Graham turned again in the street when he knew they were gone. The air whirled by. Sheriff stood like a stone in the smoke, his back a silent brown cliff against the descending taillights. What was once a semblance of a normal town from times past now stood deserted and dead, like a joke of its recent existence. As if it were saying it never thrived at all.
It reminded Graham his children were gone…every last one of them. The silence…it was like life’s chosen reprisal for surviving the end. Immediately the quiet reminded him of punishment; despite the effort, it was the ultimate hell, the aloneness...
That was, until Sheriff turned around. Brown eyes, blinked as if he were saying, What now?
“Come on, boy. We’ve work to do. Those bastards are coming. And we need a sample or two.”