The Morticians Apprentice Page 3

  ****

  “Wait a minute; you’re talking about fucking zombies!” I blurted out.

 

  “Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess.” Tucker rubbed the 5’oclock shadow on his chin. “But these aren’t like zombies in the movies. They don't eat brains or rip people apart. Most of the time they just roam around with a dazed look in their eyes like they are sleep walking or something.”

 

  “And how is it that nobody has noticed any of this for over sixty years?” I was still having a hard time believing what I was hearing. I was waiting for them to burst out laughing at me for buying into their bullshit.

  “Well it's not uncommon for folks to confuse them with being sick.” Tucker got up and poured anther cup of coffee. “Somebody goes over to grandma's house and finds her roaming around the front lawn or sitting in the kitchen drooling. Hell, most people just assume the old bird had a stroke. Nobody in their right mind would think... Grandma's a fucking zombie!” He chuckled and sat back down taking a sip of his coffee.

 

  “You’re not serious.” I was still waiting for that punch line. “You guys are screwing with me, right? Ha-ha, let’s screw with the new guy.”

 

  “Alright, if you don't want to take my word for it, come and see for yourself.” Tucker stood up and sat his coffee on the desk before heading to the office door. Lori turned around in her chair, picked up her magazine, and went back to reading. I sat there waiting for them to laugh, waiting for the joke to be over. “Well, are you coming or not?” Tucker opened the office door.

 

  I followed him across the hall into the cold storage room. He walked over to one of the refrigerator doors, checked the tag hanging on the handle and then opened it. Tucker pulled out the drawer and motioned for me to come over. I stood beside him as he pulled back the white sheet covering the body. Strapped to the stainless steel slab was an elderly woman. She was thin, with pale wrinkled skin and wispy white hair. As I looked at her I realized she was the spitting image of the Crypt Keeper, with sunken cheeks, thin lips, and deep eye sockets. At first she just laid there looking, well looking dead, then slowly her eyelids started to twitch. At first it was so subtle a movement that I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then, to my utter terror, she slowly opened her eyes, exposing the milky blue of cataracts. Her mouth fell open and let out a gasping gurgling sound at the same time her body began to spasm and struggle against the thick black nylon straps holding her on the slab. I'm not sure if I screamed. I probably should have but I don't remember. Everything went black and next thing I remember I'm back in the office, sipping coffee with trembling hands. Tucker was patting me on the back, trying to be reassuring. Lori sitting on the edge of the desk, looking at me like it was the first time she had really noticed me all day.

 

  “Oh my God... Oh God...” It was all I could say. Tucker took a seat in the chair next to mine. I just sat there. I can’t tell you how long it took before I had regained my composure enough to talk. When I finally came to my senses I noticed Lori was gathering up her things and put her coat on. She announced that she had plans for the evening and would see us both tomorrow before she breezed out the door.

  Zombies… Zombies were real and she was going on a date. She just strolled out of the office with her purse and car keys like nothing happened. Not a care in the world. Meanwhile, in the next room some lady that looked like the fucking Crypt Keeper was strapped down in a refrigerator making creepy fucked up noises. How could a person worry about going on a date when there is a zombie in the next room?

  “Are you alright?” Tucker finally asked me after Lori had been gone for a few minutes.

  No!” I shouted. “No! I'm not fucking alright!” I took a big gulp of coffee which was luckily cold by now. “What the hell is going on? This is the most fucked up thing I've ever seen in my life!” Tucker put his hand on my shoulder.

 

  “Try to calm down. Here, have a smoke. It will make you feel better.” He pulled the pack from his shirt pocket and offered me one. I didn't smoke but I took one anyway. “It's not as bad as it might seem.” He said while he held up a lighter for me.

  “Oh?” I said exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Well, that’s good, because for a minute there I thought I saw a fucking zombie in the next room! How is it not as bad as it might seem?”

  “Well, for starters she isn't going to try to eat you!” Tucker laughed as he lit his own cigarette. “Listen. I know this is a shock for you and all, but it's really is just a medical condition.” I stared at him in disbelief my mouth hanging open. “Seriously. This isn't as big a deal as you would think. Lots of folks don't even come back after they die. The only real problem is that there isn't any way to know who's going to have this sort of reaction and who isn’t. So we have to treat everyone like a potential victim, just to stay on the safe side.”

  “So how often does this happen? I mean how many people... come back?” I asked.

 

  “Oh probably about every third person we get in here.” Tucker gave me a smile.

  “Well one out of three isn’t bad… Are you fucking nuts?” I was shouting again. Thinking back on it now, I suppose calling my boss nuts on my first day probably wasn’t really the smart thing to do either, but I was under a lot of stress.

