Oddly, I'm not sure if I even remember his name. He's been simply the dead guy for some time now.
I was laying in bed one Saturday morning thinking about getting up. You know, one of those mornings. The peace and quiet was broken by the telephone. It was my friend Mike.
"Hi, Mike..."
"You're not going to believe this." he told me. "You'll never guess who died!"
"Who?"
"(the dead guy)." he told me.
"Come on, don't fool around."
"No, really, he's dead." he said "Bill found him in his apartment on Friday night."
I was stunned a bit. I knew the dead guy was only about a year older then I. At the time I was about 26 years old. Mike and I talked for a while and I got some of the details.
The dead guy and I worked together on a temporary assignment. The commute to the client company was a long one. He was single and normally lived at home with his parents, but he had taken an apartment near to work.
On the previous Monday, he'd taken ill at work. He was trying valiantly to stay at work but I could tell he was really feeling awful. He looked even worse.
"This is the worst case of the flu I've ever had."
His color was awful and he was sweating up a storm. Looked like he had a really high fever.
We weren't eligible for sick pay so he hung in there. He managed to hang on until Wednesday.
"You look like shit." I told him "let me drive you home."
Reluctantly, he finally conceded around lunch time.
I remember it was winter and it was snowing. There was already a lot of snow on the ground from a previous storm. I remember him shivering in the car as we started off towards his apartment.
"Jim, could you stop at the store for me."
"Sure, no problem." I told him
He was too sick to get out and go into the store, so I went for him. Cocoa Cola, as I recall.
As I got back in the car, I noticed he was sitting leaned up against the door.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the doctor." I asked
"No, I'll be all right."
We arrived at his apartment and I waited and watched as he climbed the flight of stairs to make sure he made it inside. That was the last time I saw him. For that matter, that was the last time anyone who knew him saw him. He died, alone, in that cold apartment
We didn't hear from him on Thursday. It wasn't that odd as he didn't have a phone. We figured he was too sick to get out of bed and go down to the store down the street and call us. When he didn't come to work Friday, Bill, our resident busy-body decided someone should go and see how he was doing.
Poor Bill. He went to his apartment on Friday after work. He found him lying naked on his bed in a cold apartment. In death, he was still clutching his chest.
For modesty's sake, Bill covered him with a sheet and then went down to the store down the street and called the cops. Bill took some shit from the cops for covering him up.
Upon entering the apartment, the cop asked Bill if this was the way he'd found him. Bill told the cop about covering him up.
The cop threw the sheet off the dead guy.
"We want to preserve the scene as you found it until this investigation is over." the cop chided Bill
Bill, the ever curious, spent the next week doing an investigation of his own.
It seems the dead guy had actually gotten himself to the hospital on Thursday evening. The hospital ran some tests and told him "You've got a serious problem." "You're having a heart attack."
The hospital staff wanted to admit him, he declined.
"Mr. so-and-so, this is very serious." "If you leave now and go home, you will die from this."
For whatever unknown reason, that's exactly what happened. The hospital staff made him sign a paper before he left the emergency room stating that he understood what they'd told him and he was doing this of his own volition.
The following week, Bill called the dead guy's parents and offered his assistance. The matter of cleaning the apartment came up. Bill volunteered. He also decided that I was the most logical to help.
The apartment had to be cleaned and all the dead guy's stuff was to be delivered to his parents house.
We went up shortly before lunch one day the following week and loaded all the dead guy's stuff into the dead guy's car. It was a beautiful sunny day although it was bitterly cold. All his clothes, his pots and pans, his books and magazines. His whole life away from home was jammed into that car.
The car was a convertible. Some sixties something MOPAR muscle car, a GTX as I recall. 400+ cubic inches. Plenty of balls to say the least. Unfortunately, the heater didn't work that well.
"I don't know how to drive one of those things." Bill informed me
I was elected to drive the dead guy's car.
Bill was to follow me in his car so he could bring me back.
We finished loading the car and I headed out for the highway.
Unfamiliar with the dead guy's car, I slowly pressed down on the gas pedal as I headed up the entrance ramp to the highway. The car was really strong and running well. I listened as a low roar rose from the dual exhaust.
I remember that one hour plus trip like it was yesterday. It really was a beautiful day. One of those days where it would normally have felt great to be playing hooky from work. One of those ultra-bright mid winter road trip days. The snow and everything else reflecting the sun. The highway was white from salt. Not a cop in sight.
Shivering a bit in the cold with the weak heater. The wind whipping in through a small rip in the convertible top just behind my head. The cold steering wheel in my hands. The sound of those twin pipes as I roared down the highway.
The dead guy had really loved that car. It had been his baby. I decided to give the dead guy's car one last boot in the ass in his honor. Bill will catch up. My breath came in clouds in front of my face as I watched the speedometer climb until it could climb no more. I was alone on the road that day. I still can hear the clanking of the dead guy's pots and pans in the back seat as I made that run.