The After-Death

By Benjamin Fisher-Merritt

When a man awakens in a morgue not knowing how he got there, why he was dead or even his name, he sets out to find answers. What he finds are more questions that lead him on a chase that will lead across the country and change everything he thinks he knows. For as you will find, nothing is what it seems in the After-Death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Benjamin Fisher-Merritt
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370064885

Book preview

The After-Death

A Novel By Benjamin Fisher-Merritt

Published by Benjamin Fisher-Merritt

Copywrite Benjamin Fisher-Merritt

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

Awakening

I forced my gritty eyelids open, expecting to see the glare of the early morning sun shining through that single crack in the curtains that I can never quite block out and was slightly surprised to find total darkness instead. A feeling of foreboding crept over me as flashes of nightmares about being buried alive leapt to the front of my mind.

The surface I was on was hard and cold and I failed to choke down panic when extending my arms met a similar surface and trying to sit up earned me a sharp crack to the skull. The pain brought the rational part of my brain back online and I began to explore my tiny prison. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the metal box ran down my spine… I was not able to force my chest to draw a breath. Kicking hard with my feet slid me down against the wall which gave way slightly.

My vision was assaulted with a brilliant white light that shone through the opening, another pair of hard kicks and the shelf in the morgue where my body lay slid out fully into the harsh metal halide lighting of the room. What happened last night? If my body really is dead then why do I burn with the desire for vengeance, and vengeance against whom? Looking at the stitches crisscrossing my body, and the unwholesome pallor of my skin, I decided that my primary course of action must be covering myself. Then I would find answers if there were any to be found.

There is something decidedly disturbing about taking clothing off a dead body; even when you yourself are dead. I cast about the room for anything else that I could possibly do, however the only other option was to cut holes in a body bag which would have drawn at least as much attention as my pale scarred flesh. The young man whose clothes I was stealing didn’t complain despite the fact that I had to dislocate his shoulders to get his Led Zeppelin t-shirt off without tearing it apart. It shocked me how easily I was able to do it; perhaps he had some sort of muscle weakness or joint problems. My fingers and wrists felt stiff either from rigor mortis or maybe just from laying inside the cold steel embrace of the morgue drawer.

I had never been in a morgue before, the stark cleanliness of the stainless steel drawers and white tiled floors, walls and tables suggested either a new facility or else a very fastidious caretaker. I decided on the latter as I surveyed the neat tidy rows of scalpels, saws, needles and even a tape recorder set out at precise distances from one another on a nearby shelf. I felt a sudden uncomfortable pressure inside my head as though I was in an airplane making a rapid descent, as though there was a bubble behind my nose, eyes and ears pressing against them.

The pressure kept increasing at an alarming rate; I attempted to force air into my estuation tubes only to find that drawing a breath was a physical impossibility. Afraid that my eyes would be forced from their sockets, I grabbed a steel probe from the table top and plunged it into my ear. A burst of air and fluid shot out with enough force to leave a trail of phosphorescent vitriol from the edge of the counter to my shoulder its glow barely visible in the brightly lit room. Before I had the chance to study the strange glowing purplish green substance I suddenly became aware of voices and the sound of footsteps so close I was astounded that I hadn’t heard them before.

-omething in the water or maybe an infection or some airborne agent. I can’t wait for the next episode, seriously I was so pissed off when it was over.

Yeah and Fox will probably cancel it just like they have every other decent show. I wonder what they have against making money.

A sudden burst of adrenaline startled me, I drew a ragged breath and my heart suddenly thundered in my chest. A pair of middle aged men dressed in white clothes walked into the room. What the hell are you doing in here? This is a restricted area; you aren’t supposed to be here. Are you one of those weirdoes who gets off on touching dead people? I backed up against the counter and grabbed the first thing my hand touched; the microcassette recorder.

Gentlemen, I’m with the World News Daily paper and I’m looking to dig up a story on just such a subject, can either of you comment? I was shooting from the hip, desperate to distract them long enough to get out the door. I held the small tape recorder in my hand out in front of my body like it was a weapon I’ve heard there were some instances of necrophilia in this morgue, I promise I won’t mention your names.

My wife reads that shit God only knows why… get the fuck out before we throw you out. We could lose our jobs just by you being in here!

Needing no encouragement, I walked out of the room as fast as I could without, hopefully appearing any stranger of a spectacle than I imagined myself being. I would ponder the sudden flush of life that was rapidly fading from my system later when I felt safe.

