“Where am I?” she whispered.

She touched the soil beside her. That, too, had changed. The earth was looser than it had been when she arrived, as if it had just been dug up and shoveled back over a coffin.

“Mike,” she whispered.

It looked so very fresh.

She stood and began to back up. “No, Mike.”

Fresh as a body that had just been buried.

The brown soil on top of the plot began to stir.

“Stop it, Mike!” Jean cried.

Something poked up through the brown earth into the air