They went over the edge of an embankment and flew through the air. Farman and Roache came flying after them. They landed like so many stones, hitting the ground and tumbling.
All the colors of the forest whirled past Tommy’s eyes like a kaleidoscope as he rolled, until he finally came to a stop on a soft mound of dirt.
He lay still for a moment, holding his breath, waiting for Dennis Farman to jump on him. But he could hear Dennis moaning loudly somewhere behind him.
Slowly Tommy pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The ground he was on had been turned over recently. It smelled like earth and wet leaves, and something else he couldn’t name. It was soft and damp and crumbly like someone had dug it up with a shovel. Like someone had buried something… or somebody.
His heart jumped into the back of his throat as he raised his head… and came face-to-face with death.
3
At first, all Tommy could see was that the woman was pretty. She looked peaceful, like in The Lady of the Lake. Her skin was pale and kind of blue. Her eyes were closed.
Then slowly other things came into focus: blood that had drizzled down her chin and dried, a slash mark across one cheek, ants marching into and out of her nostrils.
Tommy’s stomach flipped over.
“Holy shit!” Dennis exclaimed as he came to stand beside the grave.
Cody Roache, dirt on his face, glasses askew, screamed like a girl, bolted, and ran back the way they had come.
Wendy was as white as a sheet as she stared at the dead woman, but, as always, she had her wits about her. She turned to Dennis and said, “You have to go call your dad.”
Dennis wasn’t listening to her. He got down on his hands and knees for a closer look. “Is she really dead?”
“Don’t touch her!” Tommy snapped as Dennis reached out a grubby finger to poke at the woman’s face.
He had only ever seen one dead person in his whole life-his grand-mother on his father’s side-and she was in a coffin. But he knew it just wasn’t right to touch this woman. It was disrespectful or something.