I had watched enough survival shows to know that the priorities in a "survival situation" were water, shelter, and food, in that order. Shelter, thankfully, was covered already. Bless whoever or whatever had stranded me here, since it had at least brought along a roof and walls for me. I had some water, but it wouldn't last forever, so that had to be the first order of business.
Oh shit, I also have to handle the gnoll's body. I don't want to deal with the smell of decomposing flesh, or with anything that might come along to try to eat it. So water first, dig a grave second, and then a source of food.
The shed had several five gallon buckets inside, so storing a few days worth of drinking water wouldn't be an issue, if I could find a source for it. The South side of the shed had a rain gutter and downspout attached, but the gutter was terribly clogged. I supposed cleaning that out and putting a bucket at the bottom was a good place to start.
I grabbed the ladder off of its hook inside the shed, then carried it around to lean it against the gutter. It only took two steps up to be able to see into the gutter, and the mess within. Ugh. I stepped back down and went inside for the work gloves laying on the table. Come to think of it, I probably should have worn these while dragging the gnoll's body. Well, no use crying over spilled milk.
Back up the ladder, it only took a few minutes to toss the leaves, sticks, and tiny oak saplings that had sprouted from acorns out of just eight feet of gutter. Why hadn't I done this before? It wasn't even hard. I guess I had just never seen it as a priority when it wasn’t a potential tool for keeping myself alive. I shifted the ladder over to the end with the downspout and peered into it. I couldn't see much, but it looked like light was coming in from the bottom end, so it was likely clear enough to let water through.
Hopping down from the ladder, I considered the cleanliness of water running off an asphalt roof into a gutter that until just now had been filled with decomposing plant matter. There was the option of using some of the water I already had to at least rinse out the gutter, but I felt like I would regret it in a few days if this area didn't see a lot of rain. I decided to let the rain rinse it out, if it ever came, and to place the bucket under the downspout after that.
Well shit, the downspout is actually too close to the ground to be able to direct it into a bucket. Should I cut the downspout? I had a hacksaw in the tool cabinet, but only so many blades for it. I could maybe detach the whole downspout and place the bucket under the hole, hoping it would stream down well enough to effectively catch the rain. Oh wait! Even better, I could suspend a rope down through the open hole and into the bucket, and water would run down the rope without the risk of splashing everywhere. People do something just like this all the time with “rain chains”, and it should work really well here too.
The brackets attaching the downspout to the shed were held in place with screws that would fit a socket as well as had a groove for a flathead screwdriver. I went to the tool cabinet for the socket set, I figured it would be easier than keeping a flathead inside the groove. Two minutes and six screws later, the downspout was on the ground. I went back inside for a (relatively) clean bucket and coil of 3/8 inch sisal rope.
Even though the coil had been in the shed for at least a year, the rope was new, in the sense that I had never cut off the ties and used any of it yet, so it should last a long while.
How long do I need to cut this rope? Guess I have to go back in for a measuring tape. While I'm at it, I may as well just grab the whole tool belt so I don't have to keep going in and out. I always do this, not realizing that I need a bunch of different tools with me until I'm halfway through the job. Oh well.
I went back in and buckled on my tool belt, which had a tape measure clipped to it, as well as a claw head hammer in one hammer loop, a hatchet in the other, safety glasses, pliers, and a few other things in the pockets. Handily equipped, I stepped back out for what I hoped was the last time for a while to measure the height of the rain gutter.
It's 78 inches from the gutter to the ground. The bucket will be sitting directly on the ground, so the rope doesn't need to be quite that long, does it? I don't want it coiled in the bottom getting mildewy. I'm thinking since the bucket is...14 inches deep, I can have the end of the rope 8 inches from the bottom, which means only 70 inches of rope. Oh wait, how am I going to attach this to the gutter? It wouldn't be a good idea to screw it in, that would just make it leak. I guess gluing it down with caulk would work, but I feel like being in the sun would make that break down really quickly. I think the easiest thing would be to just tie it through the downspout hole, around the side. So I'll need at least that eight inches back, with a couple more to be safe. 80 inches sounds right. It might hang farther down into the bucket, but it should be fine. I can always cut more off.
I laid a length of the rope down along the ground and measured out 80 inches, cutting it with my pocket knife. I tied a clove hitch knot through the hole in the gutter, and let the other end fall into the bucket. It was suspended about three inches above the bottom, so not exactly as I had hoped, but definitely within the realm of "good enough".
Okay, that's one potential source of water set up. But considering how clear the sky is, this won't be a viable source in the immediate future. Does that mean I need to go exploring? Oy, that's a terrifying thought. I have no idea what else is out there! More gnolls, or other, more fierce monsters? Bandits, pretty likely, if this is as much of a fantasy setting as the gnoll makes it seem. But I can't stay here forever, I definitely need water and food--I have absolutely nothing to eat in the shed.
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On cue, my stomach growled. It looked like food would be a necessity sooner rather than later, due to the gastric evacuation after seeing the gnoll's...I decided not to finish the thought.
That settles it, I guess. I'll look through the shed for what I might need to bring with me.