I broke into a run the moment I was out of view of the morgue attendants. I had to get out of this place and fast. There was too much I didn't understand, I needed some time to figure it all out or at least get a handle on my body. What was with me suddenly starting to breathe and my heart beginning to beat again? Why did it stop? I stepped through a door and found myself in a busy hospital emergency room. It was easy to avoid notice in all the commotion even though my lungs no longer functioned and heart had ceased to beat once again. Once outside I ran blindly, taking advantage of not needing to breathe until I reached a park that seemed more or less deserted. As I slowed to a walk an old man approached me

Spare some change youngster? I dug in my pockets, surprised to find a couple dollars which I proffered to him. I'll take whatever you have in your wallet too. he said lifting his other hand to show a knife with a wicked looking edge. Considering all that had happened I tried to laugh, all that came out was low groan. Suddenly fear blossomed on his face and he backed away slowly Just a joke, you understand just a joke! Here take it back, I don't need it!

He dropped the money I had given him and the knife, took a few stumbling backward steps then turned and sprinted away. I sat down with my back to a large tree. The look in the old man’s eyes had been one of fear growing into stark terror. What was I becoming and what did he see that frightened him so much? The answer became clear to me as the sun began to set. I could see every vein illuminated from within by a faint glow, mapping out my now defunct cardiovascular system in a beautiful but disturbing trail of interlacing lines. My eyes were bright enough to shine a faint light wherever I looked, and everything I looked at seemed outlined in fairy fire, some green, some blue, some red. I put my hands over my face in disbelief almost dropping the forgotten cassette recorder. Of course, why didn't I think of it earlier? With a morbid curiosity, I re-wound the tape to listen to the coroner perform my autopsy.

The time is currently 1900 hours 25 minutes; the subject is a John Doe who was found alongside the road apparently the victim of a shooting. The subject is wearing leather protective clothing and a motorcycle helmet, he was found a few yards away from a motorcycle, there is a hole approximately 3 centimeters in width in the front of the jacket, no exit wound is visible. This will be an attempt to exhume the projectile and ascertain the cause of death.

I hit the stop button on the player as memories came flooding back. It had been late; I was on my way home after a long day of work and even though the sun had gone down and it was far past rush hour I could see a long line of cars stretching out ahead of me in a traffic jam. At the last minute, I decided to take an exit, driving on the shoulder for a short while and then roaring up the ramp, smiling to myself at the disapproving looks from the officers directing traffic. I knew these back roads well and although they took longer than the freeway it would be a pleasant ride with only a few places where I would have to stop. The long swooping corners were the perfect stress relief; my dark mood from having to work late was lifting as I pushed my big cruiser to her limit.

Suddenly I saw lights in my mirrors, they were approaching at a speed that I considered borderline suicidal on this narrow winding road. Looking for a safe place to pull off and finding none, I increased my speed. I knew there was an overlook just on the other side of a small hill and was sure I would have plenty of time to reach it.

Topping the rise and turning on my signal I suddenly heard the high-pitched scream of a sport bike exhaust. The rider behind me blew by so close the wind nearly unbalanced me, his high intensity headlights illuminating vehicle that resembled a smaller Humvee parked in the overlook parking lot. It was painted flat black except for a white reflective plate that I could clearly see marked MUETF I felt a sudden impact to my chest and my last memory is the motorcycle moving away from me in slow motion, my hands unable to keep a grip on the bars. The illumination of a lonely street light behind me showed my bike losing balance, tipping on the right side and knocking over a set of road cones on its way over an embankment.

"After cutting away the outer clothing I am making a vertical incision centered on the entrance wound. It is a precision shot, appearing to enter the exact center of the sternum. There is very little blood which is odd for a wound of this size. Something else that is strange; as I was removing the clothing I note that none of the bones appear to be fractured despite the estimated speed of impact being more than 40 miles per hour.

Other than being dead, this is a very lucky man. Heh. I am now peeling away the layers of skin and flesh, the hole in the sternum is clean without any splintering; I have never seen a bone puncture that is this perfect, almost as though a high-speed drill was used instead of a projectile. Probing inside I cannot feel the bullet, I am going to spread the chest in order to investigate further.

Here the recording was interjected with a high-pitched whirring. I fingered the raggedly stitched vertical incision over my breast bone through my shirt and shuddered involuntarily. The sun was now truly below the horizon, and the soft phosphorescence emanating from whatever lay in my veins was much too conspicuous for my liking. I decided to try and make it home regardless of whoever or whatever might be waiting for me there; at least I could stay long enough to get some clothes that fit and covered my arms and hands. And maybe a pair of dark sunglasses. I could listen to the rest of the tape there.

Despite the worry that my apartment would be under surveillance, trashed or otherwise unavailable, I was able to get in without incident using the spare key that I always kept in the cold air return at the end of the hallway. The apartment appeared untouched; out of habit I turned on the TV and grabbed a beer from the fridge before I even thought about it. An interesting thought - did my body need anything to sustain itself? I walked into my bedroom, set the recorder on the dresser and hit play so I could listen while I found some clean clothes to wear.

