Post Pak

Posted by Barbanne on April 12, 2000 at 18:40:57:

In this story the main character, the one who survives longest is dead from the first word.
(Hey Irish logic.)
This is the part the true necrobabe craves. No preliminaries, no killing etc, just straight up dead from the opening bell.


Constable Grimes looked at his partner.
"No answer."
"We'll have to force the door."
"I suppose so."
"Just do it."
Constable Grimes used his baton to break the glass in the sidelight and, reaching inside, unlocked the doorlatch. He pushed the door open.
The smell hit them both. A strange decaying odour, a sweetness as of something fermenting. Something rotting. They walked down the narrow corridor and into the small parlour.
The girl lay on the lounge. Dressed in cut off jeans and a sleeveless tank top, she was barefooted and lay back against the bolster. One arm dangled limply, a syringe beside the curled fingers of the hand. The other arm was behind her head. Her face was tilted back, eyes half open, fixed pupils, staring. Her mouth was agape and snot from her nose had trailed down her upper lip and into the wetness of her open mouth. It had partly dried into scaley snail trails. Her crinkly permed hair fritzed out around her face. A really bad blonde job, days old, had left her dark roots clearly visible. Way too much lipstick, mascara and eyeshadow gave her the look of a clownish figure. Badly applied it made her look like a sad clown. Constable Grimes stooped down, sniffing at her open mouth.
"Ugh, she's what's going off."
He checked around the room while his partner called it in. The spoon with the white residue, the empty plastic packet, the lighter and traces of white powder told the story. On a side table he found a worn purse with cards and papers inside.
"Her name's Melissa Twombly. Age, says nineteen but what do you think? She looks younger."
"Hard to tell when you're that dead."
"Who called us?"
"Neighbour. A Mrs Evans. Said she hadn't seen Melissa around for a few days and thought maybe that was strange as she was always having parties, seeing visitors, mostly men."
"When the techs arrive see if you can talk to Mrs Evans and find out what else she might know."
"Do you think there's anything strange."
"Looks straight forward. Overdose by all appearances."
A siren heralded the arrival of an ambulance and other police cars arrived.
Grimes stood by, talking to his sergeant while his partner sought out Mrs Evans. Melissa's sprawled body was photographed from every conceivable angle and when they soco chief was satisfied, the medical examiner moved in. She asked Grimes to help her roll the body while she slipped the girl's jeans down and inserted a thermometer for a rectal reading. Time of death was established as three to six hours earlier and after further measurements had been made the body was bagged and transferred to a gurney.
The ambulance left, no siren, no hurry, and after taking and bagging extra items as evidence, the police left, leaving one solitary constable to watch over the scene.
The city mortuary.
Melissa Twombly, now stark naked, lay on a stainless steel table while a technician and a pathologist moved expertly around her still, white, bloodless, silent figure.
No full autopsy was to be done, stomach contents and study of her eyes and other parts of her body had revealed swelling, haemorrhaging and other indicators of her drug related death by a massive overdose of unusually pure heroin.
The mortuary workers pushed and prodded the dead girl before finally standing over her.
"OK that's all we need, she can stay here, Smitts guys will pick her up later.
"The undertakers?"
"Yeah. She was on holiday from the States. Her body's to be returned and so they'll probably embalm her."
"OK," The pathologist slapped Melissa's thigh with a dead souding meaty whack. "Enjoy your flight baby."
She gazed sightlessly at the overhead light.
The back workroom at Smitts' Funeral Home.
Melissa Twombly was still dead, still naked as the day she was born. Her nude body lay on her back on yet another stainless steel work table, one with a turned up lip all around the edges and drainage runnels and an outlet under where the body lay. Her head was bent backwards over a steel neck block and stopped short of where a stainless steel sink sat in one end of the table with hot and cold goose necked taps overhanging it. Her bad blonde job was just as bad and her dark roots just as obvious. The makeup had been cleaned off of her face as had the snot and stuff she had evacuated while dying. An aspirating spear was plunged into her abdomen, just below her belly button, a tight little affair, and her stomach contents were being pumped out and were gurgling down clear plastic pipes to the waste outlets. When she had been totally aspirated, a cleansing steriliser was to be pumped through to flush her body out. Trocars were inserted in the crook of either elbow and her blood was draining copiously out of the left arm while a formalin based embalming preservative was being pumped into the right arm to fill all of the vessels and veins and arteries from which the blood was fleeing.
