Misery County

Chapter 20 - Part 2

There was no sun in the sky, yet the area around the mortuary was lit. Any lights that may have once glowed in the buildings were dead... yet the area around the mortuary was lit. A glowing column of green light was coming out of the middle of the mortuary, going up, up, and up as far as the eye could see, and around it swirled tattered shades, some dressed in hospital gowns, others in pajamas, and others still in torn clothes covered in blood. Spirits. The dead had returned to walk the earth, except they weren't quite walking yet – they just flew around the column of light over and over again. Maybe they weren't even flying in the truest sense. It seemed like they were caught in its orbit, being tugged around against their will, victims of an unholy tornado. This was like nothing Eric had ever seen. He had salt in his car, but nothing short of a crop-dusting of salt would be enough to get them all.

Shaking hands pulled a flask of bourbon out of his jacket. Werewolves, skin-walkers, zombies – they were all one thing – corporeal. The macabre scene in front of him was everything but. Different rules were at work here, and Eric had yet to receive the playbook.

A quick swig of the flask calmed his nerves, and with his jacket loaded up with weapons of both the traditional and the supernatural variety, he set off for the mortuary, the heart of it all. Never one to accept it when things are too easy, Eric's eyes darted from corner to alley to side street and back, looking for monsters guarding this important building, but there were none. Even as he got to the front door of the building, turned the handle, and pushed it inward, there was still no one.

The weathered, old flashlight came out, and its beam illuminated what must have been the reception area of the mortuary. A place like this was creepy enough on a normal day – the apocalyptic feel didn't do it any favors. A sound caught Eric's attention, and he immediately turned to face it, the beam from his flashlight vibrating in his shaking hand. Not knowing which weapon he'd need, he pulled out his pistol loaded with silver and hoped that it would be enough. Slow and steady, he trod toward the open door at the far end of the hallway, the seconds it took feeling like hours. His heart was racing as he passed through the threshold into a room with tables, refrigerated corpse cabinets, and an unsettling number of mobile curtain screens.

Turn around. Turn around and run. It's not cowardice – it's survival. Eric's bravery was waning fast. This room was a tactical nightmare. Even with his flashlight and his position in the corner, he had no view of at least half the room, maybe more.

A slow, deliberate scraping sound came from the inside of one of the cabinets.

Ice flowed through Eric's veins and arteries as he turned his flashlight toward the offending one. He liked it better when it seemed like all of the dead were outside. Step by tortured step, he inched closer to the cabinet, pointing the flashlight behind every screen that he passed. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It was only when he'd made it halfway through the room that his flashlight peaced out on him and died.

It was pitch black, and Eric had had enough, his bladder agreeing with him. He was getting out of there. Turning around to where he remembered the door was, he poised himself to sprint toward it but stopped at the last minute. A crinkle and a shuffle came from exactly where the doorway should have been. He was boxed in. How long had his captor been standing there? Was it long enough to see Eric back when there was light? Did this creature even need light to sense him?

A scraping sound preceded the ignition of the match. The small fire was brought up to the end of a cigarette, but it was the face behind it that Eric was looking at. Gaunt, grizzled and scarred, it was, but the features were unmistakable.