10

Once the sun was barely up, a fellow who owned the land approached the camp and poked at one of the tents, hoping to wake up whoever was in there. Vincent awoke; confused at the wriggling he felt underneath, an ability only reserved for serpents. Fearing for his life, he quickly jumped to his feet and ripped the zipper in a frantic attempt to free himself. Julio yelled for him to be quiet but was suddenly surprised to see his friend's head pop into his quarters with a worried look that suggested he better come out and see for himself.

The rancher was friendly once realizing his visitors were not a threat but had to caution them that he would be releasing his cattle and did not wish anyone to get hurt. Both friends apologized for their intrusion, cleaned up after themselves and in a frantic effort managed to pack it all up before heading south, towards their hometown.

The drive was quick; they had less than fifty kilometers to go before Vincent would finally be home. Realizing he had not taken the time to look at the rest of the items he kept in his bag, the thought of returning home somewhat empty handed was not something he had planned.

As soon as Julio reached the house and parked the truck in the driveway, he darted towards the front door hoping to use the restroom as soon as he could. Meanwhile, Vincent dragged his suitcase up to the front door and was surprised to see that his friend was still outside and hadn't managed to make his way inside. Vincent tried the door but it was locked, strange since it was barely 10:35am and his grandfather would usually sit on the front porch, scouring the classifieds in search of valuables up for sale.

Instinctively, Vincent thought about the emergency key they often hid and with a sharp twist of his hips, his gaze pointed towards a peculiar rock that lay on the front lawn. Although, to his surprise the key was no longer there. Confusion quickly turned into concern, prompting him to go around the house and towards the back door. As he walked past the side of the house, he noticed a window left slightly ajar; just enough for his hands to fit through so he could pry it open and slip right in. Julio could no longer hold his urge and ran towards the nearest tree, hoping no one could see him unzipping and then pee.

Once open, Vincent managed to climb through the window sill and sneak into the kitchen that way. A pile of dirty dishes in the sink was the first thing that caught his interest, giving him an odd feeling in return.

He called out his grandfather's name, at first very softly, wondering if he had fallen asleep and simply could not hear. He walked quietly and was about to call out again when suddenly his eyes made contact with something he didn't expect to ever see.

He stood by the entrance of the master bedroom unable to move, the queasy smell of the stuffy room quickly forced his hands to anchor the door frame for support at the unavoidable sight in front of him. The bed sheets were twisted, wrinkled and wet; the skin no longer had color and the mouth appeared wide open, as if he had been yelling something moments before his death.

Unable to think as to what he should do; Vincent went straight for the door in an attempt to escape and run from it all. Julio was walking back towards the porch when he noticed immediately that something was wrong, and did not struggle when his friend lunged at him, preventing him from entering his home.

"He… He's dead!" Said Vincent almost shouting, exhaling rapidly and hyperventilating as he tried to calm himself and explain what he had seen.

"Wait, what?!" Was all Julio could say. Immediately realizing his friend's hands were shaking as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Ok, just hold on! Breathe slowly or you're going to pass out. Said Julio in an attempt to calm his friend and listen to what he was trying to say.

"I'm not sure how long he's been lying there." Said Vincent with sadness in his eyes, fighting a surmounting urge to cry and vomit at the same time.

Julio could only stay still before he finally said,

"It's alright man. I'm right here and I won't be going anywhere."

"What should I do next? Should we call the police?" Said Vincent perturbed and agitated at the thought of having to accept his grandfather's death.

"Let me call my dad instead, he will know what to do. In the meantime, we should just stay here." Offered Julio pointing to a recliner for Vincent to sit, while he rushed to the kitchen and got some water for his friend and then used the phone to call for help.

The afternoon went by in a flash. Julio's father arrived as quickly as he could accompanied by his family doctor, who after a swift inspection of the corpse, promptly authorized its transfer to the city morgue.