  Tucker took it all in stride. He let me get it out of my system and (once I was done freaking out) he explained the rest of the situation to me. “Our job is pretty simple, really. We have to make sure that the rest of the population doesn’t find out about this, and we keep the dead under control until we can bury them. Or burn them up.

  “Hold on a second, you’re saying that we bury people knowing full well that they might wake up in their graves?” I was beyond mortified at this point. It didn't even seem real.

 

  “Like I said before, why do you think people are buried in locked coffins and sealed up in vaults? It's sure as hell not to keep the worms out. It's to keep those folks from digging their way back out after a few weeks in the ground.”

 

  “Alright well what about the Crypt Keeper over in the other room?” What do you do with her? She's already back! Please, don’t tell me we re-kill her for calling hours and her funeral. I don’t think I can handle it.”

 

  Tucker shook his head. “Listen you've already been through enough today. My wife is gonna start wondering where I'm at, and it's getting late.” he stood up and stretched his back. “If you still want the job, come back tomorrow and we will pick up where we left off. I understand if you don't come back, but I would advise you to watch what you say and who you talk to.”

 

  “Are you kidding me?” It suddenly dawned on me that on top of just finding out that zombies were real, this entire operation was being kept quiet by the government. “Who the hell is gonna believe me in the first place?” I groaned and rubbed my forehead.

 

  “Yeah, ain't that a shitter?” Tucker laughed. “We know what's really going on and we would be locked up if we told anybody. Funny old world, ain't' it?” And with that Tucker helped me gather up my things and walked me out to my car. “Hope to see you tomorrow Vince.” He said as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  I was drunk by six o'clock. I finished off a bottle of whiskey and was halfway through a bottle of vodka when I passed out on the couch. I woke up the next morning just in time to be twenty minutes late getting to the funeral home. To be completely honest, I drove around the block a few times before I finally worked up the nerve to pull in the parking lot. Once I was parked, I sat in my car for another ten minutes, preparing myself for the day ahead.

  Lori was in the office working on the computer she gave me a genuine smile when I opened the office door and hung my coat on one of the empty hooks. She stopped whatever it was she was doing and spun around in the chair.

 

  “So. You
r curiosity got the better of you, huh?” She grinned from ear to ear.

 

  “No... I don’t know… I need the job, I guess.” I replied.

  “Sure, sure… By the way, you look like hell and smell like booze.” She rolled the chair across the room to the table that held the coffee maker and Styrofoam cups. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me. “Here. Drink this and get your shit together before we get started today.”

  “Thanks,” I took the cup from her. “Um… Why what is going on today?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “You are going to be helping Tucker and I get the old lady ready for calling hours this afternoon. So drink up and try to relax. You really do get used to all of this.”

 

  “Yeah...” It was all I could manage to say as I left the office in search of Tucker.

  The light was on in the embalming room. I knew Tucker would be in there with the old lady and I suddenly wanted to turn around and run again. I didn’t want to know about any of this. I put one foot in front of the other, fighting the urge to turn around and run back to my car. My hand froze an inch away from the metal plate on the wall that opened the double doors. I took a deep breath, and with every fiber of my being, pushed.

  Tucker already had the old woman strapped down on the big stainless steel table in the middle of the room. He was standing next to her, taking inventory of the tools on a small metal cart. When I came in the room, he looked up at me with a big smile on his face and waved for me to come over.

  “Glad you came back, Vince!” He said while pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “Your about a half hour late, but seeing as it's only your second day and you stayed late last night I won't hold it against you.” He gave me a wink and then tossed his head in the direction of a cabinet on the far wall. “Go ahead and put on an apron and some gloves.”

 

  Everything seemed surreal at this point, and my body was on autopilot. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears as I found an apron and a pair of thick rubber gloves in the cabinet that Tucker had directed me to. When I was ready, I joined Tucker at the table. The old woman on the slab was twisting and jerking against the restraints. Her hands twitched, and she lifted her legs up and down to fight against the nylon straps. I was glad that she was wearing a white paper hospital robe, because I really didn’t want to see her naked. I stood there for a few minutes just watching her mouth open and close like a fish. Every so often she made a little grunt or gurgle sound as she tried to pull her arms and legs free. Tucker had his back to me and was messing around with one of the tools on the cart next to the table. After a few seconds, he turned to face the table. In his hand he held a large cordless drill, the kind you could buy at any hardware store.

