’ Gerald capitulated. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. Mr. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad.
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