"I know this must be hard but we are here for you. In fact, you may stay as long as you need; your grandfather was also a dear friend." Offered Julio's father, trying to reassure Vincent while also instructing someone over the phone to order a pizza and prepare the spare bedroom so they could eat as soon as they got home.

Visibly shaken and his mind elsewhere, all Vincent could do was nod and approve.

That very night no one slept. Julio's family was too busy making calls, taking care of arrangements so Vincent could rest, knowing that he would have to deal with something much harder the following day.

Early morning Vincent roused from a dream; sat on the bed confused by the unfamiliar surroundings until the sinking feeling returned and immediately realized he was actually back in the nightmare that he could not leave. So many thoughts clouded his mind even his appetite. Gastric juices grumbled in protest, sending signals to its host in the form of heartburn. Julio knocked on the door twice before making his way inside, and was surprised to see his friend already up. He sat on the bed not knowing what to say then gave Vincent a glass of chocolate protein milkshake to help ease the bowel sounds that even he could hear.

Once ready to confront the rest of the day, they drove in silence while Vincent read a note Julio's father had left for him; a set of instructions on how to proceed and finalize the paperwork at the morgue in order to identify and release the deceased. Several emergency vehicles occupied the majority of the lot, leaving only a handful of available spaces for public use. A group of medical personnel were gathered near the front door, willingly inhaling carcinogens while on a break, something that Vincent thought was ironic at best.

Julio walked a few steps behind his friend, giving him necessary distance but still attentive to whatever he might need. The waiting area was crowded; Vincent sat next to other people in similar situations, familiar faces composed of blank stares and looks of shock in the midst of processing the events that got them there.

A curvy woman in rosy colored glasses and a long oversized white coat approached him from behind and introduced herself as Claire, gently inviting him to follow her into an office at the back of a dimly lit hallway. He followed not too far behind, distracted by the sweet intensity of her perfume, walking right past a yellow sign that warned about the presence of formaldehyde.

His nostrils immediately flared and a tingling sensation turned into an uncomfortable itch. Vincent considered his options and already wanted to leave.

Claire noticed his reaction and quietly laughed to herself. She secretly enjoyed when non-medical personnel entered her work space, and produced funny faces in return.

She looked through a set of folders before she found the right one. Casually waiting for him to regain his senses before politely suggesting,

"The trick is to breathe through your mouth and that way the smell won't be as unpleasant."

She handed him a pair of latex gloves and put some on herself. The room was impeccably clean, covered from tile to ceiling with several rows of stainless-steel doors, arranged numerically along the walls. Vincent's heart rate increased as he looked around and knew his grandfather's body was inside one of them.

The nurse turned her head searching for cooler #18. She turned the handle, releasing the door, which triggered a mechanism within that slowly pushed out a metal slab, along with a body covered with linen that draped on both sides.

"Breathe and just try to relax." Said Claire as she slowly removed the linen, exposing the face first, followed by thick black staples that ran from the sternum all along the chest.

Vincent looked down at his grandfather and noticed him at peace, almost convincing himself he was simply asleep. Never having seen a corpse before, what really shook him and caught him by surprise was how cold to the touch the body actually felt. What seemed like routine to someone like Claire was in fact an experience Vincent hoped never to endure again.

"When the body was brought in the tag showed he was in his 80's and therefore my colleagues initially ruled out an autopsy, thinking he had died of natural causes."

Vincent interrupted her and said, "Actually, he was turning 86 this week, which is why I'm also torn that he did not make it till then. He was always healthy, I mean, just look at the guy. He never looked his age."

"I understand. However, if you notice this reddish coloration distributed over the surface of the face, shoulders and chest, well, it can sometimes appear for a number of reasons, carbon monoxide poisoning usually being the culprit." Offered Claire as she pointed at several spots where a rash had spread.

Vincent leaned closer to see what she meant but gained nothing more than a confused look.

