the smuggler’s bible


Gently drops her shovel on the heap of dirt and clambers into the hole.

“Okay,” she says. “Phase two.”

Capucine passes her a prybar and she begins pulling boards.

“How many bones you think we’ll get?”

“Stop.” Gently stares up at her partner, silhouetted in the glare of the car’s headlights. “Seriously. How can you not know that?”

“A lot, huh?”

“It’s always the same.”


“No, every time. It’s a person in a box.” Gently reaches down, then wobbles a skeleton arm in the air. “We’ll get, like, 200 bones,” she says, “allowing for decapitations, dismemberments and disorganized morticians.”