Ashes to Ashes (standard:horror, 8174 words)
Author: Kenneth Brosky	Added: Dec 18 2006	Views/Reads: 3327/2214	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Justin Breneview is taking a new job in the crematorium of his local hospital. It starts out like a dream job ...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

the opposite wall and pulled out a small TV. 

“I personally like to watch court shows while the bodies are frying,” he
said. “What you want to watch after I'm gone is your business, but I'm 
warning you right now that I never miss an episode of Judge Stein. So 
until I leave, I've got this puppy reserved between one and one-thirty 
every day.” 

“That's fine,” Justin said. “I don't mind court shows.” 

Benny smiled. “I'm already liking ya, kid.” He put the TV back in the
cabinet, which also contained a deck of cards complete with poker 
chips, and a few books that Justin couldn't make out from where he 
stood. “All right, it's time to throw a body in, because it's already 
nine-thirty and I've usually got one cooking already.” 

Benny walked over to the door labeled “Morgue” and opened it. A breeze
of dank air hit Justin's nostrils. 

Benny caught Justin's facial expression. “Don't worry. You get used to
the smell after about a week.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Shit, 
I remember the first time I smelled this place. Of course, back then 
there were a lot more bodies that needed to be cremated, and this place 
was always loaded to the brim with ‘em. Sometimes, there wouldn't even 
be enough freezers to hold all of the bodies. The morticians would 
leave a couple on the tables overnight and just pump ‘em full juice. 
Didn't help; by the time I got in the next day, this place would stink 
to High Hell.” 

“Freezers?” 

Benny led Justin inside the morgue. He flipped the light on to reveal
three walls, each lined with small square-shaped doors. Justin counted 
fifteen on each wall, three from top-to-bottom and five from 
left-to-right. Two metal tables sat in the middle of the room, complete 
with trays of surgical instruments and carts full of liquids and tubes. 
Lights snaked down for the ceiling above the tables. Both tables looked 
as though they hadn't been used in awhile, dirt lining the edges and 
dust gathering around the base. 

“Freezers,” Benny said. “Where the bodies are stored until they're ready
to be cremated.” Justin stood in the doorway as the old man made his 
way around the three groups of freezers, stopping every once in awhile 
to check any of the doors that had a small white tag on the handle. For 
the first time, Justin was aware of the limp in Benny's walk, as if one 
of his legs was an inch or so shorter than the other. 

“Yup,” Benny said as he checked the last row, “it's about a normal day.
Only a couple bodies to be cremated. One of ‘em needs an urn, the other 
can be cleaned up and dumped out after it's done.” 

“What about the families?” Justin asked. “I mean, don't they want the
remains?” 

“Nah. Most of the bodies the hospital holds here are for medical
research. They'll buy the ones who died from a questionable disease for 
research. The rest are John Does. Sometimes a family will want the 
remains, but it's policy to cremate the bodies after research.” 

“So we just dump the rest of the ashes?” 

Benny turned Justin around and pointed to a small chute next to the
doorway. “Garbage chute. Goes to the sub-basement.” 

“We just dump them?” he asked again with an incredulous laugh. 

Benny laughed. “Of course not. First, we scoop ‘em out of the
incinerator. Then we dump them. This isn't a huge operation the 
hospital runs here anymore. Too small of a city, too many cremation 
services. It's just cheaper than transporting the med experiments to a 
bigger place.” 

“All right,” Justin said. “I think I get it. Sorry, I don't know a lot
about medical procedures.” 

Benny gave a quick nod and walked back into the morgue. He returned with
a bright white lab coat and two pairs of latex gloves. “Here,” he said, 
handing Justin the coat and two gloves. “It's time to show you how to 
prep a body.” 

The coat matched perfectly with the walls in all of the rooms; all it
was missing was the thin stripe of green that ran horizontally across 
the middle of every wall. The Hospital's decorations were ridiculously 
simple. Whoever had been in charge of decorating the building should 
have been strung up and shot, Justin thought to himself. 

“First, we take a body from the freezer,” Benny stated. He walked over
to one of the tagged metal doors. With a grunt, he pulled open the door 
and slid the body onto its gurney. It was wrapped in a thick plastic so 
that only two features were easily distinguishable: the body was that 
of a white woman. 

A folder rested on the stomach of the body. Benny grabbed it and filed
through the pages inside. “Gene Haskal. Died at the age of forty-three 
due to a lesion in the brain. What a pity.” He unzipped the plastic bag 
enough to see the woman's full head. The smell quickly wafted into 
Justin's nostrils and he felt a gag reflex in his throat. “Lesion was 
first found a year ago. Underwent unsuccessful surgery. Well hey—she's 
also allergic to cats.” 

Justin grunted through his nose and plugged it with his hand to prevent
himself from inhaling any more of the noxious scent. 

