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Michael wrapped his raincoat tightly around his shoulders and resumed digging in the water-filled hole. He was tired and his arm muscles were burning. But he was angry and that was enough to sustain him a little longer. There was something down here, a prize that had yet to be claimed, and he meant to be the one to have it. He didn't even know what it was, but he knew it was important.
The metal tip of his shovel clanked dully off something solid in the bottom of the hole and he smiled despite himself. No one would make fun of him anymore. No one would disregard him. And no one would use him ever again.
Straining with his thin arms and slipping in the mud, he dredged up a heavy, metal strongbox. Panting with the effort, he managed to drag it up onto the edge of the hole. There was a thick, brass padlock on the front of the box, seized with mud.
He hit it with the shovel a few times, but it refused to give. Instead, he was forced to crack the latch. Kneeling greedily in the mud, he pushed the top portion open. What he found inside was less than he had expected.
Bones? THAT'S what everyone had been so worked up over? What a disappointment. He had been hoping to find some weapon of unimaginable power or riches beyond his wildest dreams. Instead, all he had was a pile of broken bones. Oh well, he thought, spilling the contents of the box into an empty backpack, at least it's something.