The Undertaker

“Christ, Ernie, I can't believe you did that.” another male voice said.

“Yeah? Well, I can't believe they didn't turn on the goddamned lights out here.”

“You dropped the guy right on his head.”

“My hand slipped, George. So what? It's a stiff. It ain't like he's gonna sue us or anything, is he?”

“Help me get him back on the stretcher,” George fumed. I felt hands lifting me up and turning me over. That was when I groaned.

“Christ, he's still alive!” Ernie jumped back and dropped me again as the service door opened, flooding the loading dock with light.

I opened my eyes and blinked. I was lying on my side on the bare concrete and everything was spinning around in big looping circles. I saw the side of the ambulance, a pair of white pants, some white shoes, white shirts, and white faces, all disjointed, bent over and staring down at me. Then I saw other legs come into view wearing black pants and shiny black leather shoes.

“Hey, Mr. Greene, this guy's still alive,” Ernie said, astonished.

“He groaned and his eyes opened. He's still alive,” George added.

“Yes, we know all about it, George,” I heard a familiar, syrupy voice answer. “Rest assured, we shall take good care of him. You gentlemen may leave now.”

“But Mister Greene,” the white legs closest to me said uncertainly. “Don't you think we oughta run him over to the hospital?”

“Yeah, he don't look so good.”

“As I told you, everything is perfectly fine here.” Greene's measured voice tried to reassure them. “The gentleman is in good hands. We'll see he is well taken care of.”

“Mr. G., no offense, but this is a funeral home.”

“George, do us a favor and do what you're told,” Greene tried to silence him, tried to regain control. “Wasn't it Doctor Varner who told you to bring the fellow over here?”

“Well, yeah, but...”

I heard their feet shuffling and saw the white pants slowly back away. Other hands picked me up and tossed me back on the stretcher, none-too-gently. I tried to focus on them, but I couldn't. I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn't move as they picked up the stretcher and carried it toward the building.

“You two have made some other “special” deliveries here before, haven't you?” Greene asked. “You've transported — how shall I put it — some of Doctor Varner's more “unusual” and “delicate” patients. And you know things are not always what they appear. Some of his patients want very private work done, so that's what we provide, George.”

“Yeah, but ...”

The service door opened again. I turned my head and saw the towering hulk of Ralph Tinkerton step between Greene and the two ambulance attendants. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said. “Let us have no more, “Yeah buts”. If the two of you can no longer honor our little requests, then I'm certain Doctor Varner can find some new employees who will be more than willing to do the job.”

“Uh, no, no, Mister Tinkerton, we didn't mean nuthin'.”

“Good, very good.” Tinkerton stepped even closer, intimidating them with his presence. “See you keep it that way, or the next time your ambulance shows up out here, you might be the ones riding in the back. Better still, Doctor Varner might keep you right there at the clinic and try out some of his “personal preference” surgery on the two of you. How does that sound?”

I heard the quick shuffling of feet on concrete as the doors on the ambulance opened and slammed shut. The ambulance's engine started up with a loud roar as I was carried through the doorway on the stretcher. The thick, metal service doors of the mortuary closed behind me and I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. My tongue wouldn't work.

“Take him downstairs,” Tinkerton ordered.

“Uh, look, Ralph,” I heard Greene whisper. “Given all that's happened lately, I was thinking ...”

“Larry, you aren't doing that again, are you? Thinking? Like those two moron drivers of Varner's? I thought we agreed you'd leave the thinking to me, because you know what it does to your stomach.”

“But Ralph...”

“Do what you're told, Larry. Take our mouthy “friend” downstairs, then you and your people can go home. I'll handle the rest of it.”

“But Ralph...”

“Go home, Larry.”

I never heard them finish the argument, if they ever did. Tinkerton's voice faded away into the darkness, taking the sound of the ambulance along with it.

CHAPTER NINE

Keep out of reach of children…