Death Makes Me Stronger -- Chapter 4

“Right,” I laughed and shook my head. “It’s good to know that I can take a baseball bat to the face. Not sure if I want to test being set on fire. Or drowned.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Raven said and then strolled over to the computer. “I think that we’re done for the night. I have some paperwork that I need to finish before the end of my shift. They like to know when people come back to life. You may receive a visit from a government official in the next few days, especially if your bloodwork comes back with a mutated gene. You shouldn’t have to worry too much about them, but they will keep an eye on you.”

“If they have everyone logged into their computers, then how do they not know who the villains are?” I asked as Paul walked back into the morgue.

“Most of the villains don’t get tested,” the forensic scientist said.

He handed me a large plastic bag with red tape at the top and a file number written next to my name. Some part of me expected everything to be covered in blood, but my backpack and shoes were black, so it was hard to tell. The seal was easy enough to break, and the fabric of my bag was alrea dry since it had been almost a full day.

“That makes sense,” I said. “There are some conspiracies that say that they let the villains out of jail just to keep down the other crimes.”

“Do not get Paul started on conspiracy theories,” Raven said from the desk. “The last thing that my charges need to hear is that their demise was caused by the willful neglect of their governing body.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” the beefy man whispered.

I grinned as he winked conspiratorially like an old man about to get into mischief. There was something about the big guy that reminded me of my grandfather and my brother, Stephen, all at the same time. It was like a nerd had been wrapped in muscle and then given seventy years worth of life experience.

“We will,” I agreed and fished my cell phone out of my bag. “Give me your phone number. I’ll text you, and then you can call me when you get the results in. Raven, I’ll need yours too.”

“Already wrote it down for you,” Paul said and handed me a slip of paper. “The extension number for my lab is on there too. You do not want to end up with my supervisor, or worse, Karen. She won’t tell you anything, even if it is your DNA being run. Speaking of which, I should get back to it. Talk to you later. And congrats on coming back from the dead.”

“Thanks.” I shook my head and inputted the numbers.

The door swung shut behind Paul, and I turned to see Raven was still engrossed in her work. The goth woman’s long braided ponytails hung almost all the way down her back, and I wondered just how long it was when she let it down. There was something otherworldly about the pale woman that had nothing to do with the red contacts, like the lords of the dead had gifted the assistant medical examiner with an unearthly beauty, but the jury was still out on whether  said gods even existed in the first place,  so I decided to chalk it up to good genes.

“You’re going to burn a hole through me if you keep staring at me like that,” she said without looking in my direction. “And that is not my preferred way to greet the afterlife. Although, I suppose each experience with death would yield a new way to see things.”

“I’m definitely seeing things differently,” I laughed and looked down at my arms.

I strolled across the morgue, grabbed the leather stool, and dragged it over to the computer desk. The file with my autopsy was opened on the screen as Raven added notes about my resurrection, and how my body had miraculously healed itself. I was surprised to see that there wasn’t anything about the experiments that we’d just done, especially when the assistant medical examiner submitted the new records and started to work on another one of her charges.

“Not going to put in my super powers?” I teased.

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “That is for my own personal interest. It’s why I used my own notebook. You don’t think that I’d put cat stickers on official government property, do you?”

“No,” I chuckled. “I guess I just thought that you’d let them know everything.”

“My job is to make an account of the dead,” the goth woman said and turned to look me in the eyes. “You are no longer one of my charges. My interest hasn’t faded, but the scope of my professional work extends only to the method of your death and your vessel while it is still deceased. Any scientific, or otherworldly, curiosity exists outside of my work. Speaking of which, I only have three hours left on my shift. Would you like to go out to breakfast with me when I’m finished?”

“That would be great,” I said and handed her my phone. “Go ahead and put in your number. I’m going to go back home and get showered and changed. I should also call my parents and let them know that I’m alive.”

“Your landlord should be your first phone call,” she said and handed my phone back. “You’ve been dead for almost a full day. That means your landlord is likely planning to empty out your apartment and put it back on the market today.”

“Damn, you’re right,” I said and glanced at the clock on the wall.

Mrs. Krux was always up long before dawn, so it wouldn’t be too early to call, and I had no doubt that the tough old lady had every intention of putting my apartment on the market right away. It was actually pretty decent, especially for a studio apartment that had its own washer and dryer hookups, even with the stench from the dump during the summer. There would probably be offers by the end of the day, and that meant that I needed to hurry.

