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When Billy drags out the other person from under the pool table there is no resistance. It feels like dragging the hessian bag he used to keep his shearing tools in, back in the old days in Queensland. He dusts the body down as best he can. Feels for a pulse. He's not sure.

Lifts back an eyelid. Shines his torch on the eye. Dark. It stares past him at the roof of the verandah. Grey dust settles on the eyeball.

He pats away at the dust on the body. It's a woman. Fuzzy hair. Probably Papuan. A cotton dress with butterfly pattern. 

 

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