A mass finally erupted from the loosened earth. I had been tugging on the shoulder strap of a satchel.
I sat back for a moment, breathing heavily from the effort. I wiped the back of my hand against my brow, which succeeded in depositing more grime in my eyes and irritating the cut on my head. I wanted to lie back against the cool earth and pass out. I kneaded at my sweaty neck with an encrusted hand. It was like massaging my neck with extra-coarse sandpaper. I wanted a bath and a Swedish masseuse.
I stared at the satchel. I had no way of telling, but it looked like it could have come from the same era as the bodies back at the clearing. It reeked of the composting debris from which I’d unearthed it, with just an extra dash of mildew.
I rolled forward onto my knees and hovered over the