“I’ll text you the address of my favorite diner,” Raven said as I stood. “It has fairly decent food, and the wait staff is used to seeing those of us from the morgue and the labs.”

“Awesome,” I said and then leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek on impulse. “And thanks for taking such good care of me when I was in your charge. I hope that if I die again that you’ll be the coroner that takes care of me.”

“Of course,” the goth woman said as she reached up to touch her cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I waved goodbye, shifted the bag on my shoulder, and then padded out of the morgue and into the hallway. Everything was painted the bright white of a hospital, but there was a somber feeling that hung in the air as if the presence of the morgue demanded respect. I glanced in both directions and then followed the signs towards the exit.

“John!” Paul’s voice called from my right as I passed by the labs. “Man, I’m glad I caught you. Here. These are my gym sneakers. They’re not the best, but they’ll do for the moment. Spring may be around the corner, but the streets are still cold, and though I’m not entirely sure if you can actually get frostbite, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thanks,” I said and stuffed my feet into the worn shoes. “Aside from frostbite, I don’t think I want to step in the usual sidewalk garbage.”

“Oh man,” he chuckled. “Between the gum and the dog poop, it’s a minefield out there.”

“I’ll give them to Raven at breakfast,” I said.

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah, Raven said she knows a good place that—”

“She asked you out?” the beefy man asked as his eyebrows shot upwards. “Now that’s interesting. Raven doesn’t usually go out with anyone. I think it has something to do with the guys that are interested in medical examiners. There’s a lot of freaks out there, you know? And she may have a love affair with death, but those weirdos want her to have sex in the morgue, and that’s out of line.”

“It would be disrespectful,” I agreed with a nod. “Yeah, I could see where that would be a problem.”

“I knew that I liked you,” he said and clapped me on the shoulder. “Anyway, be careful with her. Not sure if she’s just interested in you because of your resurrection or the fact that you’re unbreakable, but she’s a good person. And as her best friend’s husband, if you do anything that would break her heart, it would fall on me to find a way to keep you dead, and no one wants that.”

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “I think we’re just going to talk about the possibilities my newfound powers will bring. I’ve got a lot going on now that I’m… what ever I am, and I don’t know if I can really date anyone. It’s too messy.”

“Isn’t it though?” Paul laughed and then glanced at the lab as something beeped. “My mistress calls. Talk to you later.”

I watched the beefy man rush back to one of the machines and pet it like it was a cat. Paul was such a ray of sunshine compared to Raven that I wondered what his wife was like. It would make sense for her to be gothic too, but Raven was the happiest goth that I’d ever seen, so her best friend might be too, and the golden retriever in human form that married her would probably fit right in.

“Time to call Mrs. Krux,” I muttered and stepped out into the morning.

It was still too early for the sun to peak above the horizon, especially in winter, so the only light came from the street lamps that lined the parking lot. The morgue was a squat building that stretched half a city block and looked more like it was a storage facility than where the dead were kept, but there was a barbed wire fence around the concrete parking lot to keep out any unwanted guests. A guard’s shack sat directly across from where I’d exited, and a bored looking man stared at a TV screen while he absently drank on some hot liquid with steam that rose into the air in small wisps.

I glanced around to make sure that no one was around to jump me, a force of habit from living in the city for so long, and then headed towards the guard house. The guy almost jumped out of his skin when I came up behind him and immediately reached for the gun on his hip. I lifted a hand and flashed a reassuring smile as I tried not to look intimidating, which was an easy task in my jeans and t-shirt.

“Hey,” I said. “Can I just go out of that gate? Or is it locked?”

“It’s locked,” he said and glanced behind me. “I don’t know you. Who are you?”

“I was just visiting,” I shrugged.

“Without a visitor’s pass?” the guard asked and lifted an eyebrow. “And without checking in with me?”

“I’ve been here awhile,” I said. “And I didn’t see a guard when I came in.”

It wasn’t technically a lie since I’d been dead when I first came through. The guard stared at me for a few seconds as if he was trying to decide if he should call it in, and his hand still hovered near his weapon.

I shifted from foot to foot as the cold started to seep into my bones, and I finally had to blow on my hands to keep the fingers warm. Apparently, and unfortunately in my mind, I wasn’t impervious to the cold. I was about to point out that no one had sounded any alarms so it was probably fine to let me through when the mustached man shrugged like it didn’t matter and then pressed a button to open the gate.

