Free Wayward Soldiers by Joshua P. Simon Page B

faces, and gloves on their hands, Ira and three others threw a few more smoldering bodies into a push cart as we walked up to what once had been a funeral pyre almost twice as high. The three helping Ira were the only ones in the entire town comfortable to work on the grim task I had thought up. Oddly enough, all were once Jareb’s men. Despite the fact none seemed to hold their previous boss in high regard, Ira hadn’t been a fan of using them.
    I couldn’t blame him, but we lacked workers. Beggars can’t be choosey.
    I cupped a hand over my mouth from the smell. I saw Zadok getting sick and motioned him to stay back. He obeyed without protest and retreated to where the smell lessened and got comfortable. Apparently the curiosity of youth extended only so far.
    Two of the men moved off with one of the push carts. Ira and another, a short, squat man, lifted a body from the pyre toward the second cart. They only made it halfway as the short man lost his grip and one of the body’s arms came loose at the shoulder. The corpse hit the ground head first, snapping the neck and causing Ira to lose his hold.
    “By Prax, I told you to grab them under the arms, not by the arms,” said Ira.
    The squat man said nothing, and tried to pick up the remains. However, he tripped and kicked the body’s side. Steaming innards spilled out the cavity and onto the ground. A brand new wave of putrescence took to the air.
    Ira jumped back and swore. The other man took two giant steps away, lifted the cloth over his mouth, and heaved.
    “Bit of trouble?” I called.
    Ira wheeled. Only his eyes were visible with the cloth covering his mouth and nose. Still, I could read their displeasure. “You came over to finally do some work?”
    “I’ve been doing work.”
    “Yeah, I bet. Just so you know, I’m not going to forget this one.”
    “What do you mean? You liked the idea when I came up with it. Said it was the best thing I ever thought of.”
    “That’s before I knew you’d have me working on it. Guess I should have figured that would be the case though.”
    “How many of the bodies have you moved?” I asked.
    “Around twenty, I think.”
    “That’s more than enough to make my point.” I gestured to the body with the missing arm. “Throw that one back on the pile and re-light the pyre. Then get yourselves cleaned up and into position.”
    “How much of that oil you want us to use?” he asked.
    “All of it.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yes. It will add to what I’m going for.”
    Ira shook his head with what looked like admiration. “Man, Tyrus, I never seen this side of you before.”
    “It’s amazing what you’ll do when your back is against the wall and you’re trying to protect loved ones.”
    “True enough. You got time to see what we did?”
    “It’s why I’m here.”
    “All right, Efram,” he said, talking to the man wiping vomit from his face. “Enough of a rest. Pull yourself together and drag that body back on the pile. Then light her up.”
    “Got it,” said Efram with a wet belch.
    Ira led the way up the road where the other two men had stopped and unloaded their bodies. They sat the corpses on the ground and leaned them facing outward against either side of two pieces of broken siding someone had hammered into the ground.
    As we kept walking, the rest of the hellish scene I had in mind came to life. Bodies of the townspeople stood and sat either beside the road, or in the middle of it. Ira and his small crew had propped many of them up with wood, rope, pieces of iron or anything else they could find.
    Some held weapons tied in their hands while others boasted newly inflicted wounds caused by those weapons.
    I walked up the road to the first figure, farthest out from town. It was the body of a woman based on the length of her singed hair and the remains of her tattered clothes. She lay on her stomach with arms extended, hands in the dirt. It looked as though she was clawing herself away from Denu Creek. A