I can find no evidence of the projectile used at all; I am beginning to wonder if perhaps this is not a GSW after all. There is also the problem of the blood; in the area surrounding the wound all the subject’s blood is hyper-coagulated. Almost no blood has leaked out of the wound and instead it has solidified into a much more rigid substance. It is difficult to cut with a scalpel; in fact, it is tough enough that I have dulled several blades. The extremities do not seem to be affected this way although I can see evidence that this phenomenon is slowly spreading through the subject’s blood vessels, coating the inside but not completely closing them. This is a very interesting occurrence; I have recorded the current state of the condition and will come back tomorrow to re-evaluate how it has spread. Whatever this substance is, it could be a major breakthrough in medical science. Exactly how the subject met his demise is still unclear but perhaps with a little extra time I will be able to ascertain more about the entrance wound, but first I need to take a sample of the subject’s blood to the lab for analysis.

The recording seemed to have reached the end and I had found the clothes I was looking for in my closet. I grabbed the recorder, stuck it in the pocket of my jacket and headed back into the kitchen.

…the fire spread quickly, engulfing half the block before firefighters were able to contain it. The entirety of the morgue and its contents were destroyed along with half of the police department next door. It is unclear at this point whether this is an act of arson or if it’s just an accident. We will keep you posted with all the details as they develop. This is Samantha Chadwick reporting for channel 5 action news. The TV was still on and this was too convenient to be a coincidence. I glanced out the window and color suddenly sprang into my vision. A glowing red outline shone from the alley across from the apartment complex. Before I had a chance to take a closer look there was a knock on my door.

I could clearly hear my landlady’s voice outside as another knock, louder this time, rattled my door on its hinges. Oh officers, how terrible! I always told him not to ride that machine - MURDERcycles are what I call them. There was a muffled sound of another voice that I couldn’t quite pick up, but with that murmur I saw tendrils of shadow darker than jet slowly oozing into my vision under the door, past the cracks in the hinges, through the keyhole and even through the vents from the hallway. I know officer, but our building policy is that we have to knock three times before entering with the master key. There was a third knock and then the key snapped in the lock. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your work, pick up the phone and hit pound 0 if you need anything else.

I realized I had been standing there mesmerized by the flat black shadow that seemed to be pouring through every crack and crevice between my room and the hallway. Now that the door was opening I was jolted back to reality. There were two men in the hallway and they were surrounded by an aura of the same dark substance that now flooded into the room. I couldn’t clearly make out their faces; the shadow was so thick it was nearly obscuring their entire bodies but I could see one was short and slender while the other nearly filled the doorway with his bulk.

You’re ill, please come with us, we can help you. The voice from the shorter of the two was calming, sweet and sincere. I tore my eyes away from the swirling currents and bolted for the living room. There was a fire escape out one of those windows; a dubious looking cast iron relic, but better than nothing from four stories up. I dodged as I ran, instinctively diving past the couch which was split nearly in half as a huge crossbow bolt slammed through the space I had occupied moments earlier.

Crossbow? What the fuck? Adrenaline hammered into my system and my heart shuddered into an unsteady beat. The urge for revenge screamed to the forefront of my mind; I KNEW they were guilty. I knew without the slightest doubt. Grabbing the closest half of my couch I hurled it in the direction the bolt had come from. I picked up the other half as easily as if I was lifting one of the cushions and sent it spinning through the windows that stood between me and the fire escape.

A backward glance showed the wall half demolished and the larger of my assailants attempting to free his weapon from a tangle of couch springs. The fire escape held together long enough for me to get down one story. I could hear the bolts shrieking in protest as they gave way and not wanting to get crushed I jumped off as hard as I could without even thinking about it. As the wind whistled past my ears the thought crossed my mind that this was perhaps not the best course of action.

As a child my favorite comic was always The Incredible Hulk. The main reason was that he could jump so far. It just seemed like an awesome thing to be able to do - so much simpler than all that flying around other superheroes did. Much more basic. Much more primal. It was everything I thought it would be. An animal roar of rage and exhilaration burst from my throat as my mind raced trying to think of anything I could do to slow the fall - and that’s when I realized my leap was going to carry me completely across the street.

My veins were glowing like streams of purple flame, the ones in my legs bright enough to shine through the black pair of jeans I was wearing. I moved my body around to land feet first, aiming for an expensive looking sedan parked next to an alley, figuring that a car would at least crumple a little bit and… well I tried not to think about it. I hit the car with enough force to not only blow out all the windows and destroy the roof but also bend the frame. My leg muscles felt like they were tearing from the bone trying to absorb the impact but amazingly my feet felt no pain at all. I rolled off the wreckage stunned from the impact and a voice came from the alley.

