Blindsight

Getting up from the cot, Jimmy Lanso stepped over to the tiny TV and turned down the sound. He thought he’d heard a noise again, just like he had the last couple of nights. He listened intently but he didn’t hear anything except his own heart thumping in his chest and a slight ringing in his ears from all the aspirin he’d been taking. Not having slept for sixty or so hours except short snatches, he was a nervous, exhausted wreck. He’d been hiding out in the funeral home ever since he and Bruno abandoned their pad in Woodside after Frankie didn’t return or call.

The last month had been a nightmare for Jimmy. Ever since the stupid acid episode, he’d been living in constant fear. Up until the dirty deed actually went down, he’d been convinced that his part in it would “make” his career. Instead, he seemed to have guaranteed his own death. The first terrible shock was Terry Manso’s getting killed trying to get into the car. And now he’d heard that both Frankie and Bruno had ended up floating in the East River. It couldn’t be long before they got him, too.

Jimmy’s only hope was that his uncle had talked to Vinnie Dominick, his brother-in-law by marriage, and Vinnie had promised to take care of things. But until Jimmy heard that everything was copacetic, he couldn’t relax, not for a second.

Jimmy heard a slight thump in the embalming room. It was not his imagination. With the TV turned down it had been as clear as day. He froze, wondering if he’d hear the sound again. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. When all remained quiet, he mustered the courage to check it out by stepping over to the door of the utility room he was using to hide out.

Opening the door as soundlessly as possible, Jimmy let his eyes slowly roam around the unilluminated embalming room. There was a series of high windows along one wall that allowed some light in from a streetlamp, but most of the room was lost in shadow.

Jimmy could see the two shrouded corpses that his cousin had embalmed that evening since they were on gurneys pushed against the wall opposite the windows. Their white sheets seemed to glow in the half-light. In the center of the room was the embalming table, but Jimmy could just make out its outline. Against the far wall was a large, glass-fronted cabinet that loomed out of the shadows. On the wall below the windows were several porcelain sinks.

With trembling fingers, Jimmy reached into the room and switched on the light. Immediately he saw the source of the noise. A large rat was on the embalming table. Disturbed in its foraging, it stared at Jimmy with angry, gleaming eyes. Then it leaped from the table and scampered to a grate in the floor and disappeared down a drain.

Jimmy felt disgusted and relieved at the same time. He hated rats, but he also hated hiding in a funeral home. The place gave him the willies and reminded him of all the horror comic books he’d read as a child. His imagination had conjured up all sorts of explanations for the noises he’d been hearing. So seeing a rat was far better than seeing one of the embalmed corpses stalking around the room like Tales From the Crypt.

Stepping out into the embalming room, Jimmy hurried over to a large metal box the size of a small trunk. Pushing it along the floor, he used it to cover the grate where the rat had disappeared. With that accomplished, he headed back toward his room. But he didn’t get far. He heard another slight thump through the door to the supply room.

Thinking the rat had surfaced in the supply room, Jimmy grabbed the broom that he’d been using on his clean-up chores. Planning on beating the crap out of the rat, he threw open the supply room door. He even took a step forward before he froze. Blood drained from his face. In front of him was an upright figure whose features were lost in shadow.

A muffled scream issued from between Jimmy’s lips as he staggered back. The broom slipped from his hands and fell to the tiled floor with a clatter. Jimmy’s wildest fears had become a reality. One of the corpses had come alive.

“Hi, Jimmy,” said the figure.

Panic could not overcome paralysis in Jimmy’s brain. He stood rooted to the floor as the figure in front of him stepped from the shadows of the supply room along with a cold breeze from an open window.

“You look a little pale,” Tony commented. He was holding his gun, but it was pointed toward the floor. “Maybe you’d better climb up on that old porcelain table and lie down.” Tony pointed with his free hand toward the embalming table.

“They made me do it,” Jimmy slobbered when he comprehended he was not dealing with a supernatural creature but rather a live human being obviously associated with Cerino’s organization.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said in a falsely consoling tone of voice. “But get on the table just the same.”

As Jimmy stepped over to the embalming table with shaky legs, Tony walked over to the wall switch and turned the light on and off several times.