An elderly couple lay on top of the blankets. The woman’s legs were black with gangrene, but her eyes had been closed and her hands placed across her chest. A pillow lay beside her head. Her husband—Sadie assumed it was her husband—lay next to her, the top of his head missing, a sticky brown stain on the wall behind him. His right hand hung limp over the side of the bed, one of the old man’s fingers still caught in the trigger guard of a sawed-off shotgun. “Well,” Sadie said. “At least I won’t have to sleep in a tree tonight.”
