Happier Times (IC)

[Dr Archeville]

"Well, when a mommy corpse and a daddy corpse love each other very much... wait, no, that's not it."

"Truth be told," it said, sitting down on the curb, "I'm not entirely certain myself. I was a livin', breathin' person once. Went to a party with a bunch of my college friends, about ten years ago." It paused and cocked its head to one side, "Party was goin' great, 'till mah head exploded as green lightnin' lashed out from it an' killed everyone." Its head cocked the other way, "then I got up, then I helped all mah dead friends up, and we got back to partyin'." Its head titled again, now looking straight at Zak, "'till the crasher came and ruined it all fer us. I've been walkin' th' earth ever since, helpin' who I can."

Again, Zak could not help but notice that the being's eyes never once blinked.

"So what's yer story?," it asked, leaning forward a bit. "How'd you come to this lil' blue planet, an' who's yer dead friend?"

[Skysong]

It made no sense at all. The origin Dead Head described provided no explanation, only more questions. Still, it seemed like the corpse-man himself was equally confused, probably because he had some ability to recognize the fact that the insanity-twisted memories he was speaking of were utterly nonsensical. He probably really didn't have any idea how he'd gotten his abilities, and (so long as he wasn't misusing them) that didn't really matter. But, since Zakitaj had asked for such information, it was only fair that he also provide it. "My friend was from this area; he left Earth a long time ago, and I met him on my homeworld, a long way from here. To make a long story short, we were invaded, and he gave his life to help us escape. This suit I'm wearing is one of the last examples of my people's advanced technology, and I feel obligated to use it, since it only works for me."

The summary was extraordinarily brief, but it was all true, and certainly less ridiculous than Dead Head's explanation of events. Still, more information was needed before a judgement could be made. What if the attack he'd suffered wasn't the first? Even if he had been in an unfortunate position, that didn't mean that everyone who got shovel-smacked even seemed to deserve it. "How exactly do you help who you can, Mr. Dead Head? And who do you help?"

[Dr Archeville]

"Oh, please," the bring said with a dismissive wave, "it's jes 'Dead Head'."

"An' it sounds like yo an' I have a bit o' somethin' in common," it said as it rose from the curb. It took up its shovel, placed the blade on the asphalt, and began twirling the handle around lazily, "I'm obligated to do what I do, on account o' me bein' the only one who can do what I do. Well... that ain't exactly true," it corrected itself, "but I am one o' th' best at it, if'n I do say so myself." It kicked the blade of it shovel and flipped the tool up, and now used it to point back towards the cemetery they'd been in earlier, "I speak for them, make sure their last wishes are carried out, seek justice for any wrongful deaths, an' make sure any unfinished business gets completed so's they can move on Beyond. Also make sure their remains ain't disturbed none, by graverobbers or sorcerers lookin' to do somethin' nasty." It lowered its shovel and sank the blade into the ground, then leaned against the handle as it faced Zak, "not jes the dead in this place, but any dead, anywhere. I can only travel so far, so fast, though, I can't help 'em all... but, that don't mean I don' try an' help th'ones I can."

"Kids, too," it added, "though not nearly as many of them, on account of my appearance. But every once in a while I'll come across one that ain't a-feared o' me; they're usually th'outcasts what get bullied an' picked on, an' I'll offer what advice I can... or go scare off the ones what were tormentin' 'em."

The being was silent a moment, though its unblinking eyes remained on Zak.

"So, uh, if ya don't mind my askin'," it said in a slightly more somber tone, "you said your home planet was invaded, an' that suit there's some of the last of its technology. I take it, then, that th' invasion... well... it did in yer people? Are you th' only one left? Are ya stranded here on Earth? An' in what way are ya gonna use that fancy air-movin' suit?"

[Skysong]

Zakitaj listened, intrigued, as Dead Head outlined his "duties". Despite his lack of knowledge about his origins, he was very clear on his mission, even though that mission was quite impossible. Or was it? He said he fulfilled the last wishes of the dead, avenged unjust deaths, and finished their unfinished business; that was in many ways the role of a homicide detective; was that what he had been before his transformation? Had it driven him mad, making him believe the dead were actually speaking to him, while the strength of his belief in his mission preserved that part of his mind? It was likely that there was more to it than that, but it was a promising working theory. He wasn't sure how to work in the defense of children; perhaps a carryover from another strongly-held belief of his old life, or perhaps a part of his origin that he hadn't even tried to explain.

