“Let’s deal with this one first!”

The men stretched their necks and cracked their knuckles for what was next. One held a rope, his fingers stroking the fibers that had been twisted together. His hands were at the ready, and at the first signal the rope would be tied into a noose, tied around a neck, and tied around the base of a tree.

“What’ll we do with this one? Take him back?”

“Not yet, I say we should do what we like.”

They soon would perform what’d been done hundreds of times. Thousands. The ritual this country perfected. They would take this body apart, limb from limb, each of them marking their own pieces to keep.

Twenty-five cents for a fragment of bone. Ten cents for the bit of liver. How much for the heart? How much? they would cry, their greedy hands grabbing, each of them wanting their choice. They would touch and fondle the flesh as it was bartered and sold. They would yank the teeth from the jaw, laughing at the crack of bones. They would take. They wanted to devour. They wanted to consume. When they were done, they would set what remained on fire.

No need to count the ways a body had fallen, how many contorted expressions appeared on the face of a body whose soul had passed. No need to count the number of crows that circled a burning carcass after the flames had smoldered, ready to peck on what these men had left. No need to count because Mira knew, the number haunting her bones like it did so many, like it did all who’d lived on.

Somewhere was a bridge where bodies were hung. Somewhere a tree, its branches twisted in the form of an ache. Somewhere grass grew from land soiled with death. Somewhere was a house built from blood, its prominent columns once a sign of wealth, of prominence, now become an altar. Oh, how beautiful. Oh, how lovely.

Somewhere were other men just like these.

A rumbling came that none of the men recognized. Slack-jawed, their bodies frozen, they stared out toward the darkness ahead, leaning to see the shadows stir. Beyond the trees something lurked for them, whispered just for them.

“What are you waiting for? Quit pussyfooting around. Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait—did you hear that?”

“Do you see something? Something’s moving in the woods.”