Author's Note: Firstly, thank Zaedah for this, because she insisted that I follow the urge to write a Medical Investigation meets Zombie Horror flick parody. I think the idea of Miles running from zombies had us both in a fit of giggles. Anyway, it is a multichapter story, it does have some plot, but it is mostly funny. I HATE zombies, really I do. They are the muses of my nightmares. They give me the creeps, but I think it was time MI had a zombie story of its own. Even thought it is humor, I will do my best to keep them in character.
Genre(s): Parody, Humor, Horrorish, Drama, Adventure, Romance...okay, just about everything but Western, Spiritial and Angst.
Rating: T for the zombie bit...
Pairing(s): Nat/Con...and maybe another one a little later.
Just think about it...even if I do kill off a character, they'll always come back. XD
It's been a little over a year since I've started this story--and it's far from completed--but I've decided to go back through it and edit out all the small mistakes.
In Consideration
Of Prologues, Toast and Toes.
Most people just ate toast for breakfast.
Or cereal. Poptarts. Eggs.
No one ate three pounds of raw beef.
At least, Natalie was certain it was beef. Determining the stomach contents of a dead man was tricky business while trying not to touch it or breathe or...look at it.
Missouri was a uninteresting state. The people were uninteresting, the way they drove was uninteresting—dodging at best-- the way they spoke was uninteresting, even the way they looked was, well, boring. Really. In general, if it was related to Missouri, it was only worth a snooze.
That being said, nothing interesting was supposed to ever happen in Missouri. Granted, a few mutilating murders might occur in the backwoods throughout the year. Other than that, however, nothing resembling a synonym of worthwhile took the time to happen in that state, because it was so damn boring!
Fifteen sick patients, eleven dead patients, and stomach full of raw beef was strange--true--but Natalie had seen interesting and this certainly wasn't in the same ballpark.
Still, most people usually just ate toast for breakfast.
"Someone was hungry," Natalie managed to cough out, carefully depositing the stomach and contents into the appropriately labeled silver pan.
Someone was also shot in the forehead, mangled, and looking a tad bit gray that morning, but the disease pathologist figured that stating the obvious to a corpse would not help make it feel better.
Ignoring the permanent snarl on the dead man's face, Natalie took a closer look at the hole in his forehead. Close range, a through-and-through--right between the eyes--a great shot really. Except one tiny problem...
"You were already dead when you were shot," Natalie mumbled, eyes narrowing in concentration as she took a closer look. No bruising, no blood splatter, just a perfect black circle standing out against gray skin. Looking at the expression on the man's face, she frowned.
Apparently someone had thought him dying wasn't enough.
Missouri was a strange state. It was the only place she had ever received a patient who had died of an illness first, shot second, then delivered to her by a farmer who claimed he happened to find the body in the middle of the road. From the tread mark on the guys leg, arm, and pelvis she was certain that the farmer had done more than just fin the body.
"Looks like you've had a bad day," she murmured, moving away from the body to probe once more at the contents of the stomach.
If it was one thing that made this case more annoying than interesting, it was the way the hospital was built, (creaking floorboards, flickering lights, a lot of soundproof glass, and what looked like a rodent problem was only the beginning of her list of complaints). Natalie had more.
For instance, the morgue. It was small. Tiny. Microscopic. Barely there. Eleven dead bodies, one living and breathing doctor, and a tiny morgue. The math was simple. Natalie was surrounded on all sides but one (she'd been smart enough to make a path to the door for navigational purposes) by dead people.
Eying the stomach contents more closely, Natalie moved it around looking for anything the man could have eaten that would have made him sick--other than the three pounds raw beef.
She was certain that medical school would have told her if Ecoli made humans spike a fever, hallucinate, lose blood circulation, slip into unexplainable hypothermia, and then die...
She supposed a human toe had no right being mixed in with all that raw beef.
It was a severed toe, of course.
And there was another.
And another.
(Rather like Pringles if you thought about it—once you pop, the fun don't stop).
Making a face, Natalie looked at the man who'd apparently had a bad day and then at his stomach once more. Something told her that the raw beef wasn't really raw beef, and by the state of decomposition and level of digestion, it had been eaten after the man had died of the illness but before he had been shot in the head and run over.
Resisting the urge to scratch her forehead, the doctor set her probe on the table beside the tray and maneuvered her way around the room until she was standing over a morgue slab that held unlucky Deceased-Patient Number Seven; dead since ten in the morning, sick sense the morning before that-- and after she made a quick check under the sheet that covered his body--missing a foot. Maybe the poor guy hadn't been lying to Miles when he said his neighbor tried to eat him. They had all just assumed he'd lost the foot while mowing his lawn (or wrestling a bear).
Looking back toward the man on the metal autopsy table, Natalie bit her lower lip and squinted, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain this to her boss without sounding crazy.
Lowering the sheet back over patient number seven's leg, Natalie shuffled four feet to her right and gripped the end of the sheet covering his face. Maybe she shouldn't wait another hour or so before doing this man's autopsy...especially since his foot had ended up halfway digested in a dead man's stomach.
Lifting the sheet, Natalie peered down over her mask.
She was fairly certain that corpses were NOT suppose to blink.
Or growl.
Or look at her like she would make a good afternoon snack.
Well, that was fairly interesting...