Time didn't mean much to Angus. It had been one time in Vietnam, another in the Philippines, and yet another in San Francisco. His body wasn't up to it and Indianapolis was no different. It was afternoon, possibly around lunch time or a little later. He wasn't particularly hungry but he knew he needed to eat to keep up his strength. There were still two days before he would leave Strong behind.

It was an Army staff sergeant in another green hearse. They exchanged names and two handy army boys loaded the coffin. Once again they did it very swiftly and with the least motion necessary. Zip, zip, there you go. Have a nice day. The only thing missing was the outstretched hand for a tip. It was that kind of service, efficient and very very swift as though they couldn't wait to get their hands off the coffin. Unloading Army transports wasn't bad duty, Angus thought, and then he witnessed the line of metal coffins that ran down the rear ramp of the cargo plane that was now extended out from the plane and onto the ground behind it, behind where Angus had been seated in the plane. That was all there was, coffins. It was difficult for Angus to pull his eyes away.

"Staff Sergeant Chaney, how about a stop for lunch on the way to wherever this bus is going?"

"I'm supposed to get you right to your destination and right back for more deliveries. Stewardesses on strike, swabby?"

"Yeah, on strike. I'm just asking for a drive through deal. McDonalds would be good if you don't know anything better."

The soldier started to laugh. He was a fleshy heavy boy. His laughter was down home, like there was a private joke. Angus was of a similar rank but it wasn't worth the pissing match to try and cross reference the Navy to the Army. It would be a futile operation and just lead to hard feelings if he tried to pull rank. He simply wanted a sandwich.

"I ain't ete since yesterday," Angus said. "I'd appreciate a quick stop for some grub. Nothing to slow you down much. Strong says he doesn't want anything."

Angus regretted saying it before he finished. It would sound odd or heartless to someone who didn't understand their relationship. He was sure Chaney wouldn't understand and he was not disappointed.

"Strong?" Chaney asked immediately, looking in the rearview mirror that gave him a view of nothing but the rear of the hearse. Angus wondered if he used it often to check on his customers.

"Just a burger or chicken is good, Chaney," he said, hoping that using his name would work in getting his way.

"In this? You want me to go into a drive through in this? You guys got a sense of humor. I've done some odd stuff in my day but never took a corpse through a drive through. I'm sure it ain't regulation."

"What was you talking about before?"

"Nothing at all. Just saying how I'd like something to eat."

"Strong?" Chaney said, reminding his passenger about his words. He picked up his clipboard as he drove. He looked at the top sheet of paper and then looked back at Angus through the mirror again.

"Very funny. Strong says he doesn't want anything, right! You Navy guys are strange."

"We're mostly hungry. Strong's RA, so why not just cut me some slack and stop."

"I'll park out front and you can go in for the food."

"That's fine. I've got to take him with me though," Angus said, feeling like he was losing control of the argument.

"What?"

"My orders say I'm to stay with him 24/7, no exception except 60 seconds to piss. I need a drive through, really."

Angus leaned forward and waved a five dollar bill at the back of the guys head. It was enough for both of them to eat twice.

"Get what you want. I want the big burger, fries, and a Coke."

"I suppose," he said, grabbing the bill as he drove.

The burger wasn't hot and the fries were scalding but the Coke was just what the doctor ordered. Chaney did pull over to the side of the lot after getting the food. No one seemed to know that death had come calling at the drive-in restaurant and that suited both of them fine.

The funeral parlor was another half an hour down the road after they'd eaten. Two tall thin somber looking men in black suits stood at the rear door of the hearse once Chaney had run in to ask where to put the coffin. He backed up to the rear of the white building to where the help was waiting. It was in plain sight of Route 70 and traffic streamed past. The oldest of the two men signed Chaney's clipboard and watched as he drove off. Angus stayed silently beside the bier and the body and they obviously didn't understand why he hadn't gone with the hearse.

"You aren't going with your friend," the oldest of the two asked.

"Honor guard. I stay with him until he's buried. That's my orders."

"We don't have any facilities for that sort of thing," the man said, looking at Angus and seeming to be puzzled because he wasn't even close to death.

"Should I call the man that gave me my orders and explain to him that you folks aren't prepared to handle any more military funerals? I'm certain the admiral would be more than happy to find a mortician who can offer the proper treatment of our honored dead and the honor guard if one accompanies them."