“Whatever,” he said. “It’s not like people are dying to break out of this place. More like they’re dying to get in.”

The guard laughed at his joke and then plopped back down in the torn leather chair that the city provided for him. I nodded a quick goodbye and then left the man to his zombie movie. He definitely wouldn’t make that joke if Raven was around, but the guy did have a picture tacked up of him with his kids, so terrible dad jokes were probably his bread and butter.

I took in my surroundings and realized that I was only a couple of miles away from my apartment. The streets would be empty enough for me to get home without any issue, and it wasn’t like anyone could hurt me. Although, I wasn’t entirely sure that my body could withstand a bullet even if it did bend a crowbar.

It would be a good test, and since the morgue was right there it wouldn’t be too long before I was back in Raven’s care if the gunshot actually did do some damage. I strolled in the direction of my apartment building, double-checked the time, and then gave Mrs. Krux a call. It was a little dangerous to be distracted in the hours before dawn since that’s when the petty criminals usually made their appearance, but it would be even worse if the old lady put my place on the market.

“Hello?” the shaky voice of an old woman answered. “Who is this?”

“It’s John Harris,” I said and then grinned. “You don’t have your favorite tenant’s number saved, Mrs. Krux?”

I could almost feel the landlord roll her eyes the same way she always did when I teased her. Mrs. Krux had treated me like a stray kitten since the first time that we’d met, and it had probably been a hard blow to hear how I’d died. At least my demise hadn’t been permanent, and the old woman would probably have some kind of baked good for me by the end of the day, though she’d give some excuse about how it wasn’t good enough for her grandkids, but it was perfect for a kid like me.

“John Harris is dead,” she said in a quiet voice. “It is not funny to toy with an old woman. Now, I don’t know how you managed to get his phone number, but if you call me again, then I’ll personally find you and stab you with a knitting needle.”

“It is me!” I shouted before she could hang up. “I lived. I don’t know how, but I did.”

There was such a long pause on the other end of the line that I started to wonder if she’d hung up, but the call was still active on my phone. Finally, the old woman took a deep breath and then started to swear under her breath in her native tongue, and I let out a sigh of relief as I recognized a few of the words. The landlady had used them so much that I’d looked them up and knew enough to figure out that she was threatening to kill me again, though I couldn’t tell if it was because I scared her or if it was because my apartment was no longer on the market.

The sound of a glass bottle drew my attention to the alley I just walked by, but it was just one of the giant rats that scoured the city. It was the size of a Maine coon, but the beady-eyed bastard just glared at me for a few seconds before it scampered off. I shook my head and put my free hand over my heart as it threatened to beat out of my chest.

My skin may have become invulnerable, but the fear of death still seemed to linger. It would probably take a few more resurrections before it wasn’t scary anymore, but then again, there was no guarantee that I’d always come back. Even if I did have the mutated gene, there was the chance that it could deteriorate like Raven said happened to some of the older supers.

“John?” Mrs. Krux asked, and I snapped back to the present. “Is that really you?”

“It is,” I said and turned down another street. “I’m about two miles away from the apartment, but I wanted to make sure that it was still mine.”

“You caught me right before I called my son,” the old woman said in her thick accent. “All of your things should still be in place. I can’t guarantee that someone didn’t loot it. I’m not a police officer. But I didn’t have anything removed, and your rent is paid until the end of the month. Now, if you don’t mind, my show is on. I may have Junior bring a banana loaf up later. It’s dry and not good enough for the rats, but you will eat it just fine.”

The old woman hung up without another word, and I grinned at the subtle hint of worry from the hardened landlord. I was pretty sure that Mrs. Krux had come over to New Liberty from the old world during one of the wars in the north, and she’d always kept that edge of ice around her, but there was nothing that the stern lady wouldn’t do for us.

“That’s one phone call down,” I said and pulled up my dad’s contact information.

My old man woke up at almost three a.m. every morning despite the fact that he’d retired from the factory almost six years ago. It was a force of habit from the twenty years his alarm had been set for that time, though my mother had quickly adapted and now slept until the birds outside their bedroom window woke her up. Dad would probably wake her up the second that he saw my number on the screen, so at least I wouldn’t have to repeat anything.

