Oxygen filled John’s lungs as he shot up in pain, naked, on the cold metal table in the morgue, his ribs popping back into place one by one. His mangled feet, disfigured in the bus accident, slowly untwisting and contorting themselves back into their regular shape. His shoulders snapped painfully back into their sockets and his jaw moulded itself back together with an off putting grinding sound. He coughed and gagged as his body continued to pop, twist, and click back together in the unholy process to which he’d become accustomed but never used to.
“Hey, John!” a friendly voice bellowed from across the room. It was Frank the coroner. Frank was a bit rotund with curly dark hair and always wore one of those anime hawaiian style shirts from the early 2000’s under his lab coat. He was drinking a beer and snacking on a bag of pretzels. He and John had been friends for about a year ever since John scared the crap out of him by coming back to life during an autopsy. He was one of the people John trusted with his secret, not that he had much of a choice given how they met. “Want a drink?”
“Please.” coughed John, collapsing to the floor. Frank rolled on his desk chair over to the mortician’s cabinets and opened one of the morgue drawer coolers to reveal a 24 of beer. He tossed him one, John caught it almost without looking; this was somewhat of a routine for them.
“Where’s my pants, you perv?” John croaked jokingly. Frank grabbed the scrub pants John had been wearing and he tossed them to him. John cracked open the beer and took a swig as he awkwardly tried to step into the scrubs.
“What even happened?” John asked confusedly.
“Hit by a bus!” Frank said as he shoved some pretzels into his mouth “Hell of a thing! Never seen anything like it, like, most amount of blunt force trauma possible. It was kind of awesome! ...speaking from a strictly medical position…”
“It sucked!” John said. “What time is it?” he asked.
“4am.” Said Frank, “That’s the longest I’ve seen you out. I thought you might really have passed on me.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” said John in an almost hopeful tone.
“So, how’s it been?” Asked Frank, “It’s been a while since I saw you in here.”
“Still dying.” John said with a wince. He took another swig. “Although, I did meet a guy, an anthropologist who studies death, I’m trying to convince him to help me.”
“How are you going to do that?” He asked. John shot him a look.
“By continuously coming back from the dead, you doof.”
“I don’t like your tone, sir,” said Frank, “I just might ask for my beer back.” John took another swig and then slid the half empty bottle towards Frank across the stainless steel examination table.
“Take it.” He said, “I have to bolt anyway. I’ve gotta get back to that diner in case he shows up again.”
“Who?” Asked Frank.
“The Anthropologist.” John said, “Were you even listening?”
“No.” said Frank. John rolled his eyes, grabbed his shirt off the table and walked towards the exit.
“I’ll see you later Frank.”
“Try not to get killed!” Yelled Frank after him. John pulled the shirt over his head as he walked up the stairs. He looked down.
“The same damn shirt!” He said, frustrated, then kept walking. He got to the surface level of the Hospital, he wasn’t at St. Thomas this time, Frank worked at Metro General, they are farther across town from the Tiny Kitchen but had a better surgical staff so he imagined he was brought there in some hopeless attempt to save his life. As much as he appreciated waking up in a familiar place this was going to make getting back to the diner a lot harder. He still had no money or ID on him so getting any type of transportation was looking like it would be out of the question.
John decided to try and hitch hike it, not that he didn’t look like a total serial killer in his scrub pants and stolen faded t-shirt with his now four day beard and messy black hair, but he still figured it was his best bet.
He started walking backwards with his thumb out along the side of the road as car after car passed him. One particularly rude driver seemed to try and intentionally splash him as he walked past a puddle, but he was able to jump out of the way and avoid the majority of the shower. He had walked more than half of the way back to the diner before anyone stopped. It had been hours of walking, but finally a blue sedan pulled up around 8am and rolled down the window.
“Looking for a ride, friend?” Asked the man inside. He was a stocky man in his mid 40’s with short brown hair and a bald spot. He was wearing blue jeans and a button down shirt with what looked like the inner liner of a winter jacket on.
“Yeah,” said John, “I’m trying to get anywhere close to 5th and Parkside.” Which was the closest major intersection to Big Jim’s Tiny Kitchen.
“Hop in,” The man said, “I’ll take you all the way there.” John opened the door and sat down. “What’s your name?” The man asked.
“John” He said.
“Nice to meet you, John.” He said, “I’m Eric.” They shook hands, somewhat awkwardly as Eric was driving. “You a doctor, John?” He asked.
“Oh, the scrubs?” said John, “No, I’m uh, currently unemployed.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eric said. “I’m sure things will turn around.” They kept driving for about 20 minutes, making small talk, when John realised he didn’t recognise the area they were in.
“Uh, I think you might have taken a wrong turn…” He said. Eric chuckled.
“Oh, don’t worry, John, I know where I’m going.” John sat nervously unsure of his situation until several more minutes went by and they found themselves in a suburb far outside the city.
“I think you should let me out of the car now.” Said John in his best serious voice. Eric reached for his belt and pulled out a rather long knife with a serrated back edge. It looked vaguely military.
“You just settle down, son, and you’ll be fine.” Eric said calmly. John sighed and grabbed at his own hair in frustration. He began rocking back and forth in his seat.
“You messed with the wrong person on the wrong day, buddy.” He said. Before Eric could respond John reached for the steering wheel and sent the car careening towards a telephone pole. Eric was able to correct the trajectory at the last minute but he still scraped the side of his car and took off his side mirror.
“Are you crazy!?” He shrieked.
“Very!” John said as he punched Eric across the jaw and grabbed for the wheel again. This time he was able to successfully drive the car into a fire hydrant. The airbags deployed and a shower of water erupted across the hood of the car. Eric flipped his knife into his right hand and drove it into John’s leg. John screamed in pain as he fumbled to undo his seat belt, as he did Eric removed the knife and plunged it into John’s chest, puncturing his lung. John struggled to breathe as he opened the door and fell onto the grass. He pulled the knife out of his chest and got up to run, limping as he did due to the leg wound. As he hobbled away Eric got out of the car and chased after him. He tried to tackle him but they just ended up struggling and grappling together on the grass with their hands at each other’s throats. Eric managed to climb on top of John and began striking him in the face. As he reached back to hit him for the third time he felt a sudden blunt pain in the back of his head and he lost consciousness. John looked up through the blood and tears and in a blur could see a face he thought he recognised but couldn’t place. Above him, holding a rock stained with Eric’s blood was a young woman with dark skin and large dark curly hair wearing large dark framed glasses. It was the girl from the park the day before. John was losing blood at an alarming rate, he tried to stand up but everything started spinning and going dark. John passed out.
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