Death Makes Me Stronger, page 4
I watched the petite goth woman open the flimsy metal door and pull out a longer lab coat. The shoulders were a lot wider than the one that I’d nabbed from the hook by the door, and it fit perfectly as I slid into it. Warmth immediately washed over me, and I gave the assistant medical examiner a grateful smile as the goosebumps started to disappear.
“This is great,” I said. “Do you know what happened to my actual clothes?”
“It’s in evidence,” she shrugged and walked over to the computer desk. “Though you weren’t technically murdered. We usually write casualties of super fights down as victims of acts of god.”
“Admiral Freedom is not a god,” I huffed and padded across the room.
“Trust me, I know,” the black-haired woman rolled her eyes. “But he thinks so. And the only other option is to put it down as manslaughter. That wouldn’t go over very well with the guys in city hall.”
“And most insurance companies still pay out for acts of god,” I finished. “I know. I’ve helped clients file a few. Never thought that my family would need to do that for me. I’m usually really good at staying alive.”
“Which would explain why you didn’t know that you could come back from the dead,” she pointed out. “Your death was an honorable one. Most of our charges do not meet their fate by saving someone else. You should be proud.”
“Thanks,” I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t really thinking at the time. Just acted on instinct.”
“Which makes you more noble than most of the living,” Raven said and flipped one long braided pigtail over her shoulder.
The goth woman picked up the notebook that she’d taken notes in and then flipped through the last few pages. I almost laughed when I caught a glimpse of the front cover to see stickers of adorable cats, but managed to hold it back. There was definitely more to Raven than what was on the surface, and her respect for her position in the morgue was pretty admirable.
I wouldn’t be able to carve into people every day, and I definitely couldn’t handle being the one that had to show the bodies to their families to claim them. It would tear me into pieces to see all the tears, but the assistant medical examiner treated it like the greatest honor of her life. I was glad that she’d been the one to take care of me when I came in, because the only thing worse than waking up in a drawer in the morgue would be to find out some random dude did my autopsy while he was texting and eating a sandwich.
“Have my parents come yet?” I asked as it suddenly dawned on me that my mother may have seen my corpse.
“Thankfully, they were spared that particular horror,” she said and then scribbled some notes down. “They were informed of your demise and subsequent departure into the hereafter, but I believe their travel plans were pushed back a few days. I was to keep you in the cooler until they arrived. I’m sure that they’ll be thrilled to know that you’ve recovered.”
“That’s going to be a hell of a conversation,” I sighed. “I seriously can’t think of anyone in our family, even our extended family, that could’ve been a super.”
“Rare gene mutations happen,” she said and stared up at me with those bright red contacts. “It would explain why you are capable of escaping the gods of the dead even though none of your ancestors were able to do so. Though, I suppose only time will tell what other abilities your family will discover.”
I started to pace again just to have some kind of movement. The panic from earlier had all but disappeared, though I did avoid the drawer and slab that still stuck out from the wall. I never wanted to end up in one of those again, though it might happen at some point, especially if I was going to become a superhero.
The idea sent a jolt of excitement through my body, and a bright smile tugged on the corners of my lips. I’d dreamed of being a superhero my entire life, but it was just a little too out of reach. If it was really impossible to kill me, then I’d be able to join forces with people like Golden Weaver and Shadow Storm.
Of course, I’d probably have to work with Admiral Freedom at some point, but that would be okay since saving people was my main priority. The showboat could have all of the media attention while I did the hard work, and then I might be able to live a somewhat ordinary life on the side as long as no one found out about my secret identity. Unlike the great hero of New Liberty, most of the people in the Hero Society at least tried to keep their faces hidden, and those were the ones that I wanted to become friends with.
“Is there a way that we can be sure that I’ll come back to life?” I asked and forced my brain to stop planning for a future that might not happen.
Sure, I’d come back from the dead once, but that didn’t mean that it would happen again, and my career as a hero would be pretty short if my power wasn’t one that could be used again and again.
“No,” Raven shook her head and stood. “There’s never a definitive answer as to how long any superpower will last. Some heroes have actually lost all of their abilities, though that is usually later in life. I can test your blood for the common signifier that we look for in supers. It isn’t a guarantee, but as long as it’s still intact, then the likelihood of your ability continuing to work is higher.”
“Do you test every corpse that comes in to see if they were supers?” I asked.
“Only the ones that come back from the dead,” she said with a wink.
“Right,” I said and nodded. “Then let’s do that.”
“Sit on the table,” she said.
I glanced at the autopsy table, and a nightmarish scene of Raven standing over me with my heart in her delicate hands flashed across my mind. It wasn’t a memory, especially since in my version, the goth woman started to laugh maniacally like she’d been the one to kill me, but it was still unnerving. I took a deep breath, hopped onto the metal slab, and then reminded myself that even if the assistant medical examiner went insane and tried to autopsy me alive, then I’d probably come right back.