Jesus fucking Christ you know how to make an entrance, I’ll give you that; but let me help you out with the exit. I looked up into a pale face framed by dark hair streaked with silver surrounded by a warm red glow. She was leaning down from the back of a sport bike that looked familiar… Hurry up damn you it’s going to wear off in a couple seconds and you won’t be able to stand.

Too dazed to think of a better option I took her hand, swung my leg over the back of her bike and had to grab her waist as she started the engine and was moving almost before I was seated. Looking up at my apartment I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure trying to remove the bars of the fire escape from the side of the building as we flew by. I almost lost my grip in amazement; the force of my leap had imbedded the entire thing at least six inches into the bricks.

Good thinking on the fire escape; that should hold those fuckers off for a couple minutes. Heh, you almost took his arm off. I hate Hunters. How’d you learn to do that so fast, anyway? Never mind, we can talk more once we get to the Warehouse.

I could hear the capital letters emphasized in her words. What the hell had I gotten myself into? By this time we were on the outskirts of town and her speed had increased alarmingly. Power poles were a blur in the headlights and the center line was one single streak. All I could do was hang on and hope that wherever I ended up I could get some answers.

Chapter Two

New Face

It only took a few minutes to get out of the residential area and into an industrial park. She adeptly maneuvered her motorcycle through the minimal traffic that was on the road, then turned off her headlights and turned sharply down a side street. We rolled blindly, taking a couple turns I could barely see and rolled into a large building. The door glided silently shut behind us and lights illuminated a small room with cinderblock walls and no apparent exit.

My guide hopped off her bike and took two quick steps to a small console, pressed a button and said Mec, lemme in I’ve gotta ‘vert needs fixing. Only another couple minutes by my guess. I clumsily dismounted from the bike, almost knocking it over; my legs felt like they were made of stone, my joints were tight and I couldn’t even wiggle my toes. I tried to massage my legs with my hands to get the feeling back in them but they were as hard as the concrete walls; maybe they didn’t just feel like stone.

How you know he’s a ‘vert Ren? A man’s voice reverberated through the room, smooth and husky; sounding like it belonged to a lounge singer, We’ve had a rash of fakes last couple weeks.

How’s a jump off the third story of a building catch you? He even had a Snake and a Bull on his ass. He’s for real, I’m sure of it. Come on he’s seizing as we speak. The floor began to drop and I realized this room was actually an elevator.

Ren? Where the hell are we? What is this place? What is happening to me? Who are you people? I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice with varying degrees of success.

What’s your name kid? I looked at her, realizing that the grey streaks in her hair were from age, not from dye or bleach… and yet her face was smooth and her eyes clear as they locked with mine.

I don’t remember. I had answered without even thinking about it, my eyes unable to break from her gaze. I really didn’t remember…

Your age? Where do you live? Your mother’s name?

I don’t know. Now I was really starting to panic. Why don’t I know? I was just at my apartment. My eyes burned with the need to blink but I couldn’t make them do it.

Chill, it’ll come back to you; just let Mec take care of everything. He’s the best there is. Just a bit longer and you can rest OK? The lift stopped in a fairly large room with several motorcycles as well as a few small cars and Ren helped me off, half dragging me through a couple doors and into a room that could either have been an operating theater or a server farm.

She deposited me in a chair similar to one you would sit in on a visit to the dentist only as soon as I was sitting it began to fold back flat. We’re here, you can sleep now. Things will be better when you wake up. I opened my mouth to protest but found that holding on to consciousness was impossible.

Mec are you sure? I could hear Ren’s voice but my eyelids wouldn’t lift. I saw him jump, you saw his legs, and the enzymes are there he HAS to be!

He is not one of us. The man’s voice interjected He is something different. Something new.

But they shot him, I saw them shoot him. I had just passed him when that Hunter truck took him out.

Ren, they were shooting at you. Mec said gently.

At me? You think they know? Her voice sounded vulnerable and afraid… it was akin to hearing a panther meow like a Siamese.

I think he’s a mortal who has been injected with their killzyme. What a fucking mess. I’ll fix him up as best I can but it’s taking a heavy toll on his body and he doesn’t have the ability to regenerate. Without that respirator and monitor he’d be dead as shit right now. I think you’d better pack some EQ and get ready to roll out. Maybe me too, although it’ll be tough to leave all this behind… I can take some of the smaller equipment if I pack it properly in the jeep.

Fuck this and fuck them. I say we take a stand. We’ve got the firepower and the skill why can’t we fight back? I know it’s against the rules but who made these goddamn rules in the first place? I get the feeling they were made long before government sponsored genetic experiments were used as Hunters.

"You’re forgetting what happened last time. Our kind paid dearly for their last attempt to assert themselves. History calls it