Vice:

It wasn’t just a smell; it was a force. With the first whiff, I thought, Camembert. But as the golf cart got closer, the smell became sweeter—noxiously sweet. You could call it the smell of death, but really it was the smell of what comes after: an obscene eruption of microbial life.

In the driver’s seat was Dr. Daniel Wescott, director of the Texas State Forensic Anthropology Centre.

He pointed to the corpse at our feet—one of the dozens of donor bodies exposed to the elements here in the forests and fields of Texas State University’s 26-acre decomposition research facility. Most of the local kids who tell ghost stories about the place just call it “the body farm.”

I had the opportunity to see the University of Tennessee’s version of this but chickened out.