THE VOICE WAS SWEET and pure, ringing like a crystal goblet, unsullied by the rain and the dark and a friend’s violent death.
Amazing grace, how sweet the soundThat saved a wretch like me
The digging was accomplished with a short-hafted trenching tool they found in the back of the buggy. After going a couple of feet down, Ryan and J.B. were for stopping, but Finn took the shovel, wordlessly continuing in a frenzy of action; mud and clods flew to either side as he bent to the task; he paused only when the grave was a full five feet deep, the sides slick with the rain.
“Now” was the first word he said.
With a touching dignity, the fat man lifted his friend’s body and laid it out straight on the short, cropped grass. He took some rags from the buggy and wiped Hennings clean, then closed the eyes firmly. Folding the arms across the chest, Finn placed the HK54A submachine gun in the cold graying hands.
“Gimme help with a piece of that tarpaulin, Ryan,” said Finn,
Together they cut a piece off, struggling to keep it as straight as possible. While Finn steadied the corpse, Ryan wrapped the stiff cloth around it like a shroud.
“Keep him for a’whiles,” muttered Finn. “Way from the fuckers.”
As Finnegan gently put the body into the grave, Lori ‘began to sing.
“I once was lost; but now am found”
All of them stood around. J.B. had looked at Ryan meaningfully when Finn took the dead man’s blaster and wrapped it with him, ready for the grave. Standing orders from the Trader had always been that a dead man’s possessions, especially weapons, should be shared among the survivors. Ryan shook his head at the Armorer. Times had changed. They all had blasters. There was no point in burdening themselves with another.
Besides, he figured that Finnegan would have tried to chill anyone who aimed to stop him.
” was blind, but now I see”
Doc mouthed the words along with the girl. But none of the others had ever heard the tune before.
The rain came in gray sheets, dripping from the ghostly veils of Spanish moss. Small pools of water glistened in the folds of the canvas shroud, reflecting the somber sky. The wind had fallen to a gentle breeze. With full darkness still an hour or more away, Ryan was becoming concerned that they might be vulnerable to a sneak ambush from the locals.
“Want to say a few words, Finn?” he asked.
“I don’t fucking know any words. Someone else best do it.” He looked around the circle.
Ryan did it, knowing it was his job. It wasn’t for anyone else, once Finn had refused. That was the way of it. First the closest comrade, then the leader.
That was the way.
“This is Hennings, on his last ride. Hennings I don’t even know his other nameFinn?”
“Arnold,” muttered the fat man.
“Arnold? You certain?”
“Yeah.”
Ryan wiped a bead of rain from his nose. More water had run behind the patch on his left eye, and he lifted it, allowing the cold liquid to trickle down the unshaven cheek.
“Henn was a good blaster. Never run from you. Always stand at your shoulder in a firefight. There aren’t many men you can say you trusted with your life. Henn was one of them. Now he’s gone and we’ll all miss him. Times we’ll talk of him, around a good fire.” He stopped, looking at the others. “That’s all I got. Anyone else?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah. Just ride easy, Henn. I’ll see you over the next hill.”
The slopping chunks of wet earth fell on the tarpaulin with a flat, final sound. Each of them took a turn, with Finnegan snatching the shovel and filling in the rest of the dirt and flattening it as best he could.
“We got a marker?” he asked. “Can’t just walk away from Henn and fucking leave him here like a dog.”
“It’s best, Finn.”
“How come, Ryan?”
“Put a marker, and they’ll find it. Dig him up. Dodo fireblast knows what to him. That’s not right. Few days, and the grass’ll cover him snug and safe.”