Now? I said. What better time? the sergeant said. His cheeks were spiked with blond whiskers, his uniform sun-faded and stiff with salt, white light radiating from a hole in his chest. I have a daughter who needs me. We all get to the same place. She’ll be joining us one day as well. You wouldn’t talk like that if you had a daughter. I had a son, though. The blue-belly who put a ball through my heart didn’t care about him or me. If God had a daughter, I bet He wouldn’t have let her die on a cross. Then perhaps you belong among the quick. Right you are, sir. Top of the evening to you.
