“Wow this place is quiet.” Bob said.
“Really? Is that your first impression? Quiet?” Ted had started breathing again. Only an exhale, he was still hoping he could avoid an inhale.
“Yeah. I’d say there would be a great echo in here.”
This was his worst nightmare. Ted had to jog passed cemeteries, and forget about getting him in one. The cold comfort of the bodies being six feet under and dead for years was supplanted by the sheer number of them. Funerals were the opposite. He only had to cope with one body, but the freshness was off putting and having only a thin piece of wood separating it from him was too much. But now here he was, standing with anxious sweats, and Bob, in a morgue.
“Don’t you dare!” Ted looked at the smirk on Bob’s face.
“As if. I’m just saying.”
They looked around the room, getting their bearings. It was nondescript, but this is what it looked like; square. There was a table in the centre of the room and around the walls were lockers. Ted didn't know if that was the correct word for them but that's what they looked like. There were seven per row, three rows per wall, on three walls. So 63 naked bodies lurking behind the slender metal locker doors.
“Let’s just do this and get out as fast as possible.” He shivered and tried to pass if off as being due to the chill in the room.
A smile crept along Bobs face. “You’re afraid aren’t you?” and it exploded in his eyes.
“Whaaat?” Ted said an octave too high.
“You ARE!” Bob started to hop with excitement. “I can’t believe it! Big man Ted is afraid of morgues!”
“Shut up will ya, someone will hear you!”
“Maybe one of them?” Bob said gesturing around the room, “and maybe they’ll answer back!” Bob was really enjoying this.
“STOP! If you say one more word.” Ted was managing to enunciate clearly through his clenched jaw. “I’ll make sure you get the next free slot in here.”
Bobs laugh echoed around room making Ted freeze, making Bob laugh again. He slapped Ted on the back.
“Ah it’s only a bit of fun. Relax!”
Ted was far from relaxed, far from being able to relax.
“Just quit it will ya!” Ted took a deep breath. “You know you’re really starting to annoy me. Has anyone every told you how much of a pain in the ass you are?”
“Nope. But a lot of people ask me that.”
Ted took a few cautious steps into the central area. He could feel his nerves jangle, but he was gaining a bit of self-confidence. If he didn’t get this situation under his control, Bob might spread stories about him later. Rational fear of lost reputation was taking over from irrational fear of dead bodies.
“Did you bring the marker?” Ted asked.
“Yep.”
“And it’s permanent?”
“Yep.”
“OK, let’s find him. What box is he in?”
Bob looked back into Ted’s enquiring face. If Ted though he was being annoying before he was really going to love this. “I don’t know. I thought you did.”
Ted stopped breathing again as the room felt like it was shrinking, while the number of boxes seemed to simultaneously multiply.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. Greg told me that he told Sam to make sure that Jimmy passed on the box number to Harry. Didn’t you meet Harry?”
“Harry never said anything about Jimmy. He said that he told Frank to text Mack with the box and he was going to pass it on to Sam for you.”
“But I haven’t seen Sam in weeks.”
“Oh Sweet Jesus.” Ted dragged his hand over his face. He counted the boxes again, calming slightly when it was still 63.
“Ah no big deal.” Bob said. “Maybe they’re not all full.”
“But if we don’t do this right, Johnny boy will kill us.”
“OK, let’s work this out.” Bob said, sounding serious for the first time. “We know he’s a man, so we can rule out any women. We know he was Irish so we can rule out any foreign looking bodies.”
“No we can’t!” Ted was suppressing a scream.
“Why not?”
“Irish just means being born in Ireland.”
“Yeah?”
“So you can be black and be born in Ireland. You can be Asian and be born in Ireland. How you look has no bearing at all on your Irishness.”
“Yeah but if you were born in Ireland you’d still know they were Irish once they spoke.” Bob didn’t like being made feel foolish, but you’d think he’d be used to it.
Ted stared at him, waiting for logic to kick in and join up all the individual facts.
“Oh yeah.” Bob finally said.
“OK. Get the marker, let’s just do this.”
“How?” Bob was as confused as he looked.
“Like you said, we can rule out half of them and some lockers might be empty.”
“Well, you’re assuming that half of the bodies in here are women. Might not be true.” Bob said in a flash of statistical insight.
“Just shut UP!!!”
“There are going to be a lot of pissed off families, and closed caskets.” Bob said smiling.
“As long as it includes the one we want, that’ll just have to be. Johnny wants to humiliate him even if he’s dead.”
Bob tapped the marker against his lips, as Ted pulled out the first corpse.
“I’m thinking a pair of glasses and a mustache.”
“I don’t care what you draw, just get on with it.”
Bob’s tongue poked out of his mouth as his artistic nature kicked in. Ted scanned the room. 62 to go.
