Dr.Morgan was a famous forensic pathologist. He was either loved, for solving half of the polices cases, or hated, for solving half of the polices cases. But, when people hear Dr.Morgan, they become somewhat more respectful and more careful with their words.
He walked gracefully to the table, and placed his tools on a tray padded with lively green. A scalpel, scissors, tweezers. All brand new, and cleaned thoroughly. They were so smooth, and reflected light causing it to bounce around the room, you could almost think that they were just mirrors sculpted into shape.
On January the 15th, 2013, two weeks previously, a comet hit a lonely side of New York, No one was killed, so the police thought the comet was not yet examined, because it was ferociously hot, reaching to the heat of Lava.
A body was found near the comet's location. The police called Dr.Morgan to come down, even though it was during his free time. He wouldn't refuse. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. He was the most reliable medical examiner you could know. He stuck to facts and truth, and was honest about everything he wrote down in the reports he made.
So the FBI, and police always called him down, Even though some cops were too jealous.
He made himself comfortable in the chrome dressed room, and brushed back his brown hair. Even though he was 38 he didn't get his grey hairs yet. but there is always time.
As he set down to wash his hands, to terminate the recent bacteria he caught, his mind started creating theories, of what the victim will look like. Is it a female? or a male? Is the corpse burnt by the comet? Or did a rock smash her skull?
"Dr.Morgan!" A hurried voice interrupted his brooding. A familiar voice. The corpse was here.
"Thank you." Dr.Morgan thanked the man dressed in white, and he swiftly left with a nod. To avoid seeing the cutting up of the body.
Somehow no one had a strong stomach for a cut up body. Dr.Morgan barely cared. Of course he was a bit queasy at the beginning, when he started his job. But after having these things done everyday, little could a dead body frighten him.
A woman dressed in a white gown lay on the chrome table. To protect any evidence, the white gown was on her body, so any substance left on her doesn't smudge off, but stays on the gown. She lay limp on her belly, her arm hanging down over the table. Judging by the skin and odour , she was dead approximately 2 weeks.
Dr.Morgan fixed up his blue shirt and trousers and fastened the black apron on him.
She had matte thin hair, that was dangling on her back. patches of bald head appeared on the scalp.
"She must have been fight someone." Or something. Dr.Morgan jotted everything down in his notebook. Clearly but at a fast pace.
Dr.Morgan studied her arms. There was abrasion on the wrist, and swollen just above.
Wait. Dr.Morgan thought.
"Are they bite marks?" He moved closer in awe. Bite marks. He pulled out a magnifying glass, and examined the marks implanted into her skin.
"Look human, There's incisors, canines, oh.. a few missing molars and premolars."
He tried to find more. There was some saliva residue, he quickly scraped it up with a cotton bud.
He turned her over on her side. Studied her face. Her lips were dry and crusty, her eyes swollen and closed. Her skin was visibly starting to rot.
Dr.Morgan took more notes. He prepared his tools that he needed to find the cause of death. He heard a few noises. Must be the policemen having a curious peek. He thought. He never knew what was behind him.
The figure that was on Dr.Morgans table sprung to life. Her feet dragged across the floor, She let out in-humane noises, but they didn't startle Dr.Morgan. He never knew what was coming.
She had eyes as red as blood, veins popped out on her face. Her gums were pale purple, but her teeth were trapping something black in them. Poisoned blood. She moved stiffly, as if she was a marionette on strings.
Her fingers out-stretched, reaching to grab Dr.Morgan. To taste his flesh.
She pulled his arm. Dr.Morgan shout out non verbally in panic. His heart raced, blood pumped. His arm stiffened as the thing wrapped her fingers around his arm like a rope. Her face reached out towards it. Teeth only inches away from him. His pulse fastened. His eyes fluttered. He decided that it was over...
For her!
He reached out to the knife on the counter. He gripped it tightly and stabbed without looking. He managed to stab her in the head. Cold red blood spurted from her forehead. Eventually it turned a shade of violet. It kept spurting like a fountain. Her heart was still pumping blood..
