Chapter 2: Progression
Beneath the swaying green canopy a creature stood. Tawny ears swiveling nervously, it gingerly steeped over the crunchy foliage. The tiny hoofed feet barely made an indent, as it tread over the forest floor.
The deer paused a moment, and lifted its nose to catch a far off scent. Today seemed like a perfectly customary day. Certain nothing had changed too drastically overnight. The ancient trees still stood, just as they had for the past few centuries. Guarding the woodland, and creating a living barrier between the shrinking forest and the vast concrete jungle.
Suddenly, a loud shrieking came, cutting into the serene atmosphere. With the flick of its tail, the deer turned and fled from the horrid noise; disappearing into the safety of the forest. The frightened animal never once noticed that it was being watched.
Dozens of feet away, a pair of binoculars lowered; its point of interest lost. The owner of the binoculars carefully placed them away into his back pocket. This forest was renowned for its large population of deer; however the time for nature watching had passed now that the saws had started up again. The screeching signaled the start of the third week of construction.
An old family had owned the land a long time ago; according to legend, the family's ancestors had herded deer and used the deer's antlers for medicinal needs; to heal the wounds of ninja. However, those were merely folktales passed down from generation to generation; time exaggerates the truth.
The family's kin had since moved from the country, and felt no need to keep the forested property. With such a high demand for new land, the family had certainly gotten a fair price. Developers quickly began to make plans for the woodland, followed quickly by builders, like himself.
Already, a portion of the woods had been clear-cut. The marked trees had been chopped down and mostly hulled away, but a few still needed to be cut to size. The sheer bulk of the trees spoke of how ancient they were, and he couldn't help but feel a little sorrow for their destruction, but it was all for the sake of progression.
Amongst the choirs to screeching joined the low coughing rumbles of diesel engines. The backhoes had started now as well. Slowly, they dug out the massive old stumps and network of roots. It was slow work; progression takes time, as a senior to the business he knew this all too well.
Deciding that he should busy himself with the blueprints, he trekked back towards the construction sight. Strolling away from the edge of the forest and onto the now baron side, he headed for the blue tent. This housed not only the higher-ranking workers while on break, but also kept the blueprints sheltered.
After mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, he began checking and rechecking measurements. And unknown amount of time passed, but suddenly he felt his attention being drawn away. His ears were picking up a peculiar noise. It sounded as though one of the backhoes was in reverse. The piercing siren blared over the din. This was unusual, the backhoes were meant to be digging, not backing up.
However, what was more worrisome still, as the screaming of machinery died out the voices of men grew to replace them. One by one, the loud squeals of the saws stopped until only the blaring siren was left, before being silenced as well.
"Mr. Watanabe! Mr. Watanabe!" At the sounds of his name, He turned around just in time to see the young worker fling himself through the tent's flap.
"What?" Mr. Wantanbe asked voice gruff.
"Sir, one of the backhoes has found…something." The young man stopped before him and fidgeted slightly.
This caused Mr. Watanabe to sigh in annoyance. All the men here knew the protocol. They never saw anything. If they happened to unearth "something", it was best to instantly forget it. It would only hinder the progression of their labor. The scientific psychos would be all over them if they knew about some of the "priceless" artifacts they tossed blindly over their shoulders.
"Sir, you really ought to have a look…" The seriousness of the young mans tone told Mr. Watanabe that an exception to the protocol had been made. Wearily, he nodded his head and allowed the young worker to lead him to the problem area.
Two backhoes were being used on this particular job, and Mr. Watanabe was being taken to the machine on the right. Only yesterday another problem been called to his attention, and it was at this very backhoe. The operator had complained of large boulders, saying that the arrangement of the large rocks must have been done by human hands. Nothing in nature could have caused a circular cylinder of rocks to form beneath the ground.
Personally, Mr. Watanabe had not investigated the site in question. He'd simply told the operator to keep digging. It was impossible to believe such a thing; this forest had been left relatively untouched for decades.
"It's just over here Sir." The young man muttered pointing to the backhoe.
A crowd had gathered around the cooling machine. Various workers circled the bucket. They looked to be peering inside of it. Each had a look of disgust painted across his face as they quickly took a peak at the bucket.
Mr. Watanabe watched their faces closely as he drew nearer. Some appeared to be gagging. One elder worker made a choking sound after his glimpse. Quickly he ran out of the circle and fell to his knees; the contents the man's stomach was soon being split on the ground. Shifting his eyes from the vomiting man, Mr. Watanabe found himself looking toward the head of the group instead.
The leader of them was the operator of the backhoe. He was the only man in the group who seemed to be enjoying himself. A smug smile was a pasted on the operator's lips. As Mr. Watanabe pushed his way forward through the loose crowd, the operator's triumphant smirk widened.
"For ten years I've been working for this company. And I sure as hell know when I see something wrong." The man pointed a calloused finger at the machine. "If this damn forest is so "untouched" then explain this!"
The crowd thinned and the bucket came into full view. Mr. Watanabe let out a gasp and quickly reached for his handkerchief in his breast pocket. He held the fabric over his nose in an attempt to stop his nausea for rising at the grotesque sight.
"Good god." He breathed, hand quivering.
It was impossible, inconceivable, and yet to Mr. Watanabe's horror, his eyes were not lying. Wedged between two rocks in the backhoe's bucket, was a severed human leg.
What had they uncovered?