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Page 291
along on the base until it toppled to one side, over and onto the mound of freshly dug dirt.
Suddenly Charlie was a man possessed. He grabbed the pick, gouging it into the soft earth near the partially recessed base. After three such efforts, it moved. Then with the same frantic zeal, he began scooping away the layers of earth under the base.
Within minutes they were standing at the edge of the grave, staring down at the partially revealed lid of his father's coffin. The air was suddenly heavy with the musty smell of things very old and a long time dead.
Charlie slumped to his knees, and his fingers groped along the side of the metal shell, looking for the release lever.
"My God, Charlie, you're not going to try to open that damn thing, are you?" Her question mirrored her repulsion at the idea.
His fingers found the triggering mechanism, and he pulled it out. There was a momentary hissing sound, and the nauseous smell of foul air permeated the darkness.
"Help me," he insisted.
But Peggy was unable to move. It was wrong. It was too terrible to watch, to even think about. She began to cry.
The lid yielded, and he struggled to pull it open. More dirt had to be cleared away. That accomplished, the cumbersome piece of steel

 
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