“No!” She was screaming, she knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as tears streamed down her face, a constant flow. The only constant in her life these days.
But Emilio Androvich is there, holding her back, his muscled arms wrapped around her waist.
They pack her mom into a body bag, all of them in hazard suits, her mom’s lifeless eyes glassy and her limp wrist flopping out before they grab it and shove it back inside.
They ran out of graves about two weeks ago. The bodies all go into a massive pit, one layered upon another, stacked systematically.
Moms, dads, daughters, sons, cousins, aunts, uncles, babies.
All thrown into a giant hole in the earth like they never had any relations, like they’d never held anyone when they cried, like they’d never had family, like they’d never been alive.
Well, now they weren’t.