After reapplying the gauze, Mortuus walked toward a room with a name on the door: "Dr. Mordecai J. Mallard, PhD." Below it was another name: "Dr. Alexander W. Morgan."
He pushed open the door. It screeched and kicked up dust. It was clear no one had been in there since Dr. Morgan's death. As Mortuus walked around a desk, a computer clicked on like it hadn't been abandoned almost twenty-five years ago.
"Please enter password." An automated voice rang out from the ancient computer. Password? He didn't know any password.
Maybe something around the office would be able to tell him something. "What could the password be?" He wondered
Mortuus noticed a Liquidator Medal on the wall beside Dr. Morgan's degree. As he wondered, he sat down at the desk and looked at the screen. What could the password be?
"I didn't know you were at Chernobyl, Dr. Morgan," Mortuus said as he inspected the medallion. Mortuus sat back in the chair and began typing on the computer.
After typing "Chernobyl" in the box and clicking enter, Mortuus held his breath. He hoped it would work.
"Hello. Dr. Morgan," The computer screen read. With relief, Mortuus dragged the mouse and inspected each folder name.
He came to a folder labeled "PROJECT_mortuus" and clicked it. The folder opened, revealing dozens of files, documents, and a single folder.
He dragged the mouse and clicked on the folder. Inside were more folders, each with letters ranging from A to E, and ten documents.
One of the folders, E, caught his attention. Rather than ten files, folder E contained only five. Mortuus dragged the mouse to it and clicked.
Mortuus hovered his mouse over each file before selecting one, SUBJECT_E-3. He found a photo of the subject with little Peter Morgan as he scanned the document. "I knew her?" Mortuus questioned everything he had learned about who he was.
As far as he knew, he'd never had any connection to Project Mortuus before his death. Yet there it was, proof that he had. He scrolled a bit but stopped when he found her cause of death.
"Rebbeca Morgan, or SUBJECT E-3, was killed in a car collision with a drunk driver at age twenty-three." Mortuus read the description aloud.
He scrolled more, looking at research notes. His heart dropped as he read it. The shorthand was telling the tragic loss of who Rebbeca was. They had brought her back, but at what cost?
As he read more, it suddenly made sense why Mordecai stopped recording data. "SUBJECT E-3 is a danger to all who surround her. Today my partner, Alex, saved me from what would have been certain death. Today-" Mortuus gasped in shock, "Today SUBJECT E-3 attempted to strangle me with a cord. Had Alex not pried her off, I'd be dead."
Mortuus slumped back in the chair, dumbfounded by what he had read. "Maybe that was a rare case?" He asked himself.
Mortuus sat back and began clicking through the subjects. All of them, subject after subject, were violent and withdrawn. Those that weren't remained corpses and were considered a failed experiment.
Mortuss continued searching the documents, hoping that something would change, but he discovered a terrifying end.
"Subjects in death cases of extreme violence have been noted to have an unnerving relaxed state." Mortuus read slowly, shocked even more now.
"I'm no one, Death," Mortuus said while staring blankly at the screen. Was his laid-back attitude a result of the machine? Could it be true? He slumped in the chair.
Death revealed himself from the corner of the room. "Is that how you feel, or what you are being told to feel?" Death's voice hung in the air like a grim note.
"What's the difference?" Mortuus grumbled, his head resting on the dusty desk. Death stepped closer, placing a hand on Mortuus's back.
"Just because fog blocks your path does not mean it no longer exists," Death said with a solemn tone.
Mortuus nodded with an understanding he did not possess. Mortuus pushed the chair out and grabbed a drawer handle. He tugged, but the drawer didn't budge.
He tugged harder, the drawer popping open with a cloud of dust. Mortuus coughed and waved the dust away.
He smiled as he noticed the folder, a memory flashing in his mind at the sight. He had seen that folder before, back when he was alive.
He lifted it from the drawer and blew the dust from it. He opened it and looked at it. Inside were blueprints for some strange machine.
"O.R.C.? What's O.R.C.?" Mortuus said, curiosity in his voice. He read on, looking at the title.
"Organic Resurrection Chamber?" Mortuus read aloud. It was pretty straightforward as to what it did, but how it did it was a different story.
"Using the memories extracted from the loved one of the recently deceased, O.R.C. will create a genetically similar reconstruction." Mortuus read.
As he read it, a paper fell from the folder. Mortuus picked it up. It was a map of a cave. Mordecai had scribbled warnings on it.
On the back of the map was rewritten in big red ink: "NEVER RETURN TO CAVE OF SOULS!!" It wasn't something that could be misinterpreted or ignored.
It was frustrating to try to piece his past back together. Once he solved one mystery, five more arose.
"First The Stitcher, then Project Mortuus, and now O.R.C.," Mortuus mumbled while staring at the map, "And some... Cave... Cave of Souls?"
Death stood behind him, "How does this connect, dear child?" An unanswerable question. Or so it would seem.
Mortuus sat in the chair, questioning how they connected, his eyes wandering towards Alexander's desk.
As if hearing his thoughts, Death whispered, "What does your father know, Peter?" He wanted to look, but it felt wrong.
Could he do that to his dad's things? Mortuus sighed and opened the desk drawer. Inside was a notebook labeled "Long Term Effects On The Recently Resurrected." It was a notebook with his handwriting.
Mortuus picked it up. "Probably best I get out of here."62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwAtk8WWUfU