Whatever the case, Zakitaj was fairly convinced that he wasn't merely avoiding doing harm, but might actually be doing good. That was heartening; it meant that the alien didn't even have to try to bring him in, which was a good thing given how powerful he seemed to be. Then he asked the dreaded question the realities of which were still fresh in Zakitaj's mind. He tried to keep his face neutral, but for the first time his voice deviated slightly, though he quickly corrected it.

"Imagine a world of a billion people with technology countless times more advanced than that of this planet. Now, imagine that planet being reduced to nothingness and its former population being reduced to a hundred hopeless refugees. It happened within two days. We're not stranded here, necessarily; this planet's inhabitants have offered to transport us wherever we wish to go. But we have nowhere but here to go. My friend kindled within me the desire to be a superhero on my planet; that chance was taken from me, so I chose to seek Earth and become one here. Long before the calamity, my mind was made up, but it was the calamity that forced me into my role as guide and protector."

Concluding his explanation, he asked, "How do you speak to the dead? And what is a 'sorceror'? You never did tell me what 'black magic' was, either."

[Dr Archeville]

Wow, poor guy. I been wonderin' what alien afterlifes'd be like. Wonder if he can help? Then again, he don't seem the spiritual type. Wonder if that's jes personal, or it applies to all his folks?

"Ah, sorry, ah do tend t'ramble sometimes," it said, chuckling slightly. "And, uh, my condolences on yer losses. I hope y'all can find a nice place t'live here."

The being lolled its head back, then back up, "A sorcerer -- least, the way I understand th' term, an' I admit I may be wrong on this -- is someone what uses magic for purely selfish, if not outright evil, means. An' black magic is th' type o' magic a sorcerer uses, magic that kills or enslaves or destroys, without regard for anyone or anythin' around. Most black magic involves traffickin' with nasty demons, or enslavin' an' compelin' th' dead, and I don't take kindly t' that. There's lots more to it than that, but Phantom's better at explainin' this than me; maybe I can introduce you two sometime."

It rose from its leaning position against the shovel, twirled around it, then leaned so it was propping its chin on its hands, which in turn were balanced on the tip of the shovel's handle. "As fer how I speak with th' dead... well... I do it th' same way yer talkin' t'me. Exactly the same, in fact, seein' as how I'm dead. Well, dead-ish, at least. An' if that fancy suit o' yours has any sorta bio-scanner," it quickly added, perhaps sensing Zak's non-belief, "it'll tell you this ain't no Halloween costume."

[Skysong]

The explanation of 'sorceror' and 'black magic' left many gaps in Zakitaj's understanding, but he was getting used to that by now. Phantom, he assumed, was another Metahuman; he'd met quite a few already, and heard of several more, but it seemed like there were always others beyond his knowledge. It heartened him to know that he wasn't the only one who had encountered Dead Head. If others knew him, and he spoke of them in a social context, the heroes of the city probably accepted his existence. Turning his mind back to the explanation, he continued to puzzle over it.

As far as he knew, dead was dead. Enslaving the dead was like enslaving a rock, and thus not particularly useful. He'd heard Physicus use the word "demon", but only in a simile; in one of his stories, he'd described how a man had taken off "like all the demons of hell were chasing him". He hadn't asked about it at the time, as it hadn't seemed important. His own people had a complex mythology involving evil spirits and undead warriors, but there was never any scientific evidence for it, so he'd left it alone. Still, unless Dead Head was being totally crazy again, he wasn't the only person who believed in "magic" and, by extension, life after death.

