The funeral for the lost man took place forty-eight hours later. A proper burial was impossible—they never brought remains back for fear of contamination, and, likewise, interred no one on the site—but Miles Maguire performed an excellent service from what Mason heard. Mostly the roar of blood in Mason’s ears drowned out the words.
All who were able—including the young and the newcomers—attended. Death wasn’t something anyone hid from any longer—except Mason. Worse: he remained numb. Antonio had once told him he was empathic but if that had ever been true it no longer was. No point in appreciating the emotion of others. No sense allowing death to matter. After muttering condolences to the widow, he moved to walk away, swallowing hard until the lump in his throat, which had risen the momen