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves, turned down the road with my apartment building, and then clicked the call button. It rang for what seemed like forever, and I tried not to panic and start to worry that something had happened to them. I was about to hang up and try again when someone finally answered.

“John?” my mother’s hopeful voice came through the line. “John, is that you?”

“It can’t be,” my father said in a gentle tone. “Moira, he’s gone. The technicians must’ve accidentally called us when they were working on his phone. Or maybe it misdialed. Things like that happened. Just hang up.”

“It’s me,” I said in a quieter voice than I expected. “I’m alive.”

“Nooo!” A choked sob came through the line before it went dead, and I sighed from the depths of my soul. I should’ve expected them to hang up on me. As I’d insisted all morning, it wasn’t like there were any supers in my family, and so there was no reason to believe that I’d come back from the dead. Mom was probably in hysterics, and dad would comfort her, but they needed to know the truth, so I redialed and waited.

“This isn’t funny,” my father snapped as he answered again. “My son is dead. Who do you think you are playing around with--”

“I’m not playing, dad,” I said and fished my keys out of my backpack.

The renovated warehouse was locked up tight except for residents, and Mrs. Krux had added an extra iron gate in front of the doors as if that would help to keep out any supers that wanted to rob the place. It always took forever to get into my building, and the elevator only worked half the time since Junior insisted on fixing the electronics himself instead of hiring an electrician, but the stairs were always clean, and the electricity never went out, even in the coldest parts of winter when the heat would blink in and out all around the city.

“John?” my dad’s hopeful tone pierced through my heart like a javelin. “Is… is that really you?”

“It is,” I said and started up the stairs. “I’m alive.”

“B-but how?” my mother asked in a watery voice like she was about to choke on her tears.

“No idea,” I said and then nodded to one of my neighbors.

The news of my death must’ve spread through the entire building, because my neighbor stared at me like I was a ghost and then hurried down the stairs as if I was about to attack her. The rumor mill would be up and running in no time flat, but at least everyone would know not to try and break in to steal my stuff.

I hurried into my third floor apartment and flicked on the lights to take a look around. My faded red couch still sat beneath the tall windows that overlooked the nearby dump, and my TV still hung on the wall with my video game consoles right beneath it. I double-checked my bedroom and kitchen, but nothing seemed to have been taken, and I let out a sigh of relief that at least I wouldn’t have to put in an insurance claim for stolen goods, though my boss would need to know that I was alive, so a call to the company was in my very near future.

“John,” my mother sniffed as the silence grew louder between us. “That’s really you? You’re not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost, mom,” I laughed. “I’m alive. The coroner, Raven, said that she did the autopsy on me and everything, but my body healed. There’s not even a y-incision anymore. It’s weird. She asked if there are any supers in the family, but I can’t think of anyone.”

“There aren’t any,” my father answered. “Did you make any deals with anyone recently?”

“Dad, come on,” I shook my head and sniffed the old coffee in the fridge.

There was an oily sheen on the top of the coffee from being left alone for too long, but the cold brew usually lasted over a week, so I poured some into a cup and then sniffed the creamer. I may have only been dead for a day, but it felt like an eternity since I’d last set foot in my apartment. That was probably because I’d spent the night before that at Mike and Ina’s, but it still made me feel better to double-check all of my food to make sure that none of it had expired.

“I have to check,” my old man said. “It’s not like there’s any other explanation for one of my sons to just return from the dead.”

“Don’t mention his death,” my mother scolded. “I never want to think about that again.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, and I could almost see him hugging the love of his life.

“Raven thinks that it’s a mutated gene,” I said. “Paul, the forensics specialist at the lab, is running some tests, so I’ll know by the end of the day. I just wanted to let you guys know that you didn’t have to come claim my body.”

“John!” my mother huffed. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, mom,” I said and shook my head.

“You better be,” she said and then cleared her throat. “Now, I expect you to come pay us a visit soon. Your brothers and sister will be so happy to hear that you’re alive. And we’ll all want to see you in person.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I promised. “I’ll come out as soon as possible. It probably won’t be until the holidays, though, because I’ll still need to go back to work.”

“Naturally,” my dad said in a proud tone. “You’re a good man, John. Don’t worry about telling your brothers and sister. I’ll take care of that for you. You get some rest, and we’ll see you for the holidays. You may want to make sure that you save your vacation days, because your mother is going to want to fret over you like a mother hen.”

“I don’t fret,” she muttered, but I could almost see the small smile that she reserved just for my father.

