The seventeen year old boy filled his lungs with a stench that could wake the dead.
The man child groaned as a deep and unforgiving chill numbed his body, “What happened last night?” he asked mostly to himself for an answer. Not being able to remember anything about what he was previously doing or where he was. The frozen teenager merely just assumed he had a good night and now he was paying for it.
Before he suffocated to death from the leathery sheet he was wrapped in he attempted to push himself free. “What the hell?” There was something wrong, this was not a sheet, it was a bag of some kind and its confines threaten to chock its victim.
Through trail and error the teenager managed to find the zipper and with his index finger he managed to wiggle free an opening. But there was no freedom, something was laying on top of him, the weight squeezing what little air was inside the deathtrap. With a numb strenth and the will to live, this object was eventually pushed aside, there was still the weight pressing down on the teen’s legs but it would have to weight, the idea of suffocating in this dark place was a terrifying thought.
Like a newborn’s birth, the gasp of cold air that flowed down the young man’s throat was both liberating and showed the promise of life. After the second mouthful of air a whooping cough came out, it was as if the his lungs didn’t know what to do with the air once it got in side and unfortunately it lasted an agonizing number of minutes till the simple act of breathing became natural. As taste returned the stench of formaldehyde and rotting meat threatened to relieve the scared individual of his senses.
Eventually his eyes adjusted and he looked at his soundings, “Holy Jesus Christ.” he breathed.
Thick walls made out of solid metal made out the enclosure, the teenager was in a truck or container of some kind designed for transportation of goods, or in this case evidence. Wanting not to look again, telling himself not to view at the thing that was touching him, once again he saw that he was not alone in this small metal room. Packed like sardines were about twenty body bags exactly like the one he had been inside, and to his horror they were not empty.
The urge to scream for help came but all that came out was whatever had been the teenager’s stomach, he needed to get out. With a inner scream the teenager pushed away the corpse that had rudely been laying on him and attempted to escape what had been his plastic prison, but it was not as easy as he thought it would be.
Every muscle in his body felt horrible and awkward like they would come apart with just the briefest movement. Had the sicko that killed these people drugged him? It was the most likely out come, whatever the bastard had used… ‘Wait. What was my name?‘ The thought vanished, escape was the priority. But it was strange, he couldn’t remember his life before he woke up here.
Did he ingest something, or was he injected with a drug, or did he simply have a bump on his head? These thoughts, however, were in the very back of his mind. The fear of being surrounded by dead bodies, no, the idea that the person responsible for their deaths returning overrode any current cognitive thought.
Mentally babbling in one long string the teenager asked what was happening, but no answer came.
He was nearly out of the bag when the sound of somebody opening that huge metal door caused the teen’s nerves to stop and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. With no weapon or hope, the teenager cried to God as he lowered himself back into the mound of corpses.
“Jesus Christ.” Came an unfamiliar male’s voice.
Thoughts of screaming, “I’m still alive.” came to the teenager that chose to make his home among the dead, but as another body bag was tossed in self-preservation won over.
“What a waste?”
Another man snorted, “You see how these girls dress these days? I’ve seen strippers wear more.” the door closed the only sounds in the truck came from the person lying in the body bag the idea to breath only now just wondering around in his head.
Frozen from fear and the climate of the truck the left for dead teen did not move, “I need to get out of here.” he said, trying to convince himself to move. As if it had fed off the teenager’s fear his body got its act together and exploded out of the body bag. “Oh God. Oh God.”
Common sense took over at the last minute and the teenager stopped himself before he jumped out and shouted surprise like some Jack-In-The-Box. Playing to cation the truck door slowly opened. Satisfied there were no nearby threats, he ran out of the doors only to find that something had gotten caught on the door handle.
A bloodied bandage that had been clinging loosely to his wrist had managed to become caught, now able to see due to the overcast sun the teenager had a brief moment to follow the bandage and examine the limb it was attached to. From fingers to shoulder the skin around the teenager’s arm was a sickly blue and the flesh appeared to have come out of some blender with a network of scars crisscrossing against one another like a novice’s attempts at quilt making.
“So what do you think the doc is trying to do?” One of the men were coming back, there was not time for further examination.
‘Hide under the truck, or just run?‘ The scarred teenager felt his heart ready to jump out. Unable to handle the stress there was a mental coin toss and the teen acted.
Located near the truck a dumpster offered minimal cover while it also provided a quick exit root, if these killers detected him using some bizarre psycho killer sense than running was always an option.
He watched as two men, dressed as butchers with masks tossed in another body bag into the already overcrowded truck.
“That’s the full house.” The largest of the pair yelled in relief before he banged on the wall of the truck. “Move the bitches.”
