Kaylee Series: Courage Chapter 4

4

‘Kaylee!’ Tyson screamed, ‘This isn’t funny!’

For once in his life, Tyson was willing to admit that he was scared. Scared of what, he wasn’t sure; It could be the darkness, or the cold, or the heavy iron door to the abandoned morgue which couldn’t possibly open by itself; but, nevertheless, he was afraid.

‘Get a hold of yourself.’ He said to himself. ‘It’s just a door.’

Angry at himself, he marched straight for the offensive door and pushed it closed. He pushed and pushed and threw all his strength at the door but it was somehow heavier than before—he could only make it budge an inch at a time.

He quickly looked up when something moved from inside. It looked like something small running across the morgue. He stopped for a moment, a bit shocked by the sudden movement. ‘You’re imagining things, Ty.’ He said to himself and pushed at the door even more.

‘Come inside, sir.’ A soft voice from inside the morgue said, ‘The kind doctor has been waiting for you.’ And before he could even step backwards to run from the place, something dark and cold pulled him inside and the heavy iron door immediately slammed shut, locking him in.

A loud deafening scream pierced the silence and Tyson was wishing it would stop when he realized he was hearing his own terrified voice. Tyson put his hand over his mouth to stop himself.

He leaned on the steel door, watchful of any kind of movement. He stood up, heart beating like crazy, his eyes darting from one shadow to another. He pushed insanely at the steel door but it wouldn’t budge. He looked for another way out and saw a door at the other end of the room; it probably led to the fire escape.

He took a step forward and promptly landed on his face on the floor. Something crossed on his way and tripped him and even with his coughing and cursing, he could hear them laughing. Little impish giggles like children playing a prank on a strange child. ‘Stop it! Stop!’

He went on all fours and tried to crawl towards the door but as every step he took the heavier his body seemed to be. It felt like something was sitting on his back, riding him like a horse. He tried with all his might to get to the other side, towards the door to safety but it was just too heavy. Only inches from the door, exhausted, panting as the load became too heavy for his body, and scared that his back would suddenly snap, he slumped on the ground. Tears were streaming on his face. ‘Get off me!’ he screamed.

In an instant the load on his back disappeared and he was able to move. He gathered up all his strength and with a scream he pushed himself to stand and reach for the door. For some reason, the door seemed to be moving farther from him and before he had realized that he was dizzy and falling backwards, the autopsy table caught him.

He immediately tried to stand up but once again he couldn’t move. The light went on and Tyson found himself inside a fully equipped morgue. But although the morgue was equipped, it was certainly dirty. The tiles on the walls were yellow and the tools on his side were rusty and the lights flickered repeatedly.

A doctor in a white lab gown stood by the sink, scrubbing his hands with what looked like yellow-brown muck. ‘We need to sanitize before we do an operation, don’t we?’ the doctor said to himself.

‘Let me go!’ Tyson screamed, all of a sudden he found himself naked and bound by the hands and feet to the autopsy table. ‘Hey, let me go! You can’t do this! Let me go!’ but the doctor ignored him.

He trashed wildly at the table but all his efforts were still ignored. The lights continued to flicker and in the flashing darkness Tyson could make out slight movements of— something. His breath caught in his lungs when the lights flickered once more and he had a better view of the ‘creatures’. They were moving through the darkness; only showing themselves when it was dark. They were everywhere. Midget-like creatures moving in an amazing speed jumping from shadow to shadow laughing, giggling at his predicament.

The masked and gloved doctor approached the table and grabbed a scalpel. ‘No! No! I’m sorry.’ He screamed, although he didn’t know what he was sorry for, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t do this. Let me go please. Let me go.’ and the more he screamed the louder the laughter around him became.

The doctor made an incision in the middle of his chest and Tyson screamed with the pain. He couldn’t breath and the pain was incredible; not sharp as he expected from a knife but rather heavy—like someone jumping up and down on his chest. Looking down he could see his own blood pouring from his chest, falling on his sides, drenching his whole torso.

Tears were falling from his eyes. The doctor grabbed a large butcher’s knife and raised it above his head. With a mighty effort the doctor plunged the knife into his chest and Tyson screamed yet again. Again and again the doctor whacked away at his body and Tyson was there feeling all the pain it brought and seeing chunks of him flying about and hearing the horrible sound his bones were making with each blow.

In a flash, he was once again plunged in darkness and the bonds on his hands and feet disappeared. He rolled himself off the table and fell on the ground, clutching his chest and struggling to breath. His chest looked otherwise unharmed, no blood or cuts, but the pain was still there echoing in his nerves.

Tyson moved towards the now wide open iron door towards his safety. The small creatures, dozens of them, were now clearly visible to him, running to and fro around him, their red eyes glowing in the darkness like Christmas lights, taunting him and laughing at his weakness.

His hope rose when he made it out the morgue. He looked back and saw the little creatures standing, their red eyes glowing as they stared at him from the shadows, afraid to step forward to the moonlight. Backwards he crawled, unable to take his eyes off the small creatures until he felt one of the roof railings on his back. His eyes grew wide when one of the creatures stepped forward towards him, in the moonlight; its full deformed monstrosity covered in slime in his view and unharmed by the light, smirking at him. The others soon followed and Tyson knew he could not go anywhere; he was sitting at the edge.

The creatures ran towards him their claws ready to strike and their fangs glinting in the moonlight. ‘I’m over here.’ A voice came from his side. He immediately turned and became face to face with the biggest most deformed of all the creatures, its foul breath fanning his face.

The last breath of Tyson Weatherpark was trapped in his throat as he screamed a silent scream.