Rapture Burgers Chapter Two

Perhaps he was dead after all, and death, for that compromised soul, was to walk alone, among bodies dreaming the peaceful dreams of the righteous, bone-deep aches in every joint, sharp pains everywhere else, wounds that never healed.

I could never stand the thought of knowing you were here because of me. It was, as he had previously surmised, mostly sand, but now he noticed some lumps of concrete or hardened mortar, a sprinkling of acorn shells left there by tunneling chipmunks, and a beer. He is utterly without conscience and is incapable of remorse.

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And they seemed suddenly multiplied, endless, a vast crowd stretching out beyond the house and beyond this century or any.