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” I said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, John,” they both said at the same time.

I hung up the phone and then put it on the counter while I drank my coffee. My boss wouldn’t be in the office for another few hours, so that particular call could wait until after my breakfast with Raven. I glanced at the clock on my wall, downed the rest of the old cold brew, and then headed in to take the longest, hottest shower of my life.

The steam filled the bathroom and poured out into the rest of my apartment by the time that I wrapped a towel around my waist and emerged to get ready. Mrs. Krux would probably scold me later about stealing all of the hot water for myself, but the stern old lady would give me a break after the last twenty-four hours. Besides, the water heater always had enough for us all to shower at the same time, so it wasn’t like anyone else would suffer.

“Okay,” I sighed and stood in front of the rack that acted as my closet. “What should I wear? This isn’t a date. Or is it? It’s breakfast. And she’s already seen you need and your internal organs, so there’s not much that you can hide from her. Alright. I’m just going with the usual.”

I grabbed a pair of dark wash jeans and then turned to my small dresser. There was a black t-shirt in there somewhere that Stephen had bought as a joke, but the joke was on him because it was one of the most comfortable shirts in the world. I grinned as I pulled it out to see the white kitten hanging on a branch that with the words, “Hang in there” scrolled across the top.

“Perfect,” I said and tugged it over my head.

The jacket that I’d worn the other day hadn’t been returned to me, and neither had any of my other clothes, but Paul had said that they were covered in blood, so I wasn’t sure that I actually wanted them back. My spare coat was an old olive green military coat with brass buttons up the front that accentuated my wide shoulders. The wool was just thick enough to be perfect for early spring, and it would protect me from the harsh wind that sometimes cut through the skyscrapers.

Raven had texted me the address and name of the diner that I was supposed to meet her at, so I tugged on my black leather boots, double-checked the mirror, and then headed out for the day. There was still half an hour before the goth woman was off work, and that was plenty of time for me to get over to the morgue so that she wouldn’t have to walk alone. The petite woman was probably capable of taking care of herself, but my father had always taught me that chivalry was key, and it would give me extra time with her before we were surrounded by people at the restaurant.

“Mom said that you were back from the dead,” Junior said as I came out of the stairwell.

Junior was almost a foot shorter than me and built like a bear, complete with hair on every inch of his body and a scowl that could peel paint. His smile was rare and spotted with fake gold teeth, but the middle-aged man was always genuine and honest to a fault. He looked me up and down as if he wasn’t sure that I was actually real but then seemed to decide that I was.

“Yep,” I shrugged and looked at his electrician’s bag. “Good luck with the elevator.”

“Try not to die again,” he said.

“Will do,” I laughed.

The walk to the morgue was a lot longer than it had seemed on my way home, though I had been on the phone the entire time, and the conversations had been a very good distraction. I texted Raven to let her know that I was on my way to escort her, and was happy to see the goth woman at the guard station when I turned the corner.

“John,” she said with the hint of a smile. “I’m ravenous. Food?”

“Definitely,” I said and then waved at the security guard, held out my arm for Raven, and then started towards the diner. “It feels like a lifetime since I’ve eaten.”

“That was a terrible joke,” she shook her head, but the corners of her lips turned up into a full-blown grin. “Is your apartment still yours?”

“Yep,” I said. “And my parents want me to take a week off for the holidays so that they can spend time with me.”

“Good,” the petite goth woman said. “A brush with death and eternity can be unnerving for those who are not accustomed to the unblinking gaze of the afterlife.”

“Yeah,” I agreed and turned down the street that led to the diner. “My parents confirmed that no one else in the family has superpowers, so they were definitely freaked out. I can’t exactly blame them.”

“Parents should never have to bury their children,” Raven said and gripped my arm a little tighter.

I wanted to ask her if she had personal experience with that, but that seemed like a question for later. The goth girl didn’t seem old enough to have had kids, but then again,it took awhile to get through medical school, so she might have, and it would make sense why she chose to become a coroner and provide peace for those who’d lost a loved one. I made a mental note to ask once we were better acquainted, but for the moment, I simply put my free hand over hers and squeezed just hard enough to       give her some comfort.

“So,” I said to change the subject. “What’s your favorite--”

My sentence fell off of my tongue as a scruffy man that stank of alcohol jumped in our way.

And he had a gun aimed right at Raven.