A Grave Concern

“Ask that guy. Ask him,” the man said.

The man shook his head.

The other nudged him.  He nudged back.

I didn't want to be bothered. I don't care what they wanted, but I knew that I was not interested.

I was passing through town and got thirsty.  Wanted to find my way back to the interstate.

I paid for my drink.  The one that initiated the nudging came forward.  “Pardon me, sir, I wonder if you could help us today?”

This seemed to be a serious matter, but why would they ask a total stranger for something like this?

He told me that the plague had hit their small rural area hard.  Seems the two gravediggers in town were not available.  One had succumbed to the plague last week, and the other had left town with his family in the middle of the night.

“I don’t know anything about digging graves.”

“Not hard. We just need the manpower.”

Manpower was correct.  Some of the stronger women had been helping, but this was tough work for anyone.

The ground was soft from about five days of rain, but still, moving the earth around one shovelhead at a time was hard on your back and arms if you weren’t used to it.  Very strenuous.

They got an extra shovel from the barn.  Gave me some old clothes.  I wondered if these belonged to someone who was no longer around.  Maybe the clothes belonged to someone in one of these fresh graves.

The first person we buried was an old man.  The next, a woman in her forties.  One of the bodies was of a seven-year-old girl.  Her legs were in braces.  Kept her from running around with her friends they said. Her short life had been cruel and now it was over.

I got tired very quickly.

“We are so thankful that you could help us today,” said one.

He was thin and lean. His name was Jake. He placed a peppermint in his mouth.  Guess some of the dust was getting to him.

“Yes,” said another.  “We are so grateful.”

“Glad I could help.”  I almost said something about being worked to death but stopped as it was about to leave my lips.

I helped bury two dogs.

The hardest part was getting the graves to be deep enough. Six feet is a lot to dig. I wondered if it might have made things a lot easier to put two or three bodies in the same grave. Someone had mentioned this but said it wasn't the proper thing to do.

They had killed all the farm animals and had already buried them.  This was the source of the plague they claimed.  The community had decided to go meatless for a while.

The graveyard was donated by a farmer.  The town really needed the room.

Now the farmer was having second thoughts.

He began negotiating for a little of his land back for a few more rows of planting.

The requested allotment seemed as if it would be enough. A small group of men nodded in agreement.

They put up some stakes to mark the territory.  Dead people on one side and okra on the other.

Had I done enough?  I was really tired.  Bound to be sore for days.  I had no other plans this week and could stay around to help.  They offered me a place to stay, free room, and board.

Hard to pass this sort of thing up.  I had been making plans to join a gym at the beginning of the year but was getting a head start on things, I guess.

There was no time to make a bunch of coffins.  First of all, they didn’t have enough or the labor to make them.  They just wrapped the bodies in some old tarps. These bodies had to be placed in the ground right away.  Could those bodies near the border affect the okra that the farmer was planting?  I didn’t want to bring it up.

The local officials had given them permission to bury the bodies this way.

I was too tired to argue about civics and safety.  I just kept digging.

The people were all friendly, especially Jake.  He was very hospitable.  Jake was the one who had gotten me the shovel and a pair of gloves yesterday.  I noticed he had been coughing more today, kept sucking on peppermints.

We had a grand dinner made by Jake’s wife and some of the other women.  It was actually breakfast for dinner.  Pancakes.  Great maple and blueberry syrup.  Scrambled eggs.  Juice.  They treated me well.  I got a full eight hours of sleep in a wonderful bed.

On the third day, my arms were really sore.  Muscles that I seldom used reminded me that they were there.

Some of the guys were talking near the barn.  They moved slowly, maybe the hard work was catching up to them too.

The plague had hit this town hard.  Things were getting better.  The death toll was going down.

I lost track of how many we had buried.  Fifty or sixty at least.  Still a few more today.

The men came carrying another body and I continued shoveling the grave that I had been assigned.  I had not planned on digging out of town graves this week, but here I was.

The best decision was to get as much digging in the early morning when it was cool.  I dug and dug.  Soon I would start on one or two more and I was told that we would be caught up.

The men laid the body near the grave and began to place the tarp around him.  Before the face was covered, I saw that the man was Jake.

They lowered him into the grave.  When I hesitated a moment with the shovel full of dirt, I noticed that they were staring at me.  Nobody said anything.  They helped me shovel in the dirt.

The next morning, I put on my regular clothes.  Jake’s wife had washed them and pressed them.  Laid them across a chair in the bedroom.

I told the men goodbye, thanked them for their hospitality under the circumstances.  I said that I was glad that I could help.  They thanked me over and over.  One offered me some money, but I shook my head.

I got in the car and looked for the signs back to the interstate.