Twelve
“Wait a minute,” Mark said.
He dropped his heavy burden. “We need some kind of plan. Before we drag this thing outside, let’s at least decide where we’re going and how we’re getting there.”
Bobby let his end of Fred fall on the floor with a decided thump. “This thing? That’s pretty insensitive—referring to Fred as a thing. You were the one who thought the term cadaver was too impersonal.”
“Well, he’s starting to look like the Thing—you know, in the Howard Hawks movie. Sort of like decomposing vegetation.”
“We’re wearing gloves,” Bobby said.
“Yeah, but gloves don’t prevent me from seeing or smelling.”
Bobby was not sympathetic. First Mark dragged Fred into his room, and now he was making all sorts of excuses to avoid getting him out. His room had already acquired a distinctly putrescent odor he couldn’t disguise with a gallon of air freshener.
“You should have thought of that before you dragged Fred into my room,” Bobby said. “I think that’s against the Code, isn’t it? Inducing unconsciousness in a buddy’s mother? What a stupid thing to do.”
“Well, I had to put him somewhere. Besides, what are you complaining about? I got rid of your mother, didn’t I?”
“That you did,” Bobby admitted. “Who would have thought she’d leave just three hours after she arrived? Right after she regained consciousness.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s three in the morning, Mark. Time to stop wimping out. Grab your end and flex your muscles.”
“There are limits on my ability to perform this task other than mere physical strength,” Mark said. His face seemed pink and puffy. “Like my limited ability to hold my breath.”
“I am not rooming with a corpse, for God’s sake! Pick him up!”
Grudgingly, Mark picked up the feet. After a moment, however, he let them flop back on the floor. They fell in a loose, unnatural position. “See that? On top of everything else, he’s starting to come apart!”
“What a crybaby,” Bobby said with disgust. “How did a whiner like you get him here in the first place?”
“I rolled him in a rug and tossed him in a wheelbarrow. Which, I might add, depleted my last remaining erg of energy.” Mark leaned against the bookshelf. “So how did you explain the presence of a cadaver in your bedroom, anyway?”
“I told her it was a physiology experiment. That I brought the corpse home so I could put in a little extra study time.”
“And she believed you?”
“I think she thought it sounded just bizarre enough to be something I would do. Anyway, she couldn’t fault me for demonstrating a little initiative. Even if it was in a totally disgusting way.”
Mark grinned. “I wish I had been here to see it.”
“Glad you’re amused, Mark. I’d laugh too, except there’s this putrid corpse gagging me out at the moment. Now what are we going to do with him?”
“We could burn him.”
“Where? The dorm incinerators? We’d never get past the security guard. Plus if we got caught stuffing a body into an incinerator, we’d probably be arrested for murder.”
“Well, if you’re going to take that pessimistic attitude, we’ll never get anywhere. Maybe we should just return Fred to the science lab. It’s too late for Abbott to grade your old exam now.”
“No. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances am I breaking back into that building, with or without a cadaver.”
“I try not to complain, Bobby, but you’re being a real pain in the butt.”
“Sounds like complaining to me. Try harder.”
“How about Gittinger Hall? You know how those lit crit types love to be eccentric.”
“Oh, right. And imagine how Fred would spice up those lectures on Baudelaire—“
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Both of them stared at it, not speaking.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Bobby whispered.
Mark shook his head no.
“We can’t open the door with—“ Bobby pointed down at Fred.
The knocking repeated itself.
They bent down and grabbed their respective body parts.
“One-two-three.” Together they hoisted the body into the air. His arms and legs seemed to extend even farther from their sockets.
“Are you guys going to open this door or what?”
“Annie!” they said in unison. Fred thudded once more onto the floor, an unnatural heap on the carpet.
Mark opened the door. “Hello, beautiful.” She walked into his arms and they fell into a deep kiss.
Bobby turned away. If not one thing, then another, was bound to make him nauseated before this night was over.
Bobby waited several seconds, but the smooch showed no sign of subsiding. Bobby decided to remind them they were not alone. “What brings you here, Annie?”
Annie slowly broke away from Mark’s lips. “I came to help, of course.”
“That’s nice, Annie, but we can’t let you get involved. It isn’t right.”
“I’ve got a car,” she said. She dangled the keys on her finger.
“Good enough for me,” Bobby said, bending down. “Let’s go.”
“Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute,” Mark said. “We still don’t know where we’re taking this thing. Fred, I mean.” He looked down at the gray blob on the floor. “Sorry, Fred.”
“Let’s just get him into the car,” Bobby said. “We’re bound to see a place on the side of the road.”
“Really, Bobby,” Mark said, “I’m almost embarrassed to associate with you. That’s a terribly inelegant solution. Now think for a moment. With Annie’s car, the world is at our doorstep. We could take Fred anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
They fell into silent contemplation. Bobby searched the recesses of his mind, but couldn’t generate any viable ideas for the disposal of a cadaver. A graveyard? Too frightening. The river? Too television. A landfill? Too ecologically unsound.
After several minutes of heavy reflection, Mark snapped his fingers. “I have it.”
“Have what?”
“The solution. The perfect solution.”
“Well, don’t be selfish, Mark. Share and share alike.”
“I ask you, Bobby. Who does Fred rightfully belong to?”
“The science department?”
“More specifically.”
“Professor Abbott?”
Mark was grinning ear to ear. “Exactly. And I think the time has come to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s.”
Tiny wrinkles appeared at the corners of Bobby’s eyes. He was beginning to follow Mark’s train of thought.
Without further discussion they resumed their former stations at opposite ends of Fred.
“Now,” Mark said, “one-two-three.”
On three they hoisted Fred into the air. Mark lifted him up by the arms, but Fred fell away from him. The upper part of his body thudded against the carpet. Except for his right arm. Mark was still holding his arm.
Annie clapped her hands over her mouth. She did not look well.
Mark held the disembodied limb at, um, arm’s length. For once he was speechless.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Bobby said, trying his best to seem serious. “Lend me a hand.”