Abacus

ETA please.”
    Randall looked across the river and watched a team of officers in overalls searching inside a large drainpipe that emptied storm water from the street into the river. Perhaps the bag was dumped in a storm water drain and eventually tumbled into the river .
    “Done , boss,” Leanne said, breaking his concentration. “Body snatchers ten minutes away.”
    Randall star ed at the fast running river to the tune of Brian clicking away the last of his shots. He saw dozens of white plastic bags, plastic bottles and aluminium cans on the bank that somehow the tide had forgotten on its relentless march to the bay.
    Leanne removed a blue body bag from Brian’s kit and laid it out next to the backpack. There was restlessness in the media ranks as they all readied themselves for the big shot. Randall carefully picked up the bag, placed it inside the body bag, and zipped it closed. He was sure this would have disappointed.
    “I’ll see you back at the morgue , then,” Brian said, packing up the last of his camera equipment.
    “See you there , mate,” Randall said, looking over his shoulder at the unmistakable white contractor van that had just arrived. “And here come the freaks,” he whispered, just loud enough for Leanne to hear.
    “Why are they freaks? ” she asked.
    “I t’s simple. Many of the jobs they are called out to involve rotten corpses, which may have been dead for weeks, yet they turn up in their freshly pressed suits, ties and long-sleeved white shirts with their big smiles and that overly friendly attitude. It’s just not normal behaviour. The only upside to their job I can see is its stability, there will always be plenty of stiffs to go around.”
    They watched the two penguin-suited contractors shuffle their way over to their location with a stretcher. Placing the stretcher carefully next to the body bag, the older of the two extended his hand to Randall. “Name’s Ben. I’m assuming you’re the detective in charge.”
    R andall nodded. “Yes, Ben, Detective Sergeant Randall, and this is Detective Leanne Browne, with an ‘e’ on the end.”
    An embarrassed Leanne shook her head as Randall continued. “Ben, in the bag we have got a head in a backpack, no other bits, just a head. We need to get it to the morgue as soon as we can.”
    “Okay , quite an easy lift then,” he said with a wry smile.
    “That’s what I thought ,” he said looking at his sockless feet.
    The contrac tors pulled on their gloves, carefully lifted the body bag and contents onto the stretcher and draped a sheet over the top. As Ben pulled up the two ends of the belt buckle to strap in the bag, Randall ordered, “Not too tight, Ben, it’s very fragile, it’s about to fall to bits. We need it to stay intact a little longer.” Ben slackened the buckle, just enough to keep it in place. They watched the penguins march the stretcher back towards the car park. After negotiating the tape they disappeared in a sea of bright camera flash.
    * * *
    “After you, Leanne, my dear,” Randall invited, pushing open the door which allowed the stench of industrial cleaner and death to rush from the mortuary.
    “No, no, Sarge, p lease, you lead the way.”
    “Don’t you love that smell,” Randall said , taking in a deep breath as they continued to the cold, sterile post-mortem room.
    As Brian reviewed his photographs on the digital camera, a young morgue attendant entered. Randall watched him flick on the large overhead lights and rush around changing the bin liners.
    The stainless steel table , on which the body bag sat, had a hot and cold tap with a small drain in the centre to take away the bodily fluids. Brian fitted his lense to the camera as Randall passed around the box of rubber gloves. “Shall we start?”
    Randall unzipped th e body bag and removed the backpack. Leanne unzipped the backpack completely open as Brian clicked away. Randall reached into the bag and carefully removed the wrapped head. The head felt very cold and clammy, and now that it had been removed from the muddy environment, it had taken on its own deathly stench. He placed the head on one end of the table and carefully peeled away the sheet. As he did, the full head of a Caucasian male appeared. Randall gently laid the head back so the wide-opened eyes were now eerily looking straight up towards the ceiling. The eyes still looked bright and alert. As if they could blink and focus at any moment. The male looked about twenty-five to