The Morgue
I go out the back door and around the side of the house onto the front by the porch. At the bottom of the path, Sandra is staring up at me.
As I walk down the slope, Sandra crosses the road towards me and waits on the pavement. I reach her and look into her eyes. The patterns surrounding her pupil look like sand with pools of water.
“Ryan we need to talk,” she says.
“We do but I’m busy right now it will have to wait.”
“No Ryan we need to talk, right now.”
I ignore her and walk away. She follows me.
“Ryan, please,” she says as she grabs my arm. I pull away and it throws her off balance.
“I told you I don’t have time for this.” I am so angry.
Sandra’s eyes widen and she stares at me, taking a step back.
“What is there to talk about? How you used me to for sex because your husband wouldn’t give it to you? Just leave me alone.” I shock myself with how nasty I am to Sandra but it does the job, she turns around and walks back to her house without a word.
I leave Mulberry Lane and walk towards the woodlands where the local morgue is.
I enter the woodland which reminds me of the woodland where Liam Graynnil wrote about Daniel being chased by the gang and Mr S.
I walk through the dim woodland. The sky has become darker as evening approaches. The clouds thicken in the sky, obscuring the sun and any light still generated is blocked by the trees and dying leaves. I walk through the squelching mud and the weakened branches. Bushes claw at my jacket; the holly bushes scratch the rough, heavy fabric. I dodge the overhanging vines and drooping branches that block my path, until I reach the dirt road which leads up to the morgue.
I stand in the middle of the road and look all around me. The trees on either side curve over the top of the road acting as a shelter made from bark and leaves.
I look down to the tyre tracks left by many different vehicles with different sized tyres. The vehicles have created craters and fallow water stands in them.
I look up the road and stare into the darkness. On Google it said that the morgue was up the road so I may as well just follow it.
I take long strides over the uneven tracks, stepping over the waterlogged craters. The road has been neglected for a long time. Normal cars certainly do not use this road, vans and trucks must be the only vehicles to drive up it, in the mud.
Walking along, I can feel eyes watching my every move. I hear branches and twigs snapping within the woodland. The wind blows from behind me, pressing my jacket into my back. I look around, the gold beads that are eyes glitter past the tree trunks and leaves as the animals hide from me.
I decide to jog, the eyes continue to stare at me; the gold beads continue to glow in the dimness. I look ahead and see a small building with lights on. It must be the morgue, although it looks more like an abandoned building rather than a frequently used one.
I jog up to it and stand outside a door which must surely be the entrance. The lights are on but there is no one inside in the shadowy foyer.
I take a step back and look at the surroundings of the morgue. The plastering has cracks across it in random patterns, revealing darkness underneath the white plaster. The cracks interlink and stretch across the face of the building reminding me of veins. Any surviving plaster is the colour of rain clouds. The windows are smudged with yellow muck.
I return to the door. Slowly, I reach forward and push it open trying to stop it creaking. I take a step onto the uneven plastic flooring. As I go further into the building, I feel colder than I did outside. I look around a waiting area. A desk and chair sit through a hole in the wall, there are seven chairs arranged across the partially torn plastic flooring.
There’s a door to my right and it leads to a corridor.
I take stealthy steps through the corridor, careful that my footsteps don’t echo. There’s water running through the pipes that run along the ceiling and top of the walls. The wind outside is vicious as it pushes against the building making the windows and the frames creak and whistle. I stare straight down the corridor, the bleakness and the fading lights complement each other eerily.
I walk until I see blue double doors with thin rectangular windows looking into a dim area. I push one door open and step into the room.
The room has lots of doors; some look like massive freezer doors. I go over to a sliding door and open it. I look in to see bodies. I step back and close the door. I feel bile coming up my throat but I am able to swallow it back down.
Something drops in another room and a deep voice calls out: “Hello?”
I do not reply. I look around to see where I can hide. There isn’t anywhere except behind a bed covered by a white cloth. There’s a body under the cloth but I have to hide.
I run towards the bed and duck down behind it with my feet behind the wheels of the bed.
I crane my neck to try to see what’s happening. Another set of double doors opens and out steps a thick-set chap.
His skin is black with darker freckles on his cheek bones. He wears a dark long sleeved t-shirt, and white latex gloves.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” He grumbles.
He walks back into the double doors and disappears.
I stay in my position for a moment and stare at the doors. I look to the window and see the silhouette of his head behind the door with his breath misting up the glass.
He steps away from the door and I stand up from behind the bed. I go to the door and peek through the door.
As I attempt to look through the window, I see the reflection of my own face which makes me jump. I slowly push the right flap open. I let the flap go which slaps with the other side of the door. I walk slowly as I enter a completely white room with three inbuilt metal beds in the middle of the floor. The bed in the centre has a body lying on it. There’s a short rectangular trolley like a set of drawers containing equipment such as knives, blades and spatulas. As I approach the body, I’m astonished to see a blonde woman whose chest has been cut open; starting from the bottom of her neck down to the bottom of her nonexistent breasts.
Her skin colour nearly matches the wall colour, her blonde hair looks recently straightened and her red insides have specks of black.
“Humans should be respected.” The deep voice sounds from behind me. “Even when they are dead, their bodies should be respected. Whoever forced them here should be the one here on this bed; it would make my job much better. I would like to deal with criminals and make them pay.”
I turn around warily and look up to the black man’s face. His expression changes as I speak.
“Hi I’m Ryan Milligan and I could really do with some help…”
“I know who you are, get away from me!” he shouts.
“I’m sorry?” I ask confused.
“Get out of here now, you have no business here.”
“Are you Don?”
“I think you know who I am, you bastard.”
“I don’t know what…”
“Get out!” Don shouts as he clenches his fist.
