I thought I had hit the jackpot when I saw an advert for a driver for Eternal Rest, a funeral parlour in the next town. I didn't need to relocate, I could get there on my bicycle and soon I would have a car. I was dating a girl called Sammy at the time. The new job didn't bring us closer, in fact it had the opposite effect and during the next few weeks we grew further apart. She broke it off eventually and I was more relieved about the end of an obligation than I was saddened by the end of a relationship. It seems our lives are planned ahead of us, at a certain age you date, at a certain age you marry, at a certain age you retire. Any deviation from the norm and people begin ostracizing you. In my case, the divide between the world and I began early and lasted into my twenties. By then I had been tainted by many brushes. I was a closet serial killer, I was gay, I was a nerd. Nobody but my parents ever recognized the truth, which was that I was shy and incredibly so.
How did I get the nerve to date Sammy? Alcohol and the co-incidence of it being her first week in town and our new neighbor. My mom and dad were overjoyed and I think my mother was secretly planning our wedding. Sammy and I never did 'it', I was still a virgin at twenty-five. Definitely something wrong with me - right? Yet, when she dumped me, I was relieved, I had enough stress with the new job, as it turned out, I was required to do more than just drive. If they had told me that when I went in for the interview, I would have bolted, just as anybody else would have. I had never seen a dead body or been closer to one than throwing dirt on my grandmother's coffin. I certainly had no desire to be closer to a corpse than a tightly sealed coffin separating us.
I was a natural in the funeral business. I was by nature solemn and proper and respectful, but I stuck to doing the funeral bit only, being dead scared of corpses. Excuse the pun. I had been working for Eternal Rest for about six months when my boss had to pick up the body of an old lady who had died in her home. It was winter and the middle of flu season and half the staff were off sick. Ted needed someone to help him with the corpse and told me to come along. I didn't want to and tried to get out of it, but in the end it wasn't a request, it was an order and I faced my dread resignedly.
On the way he told me what to expect, but he also said that as much as I knew what to expect, nothing would prepare me for the real thing. He said vomiting on a client was considered disrespectful and I should check my exits before I looked for the entrance to the room. After that little chat I was ready to jump out of the hearse and run a hundred miles in the other direction. But the landing would probably make me a corpse, and with my own mortality in mind, I sucked it up and I braced.
We arrived at the house to be greeted by the grieving family and a lonely deputy who gave Ted the pathologist's copy of the death certificate. Thus we were free to move Muriel at the family's behest. Looking appropriately saddened Ted gently asked where Muriel could be located. In her bed? Fine, I was on my way. I was determined to get this over with without losing my breakfast. I was fooling everybody but myself (and possibly Ted). I was scared as shit. Gingerly I followed Ted into her room. He unfolded the body bag on to the stretcher and keeping my head down, I unzipped it. I was waiting for him to say something but he never did. I looked at him and I saw genuine concern for a dead stranger in his face. I slowly breathed in and then I looked over at Muriel.
She looked like she was sleeping. She really did look so peaceful that my first instinct was to be quiet so we didn't wake her. She looked like my grandmother. She was somebody's grandmother. I felt somehow compelled to protect her dignity. I don't think I need to go into detail about moving Muriel, getting her in the body bag or stretcher. Use your imagination, you're going to need it later. We arrived back at the funeral parlour about an hour later. Muriel was put into a drawer in the freezer with minimum fuss.
As I turned to leave Ted said, "You did well, son."
"Okay, if you say so Ted." I didn't think I did that well.
"You didn't faint and you didn't throw up. In this business that's doing well for a novice."
"What happens to Muriel now?" I asked before I became aware of the words escaping my mouth. I wanted to know and I didn't want to know at the same time. I swear this is where the English language gets 'morbid curiosity' from.
"The family will come in tomorrow, pick a casket, bring the deceased's clothes for her funeral and tell us when and where to pitch up with her."
"I see," said I, not fully understanding.
"If you want to help me with her tomorrow, you can. We're short staffed anyway. We're not embalming her, so we'll just wash her down, plug her holes and dress her in the casket."
"Plug holes." I said like an idiot.
"With cottonwool." Said Ted.
"Oh, that's fine." I had to swallow back the bile. I didn't want to plug any holes. Like the idiot I am, instead of a firm, 'no thank you', I had instead said something that could have been taken as agreement, and was. I was going to be plugging Muriel unless I said something to get out of it. Nothing handy came to mind.
I was up all night dreading the next day. When I arrived at the funeral parlour good old Ted was ready and waiting for me. I couldn't stomach breakfast that morning and I was hungry, but as soon as we stepped into the back the formaldehyde hit me and that will knock the appetite from even the most hardened cop. We retrieved Muriel and mercifully she still looked the same. I assure you, I washed down my half of that old lady in double quick time. Especially after Ted told me that if you stare at a dead body for long enough it appears as if they move. Christ. I wasn't hanging around for that. I got out of there as soon as I could and made myself scarce for the rest of the day.
As I was preparing to leave, Ted called from the front and told me to lock up the back. He gave me the keys and said he would get them back from me the following day. Okay, nothing funny in that. I was still hosing down the hearse anyway. I went back to my cleaning and when it was relatively clean, I pulled the hearse into the adjoining garage. I idly wondered if anyone had ever stolen a hearse before as I locked up the garage. I walked down the passage connecting the garage with the rest of the building and stopped to lock the back.
