[ Rincewind walks next to him. The sight hits him like a brick-laden sock. His breath catches in his throat. ]

... Er ... I- I don't know how to put this without sounding like an emotionally blunted lunatic, but ... are ... are the dead people really in front of us or is it still the , er, past? If it's the latter, I think it's just gone an done some bruising.

[ He stares. Past or not, he felt Death brush past. It was a sobering view. ]

If it's the former, I'd very much like to run.