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At first they thought they had accidentally hit a pioneer’s grave. They were extending the garbage dump — sorry, waste station — near the little cemetery at what had once been known as Mizpah, a community long since abandoned and largely forgotten, when the bulldozer operator saw what appeared to be roots rising up out of the soft sand of the hill high over Rebecca Lake. It was only when he jumped down to toss them away that he realized he had just grabbed someone’s fibula.
Hank felt herself breathing again, relaxed her hands on the wheel and gave a satisfied snort. ‘Camp Kontikitiki here I come.’ She imagined Frank showing the others the short, ‘I’ll miss you. I’ll write. Love Henrietta’ note left on the family message board, and realized with a gulp that ‘miss you’ was a complete exaggeration. She cranked the music as loud as it would go, opened the window and let the wind catch her hair. [Read more…]