Benny looked at him and smiled. “Don't worry, you get used to that, too.
Look at this.” He pointed to the stitch marks across the forehead and 
around the scalp. Her entire head had been shaved very poorly around 
the stitch marks, leaving fiery red patches scattered around the crown. 
“Cut open her melon to figure out what killed her.” He checked the last 
page of the file, which was colored a bright green. “Always check for 
the green sheet. If there's a green sheet, it means that the family 
requested the body be cremated and returned to them.” Benny pointed to 
the number in the upper-right hand corner of the paper. “Match that 
number with the urn. We'll worry about that later, though.” 

Justin watched as Benny pulled the entire gurney out. As he did, small
metal legs on wheels folded out from underneath. “Help me here,” he 
huffed. Justin grabbed under the gurney and almost pulled back in 
shock. Benny grimaced. “Yeah, it's cold, but ...” 

“You get used to it,” Justin finished. They slowly lowered the gurney
until all four legs unfolded and rested on the tiled floor. 

The old man smiled. “You learn fast. That's good. They had another kid
come in to train about a few months ago. Damned fool kept forgetting 
the protocol. Fucked up two cremations because he forgot to take off 
the plastic tarp. Entire place reeked of the shit for a week.” 

Benny wheeled the folding gurney over to one of the exam tables and set
the folder on a tray of sterilized tools. “Now all we need to do is 
take off this ridiculous plastic dress and get poor Gene into a pill.” 
He walked over to the large cabinets just right of the doorway. “I'm 
not sure what they're really called. All I know is they're shaped like 
giant pills, so that's what I call ‘em. They're made of some substance 
that incinerates quickly without leaving a trace in the ashes or making 
a nasty smell like plastic.” 

“What do they do, exactly?” 

“Helps the bodies burn,” Benny answered simply. “This incinerator is an
old man, and he needs a little help, so when the flames hit these 
pills, they spread out quicker and up the heat inside. Kinda like 
adding an extra log to the fire.” 

The old man opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a large
pill-shaped object about six feet in length. It looked off-white, just 
like everything else in the hospital, and the surface reminded Justin 
of Tupperware he used to cook Ramen Noodles in his apartment. 

“Gimme a hand with this,” Benny wheezed. Justin moved over and grabbed
the bottom of the container so that it wouldn't drag on the floor. It 
felt rough in texture, and fairly light for its monstrous size. 
Carefully, they set the container on the metal exam table. 

“Now normally this isn't how I do it, since I'm usually the only person
here,” Benny said. He looked towards the doorway, as though he was 
checking for some unexpected guest. “But since you're new, I'll teach 
you how to “officially” do this. Next time, I'll show you my way. You 
can decide from there which way you would prefer, but the way I'm going 
to teach you now is the way the hospital likes it.” 

“Okay.” 

“First, we get this plastic bag off.” Benny unzipped the entire bag and
pulled it out from under the woman, keeping one hand on her chest to 
hold the body in place while the plastic slid out from under her. “Grab 
her legs and follow my lead,” the old man said as he grabbed under her 
shoulders. 

Justin grabbed her stiff, rough legs, trying keep leverage while at the
same time avoiding keeping his hands too close to her upper thighs. A 
day's worth of hair covered the lower half of the body. Quickly, he 
lifted her up and set her into the pill. The woman fit with more than 
enough room to spare. 

“That's the hard way to do it,” Benny was saying as Justin rubbed at his
gloved hands. The feeling of the woman's stubbly legs lingered on the 
tips of his fingers. “Especially when you've only got one person here. 
Then it gets really difficult. Not impossible, mind you, but you have 
to think constructively. I personally have my own special way of doing 
it.” 

Benny slid the pill onto the gurney next to the exam table. The legs
folded slightly under the extra weight. “All right. We're ready to cook 
this little gal.” 

Justin laughed at the morbid joke. The old man grinned. “Keep that sense
of humor down here, kid. It'll go a long way.” 

They wheeled the pill into the cremation room and placed it in front of
the incinerator door. Benny pointed to a dial on the side of the 
incinerator. “Always make sure this is set at seventeen hundred degrees 
Fahrenheit before you put in the body. This is pretty simple. Open the 
door,” Benny turned the small rusty handle on the door and opened it. 
It was about a foot lower than the top of the gurney. “Slide in the 
pill,” Ben pushed at the foot of the pill. It slid onto the perforated 
metal table inside, all the way in until it hit the back of the 
incinerator with a loud bang. There was a foot-and-a-half of space 
between the entrance and the foot of the pill, and Justin wondered how 
they would cremate a basketball player taller than seven-and-a-half 
feet. 