"Thank you," he replied with a nod in response to Dead Head's condolences. "Regrettably, a sensor package is not included in this battlesuit, so I cannot confirm your assertion. Even more regrettably, I still don't understand in the slightest what 'magic' is or how you speak to the dead. If it's as simple as talking to me, why can't I talk to them? If their brains cease functioning, they don't think, much less speak, do they? I realize I've only been on this planet a few days, and my experience is greatly limited, but it doesn't seem logical to me. I know you have skills far beyond anything a Halloween costume would grant you, as I've witnessed them myself, but the source and nature of your full capabilities still eludes my understanding."

[Dr Archeville]

Huh, seems like he ain't even heard o' magic. Could his culture really be that different?

"Well, part o' th' reason they ain't speakin' t'ya is that y'ain't from around here," it said, in a tone that seemed to be a touch diplomatic. "'Course, yer alive, too, and most livin' folks cain't see th' dead, not unless they had some strong connection to th'person in life. On th'other hand, many don't want t'see th'dead, foregoin' whatever wisdom they might could pass on in order t'evade th'reminders o' their own mortality."

"As fer magic," it continued, standing straight up and retrieving its shovel from the dirt, slinging the tool across its shoulders, "it... well... magic is magic. It's... okay, wait, I know: on yer world, are there folks what can do all sorts of.. well, I guess 'superhuman' wouldn't be th' proper term, but... well, people with abilities beyond those o' the normal folks? Like bein' able t'fly, or create flame, or move things with th'power o' their minds? Well, magic's like dat, it's a way to do stuff normal folks cain't. Some folks're born with it, some pick it up from books and learin' from others. Like ah said, Phantom can explain this all better, if'n ya really wanna know m-."

The odd being's eyes suddenly went wide, and the emerald flames in its eye flared up for a brief moment. "Ah-HA! I know how I can help you, an' prove I ain't joshin' ya! Ya said yer friend, th' one from here, th' one what left you somethin' in that grave yonder," it pointed to the spot Zak had been digging, "gave his life so's you & a few others could escape th'invasion. What wouldja say if'n I toldja I can talk t'him, pass on a message? I'm sure I could -- there could be some things left unsaid 'tween you two, so his spirit may still be lingerin'. 'Course, I'd need somethin' of his to do it, ifn' his body ain't around..."

[Skysong]

Dead Head's explanation made sense from a psychological standpoint, perhaps, but still not a practical one. Zakitaj wasn't going to see the dead as anything but corpses whether he wanted to or not, and wouldn't be receiving any wisdom from that which could not talk. It hadn't been too long since the truth of his own mortality had been clearly burned into his brain while he watched all that he knew being destroyed, so he wasn't in much danger of the other option, either. Nor did he really understand magic. His people did superhuman things through technology, whether via devices or (occasionally) genetic engineering. If it was "like" such forces, why hadn't his people encountered or explained it?

And then the corpse-man made his suggestion, and Zakitaj's stomach tried to leap and turn at the same time. His face grew pale, his eyes wide. He wasn't sure whether to attack Dead Head for the sacrilege of his words or... or beg him on bended knee to do as he had said. Because no matter how nonsensical it seemed, no matter how mad, what if he was telling the truth? Could he ever forgive himself if he passed up an opportunity to talk to his closest friend one last time? And what harm would it really do if nothing happened? He came quickly to his decision, his voice slightly higher and filled half with excitement and half with apprehension.

"Something of his? Will the tube do? But he hasn't touched it in a while... What about this photograph? He always carried it with him." He pulled forth the crumpled picture of the Huntington Gardens that Physicus had used to remember Earth; he'd seen it several times when his mentor had been on Khalados, and recently discovered it in one of the pockets of his costume, right over his heart. Surprisingly, he felt no hesitation as he offered it to Dead Head; the remotest possibility of actual contact made it all worthwhile. "Will I... be able to see him? To talk to him? Or just you?"

[Dr Archeville]

"Well, sir," Dead Head began as he slung his shovel down and took the photo, "usually only I see an' hear 'em, an' I pass on messages, actin' like an intermediary. Sometimes, though," he continued as he examined the photo, "a spirit can take over mah body, speak directly through me. Buuut, a few times, me simply bein' around sorta amps 'em up enough that they can manifest as a visible, audible specter what anyone can see an' hear. It's complicated, lotsa factors involved, so it's hard to say what'll happen each time. Best results come if I can see & touch th' body, though."

