He stumbled backward so quickly he nearly slipped into the hole. His chest heaved, adrenaline spiking as he realized he’d spent ten years gardening, mowing, and walking above live explosives. The thought hollowed him out. How many summers had passed with danger inches beneath his feet?
The grenades looked ancient but intact, their curved casings dull with age yet ominously complete. Walter felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. This wasn’t forgotten junk or harmless debris. This was wartime material capable of devastation, lying in quiet hibernation beneath his yard.