All in the Family by Taft Sowder

the side and watched as the basket swayed back and forth on the end of the cable. The cool breeze blew again, and he saw the basket smack the rough face of the gorge.
    When it was at the top, several police crowded around to see the body. It was a young person, or at least a small person, not an adult. The skin was a hue of blue-gray and black where blood had collected in old bruises. The body was bloated from having been in the water. The face was contorted and badly misshapen; its blackened tongue hung out between the teeth, the lips curled back to bare missing teeth. At least one arm was broken; it hung over the basket, bent where the forearm should not bend. The hands were curled into death grips.
    One of the curious officers turned quickly and spewed vomit from his mouth. Spitting and gagging, he braced himself beside the fire truck. This was what Herman saw every day, this grotesque side of life; death. The side of life that no one wanted to talk about, the twisted faces, the agony that the body experienced as it died; this was Herman’s life.
    “What do you think?” Captain Moore asked.
    Herman stared at the body, examining it. Then he said, “I don’t know. I could try my best to clean him up, but he looks like he’s been down there for a while. I don’t know if we could get a positive I.D. on him or not.”
    “Well, you better work a miracle. I’m ready to close this missing persons case. I don’t like to have missing people in my jurisdiction, ya understand?” Captain Moore was quick to point out what he did and did not like in his jurisdiction.
    “Sir,” Herman said, “I’ll do my best as quickly as possible. You could send his father to the mortuary in a couple of hours to try to get an I.D. I’ll have him cleaned up by then.”
    Herman loaded the body into the back of the hearse. With a nod and a toss of his fingers, he climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine sputtered; the hearse didn’t like the cold weather, and frankly neither did Herman. He watched the officers through the rear-view mirror as he drove off toward the road. Once he was on the road, he relaxed; the tension easing and the pressure behind his eyes fading. He glanced into the mirror again, only this time at the black body bag in the rear end. He couldn’t help but smirk, knowing that this was as good as over, and he had made it out scot-free. He felt good knowing that Bobby would be saved from the punishment that they would have inflicted upon him, knowing that his family was saved the embarrassment of such a scandal. He should at least teach the boy to be careful, he thought. This would only be the expert thing to do.
    A brief struggle began in his mind. A part of him, the old part, wanted this to be the end of it and was even ashamed that any circumstances had led to the deaths of not only this boy, but of his brother and a complete stranger. This part of him began to scream, and the tension started returning. He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and massaged, attempting to relieve the pain. He closed his eyes, only for a moment. When he opened them, he had to jerk the wheel and bring the hearse back onto his side of the road. A near collision with a big rig was enough to snap him back to reality. The horn blared as the truck sped by, mere inches from the driver’s side of the hearse.
    The reserved and timid part of him was silent now. Another side of him waged war against this side. The timid side now reeled from the near collision and the possibility of his death, and a more aggressive side screamed. Screaming to turn around and chase down the trucker and rips his heart from his chest. Screaming at the hesitant side and pounding on the walls of his inner being. This would be his dominate side now, there was no denying it; even if he wanted to.
    He was back at the mortuary before noon. Herman had this body under control, but he knew he had a problem: the bodies in his basement. The freezer would only hold so much