There are few jobs as thankless as that of the mortician. I mean, no one likes to think of the fact that one day, inevitably, all of us will end up on the slab, wearing a toe tag. It’s a fact of life. Jim Averies, Morgue worker, at your service. I run things in the morgue of a town named Pleasantville, located in Borne County. Borne is an odd place to say the least. Seems like every other day, there’s a new sighting of a UFO, or Bigfoot. Now I personally don’t believe in those things, BUT there is definitely something strange in the air of Borne County. Take the latest person wheeled into my place of business.
A John Doe, about 5'10, around 205 pounds, more or less. His face was completely gone. Not just his skin, the muscle, tendons, all of that, just gone. I suppose it could’ve been wild animals, if not for the fact that, minus some minor scrapes and bruises, the rest of him was in relatively good condition. The weirdest part though? His organs just weren’t there. Not ripped out mind you, or even removed surgically, it's like they were never there to begin with. His Eyes were also still present within his sockets, despite there being nothing else. Police told me they tried to use fingerprints, dental records, and hair samples to figure out who he is, or I guess, was. No dice.
I was so taken aback by the lack of organs, I somehow failed to notice at first that his blood wasn’t right either. It wasn’t a different color, the normal red. What was weird was it was neon red. As in it glowed. So as I eat my tuna salad sandwich and type this up, he’s still sitting on my autopsy table. Suppose I should stitch him up soon. Wonder how the police are gonna explain the face thing. Wonder what I’ll eat for dinner tonight. Sushi maybe? If you’re wondering how I can think of food, or even eat, while a faceless corpse stares at me, well when you’ve done this job for so many years, you kinda become indifferent to it all. At the end of the day, it’s just another day at the office, When I first started though? Yeah no, I wouldn't have been able to eat after this. Well, on to the next stiff.
James Hallinger, Aged 89. He was found dead by his son this morning. Judging from the decomposition on the body, I’d say his son was a week or so late. The best I can guess, he had a heart attack. Or at least, I think so. A week rotting in an old armchair kinda makes that fuzzy. I actually knew James, vaguely. He was quiet, kept to himself, always trimming those hedges of his. I didn’t even know he had a son if I’m being completely honest. A fairly unremarkable body.
Well, until I turned my back on him. I turned back around, and I swear I almost joined him on that slab. His facial expression had changed to a wide grinned, maggot infested eyes open wide now. I blinked (blunk?) and it was normal again. Fuckin’ Borne County. Yes, I blame that specifically on Borne County. Like I said, it's a weird place. Anyway, after carefully making sure I hadn't shat myself, I began the autopsy. Won't go into details on it, as it wasn't anything special.
During Jim's autopsy, I heard a knocking from inside the freezer containing John Doe. I sighed in annoyance, turning my head.
'Another Zombie?' I thought, as I approached the now rattling cabinet, scalpel in hand. Slowly, I pulled the freezer open, bracing myself for a fight. But John was as still as ever. Sliding it shut, I turned to return to my previous task. Except our good friend James was now absent from the autopsy table.
Fuck.
Walking into my nearby office, I removed a key off a hook on the wall. I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk, and grabbed the 9mm handgun I kept in the drawer (You'd be surprised how often people break in to the morgue. Well, THIS morgue.)
I made sure it was loaded, and walked back into the main area where I did my job.
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