Carlson; the work papers he brought home were excellent. She wondered what this apparently amazing woman had done to keep her son so focused.There were only a few cars on the parking lot, but not nearly as many as Stephanie expected. She looked at her watch and realized that she was twenty minutes early. Rather than wait in the car, she decided to go ahead into the school in the hope that she could get some time alone with Ben's teacher. As Stephanie entered the red brick building a flood of memories surrounded her, evoking those childhood days when the most important thing in her life was who she was going to play with at recess. How life had changed for her she thought as she looked at the poster boards on the walls with rules and regulations, pictures of kids, drawings and future events. She walked down the hallway, her heels clicking loudly on the floor, echoing from the painted cinderblock walls. The school seemed to be deserted. She wondered for a moment if she had misread the. Her right arm slid up to his throat and the left pulled at his eyes. He struggled for air and managed another stab at her right arm. Then he took a gulp of what he thought was air – it was sea water instead, and he coughed. He expelled the water he’d inhaled, but when he went to get more air, he got more sea water instead. He spluttered another few times and then was quiet.She found the bottom and clocked him with a handy rock. Not being sure of the “captain’s” status, Clara hurried to the shore, dripping blood from both arms. The man was down but still breathing. Not for long. Three blows to the head finished him off.Clara took one look at the fissile material and headed back to the ocean. She found the dead man still floating, and tore the shirt from him with her diving knife. Taking shelter on the side of the boat where the water was deeper, she stripped the wet suit down her arms, painfully, and she bound her wounded arms clumsily, with the dead man’s clothing. Then she dragged.
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