“Shut the door,” the old man continued. He shut the door and pulled the
handle up to lock it. “Always make sure the handle is up and in the 
locked position. Then start the incinerator.” He pointed to a set of 
buttons under the temperature dial, each an assorted color. “Press the 
blue button to ignite the flames, then press the red button to start 
the cremation process.” Benny let Justin press the blue button. The 
incinerator mad a loud clicking noise inside its metal bowels When he 
pressed the red button, a gust of warm air hit them from a vent near 
the ceiling. 

“All done. Check back in two hours.” Benny checked his watch. “Yup, that
took the usual thirty minutes. We'll prep another body in an hour and a 
half. You up for some poker?” 

Justin nodded. “Sure. I'm not that good, though.” 

Benny grinned, large enough for the wrinkles in his face to collect at
the corners of his eyes. He looked like a big white wrinkled dog, and 
the thought of a wrinkled dog with white receding hair made Justin 
grin, too. 

Justin sat at one side of the cheap table and let the old man dispense
the cards. There was a faint scent of the flames as they licked at the 
skin of the dead body; even the powerful venting system couldn't fully 
hide the stench. But, as Benny was prone to saying, Justin assumed he 
would eventually get used to it. 

“What are you studying to be up at the college, anyways?” the old man
asked. He carefully looked over his hand of cards with the eye of a 
professional. 

Justin looked at his own hand and frowned. “I was going into nursing,
actually. But I started having second doubts and took a while off to 
try and figure it out. Three.” 

Benny dealt three new cards across the table. “I always thought it would
be neat to go into something with medicine. That was back before there 
weren't a lot of these fancy medical devices and shit.” He dealt 
himself one card. “Then I got to working here and realized how big of 
assholes all the doctors are and didn't want any part in it.” 

Justin laughed and laid out his hand. “Two pair. Kings over queens.” 

The old man nodded. “I got nothin'.” 

Benny brought Justin back into the morgue at eleven o'clock and followed
the same routine. 

“Now,” the old man was saying as he pulled another pill from the storage
room, “this is how I personally like to finish prepping the body.” 

He set the pill on the floor next to the gurney where a fifty-something
year-old man was laid out. Benny walked over to the other side and 
simply pushed the body off of the gurney. It landed below, into the 
open pill with a sickening splat of heavy skin on plastic. Not plastic, 
Justin reminded himself—Tupperware. 

“I find it much easier,” Benny said. He closed the lid firmly and folded
the gurney's legs, keeping a foot on the surface to keep it from 
popping back up. “Then all you have to do is slide it back onto the 
gurney.” He stood on the gurney and bent over with a groan. “I'm 
getting too old for this. Do me a favor and slide this bastard onto the 
gurney for me.” 

Justin moved over and pushed the pill onto the folded gurney. The man
was heavy, probably somewhere in the range of two hundred and fifty 
pounds and only about six feet in height. Benny lifted his foot from 
the gurney and let the legs unfold. They did so, though significantly 
less than when the much lighter woman was on. 

“Big fella,” the old man commented. He leafed through the man's folder.
“Mark Hamilton, died at the age of forty-five, possibly of cancer. 
Underwent therapy for anxiety and claustrophobia. Very interesting. 
There's no green sheet, so we can just dump the ashes once he's done.” 

“Okay.” 

Benny set the folder on the other exam table, where another folder still
sat. Probably the woman's, Justin assumed. He peeked into the pill, 
staring at the man's stiff, pasty body; it was large, wrinkled, with 
thin lines where the skin was stretching to its limits. The legs had a 
few traces of bumpy cellulite, and large patches of hair covered the 
upper body. The dead man had a look of complete peace on his face, 
contrasting with his rough facial features. 

The old man laughed lightly and pointed to the deceased's crotch. “I'm
surprised old Mark didn't go to therapy for an inferiority complex.” 

Justin laughed hard. The thought that the two were laughing at a dead
man's phallus made him laugh even harder, to the point that tears 
welled up in the corners of his eyes. 

Benny rubbed his eyes and grabbed the gurney. They wheeled it back into
the cremation room, letting it rest next to the card table. The old man 
checked his watch, nodded, and turned off the incinerator by pressing 
the green button near the thermometer. The vents on the side sighed 
louder as they worked double-time. 

“Wait a few seconds for the incinerator to cool off,” Benny stated. He
checked his watch again. “Doesn't take too long. It's an old piece of 
shit, but it's still got a good cooling system that's passed the tests 
of time.” 

They stood there a moment, the loud air vents filling the silence.
Burning meat replaced the usual musty smell of the room. Finally, the 
vents slowed down, creaking and cracking loudly as unseen switches and 
loose metal clanged against each other. 

Benny opened the door and looked in. “Yup, he's done.” He walked over to
the cabinets where the colorful urns stood and reached into a small 
drawer. “Here ya go, kid,” said, drawing out a long brush and a pan. 
“Time to learn how to clean out the ashes.” 

Justin took the tools and weighed them in his hands. “What exactly do I
do?” 

