around him in awe. He went closer now and squatted beside Kwen. The bloodstain on her back was about the size of a bowl, and it amazed Bashi that such a little wound could finish a life. The woman's face was half-hidden in the snow, impossible for one to make out her features. Bashi touched her scalp; it was cold, but the hair, soft and thin, felt strangely alive.
“Let's get down to work,” Kwen said. He cut the bonds with a knife, but the woman's arms stayed where they were behind her back. Kwen shrugged. He took out a used towel from his coat pocket, wrapped it around the woman's head twice, and tied it with a knot on the back of her head.
“What's that for?” Bashi asked.
“So we don't have to see her eyes.”
“Why?”
“That's where her ghost looks out, to see anybody responsible for her death. Once the ghost sees you, she'll never let you go,” Kwen said. “Especially a young female ghost. It'll come and suck you dry.”
“Superstition,” Bashi said. “I would rather have someone to suck me dry.”
Kwen snorted a half laugh. “I've eaten more grains of salt than you've eaten rice. It's up to you whether you believe me, but don't cry for help when you need me.”
“What are you afraid of? We're only helping her,” Bashi said. He pointed to the middle part of the body. “What's that? Did she get another shot there?”
The two men came closer to examine the body's lower back, where the uniform had been soaked in blood that already was dry and dark brown. Unable to lift the clothes by layers, Kwen tore hard at the fabric and tried to separate the clothes from the body.
“Be careful,” Bashi said.
“Of what? She won't feel a thing now.”
Bashi did not reply. When Kwen ripped the clothes off the body, they both looked at the exposed middle part of the woman, the bloody and gaping flesh opening like a mouth with an eerie smile. Bashi felt warm liquid rise in his throat and threw up by a bush. He grabbed a handful of snow and wiped his face, its coldness refreshing, reassuring.
“Not pretty, huh?” Kwen muttered. He had already put the body into two burlap sacks, and was working to bind the two sacks together with ropes.
“What did they do to her?” Bashi said.
“They probably took something from her before they shot her.”
“Something?”
“Organs. Kidneys maybe. Or other parts maybe. Old stories.”
“What are they for?”
“Haven't you heard of transplants?” Kwen said.
“No.”
“I thought you had some education,” Kwen said. “Who knows who has her body parts now? Sometimes it's not even for a transplant, but the doctors need to practice so that their skills remain sharp.”
“How do you know?”
“If you live to my age, there's nothing you don't know,” Kwen said.
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-six.”
“But I bet there's one thing you don't know,” Bashi said. With the body secured in the sacks, he felt safe and in good humor again.
“That is?”
Bashi walked closer and whispered to Kwen: “Women.”
“How do you know I don't know women?” Kwen said, looking at Bashi with half a grin.
“You're an old bachelor, aren't you?”
“There are so many ways to know women,” Kwen said. “Marrying one is the worst among them.”
“Why?”
“Because you only get to know one woman.”
“Do you know a lot of women?”
“In a way, yes.”
“What way?”
Kwen smiled. “I heard people in town talking about you as a fool. You are too curious to be a fool.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are a man with a brain, and you have to use it.”
Bashi was confused. Other than his grandmother, he had never been close to a female. “Can you show me the way?” he asked.
