There’s no point in struggling to eke out the last few moments of consciousness; the process is unpleasant enough even when he’s relaxed. Already he can feel the chill taint in his flesh. He could stand in an Arctic blizzard and not feel cold, but he’s clammy now. Reaching up, he grasps the handle on the underside of the steel lid and slides it into place, the rim settling with a clunk into its airtight seal. That last sliver of light shows the outline of his hands, and then for a moment darkness is total before the interior lights flicker on – so faint that a cat would be blind, but he can see clearly enough. His fingers feel clumsy as he slides the interior bolts into place over his head. Then he lies back and relaxes his muscles. The earth beneath him smells rich and Amanda has seen to it that it’s been dug over well to make him a soft bed. It’s so quiet in here that he can hear the worms burrowing through the damp particles of soil. No other sound impinges on his hearing: not even the tick of his pulse.
What do You think about Red Grow The Roses (2012)?
