DAY SIX
It ’ s late morning. The early mist has long since burnt away and the sky above the bungalow is a clear, faultless blue now. Although not particularly warm, the sun bears down uninterrupted. It ’ s a glorious day. Picture a post-apocalyptic future where the dead outnumber the living by thousands to one, and you ’ d never have pictured a day like today.
Keith ’ s started another fire now, but this one ’ s outside. He spent a little time earlier piling up all the body parts he scattered yesterday, and he soaked them in fuel he found in the tank of a lawnmower that ’ ll probably never get used again. He ’ s sitting on a park bench a short distance from the bungalow, staring into the flames and watching flesh, bone and clothing being steadily reduced to nothing. It ’ s funny , he thi