“The metal tabletop that the body burns on pulls out about halfway. Pull
it out, and sweep any black ashes and bone fragments you find into the 
pan. Then dump it in this urn.” Benny grabbed one of the urns—a bright 
red one, with golden trim along the top and the word “Gene” written in 
beautiful cursive along the side. 

Justin tapped the metal table inside the incinerator with his finger,
remarking on the impressive old-age cooling system. He looked inside. 

The cooling system was only somewhat impressive, Justin decided. The
vents had managed to disperse the ashes evenly across the table, as 
well as further back under the table. Some of the nearer ashes looked 
wet and clumped together. He leaned in under the table and grunted. 
Immediately, a cloud of ashes vaulted into the air. Justin took in a 
quick breath and felt the ashes jump into his mouth, crawling to the 
back of his throat. He coughed and felt his natural gag reflex spring 
into action. 

Benny grabbed the back of Justin's lab coat and pulled him out of the
incinerator. He swallowed hard a few times between the coughs, making 
sure the foreign substance was either coughed up or swallowed. 

And then horrible thought hit him; there were pieces of that burned
cadaver inside his body. Remains of Gene Haskal were being absorbed 
into his body. He tried not to think of the rotted corpse he had 
handled only a few hours ago, that peaceful look on her face. He tried 
not to picture that corpse, blackened, ripped apart by searing flames, 
crawling inside of his body, melding with his blood cells and being 
digested by his stomach, slithering along the lining of his lungs. 

Justin's stomach could bear no more. He threw up onto the tiled floor,
violently. Benny took a step back, hesitated, then carefully set a hand 
on Justin's back. 

“Easy, kid,” he soothed. Even Benny's gentlest voice sounded rough and
strong. “Just get it out. But try and aim for the damn garbage. It's 
right next to ya, for crying out loud.” 

Justin reached out with his left hand and grabbed the large trashcan
sitting next to the incinerator. He puked into it once more, dry heaved 
a few times, and finally fell to his knees in exhaustion. The bones 
clicked on the metal tiles. 

“You okay now?” 

Justin nodded and let Benny help him to a chair at the card table. He
sat down and forced himself to swallow more vomit pushing back up his 
esophagus. Benny sat down next to him. 

“Sorry,” Justin said. “I accidentally inhaled some ashes. Got them stuck
in my windpipe, I guess.” 

Benny nodded. “I could get you a few surgical masks, if you want. They
don't do much, though. The shit still gets through.” 

Justin shook his head. “No, don't go through any trouble. I just inhaled
at the wrong time. I'll grab something to clean this shit up.” 

“Nah, I'll go grab a mop.” Benny stood up. “You think you can handle
sweeping up the rest of those ashes right quick? We'll toss the next 
stiff in the incinerator, then.” 

Justin coughed an “okay” and moved back to the incinerator. There were a
few ashes scattered around the corners in the far back. Carefully, he 
used the brush to reach back and push the ashes nearer. It wasn't until 
he scooped them up into the pan that he realized he hadn't breathed 
since first standing up from the chair. 

He dumped the ashes in the large urn with a matching number and waited
for Benny to come back, trying to keep his mind off of the ashes 
resting against his stomach, pressing against the wet lining and slowly 
being digested by the unsuspecting enzymes. The essence of the ashes 
would then be absorbed by the stomach acid and travel freely through 
Justin's entire body. 

“Just a little dust,” Benny said, returning with a mop bucket. 

“What?” Justin coughed out. 

“It's just a little dust,” Benny repeated, smiling at Justin so that the
folds around the sides of his lips wrinkled over the whiskery stubble. 
“Get a little water in your system and flush out your windpipe, you 
know? Good as new.” 

“Oh yeah,” Just said. “Hell of a way to start a new job, though.” 

Benny waved the thought away and quickly mopped the vomit into the
bucket. “You should have seen the last guy they sent down to me. Took 
one look at the first body and told me flat out, ‘Benjamin, I really 
don't think this is going to work out.' Nice young man, from that black 
college upstate, but just a little too weak in the stomach.” He wheeled 
the prepped gurney in front of the incinerator. 

Justin forced a mild laugh. “I'm glad I'm not the worst case you've ever
seen.” 

“You're still standing here,” Benny said, resting a hand on the top of
the pill. The weak covering caved in slightly under the pressure. “It 
takes a real man to stick it out after going through some shit.” 

“I don't like to quit,” Justin stated. He walked over to the body and
grabbed the folder tucked under the pill, handing it to Benny. 

“Well, that's a good attitude to have.” Benny grabbed the folder and
looked it over. “Mmm-hmm. Well, old Mister Hamilton here isn't going to 
go quick. You know, I'd hate to keep you too late today, so why don't 
you give me a hand getting this bastard in and then you can just take 
off?” 

