Chapter One

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Like a drum set. Over and over, pounding through his skull.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It was a pulse. It was his pulse. Am I dead? He couldn’t see anything. Of course I’m not dead, that’s my heartbeat. Heartbeat means life.

It felt like he was falling. Falling through nothingness. It was a strange feeling, like he’d stepped off an invisible cliff. But one thing was sure, he was falling toward something. And whatever that something was, he could feel it coming up fast.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The heartbeat reverberated through his entire being. Shaking him to his core. It was as if all of the blackness surrounding him was shaking with every beat.

A sixth-sense began screaming danger, kind of like one of those dreams where your world is spinning and spinning, falling towards nothingness, but you jerk awake before you hit bottom. Only this felt real. Way too real. And he hoped he woke up from this.

Impact.

Oxygen hit his lungs like a battering ram as he sucked air. Instantly his eyes snapped open and all of his muscles jerked in unison, making him sit up straight. It took him a minute to get his breath back, like he’d just finished a marathon.

He looked around the room. It was very small, very clean, and very cold. Everything he touched was freezing. Why would anyone keep a room this cold? Apart from the cold, everything was in perfect order, with nothing out of place. Almost surgical looking. Five beds lined up side by side, all with the same white sheets and thin mattress as the one he sat on. There were a few white tables on rollers that held a variety of scalpels and other medical-looking tools.

There was only one door on the far side of the room, large and metal. No windows.

What is this place? Some kind of hospital? Then his eyes traveled to the last bed. A figure lay under a sheet…his face was covered. A dead man. This was a morgue.

That was a very disturbing thought.

Time to leave. I really don’t feel like hanging around corpses any more than I have to. Then another thought occurred to him. Especially if they think I am one.

He jumped off the bed felt his feet hit the tile with a soft slap. For the first time he looked down at himself. He was wearing a white shirt that looked like it had gone through a shredder. His jeans didn’t look that great either. His black running shoes seemed to be intact for the most part. A little worn, but still usable and semi-presentable.

I wonder how this happened.

Either way, the how he got here and what happened before didn’t matter, what he did about it now was the important thing. He strode over to the steel door and tried the knob.

Locked.

Figures…we wouldn’t want any dead guys waking up and getting out, now would we?

He looked around the room, even though he already knew what he would find. There wasn’t another way in or out.

Now that left his with a choice, he could either sit here freezing or he could bang on the door until someone walked by from the outside with a key and let him out.

There was no way that he wanted to stick around here with the dead guy in the corner, so he started slamming the door with his fist. “Hello?! Hello? Can anyone here me? Get me out of here!”

Faintly, there was the sound of high heels clicking on tile. “Forget your keys again doc?” The lock turned and the door opened. “You really have to get a beeper or…” The nurse looked at him with wide eyes. He could only imagine the thoughts that were probably going through her mind right now. This was the first time she’d seen a body had gotten off the table under its own power.

She spun around and sprinted down the hall as fast as her heels would allow. At least the door was still open.

The nurse would probably go find a guard or the police to have them deal with the man who just woke up from being dead. Who knows what they would do with him, he was very sure that they wouldn’t have a protocol in place to deal with it.

No use waiting for them to find him. They would catch up eventually, but if he could get out of here under his own power; that would probably mean a whole lot less of a headache than sitting in the morgue looking like the cat that ate the canary.

He strode down the hall, the nurse had taken a right turn. Morgues are usually in the basement, right? That meant that to get out, he had to go up one more level. He looked down the hall the nurse had taken, it lead right to a staircase. Perfect.

The doors at the top were the thick metal kind�"the ones that would be impossible to get through without tools if they were locked. He tried the handle. Locked.

Of course it would be. Just like every other door in this hospital. He felt the knob turn…someone was opening it from the other side, the door swung open and a security guard stood on the other side, one hand resting on a pistol. “Hold it right there, you’re coming with me.” The guard spoke evenly, as if he came face-to-face with dead people all the time.

There was no point in resisting…the guard had the gun.

“Step up here slowly. Hands where I can see them.” His voice still remained even. “Now start walking. Keep your hands at your sides. Any tricks or if you so much as twitch and you’ll be on the ground so fast you’ll wonder where the truck that hit you went.”

“Talk about police brutality.”

“Shut it. If I want lip, I’ll pay a visit to my ex-wife.” This guard is just full of personality.

The guard led him down the hall to a set of offices in the administration wing. The first thing he noticed was the luxury of it. Normal hospitals were well-furnished and had an air of professionalism. This one radiated power and professionalism. Cherry trim lined almost everything, and it was polished until it glowed. The name-plates on the doors were hand-carved and accented with brass.

Each doctor that passed look like he’d just stepped off the set of a stupid doctor romance TV show. Not a wrinkle to be seen on their white coats.

What’s up with all of this? This hospital must have some seriously rich donors.

The security guard stopped in front of a door labeled “Garrison Reynolds, MD. Chief of Staff” and pushed it open. An overweight man sat behind the desk.

