She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in.
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