You could return to civilization and have a good time all the rest of your days. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. Understand me. ” She shook her head. 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. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form.
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