This is going to be a horrible story. Not in terms of quality, I hope! But it’s gonna be just all sorts of ‘bad stuff happening.’
Supposedly, it used to be a lot easier to burn witches. At least, that’s what Greg had read in training. You just set up a stake with plenty of kindling, tied the witch to it, and set everything on fire. Easy enough, right?
Not these days. These days there was a checklist, and Greg was halfway through his part of it. They had separate people for everything: prepping the witches, getting them situated on the stake, actually burning them, and cleanup duty. Cleanup duty was the worst part, too. Everybody had somebody looking over their shoulders, just in case, but the cleaners were supposed to keep an eye on everybody, including themselves. Plus, they had to wear a full MOPP suit, and everything. Greg thought that was overkill — he only had to wear paper coveralls and goggles — but federal regulations were federal regulations. Better safe than sorry.
His watcher today was Bernice, and she was new enough to still wince whenever Greg parted one of the witch’s tendons. “Sorry,” she muttered when Greg cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “I’m just not used to that sound yet.”