7th Sigma Read Free Page B

cavity. That’s not the business end.”
    Ruth blinked. “I wasn’t talking about your fingers. You ever see someone die before?”
    â€œI did, yeah. My mom. Pneumonia. Saw bugs swarm a shepherd. Also a stabbing—a gang thing—back in the capital.”
    â€œAre you upset?”
    Kimble shrugged. “Not right now. I get nightmares sometimes.” He looked away. “What should we do with the body?”
    Bodies, actually. After another half hour, the bugs settled down and Ruth and Kimble scouted ahead, leaving the travois in the ditch. The other man was lying in the middle of the road. He’d bled so much, the blood had eroded a path across the road’s surface and into the ditch. Flies buzzed on the blood-soaked ground. Kimble counted five different bug holes in the man, including one in his forehead.
    â€œLook,” he pointed at a spot in the road a few yards away from the body.
    â€œThose bugs?”
    A dozen bugs clustered around a spot in the road. They were jostling each other as they all strove to reach something in the middle.
    â€œYeah. They’re eating the broken one. The bug these guys stepped on.”
    â€œAnd started the swarm.”
    â€œAnd started the swarm.” Kimble rubbed his upper right arm through the cloth of his shirt.
    They covered the bodies using blankets from the men’s own packs, which they had flung aside in the initial panic. According to Ruth’s map, there was another village just two miles ahead. “We’ll report it there,” she said.
    It was only a few houses clustered around a store and some surrounding farms. “You could’ve just buried them,” said the storekeeper, examining the Oklahoma driver’s licenses Ruth had brought from the bodies. “Driver’s licenses. Ha! What they gonna drive?”
    â€œWhat about their families? Won’t they want the bodies?”
    The storekeeper eyed Ruth. “New to the territory?”
    Ruth nodded once. “Six weeks.”
    â€œWe don’t got no refrigeration. In winter you could get away with hauling bodies all the way to the border, but this time of the year you just want to get them into the ground as soon as possible.”
    He took Ruth’s name and direction and said, “We’ll get someone out there with a spade. You say they had stuff?”
    â€œBackpacks. I put them in the bushes near where they lay.”
    The storekeeper brightened. “Good thought to hide them. It might be worth someone’s while to go out and give them a Christian burial.”
    â€œOh,” said Kimble. “Is that what a Christian burial is? One with a profit?”
    The storekeeper gave Kimble a dark look. “This isn’t some vacation destination. They can’t come into the territory without seeing that film. They had to sign the release before they were allowed in.” He looked at Ruth. “They’re still doing that, right?”
    Ruth nodded. “Yes. At Needles, at least.”
    Kimble started to open his mouth again, but Ruth grabbed him by the collar and said good-bye.
    Outside she said, “Why are you giving him such a hard time? Don’t you want those bodies buried?”
    Kimble ducked his head. “Sorry. It was that Christian thing. What about ‘Christian duty’? They would preach something awful at the shelters. Some of them really meant it, but some of them would spout scripture then prey on the homeless girls. Let us ‘prey,’” he said, holding his hands like claws.
    She nodded. “I can see that. I don’t care what people believe, myself. I care how they behave. Sometimes their beliefs are part of that, right? Let’s make tracks.”
    *   *   *
    THAT night they camped on the Rio Puerco, where the road crossed the river and merged with the River Road. A store and an inn were tucked above the bosque. Ruth talked to the clerk at the inn but