PROJECT MORTUUS: Killer In Silence

Chapter 5: The Truth of Souls

Mortuus held onto Jackson's hand, guiding him caringly through Angus Woods. It was easy to get lost in those woods, even during the day. As they walked, Jackson was amazed by all the sights and sounds.

Jackson stopped, halting Mortuus. He crouched and observed a beetle carrying a seed. Mortuus crouched with him, just as fascinated. This was probably the thirteenth time they'd stopped to watch a bug or some other mundane thing, but Mortuus still watched alongside him with equal fascination and excitement.

As the two watched the beetle disappear into the brush, they continued to the bunker. Mortuus pushed aside the makeshift door. "Welcome... To Jurassic Park!" Mortuus joked.

Jackson looked down the hallway, his eyes darting from door to door. Each entry looked heavy enough to crush someone if they fell, yet still down the hall was a door hanging from its hinges as if it were thrown.

Mortuus noticed Jackson's focus on the door and spoke, "Not all subjects are like us, Jackson."

Jackson nodded and began walking towards the door. Mortuus followed close behind. Both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw inside the broken door's room-a straight line of dried blood splattered across the walls.

Mortuus looked at the blood and nervously gulped as he felt his neck. It was the room where The Stitcher decapitated him. "It wasn't a hallucination..." Mortuus mumbled to himself before moving Jackson away.

Jackson cheerfully entered a room beside Mortuus's own. The room looked almost identical: a bed, a nightstand, a sink, and a mirror. The only difference was kids' toys on a play carpet.

Jackson gleefully played with the toys while Mortuus sat on the bed, confused. "Jackson's indeed no child, but his mind is." Mortuus thought to himself as he watched him curiously.

As Mortuus sat there, Death appeared in the doorway, resting against his scythe as he watched Jackson. "We meet again, Jack." Death said as he watched. He was aware that Jackson couldn't hear him.

Mortuus stood and walked out through Death, letting Jackson relax in the room. Death faded to smoke as Mortuus passed through him-an everyday occurrence for Death.

He walked into his room beside Jackson's and stared into it for a minute. His eyes fell upon the differences. Blood soaked the walls of his room, but Jackson's was pristine; his mirror was shattered, but Jackson's was exemplary; his bed was soaked with tears and blood while Jackson's was still finely made.

Mortuus stepped closer to the mirror, his bandages in full view of the shards. "He's counting on you. You can't let him down." He stated to himself, his hands perched on the sink and bearing his weight.

As he gazed into the mirror, his eyes began tearing. "What if I'm not strong enough? What if I can't do this?" He murmured to himself. As he looked up again, Mortuus noticed Jackson standing in the doorway.

It didn't appear as though he'd been there long. Mortuus wiped his eyes and turned to Jackson. "We need to figure out the true killer, Jackson."

Jackson nodded and handed Mortuus the revolver that he'd tossed onto his bed when he entered his room. Jackson smiled warmly and signed to Mortuus, "Female killer."

Mortuus nodded. "Kassandra Campbell is my suspect." Mortuus motioned for Jackson to follow as he headed down the hall to a room labeled 'IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS: AUTHORIZED PERSONEL ONLY' in thick white letters.

He pushed open the door, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Mice and rats scattered as light flooded the dimly lit room. He flicked on a switch and opened a cabinet.

He flipped through dozens of folders, only stopping a few seconds to check the names. Finally, after a minute, Mortuus pulled out a folder with the name Kassandra Campbell on it. "Subject D-3. Killed via electric chair." he read aloud.

Jackson tapped on Mortuus's shoulder and signed to him, "Why her?" Mortuus smiled under the bandages and read from the folder, "Subject is reported to have violent outbursts in which she stabs fellow subjects. She seems incredibly hateful of Subject A-9."

"I knew her?" Jackson signed in shock. Mortuus nodded and continued reading, "Subject D-3 must never know that A-9 convicted her."

Mortuus stood up, closed the folder, and looked at Jackson as he spoke. "She only remembers the hate. She doesn't actually know you."

Jackson stared down at the folder in Mortuus's hand. A thought began to cross his mind. He leaned down and pulled out another folder.

Jackson opened it. "Subject A-9: Jackson Knight. Killed via slit throat. Subject's body was decayed and missing vocal cords, most likely ripped out by animals." He read to himself. A tear formed in his eye as he continued to read the information written on him. "A-9's I.Q. is 30 due to severe decomposition of the brain. He cannot remember anything about himself and struggles to perform basic tasks. Subject Revival Status: Failure."

Below the paper on his status was also a diagnosis from before he had died. It seemed to tell that Jackson was, in fact, autistic, but it had no relation to his I.Q. Mortuus touched the folder, gently closing it and taking it from Jackson. His voice softened as he spoke. "I learned long ago that you can't let it define you. You're the writer of your own story, Jackson."

Jackson nodded and then turned, leaving the room. Mortuus figured it was best to give him some space to process what he'd learned. He'd built an entire life since he awakened, all of which was built upon lies.

As Mortuus stood in the room alone, a familiar presence filled the air. "You are running out of time, Mortuus. It is still killing you." Death said to him.

Mortuus sighed. He knew what Death meant. The Cave of Souls hadn't cured his L.A.S. but had merely slowed it down. "What's the point? I'm sure you'll be happy to finally reap me anyway."

Death leaned on his scythe, his bony fingers tightly gripping the handle as what seemed like a tear fell from his hollow socket. "I have seen great heroes fall, monarchs beg for mercy upon beds of flowers, children's giggles fade as they realize their grim fate..." Death paused before continuing, "I have witnessed a mother's heart shatter as I hold her newborn's soul with a caring embrace-"

"What does this have to do with me?" Mortuus interrupted. Death held out a bony figure and touched it to Mortuus's lips, silencing him.

"And yet, never have I seen a soul so broken that it wished to truly die. I do not kill; I merely guide." Death said to him, his sockets hollow and yet filled with more pain than eyes could ever tell.

"This wasn't your choice, was it?" Mortuus asked. Death nodded, "We can only choose in life."

Mortuus pulled his pen out and took a hit before responding, "Then I choose to be the good Mordecai saw in me."

Death smiled, satisfied with the answer. He disappeared into a veil of smoke, Mortuus walking through it and out of the room. He didn't care that his time was limited. Helping these broken souls find their way was going to be his purpose.