“You said that I came in yesterday morning,” I said as the petite woman grabbed supplies. “Exactly how long was I… dead before I woke up?”
The black-haired medical examiner stopped and looked puzzled for a few seconds as if she was calculating something. Her bright red eyes shifted to the clock on the wall while her bow-shaped lips pressed together. Raven double-checked the logs on the computer, then the printed file, and then finally nodded as if she felt sure of her answer.
“Twenty hours,” she said. “You came in right after my shift ended at eight in the morning, and I heard your screams at four a.m..”
“So, I come back in a day,” I said and tapped my foot in midair. “That’s not too bad. But it would be problematic if I died in a battle. If I’m going to be a superhero, then I’m going to need to figure out how to stay alive against supervillains. Especially since we’re not sure just how many times that I’ll come back.”
The petite woman lifted a perfectly drawn eyebrow and then smirked.
“You want to be a superhero?” she asked. “That fits you well. At least, from what little I know about you. You’re certainly in good enough shape, though you would need some type of armor. And likely something to boost your speed. You were fast enough to shove that young man out of the way, but supervillains can move faster than a manhole cover.”
I nodded and started to come up with a mental checklist of everything that I’d need. First would probably be a costume that would cover my face, and that would also have to include some kind of armor. Most of the villains didn’t bother with guns since they were supers, but I’d likely come across random thugs at some point, and they’d definitely have a pistol at the very least.
My excitement was almost palpable as Raven sat on the stool in front of me, and the goth woman cracked an actual smile. She had a tray with three long needles to draw my blood as well as labels for the samples and her notebook to make notes in. The medical examiner’s own joy at the situation amplified mine, and it was hard to keep myself from bouncing happily at the idea of the new life sprawling out in front of me.
“I’d given up on the idea of being a superhero a long time ago,” I confessed as she readied the first needle. “We did a family tree back in high school, and I searched high and low for any signs that my relatives might be hiding a superhero identity, but there was nothing extraordinary about any of us. They’re good people, but not supers. At one point, I would’ve even been happy to find out that they were supervillains. If only because it would mean that I might have a latent superpower.”
“You do,” Raven said. “Now, this may hurt a little. I’m not used to operating on the living, but I promise to be as gentle with you this go-around as I was during your autopsy.”
“That I thankfully don’t remember,” I laughed and held my arm out.
The assistant medical examiner tapped the vein in the crook of my right elbow, and goosebumps erupted from where she touched me. Her pale skin was surprisingly soft, especially with the harsh chemicals that the morgue smelled like. Raven probably wore gloves when she used them, and I glanced at the desk to see a bottle of extra strength lotion.
I held my breath as she brought the huge needle up to my vein but refused to look away. This was about my future, and there was no way that I was about to shrink away when it was just a little blood letting. I watched the tip of the needle press against my skin, but no pain followed it, and it actually broke when Raven tried to push harder.
“What the fuck?” I whispered as I stared at my vein.
There wasn’t even a pinprick where the needle had tried to go in. I should’ve at least felt a little bit of pain when it broke against my arm, but there was nothing. The feel of Raven’s hand on my forearm was still there, but it was like my body rejected both being stabbed and feeling any kind of pain.
“Interesting,” she said and traded out the needles. “It could’ve been a defective needle. We’ll need to test at least the other two before I can make any kind of conclusion.”
“Science requires at least three examples before it can be said to be a repeatable experience,” I quoted my high school science teacher. “So, I guess my ability to die and come back can’t be concluded until I’ve died at least two more times.”
“That would be preferable,” the goth woman said and tried the second needle. “Not that I wish for you to meet the gods of the dead just yet. Of course, if you come back, then you could tell me more about them.”
I shook my head at the idea of meeting some old gods that watched over the afterlife. There hadn’t been anything but the inky blackness when I woke up. It was as if I’d just fallen asleep, though it had only been a day, so maybe they needed me to be dead for a little longer before they showed up.
Raven broke the next two needles in the exact same spot and then started to write down everything in her notebook. I tried to wait patiently as she grabbed three more needles and poked them against my left arm, but the result was the same no matter where she tried to gather blood. The gothic medical examiner almost broke into a full-blown smile at the discovery, and I was right there with her.
The manhole cover had smashed my face in, and now my skin seemed to be impenetrable. That would definitely help me out if I was going to be a superhero, especially if someone tried to stab me, but a needle and a knife were very different things.
“What about the scalpel?” I asked and pointed to a tray of autopsy tools. “Maybe you can cut into me? I mean… you did during the autopsy, right?”
“I did,” she said and then took down the time of the experiment in her notebook. “But that was before you were revived. I’m wondering if this new adaptation to your body came with your escape from the gods of the dead. It is not unheard of for them to bless humans that have pleased them. Perhaps your noble death convinced one of them to make your skin so tough that you could not die in the same way. The y-incision was healed, along with the damage to your face, and your skin may have hardened during that experience. Do you feel my touch?”
