Up ahead, just off to the side of the road, were two elephants. At first I thought they were just standing there, but as I got closer I could see they were working. Each had a man riding him—they called them mahouts, I knew—and on the ground were half a dozen other men. There was another bus on its side. They’d attached chains, and now the elephants were pulling, trying to get the bus onto its wheels. I stood well back, fascinated, and watched as they pulled it along, the mahouts yelling as the bus slid, the metal of the bus grinding, shrieking against the pavement. They got it to start to rock upright but then it fell back down with a crash. They kept pulling it along, the elephants backing up until first they left the road and then, at last, the bus was dragged clear as well.

Along this section of the road, the resort area, there was much more activity. Besides the elephants and the work crews trying to clear the road there were other people at work at the hotels. I could hear hammering and the sound of saws being used and I could see men working, clearing away debris but also trying to repair damage. I knew how important the tourism industry was to Thailand and how they needed the hotels to work again to get the tourists back. Strange, right now they were trying to get them all away to safety, but soon they’d want them to return.

Then I heard some men yelling—they’d been working beside the road cleaning and clearing, and one of them ran off. I was drawn over to see what was wrong.

That’s when I saw my first body.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The body was twisted and its upper half was completely encased in sand. The legs were mud-stained, the feet were bare. I decided it was a man; he was wearing shorts. He was probably Thai because he wasn’t very big, almost like a boy…about the size of my brother.

One of the men came running back to the body. In his hands was a large pink tarp, made of the same kind of canvas used for kites or banners or tents. He laid it down on the ground and another two men started to dig, using shovels to try to free the body.

I stood there, stunned, watching. Part of me had the urge to run away. Another part wanted to yell out to them, tell them to be careful with the shovels, maybe even help dig with my hands. I tried to think. My brother wouldn’t have been barefoot. He would have been wearing a pair of flip-flops, so that couldn’t be—right, like the tsunami couldn’t have taken those off his feet. Next I focused on the shorts. Was there a pattern beneath the caked-on, sandy mud? I moved closer, trying to see, but I couldn’t be sure of anything.