The sunlight bleeding into the end of the underpass was righteous in its intensity. It made Lyle think of those pamphlets he sometimes saw back in Wolf where some church or the next was trying to show what the passage leading toward Heaven would look like. For the man in his arms, that was probably a little ironic. Here the guy was taking the steps that would take him back to life instead of away from it. For now, at least. Come nightfall, only the gods could know what was going to take place.
“Put me down,” the man mumbled. “You can’t carry me through the city.”
Lyle ignored the command and kept walking. The faster they got into sunlight, the happier Lyle would be.
The man began to squirm. “You have to put me down. People will notice—”
“I couldn’t give a f**k what people will notice.
