Chapter 12 Ethan
Grunting through heavy breaths, I drag my father’s sedated body through the house, creating a path through the rubbish on the floor. Takeout boxes and bottles gather under his ass. I drop his feet to the floor then kick the shit out from underneath him.
“Fucking shit.” I grumble to myself and fish the keys for the van out of my trouser pocket, then I make my way outside to grab the trolley. I’d happily drag the fat slug down the front garden but if anyone spots me, it’ll be a one way ticket back into prison.
Once I’ve got the trolley, I push it back up the front garden and lock the wheels into place near the door, then zip open the black body bag, ready for my father.
I’m already plotting the best way to heave this fat sack of shit onto the trolley without pulling my back but I highly doubt this is going to be a professional job.
I make sure I have everything inside my holdall bag, then I grab my dad’s floppy arm and lift him halfway so I’m able to crouch down and swing him over my shoulder.
His dead weight makes my knees buckle and I swear my spine feels like it’s turning into a squished spring.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I grunt as I force my knees to straighten. My shoulders ache as I step out of the house with my dad’s body in tow. His arms swing from side to side and I turn to squeeze us both out of the door when his head whacks against the door frame with a hard thud.
That’s gonna leave a nice bruise, I think to myself and shove us both through the small door frame and into the cold outside.
Rain glitters in the low street lights, landing softly against my skin as I drop my dad’s body onto the trolley.
The metal legs creak under the weight and I pray to all things holy that it doesn’t collapse because I’m already running out of patience.
Once I’ve managed to cram his legs and arms into the body bag, I start to pull the zip closed when an older woman’s voice stops me in my tracks.
Shit.
“Ethan? Is that you?”
I force my eyes closed for a moment, relax my shoulders and plaster on my best shit eating grin before spinning on my heels to meet my old neighbour's wrinkling face.
“Mrs Green. How are you?” I ask with a warm tone.
I thought this nosy bitch would have been dead by now, instead she’s like a cockroach that you can’t get rid of.
Maybe I should set her on fire to see if that works.
The image of her bursting into flames flashes across my mind for a split second but then it quickly vanishes when she speaks again.
“What brings you out here so late? How’s your father?” She asks and I catch her gaze flicking to the trolley behind me. I shuffle to the side and she quickly looks back at me again, her pearly dentures on show.
“Just working.” I state. “My dad is.. great, just great.” I say, then attempt to turn away from Mrs Green when she decides to open her decrepit mouth again.
Can’t this dusty coffin dodger see that I’m busy?
“Well, then.. what’s the trolley for dear?” She asks with an accusatory tone and I slowly turn my head to look over my shoulder, the smile that once graced my face has now disappeared, leaving me with only the face of someone who has almost reached their limit.
I release my grip on the trolley and take one single step towards Mrs Green who cowers under my gaze.
“That trolley is for dead people,” I state with a harsh bluntness and her face pales.
“And my father is in that black bag. Now he’s not quite dead, not just yet anyway.
But if you carry on speaking to me, Mrs Green, I’ll make sure there’s space in that bag just for you too. ”
Mrs Green’s eyes widen behind her overly large round glasses and she fumbles over her words.
“Eh.. excuse me?” She says with a shocked tone and I smirk like a Cheshire cat. “You’re excused. Now, off you go before I have to come back to collect your body as well.”
Tears brim in her wrinkly eyes and her shoes scuff on the pavement as she scuttles back inside her house, then she slams the door behind her. The tension I was holding in my shoulders slithers down my arms and I blow out a heavy breath.
“Fucking people.” I huff, then grab my bag and begin to push my dad’s body down the front garden towards the van and onto his final destination.
Rain pours from the heavens and the van's wipers struggle to keep up with clearing it from the windscreen as I drive through the quiet streets towards Nocturnal Mortuary. The odd car zips past but I keep my gaze focused on the road in front of me until I can see the back gates of the mortuary.
Once I arrive, I reverse the van into the carpark so the back is facing the double doors, giving me easy access to wheel my father inside.
