She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. "That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet.
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