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68
One Floor
Below
loved one, but often alone. ‘Number 37.’
‘But what is his name?’ I thought to myself. At that moment I was
thrown a key, which landed sharply in the cup of my palms. It
reflected the limited light from the ceiling, and flashed in front of
my eyes. I hooked it onto my lanyard. A clipboard is passed in my
direction, thick with papers.
‘Downstairs.’ The tall figure pointed his blue rubber glove to the
elevator doors.
The trolley glided across the rubber flooring, but the wheels
hesitated every so often, questioning my resolve. My clipboard
rested under my elbow, I pulled my lanyard out from the underneath
of the thin collar of my shirt, and with my free hand, lifted it over my
loosely pulled back hair. I turned to see the large figure striding in
the other direction down the hallway, towards the emergency ward.
Like a clear summers’ day, he was decked in blue and white, with
flesh only visible in the small gap between his face mask and cap. His
eyes that were tired and aching, had stared down at me.
I pressed the button, dragging the trolley behind me, and inserted
the key. The keys were followed by a moment of hesitation and then
a determined effort to close the doors..The coldmetal of the elevator
walls made me jump as I tried to keep my distance from what lay
under the thin white sheet.
The elevator came to a stop marked by a faint ‘ding’, and the
doors opened again. I was now confronted with a dark room, square
and rather uniform. A square of light from the elevator is mirrored
into the blackness. A long metal bench divides the room into two. I
pause to allow for time in which my eyes could adjust to the light. I
draw in a cold breath as my hands take to the metal bar of the trolley,
and I push forward into the darkness. The doors behind me come to
a close, I quickly reach into my satchel and withdraw my torch. I
force my bodyweight to the left, expecting the wheels of the trolley
to followmy bearing. Reflective numbers appear 1… 2… 3… on my left.
My only job was to
‘find number 37, that’s it’
, I kept telling myself.
I could tell my heart was pounding, beating too fast and too hard.
I stopped to rest my hand upon the left side of my neck, my pulse
had never been so strong. Mine was the only one that bulged, and
bounced vigorously, in this lifeless morgue.
I slowly wheeled Mr 37 down to the back of the room, the torch
tight withinmy grip. It jumps as I take each step. I reach the numbers
9