The petite woman ran her fingers along the inside of my arm, and I was suddenly glad that the sheet kept me covered. The delicate touch sent shivers down my spine, and Raven was definitely a beautiful woman, even if she was a little strange.
“Yep,” I nodded and tried to think of anything but taking the medical examiner back to my house. “I can feel that.”
“Interesting,” she said as a faint blush painted her pale cheeks. “You can feel normal sensations, but not pain?”
“Exactly,” I said. “I didn’t feel the needles at all.”
“Hmm,” she tapped her pen on the edge of the notebook and stared hard at the scalpel. “I can try to cut into you, but if the blade goes in, then you may end up needing stitches. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d rather know than wonder.”
The assistant medical examiner nodded and then went to grab a first aid kit from one of the shelves. I pulled my attention away from the sway of her hips to the notebook that she’d left open right next to me. Raven’s handwriting was so neat that it was easy to read, and the last thing that she’d jotted down was that my skin was still soft and warm despite the fact that it couldn’t be pierced by the needle.
“This may hurt,” she warned as she sat back down.
“No more than a manhole cover to the face,” I laughed.
Raven smirked at me, took a deep breath, and then brought the scalpel to my forearm. I could feel the pressure from the blade, but the medical examiner didn’t push down hard enough to actually break my skin, even if it wasn’t impenetrable. Long seconds passed as she seemed to work up the courage to actually cut into a living being, but then the black-haired woman pushed down and dragged the sharp edge down toward my wrist.
It didn’t break like the needles had, probably because the metal was thicker, but it didn’t leave so much as a red mark on my skin. Raven let out a sigh of relief as her shoulders sagged like that had taken every ounce of her strength. The scalpel’s edge was a little duller when she brought it up to inspect it, and I noticed tiny cracks that looked like it had started to break apart at some point.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “I broke a scalpel.”
“A good one,” the medical examiner huffed and then tossed the useless equipment into the nearby trash can. “But it was a necessary evil to find out if you could be cut. I’d like to run a few more experiments, if that’s alright with you? There are no other charges that need my attention, and your condition is too interesting to ignore.”
“I’m down,” I said and then looked down at the sheet and lab coat that I had on. “But do you think that we could find some clothing for me?”
The gothic woman’s eyes dropped down to my lap at the same time that she licked her lips. Raven’s cheeks burned a bright red that matched her contacts, but I just grinned and shrugged. The medical examiner was an attractive woman, and there was no way that I’d be mad that she’d checked me out.
“Clothes, of course,” she cleared her throat and then stood. “I believe that Paul is on shift today, and he is around your size. I’ll see if he can bring his spare outfit.”
“He keeps a change of clothes?” I asked and hopped down from the table.
“He is a forensic criminologist,” she shrugs. “Although, everyone that works in this building keeps a change of clothes in their lockers, just in case there is an accident with a body or any of the chemicals. Some tests in the labs result in very messy reactions. Even I keep a spare outfit, though I doubt that you’d be able to fit into my clothes.”
I looked over the petite woman and shook my head. Both of the medical examiner’s thighs were the same size as one of mine, and there was no way that I was going to try and squeeze into her leather pants.
“Definitely not,” I shook my head. “Tried that already, and I felt like it was a straightjacket.”
“Now that’s an idea,” she smirked and picked up the phone on the wall, pressed it to her ear, and then punched in a couple of numbers. “Paul, this is Raven. Can you bring your spare outfit to the morgue? Along with a crowbar and a wooden baseball bat. Thank you.”
She hung up and then turned to go back to the autopsy table. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself at the moment, so I went to help the goth woman pick up the results of our experiment while Raven took some more notes and wrote down the times that each needle broke.
The door to the morgue swung open, and a middle-aged man with short brown hair strolled in with the requested items clutched in his arms. Paul was almost my exact same height, and it was clear that the guy liked to work out. The forensic tech’s arms bulged against the sleeves of his t-shirt, but at least the clothes wouldn’t be too tight on me.
“What the hell?” the scientist asked as he spotted me. “Raven, I didn’t think you’d bring a date into the morgue. Jonesy, sure, but the Lady of Darkness? Never.”
“He is one of my charges,” the assistant medical examiner rolled her eyes and then took the crowbar and baseball bat. “His clothes are currently in your possession and covered in blood from his death. He can’t exactly leave in a lab coat and autopsy sheet.”
“Hey,” I said and took the clothes from the shocked man. “My name’s John.”
“Paul,” he mumbled and then tore his gaze away from me to stare at Raven. “What do you mean he’s one of your charges? That guy doesn’t look dead, Raven.”
“He was when I autopsied him a few hours ago,” she shrugged.
I stood off to the side with the autopsy table between me and the others while I changed. The jeans fit perfectly on my hips, and the shirt wasn’t nearly as big as I expected it to be based on the size of the beefy scientist. It took a little effort to get everything on without flashing them, but Raven had already seen my organs, and Paul was staring at the goth woman like she’d finally lost her mind.
