Hellcat

Chapter 51

3rd Person POV

The coroner and his new intern arrived at the based of the building. Police had already roped off a ten-foot radius around the body of the fallen vigilante. Only one officer had stayed behind for the coroner while the others had to sweep the building and escort the hostages away.

Brett Mahoney couldn't tell you why he had decided to personally watch over the body. Maybe it had something to do with seeing her just a few hours before her death. Maybe it had something to do with a strange guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the way that her blank blue eyes staring at the night sky tugged at his memory. Either way, he was silent as the coroner got close enough to see the body.

"Ah, shit. It's Hell Cat," the middle-aged man mumbled, shaking his head. "Holy shit. She saved my cousin a couple months ago," the young intern responded, staring with sad eyes. Finally, Brett spoke. "Not sure we're really gonna need an autopsy on this one. Over forty people saw what happened," he said, keeping his eyes on anything but the face of the vigilante, still wearing her mask. "Three arrows to the chest. Fell from the roof," he explained, gesturing to the building above. The coroner sighed, nodding before turning to the intern. "Let's get this done," he grumbled before the two got to work, removing the arrows from the corpse and gathering it into the body bag.

The coroner and his intern were silent on the drive back to the morgue, but that didn't mean nothing was happening. In the body bag in the back of the van, she stirred. The first thing that came back was pain. Sharp and everywhere. How could a corpse feel pain? It couldn't. The body of Allison Drake was no longer just a lifeless thing. It felt pain. She felt pain.

Her lungs burned with a lack of oxygen, then burned even more when she gasped for air. Her eyes flew wide open, only to be surrounded by blackness. Desperation and panic filled her as she tried to move. She was in something small and tight. Clawing like an animal desperate to escape, she tore through the material of the body bag.

Darkness still surrounded her as she sat up, breathing fresher air than that in the bag. Faint street lights shown in through the back windows of the van as it turned down an alley. Fumbling out of the bag, her body slammed onto the floor loud enough for the coroner and his intern to hear. "What the hell was that?" Allison heard the coroner call out in shock. But her mind was fuzzy. Nothing was familiar. Everything had a haze around it. Her mind ran on pure instinct. There was only the need to run from the potential threat as she struggled to her feet.

Heart pounding in her chest, she struggled to keep herself upright as she shoved at the back doors of the van. They didn't give. Not until she threw her entire body against them. Doors bursting open, she landed hard on the asphalt of the alley, rolling to a stop. The van had been moving? Pain spiked through her body upon impact, but she forced it back as a loud squealing sound alerted her to the van stopping. Go up. Get to higher ground. That's what her instincts told her as she shoved herself to her feet, scrambling up the nearest fire escape before the coroner or his intern even had a chance to exit the van. Even on shaky legs, her footsteps were nearly silent, never letting either know that she was escaping just above them.

Some Time Later...

Allison's mind had finally come out of the purely instinctual mode it had been trapped in. She couldn't tell you how long it had been since that night she woke up in darkness, sharp pain radiating throughout her body as she struggled to breath. Many days and nights had passed in a blur, only the bare minimum for survival on her mind. Food, water, shelter. These were the only things she had been able to think of until this morning. Her mind had started asking questions. Where am I? How did I get here? Why don't I remember anything? Who am I?

Allison's amnesia was like a thick fog over her mind. Sometimes, she could see things through it. Like a small living room. A gray couch with a blanket crumpled on it. A plain bedroom, a single picture on the nightstand. But in her mind, the picture was blurry. In her mind, she didn't know what color the comforter was or the blanket on the couch. In her mind, the place held no meaning. But, in her heart, it did.