The enormity of what had happened finally caught up to me, and I sank to the floor, sobbing loudly as I realized that my son was still dead.
It was a very quiet fifteen minutes. I sat there for several minutes trying to figure out what to do next, but my mind remained blank. What do you do when there’s nobody to report the apocalypse to?
You know that moment of silence right after the power goes out? And how it’s like the loudest silence ever? Or how when the power goes out in the middle of the night, you wake up, even though it’s quieter than it was when you went to sleep? How do we recognize that? What is it about that silence that makes us instantly alert and aware?
Concrete Desert by Jon Talton My rating: 4 of 5 stars David Mapstone is a former Maricopa County Sheriff’s Deputy, and now a former history professor.