#BookExtract – Hidden Graves by Jack Fredrickson

9780727886644The cracked, carefully reassembled cement fell apart precisely as planned, opening a ragged hole on the side of the silo. Clumps of damp, dark grain, the size of fists, began spilling onto the ground. The candidate stepped back to prevent his glossy wingtips getting mucky and eyed the tumbling rotted wheat morosely. Absolutely, it would be excellent video.

The forearm and hand materialized white in the black cascade of lumpy grain. The flesh, ligaments, and muscles were gone; they were now only disconnected beige bones, pressed together by the weight of the rotting wet wheat.

They clutched a small, shiny-headed hatchet, pointed straight at the candidate.

It was over in an instant. The wheat and the bones and the tiny axe broke apart, falling to the ground.

But that instant was enough for the television cameras. They caught the fleshless bones aiming the axe. Worse, they recorded what happened next.

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