GRAVE DIGGERS - Part II

So, this was a bit later going up than I originally intended, but such is life while you're on a road trip.

I hope you enjoy Part II of GRAVE DIGGERS. If you missed Part I, be sure to go back and read it first!

*****

Part II:

Year: 115 P.Q.

Puck:

“I don’t understand why I have to do this.” Puck stared at the dozens of files flying across the screen. There were at least fifty already downloaded with more still to go.

“It’s best for you to begin your government training this year, before you’ve finished school.” Puck’s father, Councilman Hilliard, barely looked up from the memorandum he was reading on his own tablet. “Preparing now will give you a necessary edge when you’re ready to assume a Council position.”

“But…” Puck swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. He’d known this conversation was coming for most of his life, he just hadn’t been expecting to have it over breakfast on a Tuesday. He sucked in a deep breath.

"What if I don't want to become a Councilman?"

His father put the tablet aside, finished the last of his coffee, and dabbed his lips with a napkin. "Ridiculous."

Ridiculous.

It was one word, but at that moment Puck felt like his father could have spit on him and it wouldn't have been as humiliating. 

Puck's mother, ever the peace keeper, retrieved the coffee pot from its holder and refilled her husband's cup. 

“Thank you, Beth.”

"Let's at least ask him what he'd like to do, Hilliard." She said, sitting back down and looking to her son.

A raised brow was the only indication that his father was listening. 

Puck cleared his throat. "I was thinking of training as an engineer." 

Hilliard's mouth twitched.

"Or maybe as an environmental researcher."

His father scoffed. "Menial labor positions."

Puck bristled. "Menial labor positions that would do some good!" 

"Do some good?" Hilliard struck the table with his fist. Puck flinched. His mother continued to gaze dreamily at them, oblivious to the level of tension hanging over their heads. 

"Does the Council not do some good for this Nation, Puck? Does the Council not maintain the peace and order that was so precariously won after decades of anarchy?"

"It does, but..."

"Without the Council, you would not exist!" His father snapped. "Do you truly have the gall to think, after years of planning for you to one day take my seat, that you can simply decide not to do it?" 

Puck clenched his fists underneath the table. He could feel his blood drumming through his veins.

This was all wrong! This talk with his father wasn't supposed to be like this. Regardless of what Hilliard thought, he still could have listened before passing judgement. 

Puck sensed his parents' eyes on him as he struggled to stay composed. His clothes suddenly felt like they were shrinking, constricting against his skin. Suffocating him. 

Puck jerked at his shirt sleeves. He had to get out of the room. He needed air.

An ear-splitting buzzer sounded from the speakers built into the walls of their apartment. 

"How lovely! The grocery delivery is here." Beth smiled. "Puck, would you please answer the service door?"

Puck stared at her before slowly standing up from the table. 

The Citizen who regularly handled the deliveries for their floor greeted Puck politely. He handed him the large, plastic grocery container and took away the empty one from the week before. 

Puck gazed dazedly at the door long after it had closed behind the deliveryman. The constricting feeling was gone, but something had shifted in Puck's mind. He'd assumed, wrongly as it turned out, that his father would at least have heard him out. Now he knew, Hilliard wasn't even going to entertain the idea of his son pursuing any sort of career outside of the Council. 

There was only one option now.

"Puck?" His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway and he realized he was holding the groceries hostage. Carrying the box into the kitchen, he placed it on the counter for her.

"Here you are, Beth." 

She smiled again, her smiles always came easily. "Thank you. Hand me the invoice, please." 

Puck broke the seal on the lid and lifted out the included slip of yellow paper. Printed at the top of the page was the usual slogan: National Groceries: Certified Grown in a Controlled Environment. 

His mother took the paper and started sorting through the box. Puck trudged back into the dining room to find his father gone and a message waiting for him on his tablet. Hilliard must have sent it before he left for his office on one of the upper floors. 

Puck considered ignoring the message, regardless of what it said, but that wouldn’t go over very well either. Sighing, he tapped the screen and waited for the text to appear. 

Puck glared at the words his father had left behind, his shirt sleeves were quickly feeling too tight around his wrists again. 

- I know you will make the right decision, Puck. –

*****

Desi:

Desi stared out over the charred ruins at her feet. Her eyes stinging as hot, fat teardrops rolled down her face. One of her contacts slipped, forcing Desi to quickly shut her eyes against the glare of the sun. 

Scrubbing her eyelids roughly, she growled and kicked at the nearest lump of rubble, earning herself a bruised toe for the trouble. 