“You sure?” Justin asked. “I mean, I don't want to just go and bail on
you.” 

“Hey, don't worry about it.” Benny finished reading over the report and
tossed it on the card table. “Your training'll be done well before he's 
finished cooking.” 

“Well, I can still keep you company till my shift's up,” Justin offered.
“No point in you sitting around down here alone.” 

Benny laughed. “Shit, you've gotta be crazy to want to stay down here
with this old man, but I ain't gonna say no to another hour of 
company.” 

They pushed the pill into the cool incinerator and Justin returned the
gurney to the morgue. By the time he returned, Benny had already 
started the incinerator up again and was sitting at the card table, 
shuffling the deck of cards. 

“Why don't you go ahead and find us a good channel?” Benny said before
Justin could sit down. Justin moved over to the TV cabinet and opened 
it before taking an opposite seat. Benny slid the remote across the 
table and Justin grabbed it, pressing the power button at the TV. He 
flipped through the channels until he found a court program. 

“Good choice,” Benny confirmed, dealing out three cards. “You know how
to play seven-card stud?” 

Justin picked up his hand. “I think so. My dad used to gamble every day
back when he worked downtown.” 

Benny rubbed at his thin beard. “Ah, that must have been back when they
had the casino down on Water Street, eh?” 

“Yup, yup.” 

Justin lost himself in the card game, trying to forget about the dryness
in his throat and the accompanying feeling. He didn't look at his watch 
again until he saw the light on the incinerator change. 

Benny stood up and walked over to the control panel. “It's already six,”
he said. “I guess we lost track of time there.” 

“I knew it was late,” Justin said, throwing down his cards. “I just
wanted to win a little back before I left.” 

Benny pushed the green button. The small, cramped room immediately
cooled down by more than five degrees. “You wanna redeem yourself with 
the cleanup, since you're here anyways?” 

“Hell yes,” Justin stated, standing and walking over to grab the dustpan
and broom. “It'd be nice to be able to do the job right at least once 
before I get out of here.” 

“Hey, the quicker you get this job under control, the quicker I can
retire and really start living it up.” 

Justin walked over to the incinerator and opened it, waiting a few
moments for the warm air to flow out. “It cools fast.” 

“Yup, yup.” Benny rubbed the side of the metal incinerator with a
delicate touch. “She's old, but she was built with a state-of-the-art 
cooling panel. Kinda like one big fat air conditioner, by today's 
standards.” 

Justin put on the pair of gloves resting next to the incinerator and
pulled out the still-warm sliding gurney. He leaned in the incinerator. 
Thick, black dust lined the corners and lower part of the walls. He 
pulled his head out and took a deep breath before leaning in again and 
slowly brushing along the sides of the walls. 

“Yeah, be sure you get the sides real good. Otherwise, some of the
ash'll harden overnight and we'll have a hell of a time getting it off 
tomorrow.” 

Justin leaned in further and brushed the thick piles of ash along the
corners. The smaller particles swirled in the air and slid across his 
tightly closed lips. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying not to 
imagine the little flecks of dead human crawling across his skin. He 
exhaled deeply, slowly, trying not to stir any extra ash into the air, 
trying to maintain at least some small level of dignity while Benny 
looked on. When he breathed in again, he could feel the rogue ashes 
creep down his esophagus, but refused to acknowledge the gagging 
feeling surfacing at the back of his throat. 

“Just get the pile on the bottom,” Benny ordered. “And sweep it in the
pan. That looks pretty good.” 

Justin swept the large pile of ash into the dustpan and swallowed hard,
feeling the burnt particles line his throat and absorb the needed 
moisture. He pulled his head out of the incinerator and found Benny 
waiting with the trash barrel and a glass of water. 

“Here,” he said, handing Justin the water and grabbing the pan. He
dumped the ashes into the garbage, swatting at the smaller particles 
floating up. 

Justin drank the entire glass of water, relishing every cold drop
against the lining of his insides. 

Benny pursed his lips. “I suppose we should clock out now. You've
already racked up an extra hour of overtime, and the big guys 
upstairs'll get upset if you take any more.” 

“Okay.” Justin followed the old man out of the room and waited at the
elevator until all of the doors in the basement were locked. Benny 
pushed the button for the first floor, and stared at the already-lit 
button for the third. 

“You parked in the structure?” 

“Yeah. Shouldn't I have?” 

Benny shook his head. “Better to park on the west side of the building
in the morning. It's free, and there's always a few places free before 
the docs get in for first shift.” 

“I'll remember that.” Justin watched the elevator doors close. The
fabric around his collar tightened slightly. He gripped the rails with 
both hands. 

Benny looked over. “You feeling all right, kid? You look like you gotta
take a big shit or something.” 

