“Dude, you’re not serious, right?” Mike practically shouted while we sat at the bar.
But I was.
I had a case of burnout after graduating from high school, and even from immense pressure from my overachieving parents, I had no desire for going to college for another four years. It felt like a drag having to be done with school only to have to go back. Instead, I felt like taking some time off to do something else before considering on going to college. I really wanted to travel or at least start a streaming channel, but there were no concrete plans for either one.
I eventually decided on getting a job and see where I go from there. I didn’t want to do the crappy minimum wage jobs like fast food or retail, so I scoured all the major job posting boards for anything that might be promising. That’s how I found a job opening at the local morgue. I got the position and told Mike the news. He was less than supportive.
“It wasn’t my first choice, either, but it’s the best option I got right now.”
“Yeah, but won’t it freak you out, though? Being around a bunch of dead bodies can’t be good for you.”
“How bad could it be? Sure, dead are weird to look at, but it’s not like they’ll jump out and kill you.”
He tried his hardest to talk me out of it before ending with a reluctant sounding “Whatever you want, man.”
The next day I showed up for my first shift. I would be the first person to enter the building, and the last to leave when locking up. There were a quite a few people working at the morgue, but I got more familiar with two people. First was Dr. Andrew Mercer, the medical examiner. He had a dark sense of humor one can only get by dealing with death as much as he does. Then, there Patrick Dobeman. Patrick was the morgue attendant who assisted Dr. Mercer with examinations. A seemingly fun-loving kind of guy, but there was always something off about him.
Whenever Dr. Mercer left for the day, Patrick would be staying behind to finish up reporting in his office, while I finished my rounds. Out of the corner of my eye, I would catch him peering out from his office, just to see if I was still there. Sometimes he would give off an air of impatience, like he was wanting me to hurry up and leave. I brushed off this concern, thinking this might be just a quirk he has.
One of the most unsettling aspects about the job was cleaning the examination/storage room. I never had to be in there when Dr. Mercer and Patrick were examining a corpse, but I would always clean what was left, and the room had a chilling vibe to it. The room was eggshell white except for the stainless-steel cabinets and the head sink attached to the examination table. It was constantly cold in that room, and not just the regular kind of cold. For me, it was a spine-chilling freeze of being the only living person in there. The cabinets were themselves ice cold to the touch whenever I had to wipe them down.
Even more chilling than the cold, hard metal doors was the thought that one day, hopefully in the far-off future, was that I would be inside these cabinets one day.
While I was finishing my rounds for the day, another stiff was brought over just before closing. The Doctor and Patrick had wheeled a large black body bag to the examination table. I only just passed the room and had a brief glimpse of them. I saw the dead grey skin of the cadaver as Dr. Mercer was holding up the arm and inspecting it. The sight induced a shock in me, and I quickly turned away. I know that they didn’t have time for an autopsy, so they ended up storing the body away for the night.
Dr. Mercer left first, as per usual. I left after my day ended, while Patrick stayed behind.
It was getting dark when I left. By the time I got home from the fifteen-minute walk from the morgue, night had fallen. After getting to my door, I checked my pockets for my keys, but my phone wasn’t in any of my pockets. Shit, I groaned, knowing where it could be. I left it on my cleaning cart at work. I ended up walking all the way back there just to get it back. Luckily Patrick didn’t leave yet, since his car was still in the lot.
I walked inside, and all the lights were off. Why would Patrick turn all the lights off if he was still there? My phone was on the cleaning cart, just as I thought. I just about bolted to the door when I heard a loud agonizing scream that was followed by a large metallic slam.
I stood there frozen, caught between my exit to freedom, and the now dead silent building. That sounded like Patrick screaming. Like he was hurt. I fought with my conscience in trying to leave, but it won. It sounded like it came from further down the hall. There was a flashlight on the cleaning cart, thank God. It was my only illumination in this dark building. I felt a tension the air, sharp like a blade. I could still hear that pain filled scream ringing in my ears. The sound was practically carried on the surrounding darkness.
I entered the storage room to find it empty. It felt colder in there than it ever did, and the air was thinner. I thought about calling out Patrick, but why do that when he wasn’t even in there? I slipped and. was momentarily airborne before landing literally my ass and back. The impact created a loud thud that reverberated in the empty room. I looked up and shone the light on the floor. There was a pool of blood congealing on the floor. The trail led to one of the storage cabinets, with blood still leaking out.
I took a solid, heavy gulp as I managed to stand up and pull the door open. What I found inside still scares me. Patrick was laying on top of the body of a dead woman, a chunk of his neck had been either bitten or ripped off, but the wound was oozing red. The gaping wound exposed bone and torn arteries. The woman’s mouth was covered in blood and bits of his flesh. Her dead eyes continued to stair straight up into nothingness….
I called 911 and the ambulance came in minutes. I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Patrick was as good as dead by the time they found him. I was questioned by the police about the incident, and I told them what I knew.
The incident itself went unsolved, but we learned more about Patrick’s private life. The police searched his home. Under his bed was a lock box that contained a small black flash drive. They told Dr. Mercer and I what they found, and the thought still makes my stomach turn in sickness. He had grotesque photos and images of desecrated bodies, every defilement imaginable.
I quit the job after that. I just couldn’t stomach everything I had learned and experienced during that night. Sometimes when I sleep at night I wake out to that scream. And those lifeless eyes.
There’s one more thing that still bothers me since I can’t explain it. That slam from the cabinet never made sense. Those cabinets don’t close by themselves. Either they must be pushed from the outside…or pulled from the inside.