Rendezvous II
Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 2
Hairy
SomeNoWhere: A rap on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Dave.”
“Dave’s not here.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m Dave.”
“Dave’s not here.”
“Who?”
“First base.”
<Are you ready?>
“Ready?”
<Looking like we might need you soon.>
“Shit!”
<No ... replacement.>
“Huh?”
<Shit is rebirth.>
“Like potty training?”
<And learning to crawl, walk, ride a bicycle, drive a car, speak coherent sentences.>
“Starting from scratch?”
<We might need you to take over from an accident.>
“Might?”
<Yeah ... She needs to love him first.>
“I guess.”
<Lookit ... We’re going to play it through for you.>
So ... they did.
“She went to the cops?”
<Yeah.>
“Because he Looked?”
<Crazy ain’t it.>
“Got to admit ... she’s a looker.”
<That too.>
“He died?”
<Wanna take his place?>
“We talking ... Revenge?”
<Well ... yeah.>
“What is she?”
<Barely 19>
“He was?”
<Twenty six.>
“Man ... that’s a bad day.”
<We wouldn’t ask ... but this came up.>
“Just tell me one thing.”
<Karma>
“Fate?”
<Naw ... Fate is a good thing.>
“True ... Karma kicks ass.”
So ... The ... Beep ... Beep ... Beep stopped. The pen slowly traced out the end of one life ... the nurses ... the doctors ... pronounced.
“Time?”
“11:22.”
“Is he a donor?”
“No.”
People were already packing up the paraphernalia that had to go to the cleaners. Nurses were bundling and bagging the towels and cloths.
“Clean him up,”
“Bag him.”
“Tag him.”
“Transport him.”
Transport was called ... they were still processing ... the transporter had to wait.
Finally, “On three. One ... Two ... Three,” the body was transferred from the bed to the trolley.
The frame was assembled and covered with the green canvas cover.
The hospital administration had decreed ... Can’t have the public see the body bag. Generally, the public might see the green cart once and never see it again. The frame and cover looked like a shipping crate. The staff knew though.
The religious and the superstitious turned back and went down a different hall or waited until the transporter was past their destination.
It took a certain callousness to haul the dead. The three women transporters wouldn’t do it ... usually it was assigned to the new guy. This particular new guy wouldn’t transport babies but people? No problem.
Transport wheeled the unit to the freight elevator. He took the rumbling stainless steel green covered crate down to the basement, pushed the button on the box next to the door that said Forensics.
“Yes?”
“Transport. I have a delivery.”
“You squeamish?”
“No.”
The latch on the door buzzed and the transporter pulled the trolley through. Just inside the door the transporter pulled off the green canvas cover.
The morgue attendant was at a another body.
“Let me put this one away.”
On the stainless steel body cart was a naked teenage girl. She looked perfect.
“What’s up with that?” asked the transporter.
“Motorcycle wreck. The driver is a mess.” He wheeled her to the cold room.
“Who ya got?” the morgue attendant asked.
The paperwork was under the bag.
But ... first ... the bag had to be unzipped and the arm tag had to be scanned.
The two manhandled the bag over to another body cart and they unzipped the bag. The body sat up.
“Hello,” Hairy said. “Can I get a drink of water?” He looked around.
“Eep!”
