Her eyes fixed on the shovel, which was leaning up against the fireplace.
“She’s buried it!” she declared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Kate.
There was a loud blast as Trout fired his rifle just above her head. The window behind her shattered.
“Where’s it buried?” he demanded. “Go ahead and kill me, Trout,” said Kate.
“But I sure hope you like to dig. ’Cause you’re going to be digging for a long time.
It’s a big vast wasteland out there. You, and your children, and their children, can dig for the next hundred years and you’ll never find it.”
Linda grabbed Kate’s hair and jerked her head back. “Oh, we’re not going to kill you,” she said.
“But by the time we’re finished with you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
“I’ve been wishing I was dead for the last twenty years,” said Kate.
They dragged her out of bed and pushed her outside. She wore blue silk pajamas.
Her turquoise-studded black boots remained beside her bed. They loosely tied her legs together so she could walk, but she couldn’t run.
They made her walk barefoot on the hot ground. They wouldn’t let her stop walking.
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