His hair was quickly retreating and whatever remnant that was left was already white. Dr. Reynolds looked up at him through thick glasses that were too large for his face. “So you are the man who has been causing all the chaos around my hospital.” Statement, not a question. “You haven’t been awake for more than fifteen minutes and we already have a nurse who thinks she is going crazy.” He cracked a smile before saying “Maybe I should transfer her to work the psych ward.” The doctor laughed at his very lame joke until he was wheezing.

“Why was I in a morgue?”

“Why were you in a morgue, why, why, why, why, why? That is a very good question, a very good question indeed. What do you remember sonny? Oh, how rude of me. Please have a seat.” This old bat loved to ramble.

There was a chair facing the desk. It was overstuffed black leather that looked like it belonged in a living room instead of an office. He sank back into it, it may have been a comfortable chair, but right now he was very uncomfortable with his doctor friend. “Now sonny, what exactly do you remember?”

Something about the way the doctor said “sonny” made his skin crawl. But he did have a good question. He didn’t even know his name. Strange. “Nothing.”

“You don’t remember anything? Nothing at all?”

“That’s one way to sum it up. I remember waking up in a morgue. Anything before that is a blur.”

“That won’t be too much of a problem.” The doctor opened a file on his desk. “We got a positive ID of you last night, even though you didn’t have any identification documents on your person. We have had past hospital records of you, Mr. Davis.”

“Davis?”

“That is your name. Justin Davis. And according to our records you had severe schizophrenia. You would wander into our facilities sometimes, or more often, someone would drag you in when your medication ran out. But now you don’t look like any severe schizophrenic I’ve ever seen. Here sonny, I want you to take this.” The doctor handed him a bottle of pills.

Justin was getting sick of the doctor calling him “sonny.” He looked over the label on the bottle. The prescription already had his name on it. The name of the pill was “Caecus.”

“So doc, what exactly does ‘Caecus’ do to me?”

Reynolds folded his hands together and got a far-out look in his eyes. “Caecus is a mental drug that has just hit the market, it is not that well known, but it is a miracle drug among the mentally impaired, you know, crazy people.” Like you. Was in Reynolds’s unspoken implication. “Essentially what it does is blocks the brain from misbehaving. You see, your brain is influenced by chemicals, it is what helps keep you normal. A person with depression sometimes has a chemical imbalance that is the problem, which is what anti-depressants fix. This is similar. It keeps your brain chemicals in check and prevents the imbalance.”

“I think I get it. So how did I end up in your morgue? Let me guess. I was having delusions of being dead.”

“Not exactly. You were actually dead. You didn’t have a heartbeat. The police found your body in the street and brought it to us for an autopsy. The coroner’s office is under investigation right now so they couldn’t take the body there.”

“So I’m dead and I miraculously come back to life?”

“Actually it is not so unusual. There have been stories of an elderly woman who woke up in a freezer after she was declared dead. Even more recently a man woke up inside of his own body bag after having a heart attack and dying. There are other cases of graves that have been dug up and the inside of the coffins have shown signs of struggle to escape. The most amazing thing about this is the fact that your schizophrenia has gone into remission. I do not believe it is permanent, hence the medicine…”

“So now what do I do?”

“Here is a copy of your birth certificate. It was in with your hospital records. You can use it to get other forms of identity back, like your license and social security card.”

“Ok,”

The doctor leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. As if doing nothing was so much work he had to take a break from it. “You know Justin, you have a very interesting mind. I’ve never heard of a case even remotely similar to yours. I wish I could have a psychologist do an analysis of you.”

“Forget it. I’m no lab rat for you to tinker with. Am I free to go?”

Reynolds waved his hand. “Fine. Anytime you want.”

“Good.” Justin stood up and strode out of the room. The security guard left behind him and shut the door. Reynolds picked up his desk phone and dialed. “Hello? Yes…yes, I did give him the pills. Listen. You need to keep your eyes on this man. He’s dangerous…yes. I have done my job exactly how you wanted me to. Now do yours. Alright. Goodbye.”

Reviews

[Kalen Luciano]

This is a great story and you're a great story-teller to write it.

[John Ryan]

This is very interesting.
I look forward to more work from you.

I enjoyed the simplicity of the sentences.

[Gurglesnarch van Caasi]

The simple sentences work great for keeping the pace moving quickly, and also great for first person, as we do not usually think complete thoughts or sentences, but rather just fragments of ideas. The story line is solid so far, and I want to keep reading, so hurry up and publish this :D

[Leigh]

A great start to your story, leaving questions unanswered and so me wanting to know more. Your description of coming back to life was particularly good at the beginning. The short, snappy sentences works well in the main for the subject it's covering as it creates the feeling of alarm and shock in the character and to the reader. Looking forward to reading more

[A. Amos]

Interesting read and you're a good story teller....

[Mike Wolfe]

Thank you.