They Claim They're Immortal

I shot up in my bed breathing hard. My hair was sticking to my forehead due to the sweat. Another nightmare, I thought with a sigh. I fell back onto my soft, fluffy pillows and looked over at my alarm clock. It was ten minutes to three. In the morning. I groaned loudly and kicked off my blankets.

This is just getting ridiculous, I thought. I'd been waking up in the same manner for the past two weeks. To some nightmare I cannot recall.

I rolled out of bed and walked into my adjoining bathroom. I padded over to the white sink and splashed my face with cold water. I grabbed the towel hanging beside the sink and dried my face before sighing at my reflection. I was no Megan Fox, I can tell you that. With my never dyed, long, dark brown hair and tan skin, I was more of a plain Jane. I had dark brown, almost onyx eyes and a simple beauty mark on my right cheek. I had more of an oval shaped face and a button nose. I was straddling the border between average weight and maybe, ten pounds above my ideal weight for my 5'11" frame.

I had a longer torso rather than long legs. Playing basketball and doing outdoor track through junior high and high school made my body more on the muscular side. Though with a full-time job as a doctor at a local hospital there wasn't much time to sleep, much less for me to pick up a ball or hit the treadmill.

It was at that moment my phone decided to start ringing. I pinched the bridge of my nose before walking out of my bathroom and over to my cell phone placed on my bedside table.

"Dr. Jessica Hayes speaking," I answered my voice lacking any emotion. It was too early to feign happiness.

"I'm sorry to call at this time of night," Aren't they always? I thought with a roll of my eyes, "but another John Doe has just been wheeled into the ER with severe third-degree burns on his torso, legs, and arms. We're working on stabilizing him but it's not looking so good for him." If there's already a doctor there, why are they calling me? "Oddly enough, he keeps asking for you. We need you to come in."

"I'm on my way," I replied. I'd changed while talking to Dr. Ethan Jefferson, who was a... 'friend' you could say, so I was already zipping up a hoodie over my surgical scrubs. I disconnected the call, grabbed my keys, and rushed out the door.

–

I pulled off my gloves and sat down in a chair one of other doctors wheeled over for me. Our John Doe was far past saving when I got to the hospital but I still did everything I could. Unfortunately that wasn't enough. When I was told he was constantly asking for me, I braced myself for the worst. Expecting to see a cousin lying there, or maybe an uncle. But no, it was a man I'd never seen currently in critical condition.

Almost every inch of his body was burned except for his face and neck, which was a little startling. There wasn't even a scratch on him from the neck up, which made me wonder what had happened to him. Burns were pretty rare in this city. Shootings, stabbing, overdoses, etc. Those were common around here, but burn victims? This was only my third time working on one.

I stared at the now dead John Doe. I wished I'd gotten here sooner, maybe he'd still be alive. Unlikely, I thought with a grimace. In a few minutes he would be on his way to the morgue for further inspection and I'd be there to see to it that no problems should arise on his trip there. I trusted all the employees here but it wouldn't hurt to accompany him on the way there.

I smothered a yawn as I looked over at the clock hanging above the door. 4:38, it read. I'd only gotten about five hours of sleep at most, which didn't really bother me. I'd never really slept more than six hours a night even before I became a doctor. But working on patients all the time can really wear a girl out. I could really use a steaming cup of Joe right now or a power nap.

Where are those patient transporters? I smothered another yawn as the minutes ticked by. I was starting to feel uneasy and slightly concerned. It was 4:45 now, and normally it would only take about five minutes – at most – for them to get here. Calm down, it's only been seven minutes, Jess. Take it easy, I told myself.

I got out of the chair and started pacing at the foot of the surgical table. Something was up, I could tell. I had a gut feeling and my gut feelings always proved to be reliable. I poked my head out into the hallway to see it was completely empty and eerily quiet. Well as quiet as a hospital could be. I could hear the muffled voices of a TV in another room and the beeping of a heart monitor.

I went back to pacing as another minute passed by. I paused when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing except my exhaustion getting to me. I'd always been a little on edge and fidgety when I was tired. That uneasy feeling returned full throttle but now it was accompanied with queasiness.

I looked back at the surgical table almost positive this time that I had seen movement. I moved over to the side of the table and placed my index and middle finger against the side of his neck, where his pulse should be. Nothing, just as I'd expected. You're just tired, I told myself. I took this chance to study him, it was a shame that he'd died – it was a shame when anybody dies – he was very attractive.

With midnight black hair that had grown past his ears, fair skin, and really good bone structure – I was a sucker for a strong jaw and high cheekbones – his face alone could make any girl weak in the knees. With – I'm guessing – blue or maybe grey eyes.

Then I saw his chest move, as if he was breathing and I stepped back immediately. You're just tired. All you need is some caffeine or sleep and you'll be fine. But then it moved again as if he was inhaling. You, Jessica Hayes, are going crazy. I moved back to where I was standing and placed my fingers back onto the side of his neck. Still no pulse.

See? Crazy. I sighed and sat back down in the chair. Now I was really worried. They still weren't here and it was almost five to. I poked my head out into the hall and called out for anybody. Nothing. In didn't even hear the sounds of a muffled TV. But I heard a beep. Except, this time, it was coming from directly behind me.

I turned slowly, afraid of what I might see. But what I did see made my heart almost stop. My supposedly dead John Doe was sitting up on the table, looking right at me. "Do not be afraid." Was that a joke? How could I not be afraid. He was sitting up with third degree burns all over his body and he was supposed to be dead.

