the migration ( once you 'd seen it that way it was hard to think of it as anything else ) thinned but did n't stop , even after half an hour ; three men would pass walking abreast - one in a bowling shirt , one in the remains of a suit , one with his lower face mostly obliterated in a cake of dried gore - and then two men and a woman walking in a half-assed conga line , then a middle-aged woman who looked like a librarian ( if you ignored one bare breast wagging in the wind , that was ) walking in tandem with a half-grown , gawky girl who might have been a library aide .