Book of the Blind - Part XVII

“I guess it did, didn’t it?” Clay said. “Cults. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I bet if we’re real nice, the ME will fingerprint the stiff for us and we can have the print bureau see if there are any matches on record.”

“Huh,” Clay said. He rubbed at his nose.

“You'll get the hang of it,” Gibson said, laying a hand on Clay's shoulder. “You know, eventually.”