“Really? Is that your first impression? Quiet?” Ted had started breathing again. Only an exhale, he was still hoping he could avoid an inhale.
“Yeah. I’d say there would be a great echo in here.”
This was his worst nightmare. Ted had to jog passed cemeteries, and forget about getting him in one. The cold comfort of the bodies being six feet under and dead for years was supplanted by the sheer number of them. Funerals were the opposite. He only had to cope with one body, but the freshness was off putting and having only a thin piece of wood separating it from him was too much. But now here he was, standing with anxious sweats, and Bob, in a morgue.
“Don’t you dare!” Ted looked at the smirk on Bob’s face.
“As if. I’m just saying.”
They looked around the room, getting their bearings. It was nondescript, but this is what it looked like; square. There was a table in the centre of the room and around the walls were lockers. Ted didn't know if that was the correct word for them but that's what they looked like. There were seven per row, three rows per wall, on three walls. So 63 naked bodies lurking behind the slender metal locker doors.
“Let’s just do this and get out as fast as possible.” He shivered and tried to pass if off as being due to the chill in the room.
A smile crept along Bobs face. “You’re afraid aren’t you?” and it exploded in his eyes.
“Whaaat?” Ted said an octave too high.
“You ARE!” Bob started to hop with excitement. “I can’t believe it! Big man Ted is afraid of morgues!”
“Shut up will ya, someone will hear you!”
“Maybe one of them?” Bob said gesturing around the room, “and maybe they’ll answer back!” Bob was really enjoying this.
“STOP! If you say one more word.” Ted was managing to enunciate clearly through his clenched jaw. “I’ll make sure you get the next free slot in here.”
Bobs laugh echoed around room making Ted freeze, making Bob laugh again. He slapped Ted on the back.
“Ah it’s only a bit of fun. Relax!”
Ted was far from relaxed, far from being able to relax.
“Just quit it will ya!” Ted took a deep breath. “You know you’re really starting to annoy me. Has anyone every told you how much of a pain in the ass you are?”
“Nope. But a lot of people ask me that.”
Ted took a few cautious steps into the central area. He could feel his nerves jangle, but he was gaining a bit of self-confidence. If he didn’t get this situation under his control, Bob might spread stories about him later. Rational fear of lost reputation was taking over from irrational fear of dead bodies.
“Did you bring the marker?” Ted asked.
“Yep.”
“And it’s permanent?”
“Yep.”
“OK, let’s find him. What box is he in?”
Bob looked back into Ted’s enquiring face. If Ted though he was being annoying before he was really going to love this. “I don’t know. I thought you did.”
Ted stopped breathing again as the room felt like it was shrinking, while the number of boxes seemed to simultaneously multiply.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. Greg told me that he told Sam to make sure that Jimmy passed on the box number to Harry. Didn’t you meet Harry?”
“Harry never said anything about Jimmy. He said that he told Frank to text Mack with the box and he was going to pass it on to Sam for you.”
“But I haven’t seen Sam in weeks.”
“Oh Sweet Jesus.” Ted dragged his hand over his face. He counted the boxes again, calming slightly when it was still 63.
“Ah no big deal.” Bob said. “Maybe they’re not all full.”
“But if we don’t do this right, Johnny boy will kill us.”
“OK, let’s work this out.” Bob said, sounding serious for the first time. “We know he’s a man, so we can rule out any women. We know he was Irish so we can rule out any foreign looking bodies.”
“No we can’t!” Ted was suppressing a scream.
“Why not?”
“Irish just means being born in Ireland.”
“Yeah?”
“So you can be black and be born in Ireland. You can be Asian and be born in Ireland. How you look has no bearing at all on your Irishness.”
“Yeah but if you were born in Ireland you’d still know they were Irish once they spoke.” Bob didn’t like being made feel foolish, but you’d think he’d be used to it.
Ted stared at him, waiting for logic to kick in and join up all the individual facts.
“Oh yeah.” Bob finally said.
“OK. Get the marker, let’s just do this.”
“How?” Bob was as confused as he looked.
“Like you said, we can rule out half of them and some lockers might be empty.”
“Well, you’re assuming that half of the bodies in here are women. Might not be true.” Bob said in a flash of statistical insight.
“Just shut UP!!!”
“There are going to be a lot of pissed off families, and closed caskets.” Bob said smiling.
“As long as it includes the one we want, that’ll just have to be. Johnny wants to humiliate him even if he’s dead.”
Bob tapped the marker against his lips, as Ted pulled out the first corpse.
“I’m thinking a pair of glasses and a mustache.”
“I don’t care what you draw, just get on with it.”
Bob’s tongue poked out of his mouth as his artistic nature kicked in. Ted scanned the room. 62 to go.
