Abacus by Josh Burton

stop this poor bastard breathing,” he said, still feverishly working on his sleeve. “Bloody hell it doesn’t look too good.” Randall said, drying his sleeve with a towel. “The stain is there for good, I reckon.”
    “What can we do if he stops breathing? How do you resuscitate a bloke with half a head who really doesn’t look human.” Randall knew that with Hobbs being a religious man he felt an obligation to help in some way, to do something.
    After a lengthy silence Hobbs asked, “Boss, what are your thoughts on euthanasia? Do you reckon we should be able to help this guy end it?”
    Randall looked up at the blood stained wall, and then back down at the dying man. “Look at this poor bastard, he’s fucked, half his brain is on the wall behind him. Look at him chugging along. He wants to die, but his body won’t let go. It is totally involuntary. Watching him like this is not doing him any good, nor you and I any good. We should be able to help him for sure.” Randall momentarily thought about his assignments at DL, which some would consider, ethically, far worse than euthanasia. Resting his hand on Hobbs’ shoulder, he said, “Big fella, if there is a hell out there I’ve pretty much booked a seat anyway, so finishing off this bloke isn’t going to make much of a difference, is it?”
    Hobbs sat in silence, staring at the dying man with a troubled expression. “Boss, you’ve got a good heart, you have done many good things and the Lord always forgives, if you let him. We have been put on this earth to do a very difficult, thankless job and to be good at it; you’ve got to get your hands dirty.”
    Randall sat quietly and thought about what Hobbs had said. Maybe he is right, I have done some good things to help people. Maybe I’m not so bad. But the big question is… how dirty is dirty .
    “Big fella, put on the tele , will you? We need to lighten the mood in here a little,” Randall said, glancing at his watch. “I think Ellen might be on, let’s see who her special guest is today.” Hobbs always knew he was serious, often in sad situations like this. When you were seeing and hearing the unthinkable, you needed an escape, even just a short one.
    He walked across the room flicked on the television, turned up the volume and returned to his seat, positioning himself so he could still see the dying man with his peripheral vision.
    At the first commercial break, Randall glanced across at the dying man and saw that there was no change. Shaking his head, he stood up, turned the television off, and walked over. Pulling on a set of rubber gloves from his pocket while staring straight ahead at the man, he said, “Big fella, I need you to go out into the hall, call off the ambulance, and let the radio know we have a body here.”
    Hobbs looked at the man and could see he was still breathing . Whilst he wasn’t in great shape, he definitely did not fit the category of a “Body for collection.” Randall turned to face Hobbs and gestured for him to leave. Hobbs quietly walked from the room and into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. Randall reached across and secured the door lock. He did not want Hobbs to see anything, nor did he want Hobbs to have any involvement in what was to come next.
    Randall leant across the dying m an and looked down onto the cup-like bottom jaw where he could see the jagged windpipe, through which he breathed. The windpipe was surrounded by red foam and serrated flesh. Pushing his gloved thumb, forefinger and middle finger together to form a wedge, he gently pushed it into the windpipe, sealing it. He looked on as a high-pitched slurp came from the unsealed rim around his fingers. Pushing his fingers in deeper for a complete seal, he watched the chest rise and fall in a number of quick phases as he fought for air. Moments later the body finally succumbed as it shuddered to a complete stop. Seeing the man was finally at peace, he pulled his fingers from the windpipe,