An' since I still don't know ya very well, I ain't gonna tell ya that I can animate the corpses, and sometimes put the spirit back in, which either turns 'em into an intelligent zombie like me, or restores 'em truly t'life. Well, that, an' the fact that about half the time I try that, somethin' goes terribly wrong.

The strange being closed its eyes and held the photo to its forehead. After a momentary pause, it began to speak again, "he kept this close to him when he was alive, yeah... it's an important place to him... a place he felt at home at... his name was... Herb... no, Herbert... Herbert Son... Sonder... Sondergaard. Herbert Sondergaard. Oh, an' he's got a brother here, a brother he'd missed very much; lots of feelings of loss an' regret. A brother named... Erik."

[Skysong]

Zakitaj waited, his breathing shallow, the beating of his heart deafening in his ears. Even if Dead Head only acted as an intermediary, that was fine; it would still almost be like talking to Physicus. But that was making the assumption that this madman was telling the truth about talking to the dead; why had he believed it for even a second? It wasn't possible; there was no such thing as a soul, just a consciousness, an electrical pattern within the brain that determined people's actions and personality. How could he summon up, or be possessed by, or simply talk to, a person whose electrical impulses no longer fired? It was all biology, and things weren't adding up. Even so, he stayed silent as Dead Head pressed the photo to his forehead. What if, somehow, there was a chance.

Information spilled forth from the strange entity, none of which he could've known unless he'd somehow eavesdropped on the earlier conversation with Erik, which seemed unlikely. Besides, he was talking about feelings that Zakitaj himself had only begun to understand and recognize; how could he have known unless he was talking to Physicus? But why would Physicus tell a stranger about his feelings rather than his prized student and friend, even after death? Was Dead Head really talking to his friend's spirit, or was he doing something that made more scientific sense, if only a little?

"All true," he said, "but how do I know that you're not just reading imprints off of the picture? I've heard that strong feelings leave such imprints. I need more, if you can. I want to believe you, I do with all my heart, but it twists my mind to think this way."

[Dr Archeville]

"A fair question," Dead Head replied, still holding the photo to his forehead and keeping his eyes closed, "'cept from what I hear, impressions take time t'stick to an object, they have t'be repeated, over an' over. So if'n that's the case..."

Dead Head lowered his arm and his eyes flicked open, and the green flame-wreathed orbs looked right at Zak.

"... then how could I know that Physicus was the one what brought the ship to Khalados t'save its people?"

[Skysong]

Zakitaj wracked his brain for some way the strange corpse-man could know this information; to him, and presumably to Physicus's possessions, the entire event was only a few days in the past, and he had told no one of it. Where the ship had come from remained a mystery, but it was no more strange that Dead Head was in league with the aliens Physicus had acquired it from than that he was actually talking to his departed soul.

"That... is very convincing," he said slowly. "I still can't begin to understand the how of all of this, but I can't think of any way you could know that which makes any more sense. In that case, I suppose I owe you another apology for doubting you and wasting your time with my incessant questioning. I tend to try hard to disprove that which I doubt."

The alien thought for a moment, then spoke again. "Does he... does he have anything else to say, or is the connection too tenuous?" He suspected he already knew the answer, and if not, he almost hoped for it. It was best if his old friend was at peace; he had lived so much of his life for others; it was time for him to find oblivion's rest. Though the thought was a deeply sad one, it was also strangely beautiful, and scientifically feasible. This "magic" stuff still made his brain hurt.

[Dr Archeville]

"I find that th' how'a things is often less important than th' why'a things," Dead Head replied, handing the photo back to Zak, "an' never apologize fer questionin'. Far too many folks is content t'live their lives without examinin' it, without enjoyin' it, and that be one o' th' greatest crimes'a all."

Dead Head rolled his head around again, his neck making audible sharp popping noises, then he turned to face west. "as fer yer friend... well, that is all I can get from that photo, but if'n he has anythin' else t'say t'ya, or ifn' y'wanna say some final words t'him, I can make that happen. But I'll need access t'his remains. An'... an' I can't guarantee it'll work, either, since he spent so much time off-world. I ain't ever dealt with that type. I mean, sure, he was from Earth, but he spent a lotta time there, with alien cultures an' beliefs an' whatnot. It may've affected where his spirit got to once it shuffled off, he may be unsure where t'go, an' I may not be able t'do more than what I did here with that there photo."

