hole. Then
smooth the surface. I want to see if this site is clean. That no one has tried to sneak in
this bag.”
It did not take Ned long to smooth the trench’s wall.
“Looks like it been down here about a thousand years.” Ned counted the
different soil layers as he spoke.
“Good call. Maybe I did teach you something. Now who put it here?”
Ned turned and looked at his mentor. “You didn’t teach me that.”
“Cause there’s no way to teach that. You have to figure each case based on its
own factors. . . . Good, you guys didn’t take long to lower the surface.” Chase
slowly looked at the surface of the dirt. The large cleared area made it easy to see the
different colors.
“All the Indians graves I’ve seen weren’t this hastily done. . . . No whites or
blacks in the neighborhood at the time. . . . Not like any native burial site I know
about. . . . No tampering can be seen. . . . Guys, I think his buddies put
him in here.”
For a minute four brains thought about what to do next. Three had the same basic
idea. Chase reached over and closed the opening. “Put the dirt back in
here.”
“Sure as soon as we get him - ” Ned reached as he spoke.
“No, we cover him up. Then put the site back in the rough shape it was in when
we started. I’m telling the Colonel we didn’t found anything here.”
“What?” Three men yelled as one.
“Shut up and think with your heads, not your wallets.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Jimbo asked.
“I was at Roswell right after the crash. I saw what happened to everyone.” Chase
stopped to be sure they were listening to him. “Hear me, your fifteen minutes of fame
ain’t going to be worth the bull shit you’re going to get the rest of your lives.”
“Hell, I’m thinking of the money we’ll get for this.” Rog had big eyes as he stared
at the bag. “That alien’s worth a fortune.”
“Yeah? From who? The government? No way. They’ll take this and say it’s a
weather balloon. Er, well, something like that. You won’t get a penny from them. The
freak papers? You want your names in them? I don’t. My reputation isn’t worth
whatever they’ll pay.”
“Okay, what about the people’s right to know we have been visited.” Ned asked
seriously.
“What people? The religious freaks will write you off as servants of the devil.
The truth doesn’t matter to them. The UFO nuts will adore you until you can’t produce
the body. You know, the body the government’s going to grab as soon as they hear of
it. Won’t be a body left when they get done. In the name of science and national
security they’ll cut the body up into a thousand pieces. If you died on an alien world,
you want that done to you?”
Jimbo got up, grabbed his shovel and tossed a load of dirt on top of the bag.
“When you put it like that, doesn’t make you want those fifteen minutes. Come on
guys. All I’d do with my share is buy me a new hunting dog. One the old lady won’t
like. Besides, been meaning to dump her. She’d get part of this if I threw her out now.
No way. Rather be poor than give that bitch anything.”
As the men filled in the hole Chase had a thought. No wonder he’s been married
three times before his twenty fifth birthday.