I turn the key to shut off the engine and sit in silence for just a moment, hearing the patter of rain hit the roof of the van.
Droplets fall in quick succession and I use the calming sound to settle the anxiety that’s settling heavy under my skin.
It feels like spiders are crawling all over my skin, attempting to burrow their furry legs into my flesh.
Everything I’ve been through in my life has led me to this moment. My father is the last piece of this sordid puzzle of my life. Once I’m free from his chains, I’ll be able to hand myself over to my sister. To bring her back to me, in any form I see fit.
I’ll be able to feel her cold, icy skin against mine again. To feel her lips caress against mine. I’ll do whatever it takes, pull apart whomever I see fit to recreate my beautiful Alina.
Muffled grunting pulls me out of my daydream and I spin in the van's seat to see my dad attempting to wriggle around in the body bag, like a caterpillar in a suffocating cocoon. The poor trolley creaks under his heavy weight and I use that as my cue to climb out of the van and begin the process of my dad’s autopsy and embalming, whilst his black heart is still beating inside of his chest. It’s my turn to play the Devil’s advocate, and I’ll keep this piece of shit on the brink of death until I’m ready to let him leave this world.
My boots hit the gravel floor and I slam the van’s door behind me and make my way around to the back to pull open the double doors.
Rain quickly soaks through my shirt but it keeps my heated blood at a cool rate as I wrap my hands around the metal bar of the trolley and pull it out of the van.
Immediately the legs unfold automatically and I yank the heavy weight up the ramp and out of the cold rain towards the autopsy room.
The white doors swing open as I shove my dad’s wriggling body into the room and station him in the centre, then I make quick work of locking up behind me and flicking on the overhead lights to illuminate the old space.
My father continues to wriggle inside of the bag, followed by low grunts behind the tape I stuck over his mouth before we left the house.
I couldn’t run the risk of him shouting for help if he woke up before we arrived, which he did.
I probably should have given him a higher dose of the sedative, but I’d hate for him to die earlier than I’d planned.
I shuffle around the room in silence, going through the same routine of scrubbing my hands and slipping on another pair of gloves before striding over to the cabinet where all our medication and needles are stored.
I think it’s safe to say, Nocturnal Mortuary doesn’t always play by the book and that’s perfect for me and my needs.
Opening up the cupboard, the shelves are lined with various bottles of liquids with names I can’t even begin to spell out loud, even if I had a gun to my head.
I’d fail miserably. My eyes trail over the bottles until I land on one that I recognise, a paralytic that will keep my dad in sedation, but he’ll feel everything that I do to him.
Perfect.
I grab the vial, a fresh needle and tube then begin to fill it up with the paralytic.
The clear, glass-like liquid floods into the tube as I pull the plunger back.
I decide to add a little more this time, given the size of the slug that’s lying on the table.
Once I’m happy with the amount, I place the vial back into the cupboard and begin to set up my work station.
It only takes me a couple of minutes to gather all the instruments I need.
I’ve done this a million times and now it’s just second nature to me, but I will say, this will be my first living body to perform an autopsy and embalming on.
Euphoria fills my nervous system at the thought of what I’m about to do. I need to finish this final chapter of my life before I can give all my attention to my sister.
Muffled grunting from inside the bag brings me back to the present and I slowly begin to unzip the body bag to reveal the fat, yellow slug inside. Sweat gathers on his face like a sticky mucus and snot bubbles out of his hairy nostrils with every deep breath he takes.
“Surprise dad. Didn’t think I’d let you die that easily did you?
” I tease, causing him to widen his eyes.
Fear radiates from his pores and he tries with all his energy to lift his arms but it’s no use, they’re like lead weights at the side of him.
His fingers curl like podgy sausages on a grill.
I can envision them next to a pile of steaming, buttery mash and garden peas.
Alina had beautiful hands and slender fingers. Fingers that I could easily take a bite out of, if I really wanted to. My dads? Not so much. I’ve never tried human meat before but the temptation has always been there, especially when it came to my sister. I could always keep her with me that way.