Something clattered to the floor on the other side of the door - where Muriel was lying in a fridge drawer. I jumped back and swore profusely. Holy mother, I was scared as shit already. I didn't want to think what the noise was or what had made it. When I tried to move I found I couldn't move. I gave myself a stern talking-to and with shaking hands reached forward again slowly with the key to lock the door. As the key touched the lock the clatter came again and I just about pissed my pants, this time I stopped breathing as well. I think it's because of the lack of oxygen that I stopped making good decisions, like running, and started making bad ones. Like throwing the door open. I am insane, I know.
Nothing was out of place, all the drawers were closed. Freddy wasn't behind the door. If he was, I didn't look. I was too busy restoring oxygen to my brain which had begun a silent scream. As I was looking around the clatter came again, the sound was coming from inside one of the goddamn drawers. Forget it, I was leaving now! As I turned to flee the saddest little mewling sound came from the same drawer, at least I thought it was the same drawer. There were only three, and I knew which one Muriel occupied and it wasn't coming from that draw. The image of a small cat jumped into my head, and my brain did the rest. A cat had somehow got into a drawer and was about to freeze to death if I didn't have the balls to open the drawer and free it.
She was in the third drawer, which I opened very slowly. I was steeling myself for a cat to jump out or a corpse to move. Neither happened. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was naked, which was strange. If she was alive I wouldn't stand a chance, even to exist in her shadow. But here she was. And here I was. I began to close the drawer again before I began to have improper thoughts, because damn she was hot, I wasn't afraid anymore. How could I be afraid of someone so beautiful? I took one last look at her and her eyes snapped open. I am not proud of my reaction.
"Holy fuck me! Oh Christ!" As I was shouting, I was flattening myself against the wall to the right. My eyes were wide in fright and I was frantically searching the room for a weapon when I looked at her again and saw she was looking at me.
"Mother of God! You're dead!" Really bright observation Sherlock.
She mewled again, just like a cat. If I could; I would have walked up that wall backwards. All I did was cower in fear. It was too much for me. Then it got much, much, worse. She sat up. I screamed. I screamed my lungs out without making a single sound. All was quiet except for the sound of flesh moving against metal. She swung her legs over the side of the drawer and looked at me as if I was a curiosity. I desperately wanted to punch myself in the face to wake up, but my useless arms wouldn't work.
"You. Help?" She mewled. Now the dead were talking, I didn't like that one bit. It suddenly occurred to me that she wasn't dead. Because the dead don't move or talk. What twilight zone had I wandered into?
"Are you dead?" Smooth, Chuck, really smooth. She looked at me as if she was confused. I expect I mirrored her expression.
"Will you help? Me." Lady, I'm sorry I got up today, no, I don't think I can.
"Umm..." I hedged non-commitally.
"Take me home? Yes?" She pleaded. God, she was beautiful, and her sad blue eyes made me want to cry or hit something. I saw tears brimming at her eyelashes. Oh, please don't cry. A tear spilled onto her cheek and dropped to the floor. Without realizing it I had peeled myself off the wall and had taken a step towards her. When the tear dropped instinct made me want to touch her in some comforting way. A little pat on the shoulder or something. I was no expert on women, dead or alive, or somewhere in between. She took a step towards me and I didn't cringe or flinch, all that fear was suddenly gone and I understood her curiosity, she was just as extraordinary to me. I took another step towards her and I closed the gap between us.
"Don't cry." Very helpful Chuck.
She looked up at me and smiled.
"Do you know your name?" I asked, as if I was speaking to a mentally impaired person, slowly, enunciating my words clearly.
She nodded.
"Amethyst. Amy." Still speaking in her scared little girl voice, which served to transform my knees to jelly and made me want to explore every inch of her body. I cleared my throat. That always helps. Focus, Chuck, fuck.
"Amy. That's good." Oh you are such a fucking dufus!
"I'm Chuck." And I'm about to kill myself because I cannot say anything more stupid than I have already.
"Chuck." Amy repeated, and my heart melted. I'll take you anywhere you want.
"Yeah, um, Amy... how come were you lying in a fridge drawer at a funeral parlour? You do know that's where you are - right?" I don't know what I wanted her to say. No she was not aware; would put her in the slightly mentally unbalanced category. Yes she was aware; would put one of us into the bat-shit crazy category.
"Daddy put me here when I fell asleep." Welcome to the world of bat-shit crazy people Chuck, enjoy your stay. She took my hand and pressed my palm against her chest between her wonderful round and perky breasts. I couldn't imagine any man functioning normally while her nipples were just inches away. It dawned on me that I should have felt a thump, thump under my palm, somewhat alike to the thumpthumpthump going on in my own chest. But hers was silent, no heartbeat. My third idiotic question came next.
"Do you breathe Amy?" See? Really intelligent.
"Yes, to talk."
Before I could ask anything else, the door was flung open by Ted, who abruptly halted on the threshold when he saw us, he was heaving as if he'd run a mile flat out. Amy turned around slowly to see who it was.
"Hello Daddy."
My head snapped to Ted and I looked at him in shock. What had he done? Ted managed to regain his composure and stepped in, shutting the door behind him. I felt so protective of Amy for no good reason that I immediately blamed Ted for everything. Whatever everything was.
"You shouldn't be here." Ted said to me.
"You shouldn't be keeping your daughter in a fridge drawer."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Not right now maybe, ask me again tomorrow."
"You don't know what she is."
"I'll find out."
"I'll save you the trouble, she's a zombie."
"Zombies don't exist."
"Look at her and tell her that."