Crap. The teenager hadn’t suspected that there might have been somebody in the driver’s seat. Had this third killer seen him?
Thankfully the driver had been too preoccupied with his mobile phone to look out through his mirrors, otherwise would have seen a bandaged zombie boy crawl out of his truck and take refuge behind a half-full dumpster.
There was a roar as the machine of death came to life, one of the men with the bodies gave the driver a rude gesture before the truck took off, it was clear that the driver was not popular.
If the teenager had decided to hid underneath truck right now he most certainly been discovered, but if that had been the case… No, it was best not to think about. As the men went back into what ever hole they crawled out of the teenager held his head and tried to think of how he got here and more importantly, what his name was.
The first things he thought was that he was being tricked, that there were cameras filming him. He pictured TV cameras and a B-grade reality TV show host welcoming him as soon as he got inside. However, this possibility seemed unlikely thanks to both the horribly realistic make-up he seemed to be sporting.
The teenager didn’t consider himself a movie make up specialist. Though, at this particular time he couldn’t name a single movie to save his life. He looked down to the rest of body and could hear his heart beating faster, or he had hoped it was his heartbeat, because his body looked like it was put together in a hospital chop shop. “Jesus.” He touched his crotch and took a sigh of relief. “Oh thank you God.”
Through an impulse the put together youth was about to take more staples out when he heard noises from behind him. Fearing that the men had returned the teenager moved away from the bin and proceeded to a hopeful safe distance.
After dodging in and out of cameras, and trucks. He could see a chain link fence not too far away. There were only three problems.
The first one was the distance. There was no way he could cover that gap without being seen, the second problem was that he could hear dogs and at his current abilities there was no way he could out run an overweight cop, But his main problem were the dozen security guards patrolling the area.
All the exits were the same. Guarded, too faraway, and not places he felt ready to streak through in a hospital gown. At the moment, all he wanted to do was just lay down on the ground. His head felt heavy, his body needed to see a doctor; or at the very lest somebody who knew how to do needle work, and he seriously needed time to think.
The sounds of barking caused him to return to the world. As horrific as it was the dogs could smell there was something unnatural in the area. He knew now there was no way out conventionally.
With a pitiful look the teenager looked back to the meat processing plant. Besides the guards there was nothing unusual about it. The only indication of where he was was the sign on the building.
‘Wollstonecraft family butchery. Meat so fresh, you’d swear it was still alive.’
“Oh god. I’m not in some B grade cannibal movie am I?” Thoughts of out running a crazed lunatic with a chainsaw did not bode well with his stress level at the moment. The bandaged teenager would have loved nothing more than to try his luck at a fence but his survival matted more.
Thoughts of a phone, answers, and some form of aid came to him. These were minor concerns right now as his main focus was finding a pair of pants, he was afraid at any moment his crotch would fall off and be picked up by a crow, or one of the security dogs. He closed his eyes. Mentally preparing himself for more dead bodies.
Watching the guard’s movement carefully the young man wrapped in scars looked over several vantage points before coming to a conclusion, he was screwed. The exits and entrances were guarded, cameras were everywhere, there seemed no way in without alerting someone of his presence. “Think you idiot.”
Hoping for an escape root his eyes locked onto a pack of crates with a open window just above it, “Well that’s convenient.” while uncoordinated youth climbed the makeshift stairway he desperately tried to remember something, anything about his past or life, bat sadly nothing came.
With uncertainty the teenager poked his head through the window to look inside the meat packaging plant. The thoughts of meat, blood, hacksaws came to mind. Were these people cannibals? It was an ludicrous idea but there was obviously something wrong here.
The inside was filled with men and women, most dressed in white coats but some in hazmat suites, this did not concern the intruder as much as the men carrying large weapons. Other than the personnel there was no indication of what was going on. Bodies were being moved, people were walking around carrying items, and there were people discussing medical jargon, but nothing gave him a clue as to what was going on.
He slipped inside, hoping he would not be seen. Be it God or the Devil on his shoulder, but no sirens or yells were heard, the problem was cover. If he wanted to find a phone in privacy then he would need a disguise.
With no intended direction and people dangerously levitating a bit too close for his comfort, the teenager decided to act. He moved using whatever he could find, benches, carts, he wasn’t picky. Seeing an opportunity to at least get to an office he stopped choosing safety from discovery to an opportunistic venture which caused several near misses.
Over the coarse of those few minutes the teenager’s heart beat faster, but rest and security were luxuries that involved capture.
While he dodged and avoided gazes, the teenager watched the butchers.
While the group with guns just stood and watched, the butchers, he understood were scientists in disguise. Men and women with lab coats walked around like they owned the place, which they very might have.
