He had done it. Enjoy. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. A lesson learned. 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. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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