Read Nature of Ash, The for Free Online

tossers deemed fit for birth.
    As she unlocks the shutters I wrap my arm tightly around him, bracing myself. I keep my gaze locked on his face, ready to react. I don’t think I can look at Dad again. But Mikey steps right forward, hands and nose pressed to the window. ‘Dad!’ he yells, knocking on the glass. ‘Wake up! It’s me!’ He doesn’t question for a second that it’s Dad.
    ‘He can’t hear you,’ I say, choking back tears. ‘He can’t wake up. He’s dead.’
    Mikey ignores me and knocks again. ‘Dad! I’m here. What happened to your face?’
    I try to frame an answer in my head, knowing full well that nothing will sink in. ‘His heart has stopped, mate. We can’t bring him back.’ I point at Dad’s red-scalded chest. ‘If you look really hard you’ll see it doesn’t move. No heart, no breath. He’s gone.’
    ‘He’s not!’ Mikey slams his fist against the glass. ‘Bring him back.’ He continues to pound the window as he chants this new mantra at the top of his voice. ‘Bring … him … back …’
    The nurse, panicked, looks at me, but all I can do is shrug. I want him back as well .
    ‘Wait here.’ The poor nurse flees the room.
    Once she’s disappeared Mikey starts to whimper, mashing his face from side to side against the glass. Irub his back and try to calm him. If I take him home in this state he’ll redirect all his emotions into blaming me.
    I’m buggered if I know how long we’re stuck like this — me trying to soothe him, him trying to permeate the glass to get at Dad — but it seems like bloody years. I feel as if I’ve morphed into a sick old man: my body hurts, my brain won’t think straight, and all I have is the certainty that, one by one, everyone I love will die. I shouldn’t have brought him here . I should’ve told him Dad was just away for work, then figured out how to explain it so he’d understand. I’m such a useless jerk.
    I can see the nurse in the operating theatre beyond the grille now, speaking to an old guy who glances through at us, then nods. The nurse returns to our room with a disconcerting smile.
    ‘Come with me,’ she says to Mikey. ‘I’ll take you to your dad.’
    ‘I thought we couldn’t—’
    She shrugs. ‘You’re lucky Mr Prakeesh has come in early — he’s the boss.’ She leads us around the corner and guides us through a door. The whole place glistens with stainless steel, with big body-sized benches and troughs … Of course! It’s not an operating theatre at all. This is the place they do the autopsies, the place they chop up bodies to search for cause of death.
    The old man offers me his hand, clasping mine between both of his own. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he says. ‘Your father was a good, good man.’
    ‘I want Dad,’ Mikey says, his bottom jaw angled at its most stubborn thrust.
    Mr Prakeesh ignores him and meets my gaze. ‘I had a brother like yours once,’ he says. ‘He had a greatcapacity for understanding many things, so long as they were tangible. Best friend I ever had.’
    I don’t know what to say. Right now my own brother is mangling my hand.
    The nurse explains that if we put on sterile gowns and gloves, Mr Prakeesh will supervise a closer look. ‘Though you mustn’t disturb anything, you understand?’ She looks straight at Mikey. ‘You promise you’ll do as you’re told?’
    Mikey nods solemnly.
    The kindness and understanding of these people is unexpected — especially when it’s clear they’re breaking all the rules. I’m grateful for it — though, honestly, the thought of getting any closer to Dad’s shredded body gives me the shits. I’m terrified I’ll cry again. I’m terrified that one of us, or both, will freak and go berserk.
    We kit up and the nurse draws back the grille. Then Mr Prakeesh takes Mikey’s gloved hand in his own and leads him over to the bench where Dad’s body lies. I’m holding Mikey’s other hand and now it’s him who’s towing me. Every step