“Don? You need to calm down…”
“Don’t tell me to calm down you fucker!” Don bellows as he charges towards me with his fists raised.
I stand up straight and await the impact that I am about to receive. Don reaches for me and as he does, I grab his shirt, trying to throw him aside. He grabs my arms tightly. I lose grip on his top and he throws me into the trolley which topples over, scattering equipment across the floor.
As I attempt to stand, Don grips me by my jacket and pulls me up off the ground and punches me in the stomach. It knocks the breath from me and I collapse but he holds me up and punches me again. The punch makes me feel as if something is lodged in my throat and stomach. I try to catch my breath but I can’t. Don holds me up, continuing to punch me in the stomach, head, face and nose. He then knees me in the chest and pushes me away. I fall to the floor. I cover my head as he stamps on me. He stamps on my arms protecting my head; he kicks me repeatedly in the chest and stomach and then kicks me in the privates. I let out a cry and curl up on my side; he turns me from my side to my back and kneels over me. Then he places his huge hands to my neck and begins to squeeze.
I panic, my breathing rapidly speeds up; my throat feels numb. As I look into his eyes, he has no remorse, he is prepared to kill me and dispose of my body.
I look around me and spot a sharp object which looks like a knife. I look back to his face and he still waits above me. I reach for the blade, but it is too far away from me. As my sight begins to darken, I lift my knee up and smash him in the back. His grip around my neck loosens and I push him over, overbalancing him. He sprawls away from me and I kick him in the face. I feel his nose click under the sole of my shoe and I see speckles of blood on the floor.
Letting my leg drop, his nose is pouring with blood. I reach for the blade, grip it in my hand and turn to Don. I point the knife at Don and stand up.
“I’m looking for someone called Liam Graynnil or someone called Mr S, can you help me?”
Don stares at me with no expression on his face.
“Tell me or I’ll kill you.”
“I bet you would.” Don replies.
“Who is Liam Graynnil and Mr S?” I ask again.
“Are you seriously asking me that question?”
“Yes I am and I want an answer right now.”
Don smiles at me. He looks to the floor and pauses. His shoulders begin to shake. He looks back up to me and laughs hysterically, revealing his blood-smeared, yellow teeth.
“Nice try, Mr Graynnil.”
I look behind me but nobody is there.
“Who’s Liam Graynnil?”
Don pauses and begins to stand up.
“You,” he whispers.
I look at him, he’s serious. He looks at me with a blank expression and then swings for me with his huge fist; I dodge him and run at him. As I push his chest, he stumbles backwards and I slice his throat with the blade. Blood spurts from his neck, it pumps onto his green t-shirt. Don stumbles and leans on the bed holding the woman. As he leans on it, I walk up to him. Don turns around and pushes himself off the bed, I stab him multiple times in the stomach and in the chest until he falls onto the ground and is no longer breathing.
I stare at Don’s body for a moment, still holding the knife. The blunt handle digs into my skin as I squeeze. Realisation kicks in. Guilt fills my mind. My grip on the knife strengthens by the second until I let it drop onto the floor. The noise is minute. The room falls silent.
I walk over to Don’s body keeping the churning vomit down, and sit him upright. I place my arms under his and try and get him up onto his feet.
I cannot lift him. He’s a lot bigger than me and it is impossible to pick him up. I drop him back onto the floor and pick up the knife and put it in my jacket pocket.
What can I do with his body? I can’t move him. I could probably barely drag him along the floor.
I need to leave, I need to get out of here and find Shola and end this once and for all.
I walk away back through the corridor, out of the entrance and outside.
As I stand outside and look into the sky; the clouds have increased. The greyness has darkened to night. Down the road, lights are approaching.
Shit, what should I do?
I look around me. Mulberry Lane is that way somewhere, so I run toward the woodland and barge my way past the branches and through the woodland.
The ground is uneven making it difficult to run. I hear tip-tap sounds surrounding me. The sounds begin to come more rapid until I can feel it; it’s raining, really chucking down now. The leaves stop the rain for a moment but the sound of the first few drops merge into the sound of the deluge soaking the leaves and trees. Running ahead of me are rivers of water dropping down onto the already damp mud making it difficult to keep my footing.
I run, ignoring the rain until I hear thunder roar in the skies above me. The roar ripples across the sky, vibrates the ground and my ear drums. As the thunder fades away, the only sound I hear are my feet in the mud and leaves until another roar ripples across the skies above me.
I reach the end of the woodland and not far from Mulberry Lane. As I look at the roads, there are no cars, there are no pedestrians. There is nobody outside.
I need to be wary, now is a chance for Shola to try and kill me.
I run along the pavement, stamping through the rivers forming on the road and pavement. Finally I see it, the road sign for Mulberry Lane. I turn left and run to my path. I run up it, the usual crunching sound disappears and is now a solid squelch at each step I take.
I run around the back and go inside. I keep my shoes and jacket on even though both are covered in blood. I walk in through the destroyed bottom floor and run up stairs.
I get into my room, pull out my whiskey bottle and swig from the bottle. Don is in my mind. His black pupils and black irises; his black skin smothered in blood and his slit open neck. It makes me feel sick but I swig from the bottle.
What did he mean by I’m Liam Graynnil? I know that I am not Liam Graynnil, I’ve never heard of him I’ve never seen a book by him so whoever he is, is a mystery. But for Don to say I am him is really odd, it makes no sense at all.
I swig more from the whiskey bottle, trying to block out my recurring image of Don’s body. I feel light-headed, I haven’t had much, but then again I haven’t eaten very well recently. I twist the lid back onto the whiskey bottle and leave it on the side of my bed. I unzip my jacket and kick off my shoes…