19
I open my eyes. It takes me a minute to focus.
I'm staring at a wall of dirt. My face resting in wet soil. I move slow. My body rages, head to toe. Yet it's cold, too. My head pounding like a subwoofer.
I hear the churn of heavy machinery. The chug of a diesel engine. Something wet, slapping and slopping.
I roll onto my back. Thin black clouds drift over a grey wash of sky, spitting for rain.
That sky looks further away than usual. I realise I'm in a hole. Big and square and high on either side.
A hole dug deep by machines, not shovels. One of those foundation pits I saw on the way in.
I peer down between my blood-stained boots. See wet cement and lots of it. It slops into the pit, out of the arse-end of a mixing truck.
I look right and see . . . A body. Wrapped in a clear plast