"Similar circumstances can induce oxygen deprivation which then leads to something called hemoglobin oxygen saturation. In other words, red blood cells or more specifically the hemoglobin saturated by high levels of oxygen, causes oxygen molecules to enter tissues of the body while depriving oxygen to the brain." Said Claire, her index finger pointed towards the unusual coloration of the skin, while at the same time she tried to not sound too methodic in her general approach.

"So, what you're saying is that my grandfather died from carbon monoxide poisoning? Asked Vincent incredulously to what she proposed.

"Well, actually, because there was some doubt in the way in which Mr. Baroni passed away, an autopsy was performed anyways. The results were strange and revealed a presence of highly concentrated amounts of cyanide." Replied Claire timidly, sensing that Vincent would soon realize the unsavory truth about his grandfather's fate.

"Cyanide? As in the same ingredient found in apple and apricot pits? "

Vincent's wheels were now engaged; a rush of thoughts clouded his mind, thinking of the implications of what the autopsy revealed.

"So, you mean to say that he took his own life?" Asked Vincent noticeably angry, not knowing whom to blame.

"I'm sorry! I can't speak for his motives; all I can provide you with are the clinical facts."

"For instance, did you know your grandfather used to have a tattoo?"

"We discovered it while the medical team inspected the body for any cosmetic work that may be required prior to embalming." Said Claire, lifting the body's right arm and with a purple light she pointed directly beneath the armpit.

"I only see a scar or what appears to be a burn mark." Said Vincent, his face inches away from the blemish, squinting as he focused on the mark, but could only feel the formaldehyde seeping out from the pores.

The nurse leaned closer and pointed the light to a corner of the scar, where it showed a tiny bit of greenish blue ink.

"Do you see that?" She said while pointing at something on the skin.

"At first, I thought it was a blue mole but it appears to be a curved shape, a termination of a letter perhaps? I'm pretty sure this scar is the byproduct of an attempt to erase whatever was there, before laser was even in use."

Instinctively wanting to suggest cauterization as the method used, but instead reassured herself that it was no longer her business to intrude, and instead quietly proceeded to slide the body back to its place.

"If it's any consolation, I know what you're going through and I'm very sorry for your loss. My grandmother passed away last year and I know how you feel. Should you have any questions regarding the procedure that follows; a funeral director can explain everything once you decide how you would like to proceed."

She hated this aspect of her job, seeing all that pain interpreted on people's faces, as they went through the process of making final arrangements, all while the body lay on a metal slab, inside a refrigerated wall.

"Proceed? What do you mean?" Said Vincent unsure of what she meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just meant to imply the manner in which you might choose to honor your grandfather. You can have a burial or a cremation."

"I see. Right, of course.... Umm, I will need some time to think. But thank you for your time and patience. ...I don't think I even asked your name." Said Vincent lost in thought. His focus elsewhere, as he signed several release forms, some of which authorized the morgue to transfer the remains over to a funeral home.

"Not to worry Mr. Baroni. Again, my name is Claire."

"Well, I must be on my way!" Muttered Vincent almost to himself as he promptly left the room and almost jogged towards the main doors in search of some fresh air.

Julio met his friend outside but reserved all the enquiries for another time and instead drove him home, no questions asked.

Upon being dropped off, Vincent felt uneasy about being alone in that house, but as he walked up the stairs and towards the door, he found a baked casserole covered in foil on the front porch, along with a note from a couple of neighbors from up the street who often spent a lot of time in and out of his grandfather's shop.

It caught Vincent by surprise but was effortlessly enticed, given the fact that he was starving and therefore did not think twice about eating half a pan. He contemplated eating some more, but was soon distracted by the awful suggestion of suicide and the coincidence surrounding his mother's own fate. His mind wandered as he slouched on a couch and fought hard to stay awake, while his mind went over some of the things Claire had said. Soon and without much strength, Vincent struggled to keep his eyes open and within minutes his head forced him to lay down and rest.