Justin took a deep breath, feeling the restriction around his throat.
“I'm fine,” he forced out. “Just not a big fan of elevators, is all.” 
But that was a lie. He had used elevators a thousand times before and 
never felt such anxiety. 

Benny eyed him cautiously for a moment as the doors opened on the first
floor. “Well, you take it easy. I'll see you tomorrow, first thing.” 

Justin watched the old man hobble off the elevator. It took every pint
of willpower in his body to keep from jumping out of the tiny metal 
box. He could feel the walls around him constricting his breathing, his 
mind running through a thousand different chaos scenarios at once. He 
shut his eyes hard and tried to imagine himself in a wide-open field 
with nothing but warm spring air circling around his body, counting off 
the seconds like they were hours. 

The doors finally opened. Justin stepped out quickly, pushing aside two
grim-faced doctors who both flashed dirty, annoyed looks. He tripped on 
his own shoes and tumbled to the ground, almost kissing the dirty white 
tiles when his face pressed against them. 

Two strong hands grabbed the back of his heavy down jacket and helped
him to his feet. He opened his eyes and let the orderly steady him for 
a moment longer while equilibrium was restored. 

“Be careful,” the orderly said lightly. “Parts of these floors is sticky
and parts of them is slippery. Where you going?” 

“Home,” Justin said, glancing cautiously over the orderly's large
shoulder to stare at the metal elevator doors. They almost seemed to be 
mocking him as they closed halfway, then opened again when a woman, 
running, pressed her hand between them, before finally closing again. 

“You work here?” 

“Cremation,” Justin answered absently. He noticed the orderly's face
change slightly. 

“Oh. Well, good luck with that.” 

Justin watched the man leave before turning back and heading into the
parking complex. 

Home, he felt his nose grow stuffy almost immediately within stepping
into the cramped living room. Tigger looked up from his perch on the 
far window for a moment before lying back down and shutting his eyes. 

“Hello to you, too,” Justin muttered, stepping into the bathroom to grab
a wad of tissue. He watched the cat absently lick one of his paws 
before stepping off the perch and walking over. Tigger rubbed against 
Justin's jean leg then stepped back when he finally felt the cold snow 
penetrate his thick fur. 

Justin laughed and watched him run off. “I didn't take the elevator
today, you dummy.” He walked over to the kitchen and threw away the 
mucus-filled tissue. “Had to take the freezing cold, unheated emergency 
staircase to get up here.” 

That was an understatement, he admitted quietly to himself. The truth
was that he had been so terrified about taking the elevator that he 
would have opted to scale the side of the apartment building. He chose 
to omit telling the cat about the brief scene of panic in the narrow 
hallway outside. 

“Probably from being outside so much,” Justin said, staring at the heavy
wad of tissue in the trash can. “It's pretty damned cold outside.” 

Sneezes. Watery eyes. More snot. Justin cursed himself for not being
ballsy enough to take the warm elevator. He readied himself for bed, 
watching the cat jump off of his pillow to take up residence in the 
kitchen. When he rested his head on it, he immediately felt the 
symptoms grow a thousand times worse as the shed cat hairs brushed 
against his face. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered, brushing off the pillow and rubbing at his
eyes. They itched. They wouldn't stop itching, God, it was torture just 
trying to close them without drenching the pillowcase in a gallon of 
tears. He tossed and turned and locked the cat out of the bedroom, 
opening one of the windows to let the cold winter air run in and push 
out the dank, toxic bedroom ambiance. 

Sleeplessness. Anger. Justin was surprised at first to hear himself
cursing aloud when he couldn't immediately fall asleep—he rarely swore. 
But the hours dragged on, and the cursing began to feel more and more 
comfortable. But he couldn't sleep, no matter how much cold air he 
breathed in through his mouth, no matter how many different ways he 
found to curse God. 

Benny was already sitting at the card table when Justin arrived the next
morning. He could see the old man studying his lined, heavy, sleepless 
features as he dropped his coat on the back of the chair and sat down. 

“You're lookin' pretty pale there, kid.” 

Justin looked over to the incinerator. Through the small, black-burnt
observation window, he could see the outlines of heavy flames licking 
away at their newest victim. “Rough night.” 

Benny smiled. “Out drinking with the boys?” 

“Cold, I think. I feel better today, but damned if I didn't feel like I
was dying last night.” 

“That'll happen,” Benny said sagely. “Those things go as fast as they
come, especially during the winter.” 

Justin closed his eyes and cleared his head with a hard shake. “I think
I'll be fine by this afternoon, though.” 

“Well, don't hesitate to tell me if something's wrong. I'm sure whatever
it is, we can work it out. The last guys, they never really spoke up 
ever about anything. Then they just up and ... left.” 

Something is wrong, Justin wanted to say; I can't step into anything
smaller than a football field without feeling a clawing anxiety—even 
this room is making me claw at my collar—and I may or may not have 
developed an allergy to the only pussy I've touched in months. 

