Steve walked nonchalantly into the room. I gained respect for the dork. The room exploded in florescent light, exposing a sterile looking room with eight caskets; each sitting atop a table, their lids closed. An empty gurney rested next to another set of double doors on the far side of the room. "Pick your poison kids," Steve Lucas chirped pointing out the tags identifying each casket's contents. "Would you prefer old Mrs. Johnson or would you like a younger model, such as Master Higgins, taken so suddenly from us." Steve Lucas, enjoying his role as a macabre emcee, approached Shannie. "I don't think you would like dealing with Mr. Higgins, fate handed the poor chap his head; If I'd pop the lid, you would see him holding it in his hands."
"Have respect for the dead," Count snapped.
"Ha," Steve replied.
Shannie cut Steve Lucas with a vicious stare. I sniggered. "Count," Shannie said. "Bring the truck up to the back door."
"That's not a good idea," Steve Lucas protested, his voice suddenly serious. "What if the old man pulls in and sees us loading a coffin on your truck?"
"What if he sees us carrying it down the alleyway?" Shannie fired back. "It doesn't make a difference. If we get caught we get caught.
"Respect for the dead?" Steve Lucas said after Count went for the pickup truck. "He sure doesn't have a problem banging my sister next to the dead."
"I think Mrs. Johnson will do. I can't deal with a corpse younger than me," Shannie said.
"Mrs. Johnson you want, Mrs. Johnson you get," Steve Lucas said as he wheeled the gurney next to Mrs. Johnson's casket. "Excellent choice, a small frail old woman, easy to handle." With some effort the three of us managed to slide Mrs. Johnson's coffin onto the gurney. "Don't worry Luv," Steve Lucas spoke to the coffin in an absurd English accent. "You're going to have the ride of your afterlife."
"That boy needs help," Shannie told me later.
The four of us worked quickly, sliding Mrs. Johnson into the back of pickup truck. "Don't you think we oughta secure it?" Shannie asked, standing to the side of the truck, eyeing the casket.
"We don't have time, just get in the truck," Steve Lucas cried - he was already inside.
"It should be okay," Count said.
"Hurry up," Steve Lucas whined. "I know how long it takes the old man to pick up a stiff from hospital - he's already running late. He'll be here any minute. "The four of us piled in the small cab, Steve Lucas sat between Count and me. Shannie sat on my lap.