Eventually the blood fountain stopped. She dropped down, choking. Blood pooled on the ground. Dr.Morgan felt dizzy. The room went hot, sweat raced down his forehead.
He dropped to his knees. "What the heck happened?!"He demanded to himself. Cursing under his breath.
I've killed a living person. He thought. A person that was dead on the morgue table. A person who was dead for two weeks. A dead person who's heart began to beat.
His life changed forever.
So did everyone else's.
2 months Later.
Vaise residence.
"Dad, we have to go. With the zombies over-running town, here is not safe! Am I clear? We are leaving!"
Emily shouted agitated. Her dad wasn't showing any interest in leaving. He believed he was safe on his farm. Oh that Italian old man. Always ready to fight for what's his.
"I'm not leaving." He replied. Voice tired from old age. His brown eyes would mislead you. He didn't seem angry. Not at all. He stroked his wispy white hair.
He stared at his daughters beautiful face. She was Italian-American. She inherited her mothers sharp features, beautiful crystal blue eyes. Her blonde hair came from her grandmother. Her lips and tan from her father.
He, Trevisr Vaise lived on a farmland with his neighbour Masey. His wife passed away. He wasn't in an affair with Masey. They were just very good friends for a long time.
Emily sat down and let out a sigh. "It's not safe. I know where I can find a group of survivors. Led by my... my friend Andrew. They have a small base, with a few people he leads. They have cars, food, Andrew's a doctor, they can help us. We can help them. Maybe live a while longer. Have you seen what's outside of your farm? You are too near to the villages and it's dangerous!"
Trevir thought about it for a while.
"
The farm fences are secured." Masey called out in a sing song voice. She received a nod from Trevir and headed back to work on the farm. She volunteered to help Trevir with his farm as soon as he let her in. Into safety.
Emily was about to continue,
Until a shrill shriek echoed off the walls. Trevir felt nausea when he saw Masey being gnawed on. Her dirty clothes were now drenched in blood, and her grey hair tumbled down her face. He saw her mouth, "Help me. I.. I"
Bang.
A shot so loud hit The zombie attacking Masey. Masey's neck was bit and bleeding. The bullet pierced her too.
"We are Leaving Now."
***
Dr.Morgan stood in the shelter they built to protect themselves against the zombies. They planned to move out of there to find a place nearer to supplies. but has enough protection from the zombies, or what people call them nowadays.
Nirikki looked over to him. She was younger than Dr.Morgan by a few years. her black hair was tied up in a complimentary bun. She wore short pants and a short trench coat tied up with a bow.
She dressed nicely even during an apocalypse of the dead. Thought Dr.Morgan. He couldn't get dressed out of his work clothes when they police evacuated the station. Or what was left of the police station.
"Look, we're running out of food, supplies, clothes, and medical things. Our shelter has been spotted by a number of dead lately, I think we should move to somewhere safer, It's not right here." Nirikki complained in a subtle voice.
Dr.Morgan took a step back, He had too thought of this many times.
"I'll go looking for a place tomorrow with Kane." He murmured. "I think I have an idea where is a good place to stay."
Dr.Morgan took a step back, He had too thought of this many times.
"I'll go looking for a place tomorrow with Kane." He murmured. "I think I have an idea where is a good place to stay."
He glanced over to the other survivors. Kevin, Kane and Britney. Kevin's daughter, sitting around a fire. Blizzards in each of their minds.
***
Emily and Trevir drove on for miles in a white car big enough for 4 people. Miles without stopping. carrying useful supplies they were drunk with fatigue. Andrew told her the exact location of his group so they were motivated.
She stopped the car. Killed the lights and took out her gun.
She hurried her dad towards the place they were led to and pointed at it.
"There they are dad." She whispered. Studying the blue metal hut surrounded by a crossed wire metal fence. Good protection against the dead.
She called over to the people there. They heard quick exchange of whispers.
Finally a man came out.
Emily stared at his face before saying.
"Andrew Morgan. Is it really you?"
---The End---
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