The Mark of Mortem

Chapter 1

Mr. Hockman wasn't the worst teacher in the school, but he was definitely up there.

After a while, the shouting about terrible quiz grades, uncaring pupils, and rude coworkers finally caught up to him. That's what led to the tragic events of Tuesday, September 13. In the middle of fourth hour, Mr. Hockman suffered a heart attack in front of the whole class. He was wheeled out on a stretcher and died an hour later in a St. Joseph's hospital in Ashborne, New York.

Well, that's what all the witness reports said. Let me explain what really happened.

.    .    .

"Now, get to work on your quizzes. You'll have the rest of the hour to finish them. If you don't turn them in anyway, you can finish them tomorrow," Mr. Hockman says. He sits down at his desk with a sigh.

Before beginning the quiz, I look around at the rest of the class. Most of them look at the quiz like it's an ancient phone from 1998. The others are either sleeping or looking out the window longingly. The two percent of the class who cares is me and three other people, whom all have their heads down working.

I glance down at the paper to write my name when someone comes in the classroom. I look up at who enters as does the rest of the class.

A guy dressed in all black sneaks in. Well, all black except a ring of bright red on the sleeve around his wrist. He has short born hair and light brown eyes. He has a small scar on his jawline and a fading bruise on his cheekbone. He walks across the classroom silently with a carefree expression.

Amy Everett, who sits closest to the door, gets up to grab a tissue. When she does, she almost runs into the man without even glancing up at him. He steps aside to let her pass and I watch confused.

"Mr. Hockman, you need to get more tissues. This one is out," Amy says sitting down.

"I'll do that this weekend," Mr. Hockman says annoyed. "Now get back to your quiz."

Amy shrugs and looks back at her paper.

I look at the class. "Um, who is-?"

"Please Miss Dorsey, we are trying to take a quiz," Mr. Hockman interrupts me. "If you have a question you will have to ask me privately."

"But-"

"Miss Dorsey, I will write you up if you keep talking," Mr. Hockman warns.

The class looks at me irritated and I feel myself go red. I put my head down but keep watching the strange man. He looks at me curiously before continuing to the front of the class. The man stops at Mr. Hockman's desk and pulls out a knife. I sit up straight as I watch him mutter something into Mr. Hockman's ear just before stabbing him through the chest.

I scream and the whole class looks up as Mr. Hockman clutches his chest and drops everything. He starts to wheeze and falls on the ground. It's a heart attack. I watch in horror as the class starts to freak out and try to figure out what to do.

The man who stabbed him grabs something off the desk, backs away and leaves the room. I make a split second decision and run after him (which is stupid because you shouldn't run after someone who just killed your math teacher).

"Hey!" I yell running down the hall. Teachers and students poke their heads out of classrooms to see all the commotion. As I run past them and point behind me. "Mr. Hockman needs help!"

They all run the other way as I catch up to the strange man. I stop and keep quiet as I walk up behind him. Somehow he hasn't noticed me. I notice the hilt of his knife poking out of his belt and before I can stop myself, I grab it.

That's when he notices me.

"What the hell?!" He asks jumping almost a mile into the air. I'm not joking, he actually hit the ceiling.

"I'm calling the police," I say pulling out my phone. "You just killed someone."

"You can see me?" He whispers.

"Yeah I can see you, I'm not blind," I say backing away. "Also, why the hell did you just kill my math teacher?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "Well this day just got extremely twisted."

"You mean you go around killing people everyday?" I ask backing away more.

He notices the knife in my hand. "Oh no, you are going to have to give that back."

He steps forward to grab it but I twist away. "Um no, if I give it back you'll kill more people."

"Uh yeah, that's my job," he tells me. As soon as he says it he gets a scared look on his face, as if he weren't supposed to say that.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask backing away so fast I stumble and fall.

"Come with me," he says holding out his hand. "I need to figure who you are."

"I'm Corinne Dorsey if that answers your question. And no, I'm not going with you after what you just did," I say shaking my head.

"It's not a request, it's an instruction," he says angrily. He seizes my wrist and pulls me up.

He drags me behind him as he races out of the building. His car is parked at the front of the building, not even on a road or anything, right in front of the main doors. He shoves me in and closes the door behind before climbing in himself. He starts to drive down the road and he slowly speeds up until we are both pressed against our seats from the force of it. One button on the dash board lights up and he presses it. A person's face comes onto the screen in the middle.

"Duncan, you are off track and running late. What is going on?" A woman's stern face appears on screen.

The man, Duncan glances at me. "Something, um, came up. I'm coming back. I promise it's important."

She rolls her eyes. "It'd better be. You're lucky we have a few extra substitutes for you. Hurry up."