naked. He hesitated before placing his hands under the white shoulders.
Luke grinned. “He died in his sleep this afternoon. Heart. I guess he slept in the raw. You better get over here on the same side as me. You have to lift a body both from the same side.”
“Oh.” Jolly stood next to Luke and together they slid their arms under the dead man’s body and lifted. He was surprisingly heavy, and although not cold actually, his skin felt like candle wax; cool, but sort of soft and not unpleasant.
Jolly stood by and watched Luke and his father begin their work. Luke explained in an adulteration of technical language and his brand of slang each step of the procedure.
“He’s making the incision there,” indicating his father cutting a short lengthwise slit in the inside flesh of the thigh near the groin, “so he can get at a vein and a artery. You have to sever the vessels—one to let the blood out and the other to pump the embalming fluid in.”
Luke’s father clamped off the artery and vein on one side of the incision and attached a small yellow tube to one. The other end of the tube he placed in the sink. He then attached a similar tube, a red one, twining from the odd machine, to the other blood vessel.
“That one pumps in the fluid,” explained Luke, “while the blood flows into the sink through the yellow one.” He waited for his father’s nod to switch on the machine. It hummed. The red tube undulated briefly as the pink liquid began flowing into the dead man’s body.
“Is that all there is to it?” asked Jolly.
“Nearly,” Luke winked. “Except the trocar. And he’ll probably hafta make another incision under the arm since this guy’s been dead quite a few hours. If he was fresh, one cut would do ’er.”
Luke slipped a small rubber half-sphere under each eyelid of the body and closed the lids. “These here are rough, see? They keep the eyelids from coming open during a funeral and all, which shakes up the people considerable.”
“God, I’ll bet,” Jolly concurred.
“Now he’s gonna tie the mouth. Watch this.”
Jolly found it hard to watch Luke’s father wire the jaws shut from the inside, pull the wire tight, twist it and snip it off just outside the teeth. “When he seals the lips shut, you could never tell it,” said Luke.
“Okay, Jolly,” said Luke’s father. “We’re ready for the trocar.” He handed the instrument to Jolly. It amounted to a quart jar of the pink fluid from the top of which projected a ten-inch, heavy needle that ended in a triangular-shaped point.
“Thanks, sir, but I’ll just watch you this first time.” Jolly extended the instrument to George Meaders gingerly.
“No, you go ahead. Just shove it in the cavity about here.” He indicated a spot slightly above and to the side of the navel.
“You do it, Luke,” Jolly pleaded.
“Go ahead, chicken. He can’t feel it.”
Luke took Jolly’s hands and pointed the needle at the desired spot. “Shove,” he said. Jolly shoved. The needle pierced the skin and slipped into the body with surprising ease.
“Now what?”
“Fine,” said George Meaders. “Now as the fluid drains into the cavity, just keep pointing the needle in different directions and at different depths until all the fluid’s gone.”
Jolly set his teeth and reminded himself that the man, indeed, could not feel the trocar probe his insides. The pink embalming fluid flowed out through the drill-sized needle slowly and evenly, disappearing somewhere under the flesh, filling the cavity. Each time the trocar bumped against or pierced an organ inside the dead man’s body, Jolly could feel the marshy impact transmitted to his hands. He suppressed a hysterical giggle that rose unasked from the bottom of his stomach.
“What’re you snorting about, horse’s patootie?” asked Luke at his side.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, what’s so funny?”
The giggle burst from Jolly’s lips despite his efforts to hold it. His shoulders
Luke grinned. “He died in his sleep this afternoon. Heart. I guess he slept in the raw. You better get over here on the same side as me. You have to lift a body both from the same side.”
“Oh.” Jolly stood next to Luke and together they slid their arms under the dead man’s body and lifted. He was surprisingly heavy, and although not cold actually, his skin felt like candle wax; cool, but sort of soft and not unpleasant.
Jolly stood by and watched Luke and his father begin their work. Luke explained in an adulteration of technical language and his brand of slang each step of the procedure.
“He’s making the incision there,” indicating his father cutting a short lengthwise slit in the inside flesh of the thigh near the groin, “so he can get at a vein and a artery. You have to sever the vessels—one to let the blood out and the other to pump the embalming fluid in.”
Luke’s father clamped off the artery and vein on one side of the incision and attached a small yellow tube to one. The other end of the tube he placed in the sink. He then attached a similar tube, a red one, twining from the odd machine, to the other blood vessel.
“That one pumps in the fluid,” explained Luke, “while the blood flows into the sink through the yellow one.” He waited for his father’s nod to switch on the machine. It hummed. The red tube undulated briefly as the pink liquid began flowing into the dead man’s body.
“Is that all there is to it?” asked Jolly.
“Nearly,” Luke winked. “Except the trocar. And he’ll probably hafta make another incision under the arm since this guy’s been dead quite a few hours. If he was fresh, one cut would do ’er.”
Luke slipped a small rubber half-sphere under each eyelid of the body and closed the lids. “These here are rough, see? They keep the eyelids from coming open during a funeral and all, which shakes up the people considerable.”
“God, I’ll bet,” Jolly concurred.
“Now he’s gonna tie the mouth. Watch this.”
Jolly found it hard to watch Luke’s father wire the jaws shut from the inside, pull the wire tight, twist it and snip it off just outside the teeth. “When he seals the lips shut, you could never tell it,” said Luke.
“Okay, Jolly,” said Luke’s father. “We’re ready for the trocar.” He handed the instrument to Jolly. It amounted to a quart jar of the pink fluid from the top of which projected a ten-inch, heavy needle that ended in a triangular-shaped point.
“Thanks, sir, but I’ll just watch you this first time.” Jolly extended the instrument to George Meaders gingerly.
“No, you go ahead. Just shove it in the cavity about here.” He indicated a spot slightly above and to the side of the navel.
“You do it, Luke,” Jolly pleaded.
“Go ahead, chicken. He can’t feel it.”
Luke took Jolly’s hands and pointed the needle at the desired spot. “Shove,” he said. Jolly shoved. The needle pierced the skin and slipped into the body with surprising ease.
“Now what?”
“Fine,” said George Meaders. “Now as the fluid drains into the cavity, just keep pointing the needle in different directions and at different depths until all the fluid’s gone.”
Jolly set his teeth and reminded himself that the man, indeed, could not feel the trocar probe his insides. The pink embalming fluid flowed out through the drill-sized needle slowly and evenly, disappearing somewhere under the flesh, filling the cavity. Each time the trocar bumped against or pierced an organ inside the dead man’s body, Jolly could feel the marshy impact transmitted to his hands. He suppressed a hysterical giggle that rose unasked from the bottom of his stomach.
“What’re you snorting about, horse’s patootie?” asked Luke at his side.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, what’s so funny?”
The giggle burst from Jolly’s lips despite his efforts to hold it. His shoulders
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