Yrtl’s vision bloomed into whiteout, everything dissolving in a blizzard of fizzing, luminous pixels.

Light surrounded and permeated all, radiating from some distant source. An incredible sound – a billion angels, singing harmonics – flooded his senses. He felt blissful, euphoric release.

What’s happening? he asked.

Physically or metaphysically? Akin replied.

Uh – physically?

Massive release of endorphins. The brain’s response to imminent death.

And metaphysically?

How the hell should I know? Ask a priest.

Is this – Heaven?

No, but close. And this is where we say goodbye.

Huh?

I travel solo from here. See you on the other side.

The glorious vision faded; the dingy reality of Tony’s swam back into view. With a lurch, he found himself back in the booth, staring at a bill.

A waitress stood by. He gave her a questioning look.

“The lichuor ain’t free,” she said, brusquely. “And there’s a surcharge for the corpse.”

Yrtl noticed the Doc, slumped, opposite – very obviously dead.