III. The Burial
He lay in the street unmoving, mouth turned to ash. As the clouds built above him – far slower than they seemed a moment past – he cried. When the rain finally fell hours later and lightning rushed down to meet the earth, Gerard shook his head, snorting water, and slowly pushed himself up. Sitting with the storm washing across his body, matting his short hair to his head and soaking his clothes, legs slowly sinking into the mud, Gerard stared up through the doorway, his view of the bed – of her - mercifully obscured by the angle of his fall.
Oh Gods, oh Gods, what… Oh Gods, how here? What could have… Oh Gods, grant her peace… Bless her soul… Oh Gods… Broken thoughts and parts of prayers washed over his mind, too shattered yet for anything more. Oh Gods…
Gerard sat longer, staring, his thoughts slowly straightening as the thunder continued to pound the earth with its fury. Hours passed in the cloud-born dark – finally, as the storm broke and the light of the sharp sickle moon cut its way through a gap in the wandering clouds, the old man rose to his feet. In a haze, he strode back up the stair, into the house. Finding a shovel and another bedsheet, Gerard moved to the bed and wrapped the body – her body – as neatly as he could, then lifted it – her, her, his mind repeated endlessly – and carried the bundle from the house and down the crooked road to the back of town.
The old graveyard lay there. Barren of all but wet, glistening tombstones, ground hard even after the long storm, the bones of their ancestors lay beneath the earth here – from the first men and women who settled at the Forest's edge to Gerard's own father. Laying his burden down – realizing now what a fool he was to have taken her now, before the job was done – Gerard set to digging. He toiled for hours, his exhaustion worn away by his need.
At least I can do this right. At least I can do this right for you. Oh Gods, lost…
As golden light began to seep out from the horizon, Gerard climbed from the grave he had shaped. It was rough but deep, with more than enough space for the dead woman who lay on the ground beside it, wrapped head to toe in a mud-stained sheet. Letting the shovel fall to the ground, kneeling, hands shaking, the old man slowly withdrew the cover to look once more on her face – then quickly looked away and drew the bedsheet back over, the sight too painful. Gripping the body tightly – Why her, now? Why? – Gerard slid down into the grave and slowly lowered her to the ground. Tears running down his face, he pulled the sheet back one last time and kissed her – her, her! – on the lips, once, the taste of her hardened blood filling his mouth. Then, letting the cover fall back over her face, he climbed out from the pit and picked up the shovel.
With steady, mechanical strokes, Gerard filled the grave. As the sun rose up into the sky and danced along its path, he let himself fall atop the mound of earth he had created and darkness swallowed his senses.