The Dead

“Got any beer?” Dennis asked.

“In the fridge,” Max answered.

“Man, I used to pull some jokes on old Maxie,” Buddy said wistfully. “I ever tell you boys about the time I put cowshit in his bed?”

That was a new one.

“Yeah,” Gary said, forcing a laugh. “I heard all about it, remember?”

“You sure?”

“I think so.”

“Nah. I’m sure I didn’t tell you.”

Then why’d you ask? Gary thought, but said nothing, knowing he was in for the long haul no matter what.

“Sit down, sit down,” Buddy said. “You’ll just crap your pants.”

They parked themselves on the couch, Gary steeling himself. Max headed for the kitchen.

“Hey!” Buddy called after him. “Don’t you want to hear the story?”

“No,” Max said.

When they left for the funeral parlor, Gary noticed that his Pinto sounded pretty ragged, much the way Buddy’s Chevy had; that was odd, considering he’d had it tuned three weeks before. But half the cars on the street seemed to be coughing and wheezing-it was obvious even though Gary had the windows rolled up. The day had turned quite chilly.

What happened to summer? he wondered.

He turned right on Beichmann, passing two cop cars heading up toward the beach, lights flashing. Reaching the western end of the business district, he pulled into the parking lot at Van Nuys and Monahan’s, Uncle Buddy right behind.

Everyone signed the memorial book; spindly Mr. Van Nuys came out from his office and had one of his assistants open the door to the chapel. He shook hands all around, expressed condolences, then led the party into the room.

Not very much like my dream at all, Gary thought.

Max Sr. was laid out at the back in a bronze casket. Sprays of flowers flanked the catafalque. Max nudged Gary and pointed to the right-there were Uncle Buddy’s anthuriums. Gary wondered what Buddy would’ve sent if Max Sr. hadn’t been his favorite brother.

Approaching the coffin, they all gave the deceased a once-over. Mr. Van Nuys hovered near, waiting to be complimented on his handiwork.

“So peaceful,” Aunt Lucy said approvingly.

So waxy-looking, Gary thought. The flesh had a slight orange tinge, and the features seemed slightly flattened, as if there were no longer anything to keep them from sagging-like blood pressure. Or personality.

Gary was quietly shocked. Even though he’d been converted to a vague form of scientific materialism back in his teens, he’d never ceased being surprised and appalled by the way death changed faces. He knew the corpse was just a mass of chemicals, that death was merely a chemical change, but something so simple didn’t seem enough to account for such a profound transformation. Muscles and bone structure hadn’t been altered, but this was no longer his father-if it had been walking down the street, Gary wouldn’t have known it from Adam. Knowing it was his father’s body, he recognized the similarities; but his father was missing from it, and somehow the loss didn’t seem chemical at all.

But it’s just as well he’s not still in there, Gary told himself. Remember that fist coming up through the coffin? Those shrieks?

Gary caught himself. That had only been a dream. It meant nothing. Hell, he was the only one who dreamed it- it hadn’t even made the newspapers.

And besides. If Dad returned from the dead, what there be to fear from him?

But what if he woke up in Hell? came the answer, and found you beside him?

A hand came down on his shoulder; he was back in the nightmare, and that thing from the coffin had him at last…

He turned.

It was only Mr. Van Nuys.

Of course.

“Would you and your brother please come to my office, Mr. Holland?” he asked, sounding agitated.

Max had just risen from the kneeler in front of the bier, crossing himself, and they followed the undertaker. On the way, Gary noticed the fish-tank. A lot of its inhabitants seemed to have a bad case of ick. There wasn’t a dead angelfish at the top, but there was one on the bottom, a small sickly-looking catfish going over it with its suction-cup mouth.

Once he was settled behind his black walnut desk, Van Nuys said:

“I’m afraid I have some potentially bad news, and I thought I’d warn you ahead of time,” he began. “Some of the gravedigger locals have decided not to wait for the union vote, and are going out on wildcat strikes. I had a call just before you arrived, and there’s a very good chance the Ocean County local might strike.”

“Damn,” Gary said under his breath.

“Well,” Max said, “If they do go out, we’ll just have to put up with it, won’t we?”

“I’m afraid so,” Van Nuys replied. “Even if we could arrange for burial outside the county, the diggers there would probably refuse the job in sympathy.”

“It’s not certain though?” Gary asked.

“No. I should know by eleven tonight. I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?” Max asked.

Van Nuys smiled uncomfortably. “I know this is a terrible time to bring this up, but… with your mother still missing, I was wondering who I should send the bill to.”

“Me,” Gary said, and gave him his address. “Me and Max’ll take care of it.”

“Very good,” Van Nuys replied.

As Max and Gary headed for the door, the overhead light flickered.

“It’s been doing that all afternoon,” Van Nuys said. “Power trouble. Has there been any on your side of town?”

Gary paused. “Nope,” he laughed. “My car’s been acting peculiar, though.”

“Mine too,” Van Nuys said. “Think it might be catching?”

“I hope not,” Gary said, and he and Max continued toward the chapel. A young priest, tall and sandy-haired, was standing in the lobby.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but I’m looking for Celia Holland.”

“I’m afraid she’s not here,” Gary said.

“I see,” the priest said, extending his hand. Gary took it. So did Max. “Father Chuck Pendergast. I’m from St. Paul’s.”

“Gary Holland,” Gary said. “And this is my brother Max.”

“Pleased to meet you, Father,” Max said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Father Chuck went on: “I knew your father rather well-”He caught sight of the memorial book. “Excuse me just a moment.” He went over and signed it.

While he was at that, Max nudged Gary and said, “I’ll be in the chapel.”

When the priest returned, Max was already gone.

“So that was Max,” he said.

“Yep,” Gary said.

“I understand there was something of a tiff when Father Ted visited the other day.”