Test Review 12/8/22

​Passage 1: “Blood Meridian” by Cormac McCarthy He awoke in the nave of a ruinous church, blinking up at the vaulted ceiling and the tall swagged walls with their faded frescoes. The floor of the church was deep in dried guano and the droppings of cattle and sheep. Pigeons flapped through the piers of dusty light and three buzzards bobbled about on the picked bone carcass of some dead animal dead in the chancel. His head was in torment and his tongue swollen with thirst. He sat up and looked around him. He’d put the bottle under his saddle and he found it and held it up and shook it and drew the cork and drank. He sat with his eyes closed, the sweat beaded on his forehead. Then he opened his eyes and drank again. The buzzards stepped down one by one and trotted off into the sacristy, After a while he rose and went out to look for the mule. It was nowhere in sight. The mission occupied eight or ten acres of enclosed land, a barren purlieu that held a few goats and burros. In the mud walls of the enclosure were cribs inhabited by families of squatters and a few cookfires smoked thinly in the sun. He walked around the side of the church and entered the sacristy. Buzzards shuffled off through the chaff and plaster like enormous yard fowl. The domed vaults overhead were clotted a dark furred mass that shifted and breathed and chittered. In the room was a wooden table with a few clay pots and along the back wall lay the remains of several bodies, one a child. He went on through the sacristy into the church again and got his saddle. He drank the rest of the bottle and put the saddle on his shoulder and went out.