"An' that," he said with a sudden clapping of his hands and a momentary flaring up of the lights in his eyes, "is exactly why I am goin' t'help you! I'd feel just awful if'n there was some kind soul lost out there, unsure where t'go, knowin' I could help him get t'where he needs t'be gettin'. So lead th'way, chum!"

[Skysong]

Though a bit taken aback by Dead Head sudden request to see Physicus's remains, Zakitaj quickly decided that it was the best course of action. Everything here was crazy, but the zombie-man hadn't lied about his ability to get information from the photo, so why would he lie about getting more information from the body? And what if something remained to be said? Besides, his questions had been encouraged; he responded to this with a nod of approval as he accepted the photo and tucked it away. That was something to respect in a man, even one who happened to be semi-dead.

It had been an uphill struggle just to get him to believe that some sort of readable spiritual essence persisted after death, and he was still trying to come up with a better explanation, so he wasn't sure about this whole "spirit being unsure where to go" thing, but what did it really matter? He would go with what he had seen for himself: Dead Head knew what the dead knew, and Zakitaj wanted to know that, too. Whether it worked or not, at least he'd tried. It wasn't an opportunity he could pass up.

"Alright... thank you. Should I call a taxi or, forgive me for asking, are people used to seeing you walking around?"

[Dr Archeville]

Dang, I knew I was forgetting something! Okay, Deady, think -- there's got to be some way to help this fella.

"They... ain't," Dead Head admitted, with just the barest hint of reluctance in his tone, "'cept on Halloween, which was about four months ago. Or if I pose as someone what was in a nasty accident, an' I hitch a ride on an ambulance, but they're only of limited use. Or I use th' sewers."

The odd being stuck its shovel into the ground again and leaned against it, facing west, and stroked its chin in thought. "I don't suppose that fancy suit'a yours lets ya fly, does it? Or ya got some sorta teleporter?" His hand dropped from his chin, "ah, no, ifn' ya did ya wouldn't've suggested we take a cab. Hrrmmm...." He resumed stroking his chin, then suddenly snapped his fingers, "ah, I got it!" He turned his head to face Physicus -- turned it slightly more than should be possible, not to mention comfortable -- and asked, "where's yer friend's body now? Dependin' on where it is, I may be able to teleport us there!"

Dead Head's body turned so it and his head now line up properly, "with magic!"

[Skysong]

Zakitaj felt a twinge of pity for Dead Head as he spoke of his means of transportation; if the poor zombie-man remembered being alive, it had to be a painful shock to have been made into what he now was and forced to travel in ways he never would've previously imagine. And then he asked the question that everybody seemed to ask: could Zak's battlesuit fly? He was getting a little irritated at this Earth-craze for flying battlesuits. Why would he fly? For all his power, he was still effectively an infantryman, not a vehicle, and certainly not the equivalent of a city cab.

Brushing aside his irritation, he tried to do the same with his incredulousness. "First speaking to the dead, and now teleportation? Is there nothing 'magic' cant't do? Well, you're the expert." Somewhat nervously he watched as Dead Head unwrapped himself from his bizarre position, then spoke up again. "Physicus's body is... being held at Trinity Hospital, in the West End. And you say you can just take us there? Just like that?" He tried to snap his fingers for emphasis, but it didn't work too well through his armor, and he sheepishly lowered his hand.

[Dr Archeville]

Right, time to see if I've really learned anything from Phantom's lessons.

The strange being let out a deep, resounding laugh as it walked back towards the graves. "I'm far from an expert," he said at last, "but I am a quick study, an' Phantom's a good teacher. Well, a patient one, at least."

"An', yeah, way I hear it, there ain't much magic cain't do... same as there ain't much technology cain't do," he said as he began collecting tiny rocks from assorted graves, "they jes do it in different ways. An' some typesa magic are better at a given task than others, jes like some pieces'a technology are better at certain things than others."

