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Other than Kit’s chanting and the sound of weeping, there was silence. No one knew what to say. No one seemed able to move beyond his or her shock. Then it happened—small, soft clumps of flurries began to float down from above, landing in their hair, on their shoulders, touching their skin with pinpoints of wet cold.
Bette opened her eyes. She was still holding LoriAnn to her. She lifted her face slightly, felt the delicate flakes against her eyes and lips. It was snowing, the beginning at least.
She released her hold on LoriAnn and took a step back. But she wouldn’t let her gaze fall on Doyle. She couldn’t bear the site of his vulnerable body exposed to the weather with its ripped out throat. But her mind was finally seeing the truth of what had happened. She could’ve screamed right then, too, but couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, she looked for Tina, found her holding her hand over her mouth, as tears streamed down her face while she knelt on her knees and stared in the direction of Doyle. When Tina moved her hand to wipe her eyes, Bette saw her swollen nose, red with smeared blood. She looked more pitiful than ever, Bette thought. Bruised and bleeding, scared and cold. She wanted to sweep her up into her arms right then and reassure her. But she doubted herself too much for that. Doubted even now that any of them were going to make it out alive.
“We need to cover him,” Tina said, breaking the silence. She looked up and made eye contact with Bette. “Give him his dignity.”
Bette nodded, turned her attention to Martin who was slumped on the ground, rocking himself as he covered his face with his hands. “You got any tarps left in your truck?”
He rocked to a halt and looked up at her. But instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Where are his clothes?”
Bette blinked, then blinked again as snowflakes tickled her eyelashes. “I don’t know, I don’t…” She let her voice trail off, brought her gaze to Tina’s once more. Her disheveled hair was coated now in a layer of snow flurries, and she was chewing on her bottom lip as she continued to look at Doyle’s body. Why was she studying it so? Why wasn’t she looking away in terror as the others were? Tina lifted her eyes, waiting it seemed for Bette to take action.