“You got it,” Justin said. He glanced around at the cold, gray cement
walls and swallowed hard. “You wanna play some cards or something?” 

“Sure.” Benny looked over to the incinerator and stopped shuffling the
deck of cards in his hands. “Whoops. How about after we take care of 
this fella here first?” 

Justin looked at the incinerator, watching the light change. He tried to
imagine what it was like to feel the heavy flames lick at his bare skin 
as they penetrated the thin pill and melted the body to the flat, metal 
tray in a matter of minutes before beginning a slow cook to 
disintegrate all of the hardiest of flesh and bones. 

“He went quick,” Benny was saying as he handed Justin the dustpan and
mini-broom. “I put him in at six, and he's already char-broiled. Pretty 
good time, if I do say so myself.” 

“I hope he went just as quick before this,” Justin murmured. 

“You mean when he died? Oh no, I'm afraid. Heart attack. Cops didn't
come to the house until a week later when the nursing care he was with 
finally started to get worried. No family left alive, no relatives who 
want to claim the body.” Benny stared into the incinerator and shook 
his head. “Man, what a way to go. Just get me to Hawaii and let me die 
on the hot, hot sands of Kauai.” 

“You should have retired years ago.” Justin opened the door and peered
into the incinerator, the closed walls surrounding his head, closing 
from all sides. He pulled his head out a few inches and looked over to 
Benny. 

Benny frowned. “Would have liked to, but this job doesn't exactly have
an ‘optimum turnover rate,' as the med staff upstairs likes to say.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Benny shrugged. “Lots of people starting here just don't work out. Good
people, guys and gals, they come in here thinking all you gotta do is 
push a button and scoop up the ashes. But it's more than just that. It 
takes a certain type of person to fill this position.” 

“Well don't worry about me,” Justin stated. He saw Benny smile out of
the corner of his eye before returning to the maw of the incinerator. 
He shut his eyes and began feverishly scraping, using motions by memory 
and trying to think of anything other than the small space confining 
his head. He felt specks of ash brush against his face and he couldn't 
help but breathe in more than a handful of times, each breath short and 
quick and raspy as his lungs took in a mass of the old dead man's 
flecks of skin, organs, nails, hair. 

He pulled his head out of the incinerator, huffing and puffing and
staring at the large heap of ashes piled in a more or less neat pyramid 
of black at the edge of the opening. Carefully, he dusted it onto the 
dustpan and dumped it into the wastebasket. 

Justin set the pan and broom next to the incinerator and brushed his
hands clean. He caught Benny's eyes and stopped. “What?” 

Benny shook his head. “Ah, nothing. Just glad you showed up. Not a lot
of people do after their first day.” 

“This job's too good to quit,” Justin stated. 

“That's what they all say at first.” Benny slapped him on the shoulder.
“So let's pop in another stiff and play some cards. Maybe you can win 
back some of the money you already owe me.” 

Justin followed the old man into the next room. They grabbed a long pill
and placed it on the gurney. Justin felt most of the dead body's weight 
pulling at his shoulders; he looked over to Benny and saw the old man's 
worn eyes bearing down on the pill without any sort of focus, his 
shoulders slumped. 

“So who's this?” Justin asked, feeling all at once uncomfortable alone
with the old man. 

“This guy?” Benny grabbed the folder and rifled through the paperwork.
“Well, shit. This is here's a bon-a-fide psychopath, apparently. Eddy 
Burns ... history of mental illness ... snapped and killed his family 
last week.” 

Justin snapped his fingers. “I read about that guy in the paper a few
days ago.” 

“Says here he took his own life, after writing his confession. Was
coming down on a heroin high when he tore himself apart. Still had a 
pretty heavy dose in his body when they found him.” 

Justin squinted and tried to peer through the thin white shell of the
pill. “That's disgusting.” 

“Probably didn't feel anything, if that means anything to ya.” 

“Not really.” 

“Then let's put this poor bastard out of his misery once and for all.”
The two wheeled the pill into the main room. Justin held the gurney 
steady as Benny quickly slid it into the incinerator. He shut the door 
and watched Benny pull the switch before hobbling over to the card 
table. 

Justin joined the old man at the table and watched him slowly shuffle
the deck of cards. “You ever get any side effects from doing this all 
day?” 

“What, like respiratory problems?” Benny asked. He kept his eyes down,
focusing on the cards as he cut them twice and began dealing them out. 

“Something like that. I don't know, maybe I'm just a little freaked out
from inhaling so many ashes.” 

“Ah, it's nothing, kid.” Benny finished dealing the cards and looked
into Justin's green eyes. “It's all in your head.” 

Justin stared at the old man a moment longer, hoping he would raise his
head and make some sort of comforting eye contact. “Yeah, maybe you're 
right.” 