I screamed as loudly as I could and ran out into the hallway. Suddenly it was like the hospital that I knew like the back of my hand was an intricate maze. I sprinted down the hall past open doors that led to rooms that were empty. The busiest hospital in the city was empty. Something was horribly wrong.

I turned down the hall and ran past the desk where the other nurses would usually be seated, taking calls, writing things up, etc, etc. But no, there wasn't another soul in sight. I could see the exit just at the end of the hall. If I could just get there I'd be home free. I'd call the co-

"Fuck!" I yelled out when I tripped over an IV. Of course I tripped. My life was a goddamned cliché, why the hell wouldn't I have tripped? I pushed myself up but cursed again when my ankle almost gave out on me. Of course I hurt my ankle right now. God.

I limped my way to the exit and pushed, cursing again when I realized the doors were locked. My life might as well be a rip off of that awful movie Halloween. Except the killer didn't magically come back from being burnt to death. Micheal Myers, eat your heart out. I turned back around bracing myself for the worst but there was surprisingly nobody there. What the heck?

"Jessica!" I heard. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hey, Dr. Hayes! Wake up!" Wake up...?

My eyes cracked open and I saw that the patient transporters were all crowded around me. I looked over at the surgical table to see that our John Doe was gone. So that as a dream? Not that I was complaining or anything, it had just felt all too real.

"Um, Dr. Hayes, are you feeling alright? We woke you up because we know you like walking down with us to the morgue but if you're not feeling up to it..." he trailed off.

"No, no. I'm fine," I said while attempting to stand but I sat back down with a hiss of pain. My ankle was killing me. The same ankle I had hurt in my dream. Oh lord. This is not happening. They all rushed to my assistance but I waved them away.

"Dr. Hayes, are you okay?" one of the transporters – Thomas, I believe – asked me. "That looks like a nasty sprain, do you want me to get a doctor to look at it for you?" A doctor going to the doctor's. Ha. Funny. "That was a stupid question, sorry," he said, looking sheepish.

"Totally fine," I said, "I'm just gonna look at it quickly and wrap it then I'll go down to speak with the mortician. I'll see you down there." I shooed them out into the hall before limping after them and over to my office that wasn't too far away. I sat down in my chair and looked at my ankle rolling it slightly and wincing at the pain. It was only a moderate sprain, luckily. I'd need maybe two weeks of healing and some frozen peas to bring the swelling down.

I sighed and got my tensor bandage to wrap my ankle. As soon as I was done with that I walked down to the morgue – noticing that the hospital was still very busy – and knocked on the door before entering. I shrugged when I found that nobody was in the room. Thomas and the rest of the transporters had probably already left and Stephanie, the hospital's trusty mortician wasn't in the room either which was only slightly abnormal.

Stephanie was a normally very thorough and meticulous worker but this week has been hell for her. I sympathized. She had lost her boyfriend, who had been cheating on her with multiple women, she had caught an STD from him. Only Chlamydia but still an STD. Her father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and her brother got into a bad car accident leaving him with a broken collarbone, arm, and leg. Since I also ran the hospital I decided not to fire Stephanie.

I shivered as chills coursed through my body. I was very accustomed with the temperature of the morgue, so that wasn't the reason why I shivered. It was at the fact that the morgue was full. There was a body on almost every table in this room. Seeing the white sheets covering what I knew to be dead bodies still made me antsy. Oh, toughen up, Jessica. You can handle cutting into somebody's chest but you can't handle a little death?

I lifted my chin a little higher and took in a deep breath which I immediately regretted doing. Ugh, it smells like death in here. As stupid as that thought was, it was true. How Stephanie could work in here full-time made me pity the girl even more. Speaking of Stephanie, where was she? I knew she was going through a hard time and no matter how many times I would tell her to go home, she was stubborn. She insisted on staying late almost every night she was on duty and hardly took any breaks. Even during a time like this, the only breaks she took were bathroom breaks.

I was thinking of reasons why she would be so unusually tardy when four of the bodies in this room sat up. Was I actually asleep again? Gosh. I really was exhausted. I rolled my eyes and pinched myself but when I didn't immediately wake up I pinched myself again and frowned. OK... So I was awake. This must be a really bad joke then, I thought.

"What do you think you're doing? I do not find this amusing in the least, go back to work. We're packed and you're pulling this?" But they didn't say anything or burst out laughing. Not one of them uttered a single peep. "I'm not joking. I'm gonna go find Stephanie and when I get back, if you're not doing your jobs I might have to fire you," I threatened. I was only half serious. With the hospital so full, we could use all the employees we could get. Yet still none of them made a move which irked me.

I let out a frustrated breath of air before turning to leave. I was just about to turn the doorknob when I felt a gust of air blow past me and our Crispy Critter was standing in front of me piercing me with his grey eyes. I stepped back and almost screamed when I bumped into another body. Correction, I did scream but the person behind me clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling it.

I stared at Burnt Bobby in front of me with – no doubt – very wide eyes. See, we'd give nicknames to our deceased victims to help distance ourselves from them during autopsies if their identities were unknown. Or Stephanie and whoever else worked in the morgue did. Occasionally I supervised the autopsies so the nicknames kinda stuck with me too.

"I thought you said she was pliable," the guy who has their hand over my mouth said over the top of my head.

"Excuse me!" I attempted to say to remind them that I wasn't an inanimate object but with this man's hand over my mouth it came out more along the lines of, "uh hu mm!"

"Oh, sorry," he said patting me awkwardly on the head. What was I? A dog? I attempted to frown. "My friend, Jake, over here just told us that you would easily accept what's about to happen," he told me.

I scoffed. Not fucking likely, psycho. I heard and felt the guy chuckle before I felt something piercing my neck and then I was out cold.