Conie Santana

The Transporter

As Adrian got dressed in his black and white suit, he thought he would never be liberated from the clutches of these corpses. Five years had passed and he was still in the human remains removal business, or as civilians call it, cadaver transport. He had been called from the county’s Medical Examiner’s office to pick up a fresh one: William Stone, Caucasian male, early 40’s, 207 pounds, self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He’d been hoping for a smooth night. No such luck. “It’s always the ones with the mid-life crisis,” Adrian thought to himself as he pulled into the parking area of the morgue.