The church

Rock was never able to explain to anyone why he walked into the church in the first place. The fact was he didn't know himself, but for whatever reason, he could not resist.
It was midafternoon and Rock drove north on U.S. 71 toward Fayetteville, Arkansas. As he drove through one of the many small towns along the way, his attention was drawn to an old, enormous church. It reminded him of the European cathedrals he toured as a child.
Rock's next memory was of a walk through a wide hallway in the church. He reached its end and turned left into another to see a pileup of crushed cars, pickups, and SUVs. Several were burning. It was clear the wreck had occurred within the last minute. Rock could see airbags deployed and bodies crushed inside each of the half-dozen vehicles. He called 911.
"I don't know what town I'm in, but it's about twenty miles south of Fayetteville," Rock said. "There are a lot of dead people here."
The Democrat-Gazette sports department was in what Rock assumed was once a classroom in the church. He joked about the tragedy he had just witnessed, but no one laughed. It was easy to see that his former boss Jeff Krupshaw disapproved.