The Mind of a Mysterious Corpse

A Story by Brandon Miley

Detective William Schroeder is the best in his department but he has a secret. He can enter the minds of the dead. This blessing turns into a curse with his newest case.

Detective William Schroeder had always been an excellent detective. His office hung with dozens of glamourous commendations and illustrious badges. He was nominated top detective of New York City over five times. He had even had his name in the paper a few times. But William had a secret, one that helped him solve cases, one that nobody knew.

He could enter the memories of the dead. All he needed was to touch the corpse.

“What’s the situation officer?” William said, pushing through the wall of police and bystanders blocking the tight alley.

"F-first may I say what an honor it is to work with the esteemed Detective Schroeder!" The man stammered out, following closely behind Will like a puppy.

William stopped in the middle of the crowd, turning to face the timid man clad in his blue police uniform.

"Officer Lance." William said glancing at the man's nametag. "I'm here for the investigation. I don't particularly care how you feel about me." Lance's eyes grew wide. "Now, details." William said, continuing his gait.

"Uh... yes sir." Lance stammered out. “Caucasian male, early sixties from our guess. Found with a bullet hole through his abdomen and scorch marks across his body.” Officer Lance explained, struggling to keep up with Will’s brisk pace.

William finally cleared the crowed and ducking under a yellow police line, finally entered the alley. Will's footfalls were accompanied by the sound of water dripping in the distance. The darkness of the alley was revealed by flashing blue and red police lights.

The pale moonlight shone on a lonely corpse lying face-down on the concrete, blood caked on it’s burned and tattered coat. Flesh had been melted from several spot on the body. William's nose scrunched as he smelled the acrid scent of burned hair and flesh. Officer Lance averted his gaze.

“Any witnesses?” William asked, kneeling beside the body, feeling the damp, cold stone against his knee.

“None sir. There were some bar patrons that said they heard a large bang and flash of light but figured it was just some kids with fireworks.”

William studied the corpse, the murmuring of the crowd fading as he focused. Burns all over the body, half of the clothes and been burned off. What could do this? Certainly not fire? The bullet had gone clear through his abdomen, but hadn’t been what killed him, his hand still clutched the entry wound.

The surrounding concrete was scorched, black lines of soot left etched into the immovable surface, as though an explosion had occurred.

“Officer, make sure nobody interrupts me.” William said.

Officer Lance’s face was written with confusion. “ But sir it’s an ope-”

“Just make sure everyone leaves me alone.” Will cut Lance off. "I need to focus."

Lance jumped. “Yes sir.” He hurried away, his frantic footsteps echoing across the narrow corridor.

Will sighed as he watched Lance scurry away. “Okay, let’s see who you were.”

William placed a hand gently upon the corpse's back, it’s charred skin rough against Will’s palm. The feeling of the dead flesh sent a shock wave through him.

Will’s chest felt like an out of control motor the way it beat in his chest. Breathes came quicker and quicker and the dim streetlights began to fade into darkness as the cold recent memory took him.

Will gasped in the stale air as he awoke. The air hung heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and a dim line of light penetrated the darkness from a cracked doorway. Will noticed that much of the room had seen better days, paint was peeling from the wall, furniture was turned over and numerous picture frames had glazed over with dust.

A pang of familiarity shook Will’s chest. Where am I? He pondered, standing shakily.

The muffled sounds of a TV program could be heard through the door, droning on as an infomercial could be heard on the edge of hearing.

Suddenly a shook the walls, sending pieces of peeled paint flying from the walls. A pair of footsteps hurriedly echoed through the next room.

His breathing slowing, Will inched towards the door, trying to ease into the steps as each one sent a floorboard squealing.

Shouts erupted from the other room, each sharply directed at one individual.

“We finally found you old man!” A youthful male voice growled.

Will slowly pulled the door open, his heart yelping as the rusted bolts squealed softly. More sickly yellow light spilled into the dark room, the scent of stale cigarettes grew as more smoke poured in.

“So you have” Replied an elderly voice. “Remind me why I should give a damn?”

Will inched the door open more and more, gaining a view into the adjacent room. Two men in strange outfits he had never seen before held an older man up at gunpoint.

“You really don’t remember us?” The man with the gun demanded, his angular face lit with anger. “You used that damn time manipulator to kill our mother!”

“We we’re only kids then, but we remember.” The second consented, his voice more somber than his brother’s. His face was similar to the gunman, only he sported shorter charcoal hair to his brother’s long hair.

“If you’re talking about Jeanne, it had to be done. Dozens of lives were on the line.” The old man replied coldly, not meeting the men’s eyes.

Will shifted into the dim, yellow room, a tv flickered shades of blue across the scene. Confident that they could not see him, Will moved closer to the men, taking the time to study them. They were draped with large black cloaks, hoods hanging behind their heads. The gunman held a well polished pistol, a 1911 Will reckoned.

“Keep telling yourself that lie old man! Help was on the way, we’ve been over the files!” The gunman shouted.

“The was no pressing need for you to kill her.” The somber one continue his brother’s sentence.

“Look kids, I’ve been a detective for over 35 years, there are decisions you have to make out there.” His voice crackled off. “Choices you have to live with.”

Will looked at the man, far different from his charred corpse in the future. His square face was lined with decades of stress and pain. His hazel eyes were deep and hard. His grizzled face doted with unshaved gray. HIs hair was faded charcoal.

Will felt a pang of dread upon looking at his face, and one of familiarity. Why does he look so familiar? Will thought.

“Enough! You made your decision, now I’m making ours!” The gunman shouted, aiming his gun directly at the old man.

Will saw the split-second decision the man made, the trigger slowly tightening, the old man reaching into his coat pocket.

A brilliant flash of light enveloped the room as the gunman pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoed through the room, so close it was like a bomb going off to Will . When Will’s eyes readjusted, all that remained of the man was a scorched couch, covered in blood.

“He got away.” The somber man noticed. Kicking the charred couch.

“No, he may have used the device, but without the proper countdown and rituals, he’s gonna die from exposure to the time line.” The gunman holstered his weapon, his hazel eyes seemed remorseful. “William Schroeder is dead.”

The last line hit Will like a truck. William Schroeder? Surely they’re mistaken? How could that be me?

Will had no further time to contemplate as the darkness settled in, his body grew cold and senses failed him. When next he awoke, red and blue lights filled the darkness of the alley. He heard the murmur of police chatter all around him. His hand was still placed on the dead man’s charred skin.

William hurriedly searched the man’s pockets, shuffling the corpse onto it’s side, peeling it from the stone.

“H-hey! Detective, you can’t do that! This is still an active crime scene!” Officer Lance ran up to him. He grabbed Will’s shoulder, attempting to pull him off.

“Get away! There’s something I need to see.” Will pushed the officer away.

His fingers touched what he wanted. Will pulled out a leather wallet, old and wrinkled from the pocket. The inside contained dozens of cards but he was after one thing.

Will’s breathes came quicker now, his heart pounding. He knew what he would find even before he did. It all fit together, his detective mind was doing what it had done dozens of times before, he was seeing the truth.

He produced an old, wrinkled but well cared for photograph. In the picture was a woman, fiery eyes matched only by a head of sunset hair. In her arms were two small boys, barely older than one and beside her was a man square of face, sporting a leather jacket and a wide smile.

It was William.