Melissa's body was reed thin, her flat tummy, prominent ribs and almost non existent, adolescent like breasts more boyish than womanly. Her nipples however were surprisingly large, covering the barely perceptible mounds of her breasts like large, brown, round coins. Her body, now almost totally bloodless, was a waxy, chalky white. Her fine pubic hair, wispy and almost invisible, barely concealed a slit that looked like a child's. Her fingers were long and sensitive looking, nails bitten right down. Small, simple, round silver earrings hung from her large almost translucent earlobes. Her knees and ankles were large and looked knobbly given her thin legs and long thin feet.
Two men in white jackets hovered around Melissa's lifeless form.
One was Aldo Vincenzi Garibaldi, the actual proprietor of Smitts. The other his nephew Alfredo Collanni.
"She's done," said Alfredo and he shut down the pumps, removed the trocars and disconnected the aspirator. He took a hand held shower and attached it to the goose necked tap and adjusted it to a slow flow of water. Holding it in his right hand and using his gloved left hand he started washing Melissa clean.
When she was thoroughly washed he dabbed her dry with a stained towel and turned to Aldo who had produced a number of bags from a canvas holdall. Alfredo opened a stainless steel drawer under a side bench and took out a selection of surgical instruments which he laid on the towel, having already spread it out on the bench top. He selected a pair of surgical spreaders and, pushing her thighs apart, he used the instrument to enlarge the girl's vagina until it resembled a tunnel of pale pink, intimate, female flesh. Taking the bags, each one packed with high grade H, he inserted them, one at a time, until that cavity in Melissa's body was packed tight. With Aldo's help he rolled the body over and using the spreaders again enlarged her anus until it too looked like a magic cave and packed drug filled plastic bags in there also. That done, they rolled the body onto it's back once more and pulling her mouth open, Alfredo slowly and carefully inserted a plastic bag down her gullet to fill her stomach. He then blew it up like a balloon, using compressed air, filled it with pure grade heroin, funnelling it in very carefully, and then reversing the blower, exhausted any excess air before heat sealing the bag.
When they were finished Melissa's body looked as it had only moments before. Only a very, very detailed study would reveal it's hidden treasures.
The two mafia men smiled at each other.
"She's-a worth knowing this leetle junkie eh!"
"Indeeda uncle. Worth haveeng anyway."
They packed Melissa into a dark green body bag. Then inside a box and she was labelled and addressed to her home, via Smitts undertakers NYC.
Later that day, Aldo and Alfredo, smiling, watched as the box was loaded onto QF2 along with the other cargo.
The plane droned across the Pacific.
In the cold, dark, cargo hold, Melissa Twombly, dead, embalmed and packed with a fortune in drugs lay still and quiet in her wooden box.
A torch light split the darkness and three figures approached the box. Two men and a woman, they were Tong Triad members, and their mission was Melissa Twombly. One of the men forced the fastenings and lifted the lid of the box and while he and the other man hefted the limp corpse out onto the floor the woman produced a shopping bag containing a cotton frock and a pair of open toed sandals. The men lay the bag on the floor of the cargo hold and unzipped it, revealing the cold, bluish corpse within. They wrestled her free from the bag and held her between them while the woman slipped the dress over her head and shoulders and pulled it down.
"No other clothing?" one of the men hissed.
"Western girl not wear unnerpants," replied the woman.
"Ah so. This is true?"
"Is so."
The woman, her name was Jade, strapped the sandals onto Melissa's feet. The men, Wang and Jimmy, replaced the bag in the box and secured the lid.
A few moments later they appeared behind the rear toilets in the plane having emerged from the cargo access hatch in the tail of the plane. Wang resumed his seat and shortly afterwards Jimmy and Jade came down the aisle with Melissa Twombly between them, her feet dragging on the floor and her head wobbling. They sat in three adjacent tourist class seats with Melissa between the two of them. A few people clucked that the young woman had gotten herself in that state already, but most of the passengers didn't notice, wrapped in their own coccoons of long flight misery.
A hostess appeared.
"Can I get you anything?"
"No thankayou. Is alright."
Jimmy looked at Wang and their eyes spoke. Jade appeared to speak to the girl slumped next to her.
"Is that lady sick?"
Jade jerked awake from a bored doze. A child of about ten wearing a pink frilly frock, pink hair ribbons and white socks and black patent shoes and clutching a teddy bear was standing in the aisle, peering at Melissa.
"Go away."
"She looks sick."
"Is alright, just tired, go away."
Mummeee," she shouted back at a woman three rows away, "this lady looks sick, like this." She crossed her eyes and stared horribly ghoulishly as only children can and stuck her tongue out between her teeth.
"Come here immediately," said the woman.
"I mean it she looks..............awful sick. She looks dead!"
"Angela!...COME HERE!"
"Go away," hissed Jade.
The kid ran off.
A hostess hovered, trying to look at Melissa.
Jade looked up, said, "Is alright leave us preeze."