"I'm sorry, dearest." Her father placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'd hoped we would arrive before the military this time."

"It isn't fair!" Desi blinked rapidly, whisking the tears away. "They know we don't have the same methods of transport, it takes twice as long for us to get here."

"I know." 

"Artemis!" Edmund called from across the mangled stone street. "Can you take a look at something for me?" This was the gangly pre-teen’s first real excursion outside of the Village, his excitement nearly overshadowed Desi's irritation with the soldiers. But not quite. 

"I'll be back, could you please start taking the photos we'll need, Desdemona?"

"Sure." She shrugged. What was the point? The soldiers had already destroyed anything of archeological value. 

Reaching into her satchel, Desi pulled out a tablet and clicked the screen on, and nearly started crying again.

Her mother's serene face smiled at her from the device's screen saver. Cynthia had passed away only a month ago, and Desi had been avoiding looking at too many pictures of her.

Quickly swiping the photo away, Desi began snapping pictures of the smoldering building, or what was left of it. 

After a few shots, she scrolled back through them to make sure none were blurry, and deleted any duplicates. She continued around the city block where the building had once stood, taking photos and checking their quality.

She was standing in what would have been the center of the building, scrolling through the last batch of pictures, when something on the screen made her pause. The sunlight was reflecting off of an object wedged into a pile of rock and cement, creating a small flash in the corner of the photo. 

Desi circled around until she found the corresponding spot in the rubble. Lifting the tablet again, she snapped several pictures in a row, then checked to see if the reflection was in the same place as before.

Leaning so close her nose nearly touched the screen, she mumbled to herself. "It looked like it was right about...here!" 

She matched the photos up. The reflection wasn't moving, it was definitely trapped in the ruins.  

Stashing the tablet into her bag, Desi picked her way over to the debris in the northern corner of the site. Gently, she moved a few small chunks of concrete, taking care so the rest wouldn't cave in. 

Lifting another block away revealed a bronze base sticking back-end out of what, Desi had to assume, used to be part of a wall. Small holes drilled into the bottom suggested it was once bolted down, perhaps the very reason it had been left behind in the first place. 

The only problem now, the top of the metal object was trapped under a particularly hefty lump of wall. Desi gave it an experimental push. It didn't budge. 

Sitting back on her heels, Desi wiped away the sweat beading on her brow and tried to think. How to get the thing out without damaging it even more than it probably already was?

From either side of her came two sets of larger hands. Without a word, her father and cousin slowly lifted up on the heavy block. Concrete dust trickled out of the revealed crevice. 

Desi scrambled to her feet and reached in to grab the artifact before their strength gave out. She winced at the screech of metal on stone and gave the base one last tug, popping it free. 

Artemis and Edmund released the block, spraying all of them with dust when it crashed back down. 

Edmund sputtered, brushing the grey grit off his face. "What is it, Des?" 

Desi turned the object right-side-up. It stood around eight inches tall, the solid base making it pretty heavy for its size. 

"It's a star and crescent." She brushed the dull, slightly corroded metal with her sleeve. "It's a little banged up, but it's definitely a star and crescent." 

"An excellent find, Desdemona." Artemis shook a small cloud of concrete dust out of his braids. "We can add it to our collection at home."

"Really?" Desi grinned. She’d been accompanying her father to archeological sites for over three years, and this was her first true artifact find.

One of the other adults called out to them, they needed to leave if they were going to make it home before the afternoon heat wave swept through. 

Artemis helped Desi to her feet. She clutched the star and crescent to her chest as they followed the others back to the transport vehicle the government allowed them to use for expeditions. It would take them nearly an hour to get back to the Village.

Desi slumped down into her seat, grateful for the shade from the sun. 

Holding the statue in her lap, she traced the slightly bent points on the bronze star. Her father was right, it was a wonderful find considering that the site had already been decimated by the military, but there was always so much more she wanted to know.

Who had made the little statue? What was that person’s life like before the Quake happened? Did they have goals? Dreams? A family?

Did it even matter?

She was quickly realizing there were few Citizens in the Nation who even cared about the pre-Quake people the way the Intells did. They were a blunder, their ways inferior to the system that was now in place. How many people really wanted to learn about the human beings who’d had the Earth in all of its bounty and managed to squander it?  Not many.

Desi sighed. The vehicle lurched forward over the buckled road. She accepted that she’d never know anything about the person who made the little statue, but at least she could save something they left behind.

*****

TBC... 

© Courtney Carter, http://writingdeskblog.blogspot.com, 2018