Dead Head continued walking and gathering, heading towards the tall yew tree by St. Sebastian's. Once there, he knelt in the long shadow it cast by the light of the church, and began to draw a symbol in the dirt, adding the tiny collected pebbles -- which Physicus noted were all either red or white -- at various points along the design. Once he was done, he held out his hands, palms upwards, "take 'em, and hold on tight."

Any tactile sensors in Physicus' gloves would indicate to him that the creature's hands felt exactly like those of a dead man.

And then Dead Head began praying, though most of it was in a language Phyicus did not know. He did catch that the words "Legba" and "morte" or "morts" came up a lot, though.

Physicus was suddenly engulfed in complete and numbingly cold darkness. Two distinct sounds could be heard: a great wailing, as if thousands of people were crying out, and a great rejoicing, as if thousands of people were partying.

And then just as suddenly out of it, and standing -- a tad unsteadily -- in the shadow of a loading dock for Trinity Hospital, next to the still-kneeling Dead Head. He stood up, put his hands on his hips, and had a look of extreme satisfaction. Well, as much a look as he could show, given the permanent rictus grin. "I'm right glad that worked!"

[Skysong]

Zakitaj watched in fascination as Dead Head created the strange ritual symbol; it seemed crazy that something powered by lines and rocks in the dirt could accomplish... well, anything. But he'd learned by now that Earth didn't seem to play by the rules he knew, so he tried to keep an open mind. When prompted, he reluctantly took the zombie-man's corpselike hands. And then the chanting began, and things got even stranger. Words and mud circles were, apparently, the equal of his people's technological achievement. The thought was rather humbling.

And then everything changed in a flash. Zakitaj wasn't used to feeling cold while wearing his suit, which was very well insulated against any such extremes, but this cold pierced him to the marrow of his bones and flooded every cell of his body. If there was such a thing as a soul, as Dead Head's abilities seemed to imply, his was shivering as it passed through that strange place.

A cacophony of voices rang out in his ears, opposing one another; his suit should've compensated to block the loud noise, but it was sluggish, just as he himself was. It was impossible to move, or even to feel; he could only ponder a sudden feeling of great and terrible insignificance in that vast void. And then he was pulled away as though through jello, emerging with a squelching pop beside an entirely new building. Unsteadily he braced himself against the wall.

"Er... So am I. That seemed like it would be a bad place to linger. There are people here experienced enough to teach you how to do that? What a strange, strange planet."

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head let out a nasally chuckle, "oh, stick around, y'ain't seen nothin' yet! I mean, sure, I'm probably one'a th' strangest folks yer ever likely t'meet, but this world's full'a wonders and weirdness."

He turned and looked around the loading dock, and saw assorted empty boxes and pallets there, as well as a few pieces of broken equipment and furniture. An idea crept into his brain.

"I'm guessin' he's in th' morgue, which ain't too far from th' loadin' dock, but it's still a bit of a walk. An' some folks get offended by seein' a dead man walkin' 'mongst th' livin', usin' the same buses, usin' th' same doors for th' movie theaters, drinkin' from th' same water fountains..."

He paused, realizing his Racial Segregation joke would most likely be completely lost on this extraterrestrial. And what's the point in making a joke if the audience would have to spend hours reading through Wikipedia to even comprehend it?

"Point is, I recommend we take that gurney there," he pointed to one leaning against the wall, taken out for repairs to its one missing wheel, "an' use it to wheel me in. Assumin' you can do somethin' with those gloves and helmet. That is, unless ya got some gadget in that suit what'll let us get in and down a few hallways unnoticed."

[Skysong]

Zakitaj wasn't sure how this planet could be any fuller of strangeness than he already knew it to be, but he kept his mouth shut; Dead Head had been right so far, and he didn't want to see any more examples provided if he could avoid it. His brain hurt already. The zombie man's tirade about undeath seemed utterly nonsensical, but there was probably something deep hidden in it. He was pretty sure his companion was indeed utterly mad at least fifty percent of the time, but he wanted... needed his bizarre skills.

