Dreamland

"Bring Out Your Dead"

Things have gotten really bad lately, with the plague and all. Most major businesses have shut down, they don't want people going into work and spreading it any faster. At this point containment ios out of the question, it's just a matter of time until everyone's exposed.

I'm one of the "lucky ones", so they say. I got sick all right, but it didn't hit me much harder than the average flu. There were quite a few people I knew, friends and family both, that didn't make it. I don't think the realization of this has really hit me yet, I'm still in shock, still numb...

No time to grieve now though, I've been "recruited" by the local hospital. I get free meals for helping them, and that means a lot nowadays. Just about all the grocery stores and restaurants have barred their doors, waiting for the plague to run itself out. And working at the hospital gets me away from my empty house...

I volunteered for one of the harder jobs, hauling dead bodies down to the morgue, cleaning them up and putting 'em on ice until they can get a decent burial. It's heavy work, moving and cleaning corpses, but I'd rather deal with the dead than the dying.

Comforting suffering sick people is not one of my better suits. I don't have a strong belief in the afterlife, so I don't feel comfortable telling dying people "Don't worry, God will take care of you," or "It's OK, you'll soon be in heaven with your dead relatives."

I'm taking a break, smoking in the waiting room. One of the nurses walks in. "Steve, we got one for you, in 11B."

I stub out my cigarette."OK, I'll be right there."

Balding, grey haired, a neatly trimmed mustache. the guy looks to be about my age, but somewhat thinner. (That's good for me, the skinny ones are easier to move.) The nurse helps me drag him off the bed and onto the gurney. "Thanks, Nancy," I say, as I wheel the body out of the room.

Halfway down the hall, the dead guy wakes up. He gasps, frightened, and looks at me. "Where... am... I?" He whispers hoarsely, a look of sheer terror in his eyes.

"I need a doctor here! Stat!" I yell down the corridor.

I take the man's hand. "Don't worry, it's OK... Everything's gonna be all right," I tell him.

My words soothe him. He lies back down and closes his eyes. He exhales deeply, as the tension leaves his body.

I put my thumb on his wrist. No pulse. I see the doctor hurrying down the hall towards us.

"Never mind," I tell him, "He's gone."