The Case Of The Roosevelt Morgue

Parts 7 - 9

VII

Not too much later we were in her Jeep, heading towards the nearest hardware and outdoor/hunting stores. A copy of the shopping lists lay safe in out pockets. Before we came to the hunting and other stores, I stopped by my bank and took out five hundred dollars cash, so that our purchases would be much harder to trace.

As we went through the hardware and hunting stores we went straight to the blades. Axes, hatches, machetes, even some kuris. Finally we were ready. Our shopping list had all been fulfilled, we went back to my house to suit up and get ready for tonight's insane, and rather unconventional, plan.

VIII

I emerged from my room wearing some black work pants and a long sleeve plain black shirt. On my right side hung a heavy duty hatchet; on my left side hung a deadly ice pick used for scaling ledges of ice in the Arctic areas and such; and finally on my back was a large machete.

The opening of the bathrooms caught my attention. I looked to see Samantha walk out of the bathroom dressed in all black, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. One her left side hung a tomahawk; on her right was a short machete; and other her back were two kuris. She looked like a undead hunter.

We didn't speak but only nodded, then we went out to her Jeep and sped off, each of us remaining silent, our minds on what we were about to do, and on the very real possibility tat tomorrow it be our bodies that are discovered.

 After a short and silent drive, we pulled up into the parking lot. Samantha looked at me as sat in her jeep.

"Ready?" She asked. I nodded my head firmly, a serious expression on my face.

"Yes. Let's get this done." I said as I quietly exited the jeep, and she did the same. And there we stood, the next few minutes would change us forever, and haunt one of us forever. We decided to leave the keys in the ignition in case only one of us got out.

We entered through the front door, which I unlocked with my key. Each of us kept our faces down as to avoid having them seen by the security cameras. Once we were inside we each took out a weapon: I took out my larger machete and Samantha pulled out her kuris. We decided to start in the operating room, so we began making our way towards the hallway that lead there.

On our way down the darkened hallway we bumped into something, something big and cold. We shone a light quickly and saw it was Doctor Truman. He had been killed just like Jimmy had: guts spilled, and throat ripped open. After a few moments, we moved on, noting that yet another victim had fallen into the clutches of the horror, towards the operating room. As we neared the operating room, we heard some sort of commotion from inside: the clanging of metal instruments falling to the ground and mindless, evil groaning. The thud of heavy footsteps worked their way around inside the operating room. We slowed our pace, almost instinctively, as there wasn't any conscious decision to walk slower, at least there wasn't for me, yet walk slower we did.

About the same time the door to the operating room came into view through the darkness, we saw a pair of hands punch through the glass with a shatter and the glass tinkled as they fell onto the ground. Then the door was pushed open and we saw a dark figure walking through the doorway, and turn towards us with a haunting groan that echoed through the dark hallway. I strained to see it but I was shocked when I saw who it was: Mark, good old natured, head strong Mark. I was frozen in terror and fear, my machete in my arm lay defenseless against my leg. Suddenly I was pushed to the side and Samantha sliced the undead Mark with her kuris, successfully decapitating it with a odd ease. The head rolled and hit my shoe , eyes staring up at me with a look of murderous rage and insanity.The body jerked around for a few moments, in which Samantha spilled it's intestines and nearly cut it in half, but then it fell down with a heavy thud. The undead was now completely dead.Samantha looked up at me, eyes questioning.

"You all good?" She whispered hoarsely. I nodded and stepped off the wall. As I opened my mouth to reply there was a flash as something came behind Samantha and there was a terrible sound of ripping flesh and Samantha screamed out in anguish. A decayed arm stuck out from her mid-section and her blood poured out. She tried to turn her head but whatever it was, probably the undead, began to bite out her throat. There was terrifying gargling sound as she tried to speak, but only blood flowed from her mouth, just as it did from her throat. Again I found myself frozen, and I feared it would last too long, but then as sudden as it took me it vanished as a vapor. I raised my machete and brought it down on the head of the undead as it threw Samantha's body to the side. The blade cleaved clean through the skull down into the middle of the neck. I pulled it out with a jerk then swung with anger and vengeance in my mind with a yell. The blade cut through the neck and severed the diced head from the rest of it's wretched body. It jerked around for a few moment's just as the undead Mark did earlier, and then fell with a heavy thud. I fumbled with my flash light and at first I didn't think I'd be able to open it, but finally I unclasped it and pulled out my flashlight. The undead that killed Samantha was Jimmy, her flirt buddy, her crush.

Now even though I deal with dead everyday, I've never seen anyone, a friend of foe, die in front of me. When I saw Samantha killed something inside my mind snapped and I killed everyone in the building, even Samantha once she turned to the undead. The horror's that I witnessed that night have never left me, and still haunt my dreams.

After killing everyone, alive or dead, or undead, in the morgue I set it on fire, intending to end this horror, now and forever, once and for all. I stood by her Jeep as I watched the flames consume the morgue. After awhile I got into her Jeep, started the Jeep with the keys that we had earlier left in the ignition, then I drove. I drove far, far away.

IX

Years later, I sit behind my desk writing this story of real-life terror to you, my unknown reader, I have given a true account of what I have seen, what I have done. I hope that you learn something about how scars and wounds may heal quickly on the outside, but on the inside many never heal, and even fewer become easier to live with.

The End

October 9, 2014 - October 15, 2012