He sighed internally as DH once again noted the limited functionality of his suit; he supposed that someone who could survive just as much punishment, and perhaps more, without using such a device could criticize as he liked, though his shovel was rather lacking next to the elegant Khaladi kinetic projectors. "No, no stealth systems. Perhaps I should look into that, though. At any rate, climb on, I suppose... We'd better find a sheet or something to cover you with, in any case. I can't imagine that most... patients that look like you do, no offense intended, are left uncovered for hospital visitors to see as they're wheeled by."

[Dr Archeville]

"Sadly, you are right," Dead Head said as he slipped off his jacket and placed it over his head, "but we won't be findin' no sheets out here, so this'll have t'do, fer now at least." Zak noticed that there were a few bullet holes in it, which the odd creature would peek out through.

The halls of this level of the hospital were cool, quiet, and mostly empty. A janitor passed by, but he was quite engrossed in the music the device in his pocket was making. After a few twists and turns, the two arrived at the double doors of one of the morgues.

"Yer friend is probably in this one. It's one'a the isolation morgues, used fer metahumans an' extraterrestrials, in case there're any odd bacteria or complications with a person's powers. If we're lucky, one of th' guys I know'l be working' this shift, an' they can help point us in th' right direction. If not, we may have t'search a bit more."

[Skysong]

Though the idea of an isolation morgue made sense, it still irritated Zakitaj; Physicus had done a lot for the people of Freedom City, and though it hadn't been enough for him to have been well-known, he was certainly deserving of respect. The alien wondered for the billionth time whether he himself was being respectful by allowing this strangeness to continue near the body of his friend, but he pushed the thought away; it would all be worth it for just a minute or two with someone he never even got to bid goodbye.

The hospital's lower reaches were calm and clear, squeaky clean and with a sort of warm, somewhat sharp smell Zakitaj assumed came from whatever cleaning agent was used here. Though the Earthlings were technologically primitive in many ways, medicine included, they at least understood the basics: keep things clean and you'll cut down on disease. Even the hardy viruses of Khalados had been eradicated nearly two hundred years earlier, but it was heartening to know that this planet was at least on the right track.

Very, very quietly, the bastard prince pushed the doors open; if this morgue was secured, it didn't show it at the entrance. A circular receptionist's desk sat nearby, but it was empty. Beyond it were three more doors, one set into each wall. Zakitaj peered through the windows at the top and breathed in sharply; every visible wall of the chamber inside was covered in compartments, most of them presumably containing corpses. Though he couldn't tell except through sensors because of his armor, and Dead Head probably couldn't because he was dead, it was already cold; inside the chambers, it would be frigid.

It hadn't been important where Physicus's body had been stored until now; Zakitaj had been facing his mentor's death in his own way, and looking at the corpse wasn't part of that way. Now, though... "Assuming twenty seconds to check each body, we'd be here for at least two hours. That's too long. Where might this friend of yours be?"

[Dr Archeville]

"Al's probably upstairs, chattin' up th' nurses," Dead Head said as he slid out of the wheelchair and put his jacket back on. "Nice guy, but somethin' of a horny ol' goat."

Dead Head walked over and peered into the windows in each of the three sets of doors, propping them open after peering in. "Yer right, it would take us a looong time t'search all them drawers... but, lucky for you, ya got me here."

He then walked back to the middle of the room, pushing the broken wheelchair off to one side. He turned to face the open door in the middle, and held his arms outstretched so that each palm was pointing towards one of the other rooms. He was mumbling something; if Jack stepped closer, he could see the creature's eyes were closed, and just make out the words "Marco... Marco... Marco..."

[bg=#000000]Polo... Polo... Polo...[/bg]

Then his eyes flicked open, and the green flames around them flared briefly. "Alright, kids, the spaceman here's lookin' fer a friend, so everyone outta th' pool!" he called out.

What happened next defied all natural laws Zakitaj knew.

Approximately a tenth of the morgue drawers opened, almost all simultaneously, and cold gray hands reached out to grasp the edge of the openings. The hands then pulled, dragging the the sliding drawers -- and the cadavers upon them -- out into full view. Though they were still lying prone, Zak could see a wide variety of fatal injuries represented here amongst the forty-some bodies.

