“Please,” Garraty said. “Try hard.” “Ga. Go. God. God’s garden—” “God’s garden,” Garraty repeated doubtfully. “What about God’s garden, Olson?” “It’s full. Of. Weeds,” Olson said sadly. His head bounced against his chest. “I.” Garraty said nothing. He could not. They were going up another hill now and he was panting again. Olson did not seem to be out of breath at all. “I don’t. Want. To die,” Olson finished.
