The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 6: Digging in the Dirt (Part 1 of 5)

The early morning was the quietest part of the day.  The air held a hint of coolness, and the sun was still low.  It would grow in height and intensity, taking on a jagged harshness as the day went on, but R.J. rarely experienced that anymore.

It was rare that he got much more than a glimpse of the sun.  He only saw it as it broke the horizon and scattered its rays across the city and the highway, while he was either driving to or from Aira Cosmetics.

Even though he only worked through the night on the week of the full moon, he was beginning to feel nocturnal.  The interior of the Music Box offered an artificial night with its perpetual lack of daylight, but R.J. didn't miss it.  The world had fallen into its own rhythm.  Time faded from thought.  Life became the LARS Project, with only token concessions for food and sleep to interrupt it.

The genetics findings and R.J.'s growing suspicions about Amy's family would have been enough to occupy him, but the anticipation of the next transformation cycle was at the forefront of his mind.  At the height of the next full moon, there was scheduled to be a lunar eclipse.  In three more weeks, they would get the chance to observe the creature during this rare phenomenon.  It was sheer luck that it was occurring so early into the study.  There wouldn't be another chance for two more years.

Studies had shown that an eclipse could directly affect the behavior of some animals.  Most recently, a 2010 paper had examined the changed behavior of a group of nocturnal owl monkeys over the course of three such events.  R.J. could only speculate how LARS would be affected by it; the species was so closely tied to the moon. The potential to gain valuable data was momentous.  They might just figure out how the link between biology and astronomy functioned.  The preparations for the big night consumed most of his waking thoughts.

Having finished the security scans, R.J. got into the Music Box elevator and let his mind drift, giving himself a breather from the planning and the lists running through his head.  Not quite meditation, the brief time of idle thoughts helped him start the day with a blank page and a fresh perspective.

A morning at the Gilchrist camp flowed back to him with an intensity that brought a tremble to the fingers gripping the handrail.

Mila was sitting in one of the folding chairs sipping coffee.  She gazed dreamily at the sun breaking over the mountains in the east.  Her black hair was tied in a sloppy ponytail, in a way that made her look like the young college girl he had first fallen in love with.

She waited until he had fully extricated himself from the tent and zipped it back shut to keep the bugs out, before saying, "Good morning."

"You're up early."  R.J. padded over to the propane stove and poured himself a cup of coffee from the tin urn.

"Couldn't sleep."  She held her mug up to him for a refill.

He poured out the last of the pot, looking more at her than the cup.  The rich, roasted aroma was intoxicating as it mixed with the scent of the pines and the mountain air.

He put the empty pot on the ground.  "Anxious to get started?"

"Of course."  Her hand reached out and stroked his forearm.  Fingers slid down it and loosely tangled with his hand.  She turned back to the dawn.  "Aren't you?"

"Of course."  He used the awkward grip to spin her towards him for a kiss. 

"We're close.  I know it.  The casts we got yesterday are just the beginning."  She spoke breathlessly out of excitement, not passion.  

The kiss she gave had only been dutiful, but it didn't stop R.J. from smiling.  He was just as eager to push forward with their discoveries.  There was still giddiness at the thought of the plaster castings they had taken the day before.  It was taking every bit of restraint to keep from running into the storage tent and looking at them – making sure they were real.  Making sure they were still there and not part of a dream.  They had one complete footprint and three partials.  The last time he saw them, they sat majestically on the work table.  Their pale white forms projected an image in the mind's eye of the great Sasquatch, who made them.