"C'mon, kiddies, sit up, let the nice spaceman get a good look at ya!"

The cadavers obeyed, sitting up and turning as needed to face the hallway where Zak & his bizarre guide were standing. Zak saw a fine assortment of mortal injuries; most also showed the Y-incision of their autopsy. He also saw the dead staring out, blankly.

"So, Zak -- any'a these yer man?" Dead Head asked in a completely nonchalant manner.

[Skysong]

Zakitaj suppressed a laugh at Dead Head's description of his friend, trying to stay serious; the situation was, after all, hardly a laughing matter. Still, he wasn't the sort of person who could remain grim forever, which was one of the reasons his newfound responsibility weighed on him so heavily. Turning his thoughts back to the immediate problem, he wondered what his zombified companion meant; surely talking to each body would take just as long as merely looking at each of them, and they really didn't have the time for either. There were going to be awkward questions if the two of them were spotted.

And then, as one, they rose. Zakitaj's stomach turned, and he wondered whether all of this had been some sort of hallucination. What if Physicus had left behind a safeguard along with his hidden film capsule? Maybe he was just seeing what some twisted part of him wanted to see, because things just kept getting more and more impossible. Dead flesh shouldn't be able to move or speak, much less make other dead flesh do the same. He wasn't afraid of what was happening, but it definitely made him feel more than a little sick.

Still, he was going to take advantage of it if he could. He walked along in front of the bodies, witnessed their death wounds; he had seen worse, and in greater quantity, but it saddened him that the first morgue he visited on this new world was full of the violently slain. He could only hope that none of them held some sort of lingering danger; they were, after all, in a special chamber designed to hold the abnormal dead. Midway through the circuit, he spotted Physicus. The old man's eyes were closed peacefully, his mouth set in a vague smile as he sat up through unknown means.

"That's him," Zakitaj said, as levelly as he could. His mentor had short hair, more white than grey now. His head lolled at an odd angle on account of his broken spine, the injury that had slain him. He looked so different than he had all those years earlier, as though whatever he had done between departing Khalados and returning to it had weighed on him heavily. If he had anything to say, now was the time to find out.

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head nodded, "alright, kiddies, time t'go back t'bed."

[bg=#000000]... good night... good night... good night...[/bg]

All but Physicus laid back down in their morgue drawer shelves, slid themselves back into their holes in the all, then shut the doors.

"C'mon, kiddies, sit up, let the nice spaceman get a good look at ya!"

Dead Head walked in to the room with Physicus -- both of them -- quickly latching the doors of all the briefly awakened dead. When that was done, he walked over to his two guests and looked them both over.

[bg=#000000]W-Where am I... Z-Zakitaj? Zakitaj, is that you?[/bg]

"It is him, sir," Dead Head said to the original Physicus, "come to pay respects and say his farewells."

[bg=#000000]Farewells? Who... what are you? Where is this? Why is everything so dark, and cold?[/bg]

"Folks call me Dead Head, sir, an' I am here t'help. You've passed, sir, but-"

[bg=#000000]'Passed'? Oh, I made it through the Broan blockade! I- wait... no, I remember...[/bg]

"No, sir, I am afraid you did not make it through the Broan blockade..."

Zak may have noticed that Dead Head pronounced 'Broan' the exact same way his mentor did.

"... but Zakitaj, and others, did make it out, thanks to yer efforts. I can let you speak to him, sir, if you wish to pass on any final words."

[bg=#000000]Speak? Yes, yes, let me speak to him![/bg]

"Alright, sir, just hold still a moment... this may tickle."

Zak saw Dead Head reach out to cup the back of his mentor's head with his left hand, while reaching into the air over the deceased's body with his right. He grabbed at something, then brought his right hand to the corpse's chest. As he did this, the green lames in Dead Head's eyes flared brighter, and Zak saw similar light seep out from under his mentor's closed eyelids.

The eyelids flicked open, and a smile came to the dead face. The head lolled due to the broken spine, but he was clearly glad to see Zakitaj... and, thus, defying all logic, animate again!