Horrible Harvest

I come to calculate two days had gone by, near it, anyhow. The ache in my shoulders wrapped around from collarbone to armpit. I felt like my arms had been ripped off and jammed back on without much care at all. My legs shook and about a million and one invisible needles just plucked away at every nerve from hip to toes. I nibbled on some jerky, once I found the mind to work my fingers. With a little something in me to give me a thimbleful of strength, I crawled on my belly to the bank of the lake and slurped up some of the brown water. I knew for sure it’d make me sick as shit, but I didn’t near care. I had a thirst that burnt my throat. I’d seen more than a couple of fellas die from drinking cleaner water than what the lake offered, but I was a beggar without choice.

I found the strength to push myself up on my hands and knees and caught my reflection in the water. I’d gone sheet-white, ‘cept for a ring of gray ‘round my eyes. I didn’t just look dead. I was death.

 A water bug skipped across the murk, and I watched it move all the way to a grouping of cattails. There he was. Kenneth was gettin’ swallowed up by the mess of water torches, and all the mad I’d felt, the sad, the dying light, it all come back to me, although I didn’t have near the strength to let loose of it in a meaningful way. It just dug into my chest and poked holes into my heart.

I crawled off the shore and into the water. The coolness of it, the give of it – It felt inviting. It felt soothing.

I waded to Kenneth, grab hold of his ankle and give a tug, but he didn’t float out with ease. The cattails had a hold on him. In a normal state, I wouldn’t have no problem pulling him free, but weak as I was, I couldn’t give him enough of a tug to move him but a half foot or so.

“Wha’choo doing, mister?”

I turnt to the voice that near killed me from fight, and I heard another voice in the turning.

“You need help?”

Looking back at the tree, I seen two redheaded boys, one no more than eight years of age, the other older by near four years.

I worked to clear the frog from my throat and asked, “Where the hell you come from?”

“Half mile that away,” the younger one said pointing to the other side of the lake.

The older one said, “We’re the Lee brothers. Booker and Edgar.”

“I’m Edgar,” the younger one added.

“That a friend of yours? The drowned fella, I mean. Or is he drowned on account he weren’t a friend?”

I looked to Kenneth. “Friend.”

“You with them other soldiers?” Edgar asked.

“That ain’t an easy answer.”

“Either you is or you ain’t,” Booker said.

“I ain’t. I’m a soldier. Confed, like them, but not like them, too.”

“Well, you’re answer don’t make no sense,” Booker said. “If that’s what you mean by not being easy, I’ll give you that.”

“We don’t much care for each other. Let’s just say that.”

“They done rolled out,” Edgar said.

“They leave dead behind?”

“Dead what?”

“Soldiers. Like me.”

“Confeds like you who ain’t like you, that what you mean?” Booker asked

“No. These are just Confeds like me.”

“Oh. Can’t say. ‘Cause I don’t know the difference. They’s about a half dozen dead laying about up to the house – the burnt down house. Even more in the woods on the north side of the property. Looks like they was in a fight or something. Heard a gaggle of shots two-three day ago. Must be from that.”

“There was a fight alright.”

“Between Confeds like you and not like you?”

“That’d be the two sides, yeah.”

“Thought all Confeds was fighting Yankees.”

“We are, but my company was sent – It don’t matter. Things went bad. That’s enough said.”

“If that suits you,” Booker said.

“It does.”

“Folks around here will just be glad any Confed, like you or not, is gone from here. You – they – Whatever’s what, all y’all didn’t spread nothing but sour grapes.”

“I got that idea.”

“They do that to your friend there? The one’s who ain’t like you?”

“They did.”

“They done it to a few others around here, too. Ain’t a Yankee took a life amongst us yet, but them soldiers who were meant to be on our side sure did take a couple here and there. Stole a bunch of belongings from folks, too. Run off with our coloreds. Done things to my Momma that’s got her shook up. A cousin of ours went missing not long after they showed up. We’ve been looking for her ever since – No, sir, I ain’t sad at all that them soldiers is gone.”

“That what you’re doing out here this morning, looking for your cousin?”

“Mostly. We’re looking for stuff, too. Things we can trade out for food and such. We’re down to a half a bag of flour and a bag of beans back at the house. Won’t last us but a week or two.”

I stared at Kenneth’s body, near falling into a trance. “You boys can have that bag over by the tree if you help me do something.”

