The Runaway Bride

Part Three: The Hole

Dirt.

So. Much. Dirt.

Dirt and dirt and dirt and dirt.

"Come on, James!" whispered Diana, looking worriedly over her shoulder. "Just a few more scoops."

Huffing, face sweaty, James scooped another shovel's worth of dirt over his shoulder, the load joining the massive pile behind him. He and Diana had been digging for over an hour now and all of the muscles in his body were screaming at him to stop. James was not used to this kind of manual labor.

There had been weights at the prison, but he had found himself spending more time in the library than working out. He only joined in with the other men when he had to, to keep his social status among his prison mates. Quiet and peaceful, James had known what to say and how to act in order to get as much time to himself as possible. He now regretted not working out seriously more than once a week.

"How much," James started, taking another deep breath before continuing, "how much more do we have to dig?"

Diana huffed next to him, sweat dripping down her face, causing the dirt to clump up and streak along her forehead and cheeks. "Not much more. Just for a few more minutes."

Rolling his eyes James kept digging until Diana decided to stop. Wiping the sweat from his brow and creating his own dirt smears to match Diana's, he gave her a leg up out of the hole before climbing out himself. He sat down and stretched out his neck, his body relieved that the physical labor was over. At least for a few minutes.

Cold air whipped the back of his neck, creating goosebumps and a round of shivers that wracked his body. The graveyard was dark but for the stars shining brightly overhead, the only sound the wind flowing through the desert. He and Diana were the only living things in the graveyard, and James did not like that idea.

"Grab his feet," Diana called softly.

Turning around, James saw Diana bending over, ready to lift her dead fiancé's shoulders. Turquoise eyes staring at him, no fear anywhere to be found. Shaking his head, James moved to grab the man's ankles, confused as to how this woman could be so calm and collected burying two people she murdered in a nameless grave.

It's disrespectful, James thought, taking an ankle in each hand. And down right fucking crazy.

"On three," Diana said, bracing herself.

"One."

James took a deep breath.

"Two."

Not able to stand what he was doing, he closed his eyes.

"Three!"

Before he could back out he felt his arms move and his hands release the weight of the dead man. Eyes still closed it was only a second before he heard the loud thump of the body meeting the grave's dirt floor.

"One down, one to go."

The sensation of puking met James' stomach and mouth as he turned to the best man, but he forced the sensation of bile rising up his throat aside as he grabbed the next set of ankles. James was able to keep his eyes open this time as he helped toss the man into the hole. Standing over the grave, James knew there was no way he would get out of this a free man. Even if he made a deal to testify against Diana, he would never be able to afford a lawyer savvy enough to get him out of prison time. There was no way he was going back to prison. James would be taking this secret to his own grave, which he hoped was a long time away.