"I'm sure we can work something out. No point in troubling your admiral. First we must get the dearly departed inside. We can sort matters out once he's out of the elements."

Angus looked up and wondered if they were expecting rain. The sky was a light blue and almost completely clear and there was a lot of it. The terrain was as flat as any Angus had seen and he thought it was remarkable being able to see so far. It was something like being on the ocean except there wasn't as much to see on the ocean. He'd never traveled off the east coast where he'd been born but he was hoping to see a little of Indianapolis after the funeral and before the flight back.

Soon the bier was being pushed down a dark dank narrow basement hallway before it was turned into a small room near the end. The wheels made that same clacking sound as it rolled and Angus wondered if all biers strained under the weight of the dead. Strangely he was reminded of all the times he'd grabbed a shopping cart at the market and got one that made a similar sound. He was sure that larger wheels would take care of the racket.

Another even taller and thinner man soon appeared at the door, sweeping into the room where Angus had taken a seat next to Strong. This guy had a hawk billed nose that reminded Angus of an owl, what with his wide open round eyes that never seemed to blink and his tiny little ears that seemed too high on the sides of his head. His skin was pallid and he looked just like Angus thought a mortician should.

"Welcome to Heaven's Gate."

His voice was smooth and traveled on a velvet wave. He sounded so sappy it made Angus queasy in the pit of his stomach, like when he ate too much cheap chocolate. He watched the man closely as he came to a stop at the bottom of the casket, placing both of his hands flat on the metal surface as he spoke.

"We are here to serve the dearly departed and his family in any way we can. I've come down immediately because I don't have any details about getting him out of this… this… ." The man seemed lost for words and unable to describe Strong's casket.

"The military calls it a coffin." Angus couldn't help himself.

"Yes, of course. Like I was saying, I have no details on the services for Pvt. Strong. I'm here so we can discuss that matter now or whenever the family is ready to make the final arrangements. We don't want to put it off any longer than necessary. We want everything to run smoothly now don't we."

"As far as I know it will just be the military honors and a chapel where people can pay their respects should someone come," Angus said.

"I see. Did you know him well?"

"Not long," Angus said, playing along to see what came next.

"Wouldn't he be more comfortable in a more stylish casket? Certainly he has made the ultimate sacrifice and deserves the very best. This is hardly more than a shipping crate."

"He says he's just fine. He likes tin. He's always been an earthy kind of guy."

"Won't the family want to make better arrangements? Certainly a man who fought and died for America deserves better than what the Army provides." The man was on a roll.

"I'm it as of now. There's a half-sister out there somewhere and there's an announcement in the local papers. Perhaps an old school mate or someone will want to pay their respects. He hasn't been out of school long," Angus said. "Other than that, it's strictly a military operation. I'm not able to change what they've arranged with you."

"Certainly you don't want to send him off in this. Oh yes, I'm Andrew," he said, deciding this required a friendlier touch since the bum's rush didn't seem to be working for him. "I'm at your service, seaman, Seaman McCoy," he said, holding his glasses up to examine the name tag on the pocket of my dress whites. He was now holding his hands in front of his narrow suit, making him seem like he had a fondness for himself or that he was ready to burst into prayer.

"Actually Albert isn't much for style, Andrew. He was an ordinary guy. What's good enough for old Uncle Sam is good enough for him."

"Ah," Andrew said as if they were making some headway. "He does have an uncle? And where is his uncle?" Andrew inquired, not missing a trick. He held up the clipboard that had been tucked under his arm until the breakthrough came. "His full name and address would be?"

"My Uncle Sam. Your Uncle Sam. Everybody gots an Uncle Sammy. I'd say Washington D.C.," Angus sang in a moment of weakness, too amused not to want to laugh at the sales pitch. "Our dear government's Uncle Sam."

Angus said the five words slowly, giving each time to settle before starting the next.

"Oh, I see," Andrew said, disapproving of the humor concerning such a serious matter. "And his sister's name. We'll need that for our records."

"Sam!" Angus said apologetically, shrugging much to the mortician's chagrin. Angus could tell the man wasn't about to let himself be amused. "Samantha, actually. No relation to Uncle Sam as far as I know. Samantha Strong and you'll need to fill in the blank if you want any more. They weren't close and the theory is she married after the death of the parents or went back to using her birth name. The military couldn't find her or anyone else for that matter. It's just Albert and me."

"How sad," Andrew said, sounding like he believed in something he said for the first time.

