Funeral Bells

“Where am I?” I muttered, coming awake. “Man, my head hurts.” I shook it to clear my vision only to discover I was in fact in total darkness and shaking my head only made it hurt worse. 

“Am I blind?” I wondered. My eyes darted around wildly, but nothing, not one ray of light was to be found. 

“It feels like I’m moving. Why am I moving?” I have to think. I remember that I was driving home. Damn! My head hurts. Why is it so hot in here and why am I having such a hard time breathing?” 

Although I’m trying to move, my arms are crossed over my chest for some reason and it feels like there is some sort of belt over my waist preventing me from moving. “Why would someone put so many blankets on me and strap me down no less?”

“Let’s see. Think Greyson. There were bright lights in my eyes. Someone was in my lane coming right at me. I tried to swerve but they hit me anyway – hard. I must have hit the steering wheel or the windshield and blacked out. That’s all I remember. I must be in an ambulance, that’s why I’m strapped down. But, we aren’t moving that fast and the siren isn’t running; at least I don’t hear one. Why not? Maybe I burst my eardrums when I hit my head and that’s why I can’t hear it. No; my ears would hurt too, and they don’t, although my face and neck feel wet.”

“I’m struggling again, but my arms are immobile. Why would they make the straps this tight?”

“Why does it stink back here? And why is no one checking my vital signs or trying to talk to me? Don’t they talk to the patient in all the television shows? My breath is coming back at me and it’s hotter and hotter. It feels thin like there isn’t much oxygen. What the hell? They have something on my face. Is that a zipper going up my nose?” 

“Oh God! That’s not a blanket. I’m in a body bag. I’m in a freaking body bag! They think I’m dead. Am I? I can hear myself talking? Or, am I just thinking and it’s the voice in my head? Do dead people think? Of course not; I wouldn’t notice how hard it is to breathe if I was dead anyway; right?”

“Hey!” I must fight to get out of here. “Can anyone hear me back here? Let me out?” I can feel the zipper now, but it only has a pull on the other side –the outside. “I guess they aren’t used to people just unzipping and walking out of these things.”

I am using too much air. “Slow your breathing; conserve your oxygen.” 

Suddenly it occurs to me that I have a knife in my pocket, but I can’t get to it because of the damn strap. I wonder…If I wiggle just right it might fall out and I can get to it. My wife complains all the time about my change falling out of my pockets on the couch and then it gets between the frame and the cushions and gets caught in the vacuum cleaner. “Just a little more,” I remind myself. “Wiggle a little more. I can feel it inching towards the opening. Now, if I could just reach it with my other hand since they have my arms ridiculously crossed.”

“Yes! There you go man. Got it. Just pull your arms back into a praying position and you can open it. You’ve done it a million times; you don’t even have to see it to do it.”

“Now, where is that tip? Ouch; there it is. Push it through the bag. A little harder now. Man this stuff is tough; they made it to reuse- a lot.” Groan. “There. It’s through. I have some air. Glorious air!” 

Breathing deeply I saw away at the fabric until I can get a hand to the zipper. “Down you go.” Free at last, I sit up and unhook the strap holding my waist and finish the job of the zipper until my feet are free as well. No one has bothered to check on my back here. They’d probably go off the road and kill me for sure if they did. I feel my forehead and sure enough there is a lot of blood, but I can see. It is dark, but only because there are no lights on back here. I can see out the windows at the wonderful night sky. The stars are bright and the moon is shining like a beacon in spite of the street lights.

Oh, we’re here. Let’s see how they react now.

The doors to the ambulance opened to the morgue bay. A solemn attendant stood waiting, clipboard in hand to check him in. He looked up and turned pale.

“This,” Greyson said pointing to the gurney and mangled bag. “This is why they used to always put a string with a bell on it when they buried people,” he said. “I nearly suffocated in that awful thing.” 

The attendant radioed for help. “We got an actual live one here,” he yelled into the mic as the ambulance driver and the EMT stared with their mouths agape.