Stepping back through the door, I blinked to get my eyes to adjust to the shadows outside the rectangle of sunlight through the door. I would definitely need the machete, which was now laying on the floor near the water jugs, right where I had dropped it after extracting it from the gnoll's cranium. The rest of the rope, 50 feet minus 80 inches, would probably be handy. I uncoiled it and rewrapped it in loops of arm's length, to drape it over my shoulder, across my chest. The rest of the tools in the tool belt would be handy, too, so I left it around my waist. Then, my eyes landed on the shovels leaning against the wall, reminding me about the gnoll's corpse.
Crap, I still have to do that. I think that'll take priority over the search for water or food for the moment, since I do have a little here already. Of course that means I need to set all of this aside again and pick it back up later. Why am I like this?
Leaving the rhetorical self-interrogation aside, I unbuckled the tool belt and laid it on the table along with the rope, then picked up the spade shovel.
Time to do this. Here goes nothing.
Walking over to where I had left the gnoll's body, I found that it had already attracted flies. Wonderful. I took a few more steps and started cutting though the grass in a rough rectangle shape a little longer and wider than the body in the grass, before beginning to dig in earnest.
It wasn't long before I started to sweat. Manual digging isn't easy under the best of circumstances, and doing it in direct sunlight, at midday, while under stresses I had never imagined didn't make it any better. I had worn a long sleeved shirt and jeans with my work boots for some UV protection, with a tank top underneath. I completely unbuttoned the shirt, which allowed the breeze to roll under the fabric, bringing immediate relief.
I've always heard to dig a hole six feet deep if you wanted to make sure you couldn't smell the decomposition, and to keep animals from digging up the body, but holy crap! I'm maybe a foot down and this is torture! It's not even like the dirt is hard clay or whatever, but there are plenty of rocks and that makes it hard to drive the point down. Maybe four feet will be okay? Ugh, let's see how I feel when I get that far. If I get that far.
-
According to my phone, now at 59 percent battery, it was 1:32 PM, and I had dug approximately three feet down. The sides of the hole showed the strata of the grass roots, a layer of densely rocky soil that had sifted up over time, then more evenly-distributed semi-rocky soil after about the two foot mark. The actual digging was getting slightly easier, but of course I was getting more tired, so the work didn't progress any faster.
Alright. Alright. I need a break. Is it just me, or do movies make it look like you can dig a grave in an hour? But I for sure need water, and I wish I had something to eat. But I guess taking a breather and hydrating will have to be enough. This guy isn't going anywhere, at least.
With the sun shining down, I walked past the gnoll's lifeless form, up the ramp, and into the shade of the shed. I inverted another bucket into a seat, and plopped down to catch my breath. As I waited for my body to cool and regain some energy, my eyes wandered across the field, and my mind to my late wife.
Well, at least Patricia isn't around to be worried about me disappearing. She'd be smart enough to realize that the shed was gone, too, so I hadn't just up and left her. Now the house will just be empty until the money in the bank runs out and stops paying utilities and taxes. That'll definitely take a few years. Oh but my family and Patricia's will worry about me way before then since they won’t be able to reach me. Though they don't reach out all that often, so it may be a month or three before they potentially have the police check on me. I know Nana and Papa will be beside themselves, and my brother will definitely call in favors from his Army and work buddies to try and find me. In the best case, I can wish that their memories of me are gone along with me and this stupid shed, so they don't have to grieve for me.
I was in fairly good shape, so it took less than thirty minutes to recover some stamina after a little water and rest. I grabbed the water jug to bring with me, huffed my way onto my feet, and stalked back over to the shovel sticking out of the excavation pile.
It took me about an hour and a half to dig half of the hole. Assuming I'll slow down further as I build up fatigue, I'm guessing another two, two and a half hours to reach six feet? At least I feel like I can make it past my original plan of four feet. And the gloves are working well to prevent blisters, though I do feel some tender spots, and I'll definitely be sore in my core and back tomorrow. Well, I don't want to waste any more time--let's do this.
I hopped down, hefted the shovel, planted the point in the dirt, and placed my foot on the step of the blade again.
-
Some three hours later, I straightened my aching back to find grass roots at eye level, and the sun no longer visible over the rectangular wall of grass.
Freaking good enough. If any smell gets out or critters get in after I bury the gnoll down here, they deserve it. I guess being exactly average height has its perks. If this hole is as deep as I am tall, that means I'm only three inches shy of a six foot deep hole. That's good enough for me, considering I'm covered in dust, blisters, and sweat.
I placed my hands on the edge of the hole and hopped up while pushing down, to turn around and plant my butt at ground level, legs dangling into the hole. The grave, technically. Huh, both feet in the grave. Good thing I'm not superstitious. Leaving my legs dangling, I laid back on the grass, which felt like a mattress as tired as I was.
I hadn't made the decision consciously, but the grave was oriented North to South. I guess I wanted this to be an orderly affair, somewhere in the back of my mind. As I lay there, the shadows of the grass from the West flickered in the breeze, and I closed my eyes against the bright blue sky.