"I think the burial plot has been arranged. An Army Chaplain will say a prayer at the graveside and then there will be the military ceremonies. I think all that's left for you to do is to see to anyone who might come to pay their last respects tomorrow evening. Other than that it's just a matter of transportation."

"We close at 10p.m. I'm not sure what you intend to do," Andrew advised sternly. "I assume you have somewhere to go until morning."

"I don't take up much room. I've been sitting up with Albert since we left Vietnam. I can last until Friday. I'd suggest an upstairs room for tomorrow evening, just in case. I think that's part of the package and this seems a little small."

"Yes, by all means. That's included. Everything else seems to be in order," Andrew said, looking over his papers making sure everything was in order before he took his leave.

Angus felt a bit guilty over his confrontation with Andrew once he was alone. He thought he might have been a little hard on him. He'd dealt with hardcore con-men before and it seemed like everyone in Vietnam had a line of shit that came with the territory. Andrew and his minions were far too easy to spot when they came at you with their oily hair and flawless, if inadequately filled, suits.

He sat wondering if many inconsolable mourners fell pray to the bait and switch upgrades to the super duper deluxe lifetime guaranteed model casket, and if they did succumb to the sales pitch, were the dearly departed as grateful as the morticians? He shook his head while considering the thoughts Andrew had left him to ponder.

"I'll see to it they don't do no upgrading on our watch, Strong. We'll do just fine without that kind of help." Angus sat looking at the casket as he considered the soldier's fate. "I just wish I was from around this berg, Albert. I'd be calling all my high school buddies and we'd give you a sendoff you'd never forget."

*****

Angus didn't know the sound of his voice could be heard through the ventilation system. He wouldn't have cared that the salesman were shaking their heads in disbelief at his cynicism. After all, they were only doing their jobs, trying to give people the best feeling possible about the way they sent their loved ones off to the next world. Life was simply theater and they were part of the final act and in the business of giving the audience a good show.

The fact he was talking to a corpse wasn't something Angus wanted getting out. He thought that even he might not understand should he hear about someone else doing it but for the most part he wasn't much for propriety, when it didn't concern his mother, who insisted on good manners for all her children, unable to conceive of any circumstances that warranted the disrespect of another human being.

Angus knew she hadn't been to Vietnam and her view of the world was still one of order and proper behavior. He hoped she wouldn't live to see that order destroyed. He admired her resolve and regretted he'd never be able to see a world as orderly as the one his mother knew. Angus had seen too much to ever believe he could get back to that kind of innocence.

Of course, he knew everyone didn't hold the same high standard of behavior as she demanded, and at that very moment the morticians were going to work to see to it Pvt. Strong got a good sendoff, a sendoff worthy of a war hero. Surely they weren't alone in their desire to furnish the very best. Of course, the best did not come without a price.

"He's got a good idea," Andrew said after the voice of the honor guard filtered up from the basement. The sound was deposited just behind his desk where the vent that was just over Angus's head was connected.

Andrew's two assistants stood just inside the door, facing his desk and waiting for instructions.

"It says here, he went to Central High School. See if you can't come up with last year's yearbook. Call the school and find out who handles the yearbooks for them. Get someone there to call me about the Private. A teacher who is familiar with him. Start making calls to his classmates. Start with boys who will probably know him best but get the names of girls who would have known him. They'll be more emotional about his loss and be more likely to do something. Call the faculty members. They'd more likely be willing and able to spring for a fancy send off. Teachers are good organizers. Just let them know he's being buried Friday. If they come by they'll see how he's been crated up," Andrew said. "Someone will want to correct that."

The two men left their boss to follow his orders. Andrew sat listening until they were out of earshot. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he was familiar with.

"Bane," he said after someone answered the phone.

"I'm sorry. Mr. Bane is tied up at the present. Please leave your name and number and he'll get back to you."

"Tell him Prim Rose needs to speak to him."

"Bane," came the response two seconds later. "Tell me you are holding the package and you are waiting to have it picked up."

"We've encountered a problem. Same as in Frisco. I'm calling for further instructions. He won't leave the body for any longer than it takes him to pee and that isn't enough time. I'm working on possible diversions but we need guidance on this end."

"I'll make a call," the voice advised. "Sit tight for now. Stay away from him and let my man handle it. We'll take care of it one way or another. Not to worry, Andrew. We've been doing this for a long time."