he saw the Fossums’ bodies grew daunting. Two embalming machine lights blinked rhythmically casting an eerie green hue. The ceiling light from the hall adjacent to the embalming room added to his ability to recognize items as he gingerly moved forward.
A long, narrow embalming table stood in the middle of the room flanked on both sides by a bank of stainless steel cabinets. The back wall featured a massive, steel door. The door led to a walk-in, refrigerated storage bay containing two sliding body trays. Each tray pulled out and retracted for easy access. Because the cold-storage unit currently held two bodies, Nan had placed the third body on the embalming table in the center of the room.
Aanders spotted Belly in the corner of the room, pawing at the air. “There you are. Come here, you dumb dog.” Aanders’ hand brushed against the cold foot of the body lying on the steel table. He let out a gurgled cry. He backed away from the table and bumped against a cabinet causing steel tools to clank noisily against a metal pan. Another cry rose from Aanders’ throat. He looked over his shoulder at the body on the table.
There he was. Tim Fossum. His best friend.
A white sheet covered Tim's body. Three of Tim's fingers protruded from beneath the edge of the sheet. The sheet clung to the boy's body, elevated by Tim's nose and his rigid toes. It looked like one big glow-in-the-dark lump, reflecting a green hue from the embalming machine.
A guttural wail rasped from Aanders. Sensing his legs about to give out, he grabbed the edge of the table and hung on. Nausea spasms rose in his throat. He had often helped his mother lift the heavier bodies when she was unable to manage them by herself, but no amount of exposure to mortuary procedures could have prepared him for the inconsolable loss he experienced. His friend was dead. His friend who he could tell anything to was lying next to him. Gone forever.
Sorrow flowed freely as Aanders’ chest heaved with deep emotion.
Belly waddled over and poked Aanders’ leg with his nose. Waiting patiently for his friend to sort through his emotions, the dog whined and lay down at the boy's feet.
Aanders knelt and pulled Belly close. “Why, Belly? Why did he have to die? It's so stupid. If he'd have just come home with me instead of going with his mom and dad, he'd be alive now."
Belly offered a slobbery lick in understanding before ambling back to the corner. His tail darted in a replay of excitement before he plopped down on his right haunch with his left leg splayed out in front. He stared into the corner. His head cocked back and forth.
Aanders touched Tim's finger tips, letting his gaze settle on the sheet over Tim's head. He grasped the sheet with two hands as he had seen his mother do when she uncovered the bodies for an initial viewing and folded the sheet back against Tim's chest. He gasped at Tim's pallor. Grabbing the table with both hands, he fought the lightheadedness that again caused him to tilt.
Waiting until he could stand unassisted, he said, “I hate you for leaving me. I hate you.” He ran his hand under his nose and wiped it on his pants leg. “You were my best friend. You were my only friend.” He shook as the angry words spewed forth. “We were going to be friends forever."
Belly again nudged Aanders’ leg and snorted when the boy bent to hug him.
Pulling Belly close, Aanders said, “We were going to invent a computer game and get rich. Tim said we'd buy matching trucks.” As if reading from a list, Aanders continued, “We were going to have new friends. We were going to take our moms on a trip. We were going to do anything we wanted.” He buried his face in Belly's neck and let the tears flow.
"Tim didn't care that I lived in a mortuary.” Pounding the floor with his fist, Aanders shouted, “How could he have done this to me? I was his best friend.” He threw his head back and gulped through the sobs. “What am I supposed to do now?"
"You'll
A long, narrow embalming table stood in the middle of the room flanked on both sides by a bank of stainless steel cabinets. The back wall featured a massive, steel door. The door led to a walk-in, refrigerated storage bay containing two sliding body trays. Each tray pulled out and retracted for easy access. Because the cold-storage unit currently held two bodies, Nan had placed the third body on the embalming table in the center of the room.
Aanders spotted Belly in the corner of the room, pawing at the air. “There you are. Come here, you dumb dog.” Aanders’ hand brushed against the cold foot of the body lying on the steel table. He let out a gurgled cry. He backed away from the table and bumped against a cabinet causing steel tools to clank noisily against a metal pan. Another cry rose from Aanders’ throat. He looked over his shoulder at the body on the table.
There he was. Tim Fossum. His best friend.
A white sheet covered Tim's body. Three of Tim's fingers protruded from beneath the edge of the sheet. The sheet clung to the boy's body, elevated by Tim's nose and his rigid toes. It looked like one big glow-in-the-dark lump, reflecting a green hue from the embalming machine.
A guttural wail rasped from Aanders. Sensing his legs about to give out, he grabbed the edge of the table and hung on. Nausea spasms rose in his throat. He had often helped his mother lift the heavier bodies when she was unable to manage them by herself, but no amount of exposure to mortuary procedures could have prepared him for the inconsolable loss he experienced. His friend was dead. His friend who he could tell anything to was lying next to him. Gone forever.
Sorrow flowed freely as Aanders’ chest heaved with deep emotion.
Belly waddled over and poked Aanders’ leg with his nose. Waiting patiently for his friend to sort through his emotions, the dog whined and lay down at the boy's feet.
Aanders knelt and pulled Belly close. “Why, Belly? Why did he have to die? It's so stupid. If he'd have just come home with me instead of going with his mom and dad, he'd be alive now."
Belly offered a slobbery lick in understanding before ambling back to the corner. His tail darted in a replay of excitement before he plopped down on his right haunch with his left leg splayed out in front. He stared into the corner. His head cocked back and forth.
Aanders touched Tim's finger tips, letting his gaze settle on the sheet over Tim's head. He grasped the sheet with two hands as he had seen his mother do when she uncovered the bodies for an initial viewing and folded the sheet back against Tim's chest. He gasped at Tim's pallor. Grabbing the table with both hands, he fought the lightheadedness that again caused him to tilt.
Waiting until he could stand unassisted, he said, “I hate you for leaving me. I hate you.” He ran his hand under his nose and wiped it on his pants leg. “You were my best friend. You were my only friend.” He shook as the angry words spewed forth. “We were going to be friends forever."
Belly again nudged Aanders’ leg and snorted when the boy bent to hug him.
Pulling Belly close, Aanders said, “We were going to invent a computer game and get rich. Tim said we'd buy matching trucks.” As if reading from a list, Aanders continued, “We were going to have new friends. We were going to take our moms on a trip. We were going to do anything we wanted.” He buried his face in Belly's neck and let the tears flow.
"Tim didn't care that I lived in a mortuary.” Pounding the floor with his fist, Aanders shouted, “How could he have done this to me? I was his best friend.” He threw his head back and gulped through the sobs. “What am I supposed to do now?"
"You'll
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