"WAKE UP!" said a voice in George Kelso's head. He thought that was very strange; when he went to sleep he didn't think that he would ever again hear a voice or wake up. When he went to sleep he was dying.
"WAKE UP!" it said again insistently. It was something that Mother used to say to him, but it certainly didn't sound like Mother. It was an odd reverberating sort of voice that wasn't recognizably male or female, young or old. And now that he considered it he realized that it was really more a thought in his head than a voice; there didn't seem to be any sound involved.
"Am I dead?" he managed to mumble weakly.
"NO." The voice reverberated as if it was being produced by a multitude of speakers.
"Why not?" It wasn't fair! He had suffered through slow death by cancer for two years: the pain and weakness, the anger and bitterness, loneliness and despair. He lost all his hair, a third of his weight, control of most of his bodily functions, and almost all human dignity. Though a man of only twenty-seven years he had the body of a centurion. He could hardly move or eat or poop anymore, and now he found that he couldn't even competently die either! How fucked up was that?
"WE WANT YOU TO LIVE," explained the voice.
Absurd! Nobody wanted him to live anymore! Not even his parents or his girlfriend Julie, and certainly not himself. Everyone was tired and sick of his protracted act of dying and just wanted it to be over with already. Especially himself. He was physically and emotionally exhausted and simply wanted to sleep in peace forever. Was that too much to ask? "Who are you?" he questioned. Was it devils or angels? Is this how someone was introduced to hell or heaven or to that awkward in-between place?
"PURGATORY IS THE WORD YOU'RE SEARCHING FOR. NO, WE ARE YOUR NEW FRIENDS, NOT YOUR OLD GODS. OPEN YOUR EYES."
He was lying on his right side; with his head resting on his right shoulder and arm. When he opened his eyes he confirmed it was daylight complete with sunshine, which was something he hadn't expected to ever see again. He was exactly where he had left himself late last night; lying on the grassy leaf-covered ground in Central Park, New York City; far enough from the closest path to not be too easily seen, but near enough such that his dead body would surely be discovered fairly quickly. But he wasn't dead!
Unexpectedly, a thick layer of colorful leaves totally blanketed him from head to toe. That probably kept him comfy through the chilly fall night instead of dying of hypothermia like he was supposed to do! Now how had that happened?
Also unexpectedly, perhaps a yard from his face a foot-high ant-mound towered above grass level. On its slopes a dozen of the biggest ants he ever saw stood staring at him with tiny black eyes, with their antennae stirring about, tasting the air. They were dark brown in color with oversized mandibles that were probably capable of painful bites.
"WE DECIDED TO SAVE YOU. WE COULD HAVE EATEN ALL OF YOU EXCEPT YOUR HARD BONEY