Benny seemed to force a smile. “Well, let's just grab you a mask for
awhile until you get over this. It's all mental, kid. It's all mental.” 


“Okay.” Justin threw down two cards. 

When the light on the incinerator finally switched, Justin could feel
the lining of his heart overworking itself; blood forced through the 
ventricles at a furious pace. He was breathing very slowly, trying not 
to focus on the heavy heartbeat thumping against his ears like two 
giant baritone drums in crowded concert hall. 

Benny opened the door and peered inside. “Whew, this boy had a lot of
meat to him. You think you can handle this?” 

“Yeah,” Justin forced out. “But can I get that mask, just for this one
time?” 

“Oh no problem.” Benny walked over to the cabinets on the other side of
the room and reached into one of the metallic drawers. He came back 
with a flimsy white surgical mask and shrugged. “Good enough for the 
doctors, good enough for us, I guess.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Justin put the mask on and grabbed the dustpan and broom
sitting next to the incinerator. 

He peered inside for a moment, briefly forgetting about the thick
squeezing pain in his chest and instead focusing, terrified, on the 
tiny cramped space inside the incinerator. He closed his eyes and went 
in quickly, brushing erratically and sloppily, forcing ashes into the 
air, knowing he was dispersing more and more as the tiny particles 
brushed against his face and stuck to the tiny hair follicles, not 
caring and breathing in deeply now as the stifling pain in his chest 
grew and the ash penetrated the air filters of the mask and he felt the 
miniature pieces of the suicidal murderer seep into his body, into his 
bloodstream, into his brain. 

Benny watched it all happen, backing away when he saw Justin's movements
grow more furious in their motions. He distanced himself and moved to 
the opposite side of the table. He knelt down and pulled a very thin 
knife from the sheath around his ankle, rising to his feet again very 
slowly so as not to enflame his bum knee. He gripped the knife tightly, 
holding it against his pocket and waited. 

Justin coughed hard, twice, before turning around. The airborne ashes
had coated most of his face with a thick black mask. The whites of his 
eyes bore down on Benny and his yellowish-white teeth formed a smile 
like the Cheshire Cat's. He took at step forward while simultaneously 
gripping the edge of the card table, then his chest, then the card 
table again as he moved closer Benny. Benny kept the table between 
them, pulling out his knife and holding it in plain sight. 

Justin chuckled and coughed hard. “That won't stop me, old man.” He
gripped his chest with one hand, wincing hard. “I can feel it running 
through my bloodstream, like a liquid cool, Benny. It feels like I'm 
flying. I had morphine once when I was in the hospital for an 
operation, but this is a thousand times better.” 

Benny didn't respond. He continued adjusting for Justin's crippled
movements, keeping the table between them and calculating the next 
move. Justin put both hands under the table and lifted it up, tossing 
it across the room. He kicked the chairs to the side even as his knees 
buckled and the squeezing in his chest amplified. He fell to the 
ground, twitching, eyes bulging and chest rapidly rising and falling. 

Benny kept the knife in front of him a moment more, taking a step
forward and watching the young man carefully to make sure no tricks 
were being played. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, “big turnover rate down here. Trouble is, it
takes a special kind of person to handle this job, and I really wish it 
could have been you, Justin my boy.” 

Benny waited for Justin's movements to calm. Slowly, his breathing began
to slow and his movements ceased. He lowered the metal gurney and laid 
it next to Justin, sheathed his knife. 

“Problem is, you were right.” Benny lowered the gurney to the ground.
“Them ashes really can get to a fella. You either develop a quick 
immunity to it, or you never do.” 

Slowly, he rolled Justin onto the metal gurney, using the bottom of his
feet for leverage and swatting away the young man's feeble attempts to 
struggle. 

“Had to test you, of course,” Benny huffed out as he finally got
Justin's entire paralyzed frame onto the gurney. He watched the young 
man's chest again rise and fall very rapidly, very violently. “Now just 
settle down and try not to think about all of it, okay? It'll be over 
quick enough.” 

He pumped the gurney's accordion legs with his foot, keeping one hand on
Justin's shoulder to keep him steady. Benny could see the murderous 
ferocity in the eyes. He shook his head. “I sure am looking forward to 
retirement, though. Just gotta find someone who can handle the 
pressures of this job. Twenty-three applicants in three years, and not 
a Goddamn one has made it through. Can you believe that? It's a shame 
I'm stuck doing this, but now you got all of them inside of you. And 
they sure as hell ain't gonna leave next time you piss.” 

Slowly, Benny rolled the gurney over to the open incinerator. He walked
to the front and began pushing Justin in, putting pressure on the soles 
of his shoes to force him in. Justin cried out weakly and pawed at the 
corners of the doorway with alternating hands, always keeping one 
squarely on his pained chest. Benny stopped for a moment. 

“Sorry, kid.” 


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