 

  At the sight of what he held in his hand I took a step back. I'm not sure what I expected him to be holding but I wasn't ready for that. If he would have been holding one of the large probes, scalpel or even a bone saw I don’t think I would have been as horrified. But when he turned around and pulled the trigger on a plain old carpenters drill and I saw that thick, six inch long drill bit whirling around I nearly hit the floor.

 

  “Oh, please tell me you’re kidding.” I groaned.

 

  “Take it easy. This part is quick and painless.” He tossed me a white towel that he was holding in his other hand. “Put that over her face and turn her head to one side. Be sure hold her head still while I do this. You don’t want to get bit.”

 

  “Jesus!” I stood there holding the towel. “I thought you said they don’t bite!”

 

  “Listen son...” Tucker lowered the drill and looked at me. “I don't like doing this part of the job no more than you do but it’s got to be done. God knows I’ve lost plenty of sleep over this, but it’s our job. If it makes you feel any better about it, this lady here ain't alive no more. She can't see us or hear us and she don't know what’s going on. I swear to you that she won't feel a thing.” Tucker came around the table and put his hand on my shoulder. “If this was you're Grandma or someone you cared about, wouldn't you want somebody to put an end to all this?”

  I don't know if it had anything to do with what Tucker said to me or if I just finally gave in to the reality of the situation. I walked over to the table and lay the bright white towel over the old ladies face and took hold of her head. Tucker didn't say anything else. He just took his place at the head of the table and made ready for the procedure. Moving her hair away from the back of her head he placed the tip of the drill bit against the back of her skull. It only took about thirty seconds and it was over. The whirling sound of the drill filled the room followed by the smell of burning hair and skin. When it hit the skull the drill bogged down a little. After a small crunch it broke through the bone and the full length of the drill bit slid into the brain pan. When the drill bit entered the brain the old woman on the table immediately began to convulse. Her heels began to bang into the steel table like she was running a hundred miles an hour. I looked to Tucker and nodded his head to assure me that this was normal. Later on, he explained that it had something to do with the central nervous system. Kind of like if you send an electric shock though a dead body, it will still twitch and react.

  It only took a few seconds and it was over. Tucker pulled the drill bit out of her skull and inserted a thin clear plastic tube. The old woman stopped moving around as much and when Tucker pumped the bluish colored fluid into the back of her head she let out one last grunt and fell still on the slab.

  “Is she dead?” I asked wiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I was ringing wet and shaking like a leaf.

  “Nah, it ain’t like the movies. Shooting them in the brain doesn’t do anything, but that fluid I injected into her will keep her still for a few days. By then she will be in the ground and nobody will be the wiser.”

  “What do we do now?” I asked while panting like I had just run a marathon.

  “Well that’s it for now. You need a cigarette?” Tucker smiled at me while patting his shirt pocket where he kept his smokes.

  ****

  That was almost two years ago now. Things have gotten a lot better, and believe it or not I've have gotten used to all this crazy shit. Now, at the end of the day I just grab my coat and car keys and head home. Just like Lori did on my first day.

  I assist Tucker with most of the embalming and preparations. I've got pretty good at running the oven in the crematorium and I don't even notice the smell of formaldehyde anymore. I even helped Lori work her magic getting the bodies ready for calling hours from time to time. I’ll be honest - I did have some trouble sleeping for the first month or so. Even that isn't a problem anymore.

  Something else is kind of funny. After a few weeks, I realized that I didn't even feel like telling anyone about dead coming back to life or what really happens when people die. Not because I was worried people would believe me. For whatever reason, I just started to feel like we were doing the right thing. Everyone else was better off not knowing.

  I’m not sure why I told you all this. I guess talking about it with someone, anyone, even you, is therapeutic. I know you can't hear me or understand what I'm saying, but it makes me feel better saying it out loud. I know I don't have to worry about you telling anyone since you can't talk anymore. It's nothing personal, but I can't even remember how many times I've told this story to somebody like you. It gets kind of boring here, doing this day in and day out, so sometimes I just babble on while I’m filing all the paperwork here. But you don’t care, you’re dead right?

  Alright, I think Tucker is ready for us. We better head down to the end of the hall. It was nice talking with you, even though I know you can't understand what I'm saying. I hope I didn't bore you too much... And don't worry. You won't feel a thing.

  About the Author

  Clinton L. Reed lives in north eastern Ohio with his wife and two ch
ildren. When he isn’t busy being a dad he enjoys playing table top role playing games like Dungeons & Dragons or Call of Cthulhu. He also spends a great deal of time watching bad horror and action movies from the 80’s. Clinton has been writing most of his life and bounces around between different genres. Currently he is working on a hardboiled detective story as well as a collection of short horror stories that he hopes to release very soon.

 

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