winced. "Don't use that word. I know what you guys are, and I'm fine with it, but that 'V' word never fails to freak me out." He shivered playfully. "I think it's because of all the horror movies I watched when I was a kid. I know you're not like those movie monsters, but it's hard to get the image out of my mind."
"What's a pathologist do?" I asked.
"I cut corpses open to see how they died," Jimmy explained. "I don't do it with a lot of bodies -
just the ones who died in suspicious circumstances."
"This is a city morgue," Mr. Crepsley said. "They store bodies that arrive dead at the hospital or die while they're there."
"Is that where you keep them?" I asked Jimmy, pointing at the room behind the glass wall.
"Yup," he said cheerfully. He swung up a section of the desk and invited us through.
I was nervous. I expected to see dozens of tables piled high with sliced-open bodies. But it wasn't like that. There was one dead body, covered from head to toe with a long sheet, but that was the only one I could see. Otherwise it was a huge, well-lit room, with big filing cabinets built in the walls and lots of medical equipment scattered around the place.
"How is business?" Mr. Crepsley asked as we sat on three chairs near the corpse on the table.
Jimmy and Mr. Crepsley didn't pay attention to the dead person, and since I didn't want to look out of place, neither did I.
"Slow enough," Jimmy answered. "The weather's been good, and there haven't been many car accidents. No strange diseases, no food epidemics, no collapsing buildings. By the way," he added, "I had an old friend of yours in here a few years back."
"Oh?" Mr. Crepsley responded politely. "Who was that?"
Jimmy sniffed heavily through his nose, then cleared his throat.
"Gavner Purl ?" Mr. Crepsley hooted with delight. "How is the old dog - as clumsy as ever?"
They started talking about their friend Gavner Purl. I looked around while they were speaking, wondering where the bodies were kept. Finally, when they paused for breath, I asked Jimmy. He stood up, and told me to follow. He led the way to the big filing cabinets and pulled one of the drawers out.
There was a hissing sound, and a cloud of cold air rose from inside the drawer. When it cleared, I saw a sheet-covered form and realized the filing cabinets weren't filing cabinets at all. They were refrigerated coffins!
"We store the bodies here until we're ready," Jimmy said, "or until their next of kin come to collect them."
I looked around the room, counting the rows of drawer doors. "Is there a body behind each of these?" I asked.
Jimmy shook his head. "We've only got six guests right now, not counting the one on the table.
Like I said, it's quiet. And even during our busiest times, most of our storage space goes unused.
It's rare for us to be half full. We just like to be prepared for the worst."
"Any fresh bodies in stock?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Wait a minute and I'll check," Jimmy said. He consulted a large pad and flicked through a few pages. "There's a man in his thirties," Jimmy said. "Died in a car crash just over eight hours ago."
"Nothing fresher?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Afraid not," Jimmy replied.
Mr. Crepsley sighed. "It will have to do."
"Wait a minute," I said. "You're not going to drink from a dead person, are you?"
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. He reached inside his cape and pulled out some of the small bottles where he stored his supply of human blood. "I have come for a refill."
"You can't!" I yelled.
"Why not?" he asked.
"It isn't right. It's not fair to drink from the dead. Besides, the blood will have turned sour."
"It will not be at its best," Mr. Crepsley agreed, "but it will do for bottling. And I disagree: A corpse is the ideal person to drain, since it has no use for the blood. It will take a lot to fill these bottles. Too much to take from a living person."
"Not if you took a little from several," I protested.
"True," he said. "But that would
"What's a pathologist do?" I asked.
"I cut corpses open to see how they died," Jimmy explained. "I don't do it with a lot of bodies -
just the ones who died in suspicious circumstances."
"This is a city morgue," Mr. Crepsley said. "They store bodies that arrive dead at the hospital or die while they're there."
"Is that where you keep them?" I asked Jimmy, pointing at the room behind the glass wall.
"Yup," he said cheerfully. He swung up a section of the desk and invited us through.
I was nervous. I expected to see dozens of tables piled high with sliced-open bodies. But it wasn't like that. There was one dead body, covered from head to toe with a long sheet, but that was the only one I could see. Otherwise it was a huge, well-lit room, with big filing cabinets built in the walls and lots of medical equipment scattered around the place.
"How is business?" Mr. Crepsley asked as we sat on three chairs near the corpse on the table.
Jimmy and Mr. Crepsley didn't pay attention to the dead person, and since I didn't want to look out of place, neither did I.
"Slow enough," Jimmy answered. "The weather's been good, and there haven't been many car accidents. No strange diseases, no food epidemics, no collapsing buildings. By the way," he added, "I had an old friend of yours in here a few years back."
"Oh?" Mr. Crepsley responded politely. "Who was that?"
Jimmy sniffed heavily through his nose, then cleared his throat.
"Gavner Purl ?" Mr. Crepsley hooted with delight. "How is the old dog - as clumsy as ever?"
They started talking about their friend Gavner Purl. I looked around while they were speaking, wondering where the bodies were kept. Finally, when they paused for breath, I asked Jimmy. He stood up, and told me to follow. He led the way to the big filing cabinets and pulled one of the drawers out.
There was a hissing sound, and a cloud of cold air rose from inside the drawer. When it cleared, I saw a sheet-covered form and realized the filing cabinets weren't filing cabinets at all. They were refrigerated coffins!
"We store the bodies here until we're ready," Jimmy said, "or until their next of kin come to collect them."
I looked around the room, counting the rows of drawer doors. "Is there a body behind each of these?" I asked.
Jimmy shook his head. "We've only got six guests right now, not counting the one on the table.
Like I said, it's quiet. And even during our busiest times, most of our storage space goes unused.
It's rare for us to be half full. We just like to be prepared for the worst."
"Any fresh bodies in stock?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Wait a minute and I'll check," Jimmy said. He consulted a large pad and flicked through a few pages. "There's a man in his thirties," Jimmy said. "Died in a car crash just over eight hours ago."
"Nothing fresher?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Afraid not," Jimmy replied.
Mr. Crepsley sighed. "It will have to do."
"Wait a minute," I said. "You're not going to drink from a dead person, are you?"
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. He reached inside his cape and pulled out some of the small bottles where he stored his supply of human blood. "I have come for a refill."
"You can't!" I yelled.
"Why not?" he asked.
"It isn't right. It's not fair to drink from the dead. Besides, the blood will have turned sour."
"It will not be at its best," Mr. Crepsley agreed, "but it will do for bottling. And I disagree: A corpse is the ideal person to drain, since it has no use for the blood. It will take a lot to fill these bottles. Too much to take from a living person."
"Not if you took a little from several," I protested.
"True," he said. "But that would
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