A loud booming voice broke the silence. “This is what you give me?”
Like a deer caught in a car’s highlights the teenager stopped, afraid he may have been found out.
A doctor was storming out of a room and looked frustrated and in what appeared to be a frustrated rage she threw down her gloves. “All I ask is one good specimen. Just one.” She yelled to the top of her lungs as if she were some child unleashing a temper tantrum because they didn’t get the right doll house.
Specimen? Oh no. He looked at his arms and didn’t like where this was going. “I’m going to the showers.” The woman said and waked into a nearby room. Which just happened to be extremely close to where he was hiding.
Quickly the teenager summed up his chances. Showers meant clothes, clothes meant cover, cover meant he had a chance to get out before getting noticed. Deciding that the risk was necessary, he waited for no one to look his way and went into the change rooms after the crazy woman.
After ten minutes of scrounging through lockers the desperate teen quickly found clothes that were the closest he could find to his size. Hiding in the toilet he undressed.
The moment he took off his smock he wanted to cry. His body was horrible, scars and stitches covered a valley of what appeared to be sick flesh. “How am I still alive?”
“You say something?” Came the frustrated doctor’s voice, “Hello.” the owner of the voice now sounded uncertain.
The teenager cursed at himself, if he did not hurry the teenager feared that he would have a date with a dissecting table. He quickly got dressed in a black polyester suit before the doctor returned in a towel. ‘Didn’t I get in the men’s locker room?’ He asked himself. ‘So not only am I a zombie, am a peeping zombie? Maybe she’ll call the police, and I can get out of here.’
He looked down at the doctor’s body and couldn’t believe how charming she looked. That was before she punched the locker door and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m in the men’s locker room again, aren’t I?”
What? Did this happen on a regular basis?
The crazy doctor with no sense of urgency or atmosphere sat on the bench and head her head. “Just what is wrong with me?” The doctor seemed more missed up then he did.
Not knowing how he should proceed he gave her a small tap on her naked shoulder, hoping it would seem like he was trying to comfort her. “Um. There there. Um maybe you should take the day off.”
The woman looked right at him. He watched as the Doctor’s eyes widened. It was then he realized that he hadn’t seen himself in the mirror yet. He could have looked like a baseball bat had a go at him. She’s going to scream. No, don’t. He secretly whispered to himself.
“Oh shit. I’m naked aren’t I?” She said trying to cover herself up better and not succeeding. “Look away you perv.” her shout found obedience. “Now where did I put those? Ah here they are.” It was clear that the reason she did not feel threatened in the men’s locker room despite the lack of clothes was that she was someone very important around here.
‘There is a naked woman behind me. Why aren’t I looking? Am I gay or something?’ Getting feed up at looking at the wall he turned to the doctor. “So what’s your name?” he asked and cursed himself for trying to hit on a woman when he should be running for his life. Sooner or later the owner of his new clothes was going to come back and make a fuss.
The woman snorted, “Strange time to pick a girl up.” with the last bit of clothing that she had causally thrown to the ground the doctor stood and admired the teenager. “By the way. The suit makes you look too stiff. The name’s Mary Shelly.” In a causal manner she held out her hand.
The teenager took it and had a sudden case of writer’s block, he looked to see a name on a locker where his clothes had come from. “Victor.”
Doctor Shelly looked Victor up and down and gave a smile, “I know a burger place near by.” she nodded to the door as if inviting him on a date.
Victor looked away in thought, the idea was appealing but not for the reason the doctor would think. “I don’t have a car.” at least Victor didn’t think he had a car, for all he knew these people caught him with a speeding ticket.
Shelly gave a laugh, “Grad student huh? Don’t worry.” a mischievous smile found its way onto her lips. “I don’t bite.”
The two walked out to the car park and Victor looked to Shelly. “So what are you trying to do? With all the dead bodies?”
Shelly sighed. “Oh you know. Trying to discover the mysteries of life. What about you?”
Victor smiled back, he seemed to find the older woman easy to talk to. “Trying to keep from falling apart.”
Shelly snorted. “I know how it feels.”
Victor brushed his hair back and was thankful that he had hair as he had yet to look in a mirror. “Can I ask? I mean you don’t know me. How am I suddenly getting in your car?”
Shelly gave Victor an honest look. “I pride myself on being a good judge of character, and I don’t see a bad bone in your body.”
Victor looked ahead his eyes trying to hid the relief that he felt, he was finally free of this retched place, he never once questioned why Doctor Shelly had kept her lab coat or why she looked to be gasping something in one of her pockets, he just kept walking up to the point a stungun was placed to his neck.