"Your friend doesn't look well Miss."
"Is alright. Just very tired. Preeze you go away."
The hostess left and was seen talking to another crew member, her superior. Melissa's head fell sideways. The two hostesses returned and looked at Jade. Melissa's head was laying onto her breast and she looked to be unconscious.
"Is there anything we can do ma'am. Is your friend alright?"
"She just tired," said Jade.
"Little bit too much drinkees," said Jimmy.
The older hostess smiled, "Well if there's anything you want?"
"We let you know, but will be alright."
The two women left.
The plane droned on.
Finally it landed at JFK. The Chinese collected their hand luggage and left, holding Melissa between them. Her head slumped on her chest and her face was distinctly bluish looking. As they disembarked, the hostess said, "I do hope your friend feels better soon."
Jade smiled sweetly.
They negotiated customs and exited to where a car was waiting.
"It's got to be empty." Said Giuliano.
He and Antonio had collected the coffin box from the plane and it was in the back of Smitts' hearse. The weight was a giveaway. Giuliano prised the lid up and grabbed the empty body bag.
"Gone. Its gone, the body's gone." He looked at Antonio.
They spoke as one, "Tong Triad!"
Jade, Jimmy and Wang stood over the table in the kitchen of the small flat in Queens.
Melissa lay on it, on her back, still clothed in the shoes and cotton dress they had put on her in the plane's hold. It was fairly obvious from the position in which the body lay that this western woman didn't wear "unnerpants."
Jade unzipped the dress and turned it back off of Melissa. It spread apart like a banana skin being peeled off, revealing her almost flat chest and the small mounds topped by the large nipples. Her tummy was washboard flat and her small belly button dipped into her skin. Jade took her hair and pulled her head up and back. She used one hand to open Melissa's mouth and peered inside. "I can see the top of the bag."
"Good," said Wang.
Jade pulled the dress down over Melissa's bony shoulders and off of her torso, her arms flopped as they came free of the sleeves. Taking the dress in two hands Jade pulled it over Melissa's hips and slid it down and off of her long, thin legs. She pulled on a plastic glove of surgical thinness and inserted two fingers into the dead girl's vagina. "They're there."
She looked at Wang and Jimmy, smiling.
The door to the flat banged open.
Three big, black men wearing ski masks burst into the room, two of them carried silenced pistols.
A black hole opened in Jade's forehead and she slumped sideways.
Jimmy opened his mouth to speak and another bullet took out the back of his head.
Wang shouted "Mafia."
"No dude, Brothers."
The silenced gun made hardly any noise but the bullet ripped into Wang's chest, spreading a large red stain. He fell, joining Jimmy and Jade, dead on the floor.
One of the black men hefted Melissa over his shoulder and they ran from the flat.
The black guys, ski masks gone, drove quickly down the road leading to the interstate in a plain dark coloured car. Two in the front, one in the back seat with Melissa who lay slumped naked except for shoes, against the side door. His fingers were exploring her intimate cavities but unlike Jade he had not bothered with a glove.
"Its all there."
"Yo!" The driver high fived air.
A black cadillac pulled alongside and Giuliano sprayed the dark coloured car with an Uzi. All three black guys died in the hail of lead and the car slewed sideways, skidded for a hundred metres and slammed into the concrete safety wall, grinding to a halt. The caddy stopped and Giuliano and Antonio hopped out, pulled the car door open with a screech of buckled metal and hauled Melissa out between them by the shoulders and feet and heaved her onto the back seat of their car. A bullet had punched a hole in her left breast and another had ploughed through her thigh.
The cadillac roared away.
Melissa now wearing two bloodless holes lay on her back once more on a stainless steel table.
Very dead.
Still full of very expensive bulk drugs.
She was in Smitts Funeral Home NY mortuary. Giuliano and Antonio, wearing lab coats were standing over her, an array of surgical instruments laid out beside her. A bright light overhead lit her pale, bluish, battered corpse with unrelenting brightness. Lights from outside suddenly beamed through the one curtained window and the door flew open. Men in dark blue uniforms with FBI all over them poured in. Giuliano and Antonio went for their weapons but were smashed against the wall by an avalanche of lead. One of the FBI men pulled off his helmet proving to be a woman. She placed her hand on Melissa's thigh.
"Thought we'd never find you baby."
Melissa lay in yet another mortuary. Split open and with her valuable contents stacked on a bench beside the body. The FBI captain turned to a female mortician.
"Make her beautiful can you?"
The Twombly family gathered around the open coffin. Melissa, looking as beautiful as she ever had, lay within, face up, wreathed in a positive abundance of flowers.
They retook their places and the priest began to read the funeral service.
Melissa Twombly had finally come home.