Gordo planted the spade in the soft dirt and rested his foot on it. Lightly gripping the top of the handle, he slumped slightly. The dry ash of the old shovel had split at the grain from years in the sun; he rubbed it against his sore, calloused palms for relief.

Squinting against the hot late-day sun, Gordo looked back toward the house. He imagined screams echoing from its depths and smiled.

He shouldered the shovel and headed back.