“What’s in it?”

“All I got in this world. Have a look.”

Edgar hurried to the haversack and rifled through it.

“What kind of help you looking for?”

“My friend – Kenneth. Help me drag him out the water and bury him.”

The two boys looked to each other.

Booker asked, “With what? We ain’t got no shovels or nothing.”

“The house – The one that burnt. Through those woods there. There was a utility barn on the east side of the property – I got a good idea I saw it, anyway. There must be shovels – ”

“If there was, them soldiers probably took ‘em. They took everything else.”

“They took what they thought treasure. A shovel ain’t got no value to them.”

“Shoot,” Edgar said. “A good shovel could get you an egg or two in trade. Maybe a whole half-dozen.”

“That’s fool talk. Ain’t no one given up a half-dozen eggs for a shovel – Still, it’s worth something. Mister, if’n we help you bury your friend – Kenny – You’ll give us this bag? Everything that’s in it?”

“Everything.”

“No, foolin’? Including the knife?”

“There’s a knife?”

“Yes, sir. A fine knife.”

“I’ve no need for it. It’s yours.”

“And let’s say we find a shovel. We can keep that, too?”

“I’ll make no claim to a thing you find.”

Booker sent Edgar off to look in the barn and then made his way to the shoreline. Together, me and him dragged Kenneth out the water.

“You know him a long time?”

“I did.”

“Want we should roll him over?”

“No. He’s been in the water – he ain’t fit to be seen.”

“You got words you wanna say?”

“Words?”

“A prayer. It’s what’s done by most folks at a funeral such as this.”

Edgar appeared out of the woods. “Got two of ‘em. Shovels. And there’s a whole lot more stuff in there. Field tools and wagon parts. We got enough to trade on for a good long while.” He handed his brother one of the shovels.

“Anywhere in particular you want him buried, mister?” Booker asked.

I pointed to a plot of ground just beyond the tree. “That’ll do.”

The boys moved to the area and begun to dig. Sometime into their task, Booker said, “This is the first grave I ever dug.”

“We dug one for Petey Pike.”

“Petey was a cat. I meant for a human person. I ain’t never dug a grave of that sort.”

Edgar shrugged. “Ain’t much different. Bigger is all. ‘Sides, we seen enough people graves dug to do it up right.”

“Mister, you never did say. You got words or what?”

“I can’t think – ” I reached out to Edgar. “Here – Give it here.”

“Give what?”

“The shovel. I need to – Let me dig.”

“You don’t look like you’re in no kinda shape, mister,” Booker said.

“I ain’t, but – He was a – my – I got need to dig is all.”

Edgar handed over his shovel and the two boys watched me place the spade in the dirt, they was sure I was gonna die away quick from just that. I didn’t manage but scooping up a dust-size amount of dirt. I made three or four half-assed attempts and then finally give the shuffle back over to Edgar.

“Well,” Booker said. “You got words?

Wheezing, I said, “I ain’t got a one. No.”

“They ain’t hard to come up with. You just talk about God and the like. Say what was special about your friend. Most talk about a body being a good son or daughter or father or whatever they was. They go on about heaven and such. Say this and that about the good stuff a person has done.”

“Bible verses,” Edgar said.

“Huh? Oh, right, someone – usually a preacher – will read from the Bible. Something that pertains to the situation. I remember them going on about ashes and dust. All basic talking in circles if’n you ask me. Could just say, this person’s dead. I liked him. Gonna miss him – Not much to say beyond that.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

An hour passed, and the boys couldn’t dig no more. “We reached a good depth. You reckon that’ll do?”

I didn’t even inspect their work. I just reached down, grabbed Kenneth’s arm and drug him up the slope to the grave. The Lee brothers climbed out the hole and grabbed the other arm.

We all let loose the body and my dead friend rolled into the grave. Landing at the bottom, face up. Kenneth was blue and bloated and they was nibbles from fish and the like that left hanging flaps of skin around eyes and chin. I near wretched from the site of it.

“You thought up any words, mister?”

I calmed myself and nodded. “Yeah – This is my friend, Kenneth Conrad Miller. I liked him. I’m going to miss him.” I stepped away from the grave but come to a quick stop when I found a few more words to say. “And the sumbitches that did this to him, they’ll show up dead for what they done.” I looked to Booker. “That enough?”

He smiled. “I expect it is.”