Run, Fatty (Part 3)

After waking up in a morgue, two team mates search for answers.

Deep inside a morgue, a medical examiner had been about to make an incision on the chest of the body in front of him when all of a sudden, the body jerked slightly. He paused, knowing it was only postmortem twitches, before lowering his scalpel to the pale skin once again. He made a clean cut, dragging the surgical instrument towards himself and across the width of the body's torso. That's when he happened to glance up at the body's face and froze.

The once closed eyes now stared back, a deep emerald green. The examiner shuddered and reached forward to close them. But then the mouth moved. The movement was so minuscule that the examiner barely noticed. The light raspy voice however, he couldn't miss.

"Ouch."
The sound that escaped the examiners mouth wasn't quite like the normal sound a fully grown male should make. The high-pitched squeal came bursting forth as he jumped backwards, miss-judged his footing and landed square on his rear.
He began to whimper as the body slowly sat up, muscles tensing under blotchy white flesh.
The examiner hurriedly scuffled backwards as the supposedly deceased man continued to rise and flinched as his hand brushed the cold steel of the freezer door behind him. The man now dangled his bare pale legs over the edge of the metal operating slate.

The surgeon held his breath as the man cast his drowsy green eyes over his own body. Tenderly, the examiner lifted himself up onto his hands and dragged himself towards the main doors. Inch by inch he managed, a sweat breaking out on his already damp forehead. His eyes were trained on the man, weary for any sign of movement or awareness.

The surgeon was nearly half a meter from the freezer at his back when he noticed the head of the body begin to turn. With a barely audible crunch, the head rotated until it faced the surgeon.
"Would you... mind... helping me out?"
It's voice was no longer a painful whisper but low and gravelly. The examiner began to shake, limbs trembling beneath his snow white lab coat. Then he slowly raised his hands to his head, fell to his side, and curled up into the fetal position, unintelligible mumblings escaping from his chattering mouth.
The man on the table shook his head and gently lowered himself to the floor. Suddenly he clutched a hand to his chest, face scrunched in pain as he doubled over, one hand shakily gripping the operating table.
The surgeon’s mutterings were abruptly interrupted by a dull fleshy thunk as the freezer door was shoved open from the inside.
The surgeon’s head lolled as his unconscious body was forcefully pushed out of the way.

"God damn. F*****g thing's impossible to open from the inside."
Through the freezer door, accompanied by a wave of fog, stepped Dean Locke. His naked body was ghostly white and his bright blonde stood on end atop his head.
His most noticeable feature wasn't his playful brown eyes nor was it his abnormally large unmentionable. It was in fact, the large and angry puckered red line under his right rib which was heavily patterned with staples.

Locke looked down at the crumpled body of the examiner.
"Oops," he grinned. He then stole a glance at his teammate Christopher Keep who stood leaning heavily on the operating table, eyes screwed tight. "Chris?" He advanced and proceeded to lightly slap his friend's face. "Hey Chris, you with me?"
Keep peeled his eyes open.
"Dean? Where the hell did you come from? Also, where the f**k are we?" Locke jerked a thumb to the freezer behind him.
"I was shot," Keep muttered as he ran a hand over the roughly stapled wound on his left shoulder. Then he noticed his feet.
Secured around his right big toe was a laminated yellow tag. He reached down to grab it and snickered when he pulled it off.
"Christopher Keep. Time of death-Wait... Time of death? I DIED?" He ran his hand through his hair, looking incredibly tired. "What. The. F**k."
Locke patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Hey, I died too," he said whilst waving his own toe tag in front of Keep's face. "What I don't get is where the others are. I searched all the bodies in the freezer, but they weren't there." He walked over to a small set of cabinets at the far end of the room, searched around and pulled back, a frown on his face. "There aren't even clothes here."
Keep glanced over at the unconscious morgue surgeon.
"Dibs on the guy's gear," he said as he made his way to the floored man.

Keep pulled on the examiner's pants, which were obviously a couple of sizes too small. "Christ, I'm suffocating in these," he groaned while pulling up his new fly. He looked over at Locke who was pacing furiously from one end of the room to the other. He then looked below Locke's waist and cringed. "Oh come on Dean, at least put on his lab coat or something."
Locke paused his intense pacing and sneered at Keep.
"You're just jealous that mine's so much larger than yours." Keep rolled his eyes.
"Grow up, Dean. We have to find out where the others are. If they're like us, then they're probably awake already." He scratched his neck. "What I don't get is why they separated us."
Locke shrugged and gestured at the door.
"Smallest first," with a smirk on his face. Keep flipped him the finger and stormed out the door with a chuckling Locke following close behind.

Keep's hand barred Locke's way to the reception hall.
"What are we gonna' do? We can't just walk out of here. We're supposed to be dead." A light went on in Locke's head, his eye's twinkling mischievously.
"Leave it to me," as he pushed past Keep's outstretched arm.
"Wait! Dean!" He frantically reached out for him but Locke was already out of arms reach. Then Keep realized what Locke was about to do and gently rubbed his temples. "S**t."

Mona Reece tapped away on her keyboard, wishing she was somewhere else. Rome would be lovely, she thought as she created another surgery time for Dr. Hammond. The sun, the sights, the attractive foreign men. She sighed dramatically and glanced towards the vending machine. She smiled lightly and got out of her seat. Dr. Hammond wouldn't mind if she ate on the job.

She inserted her coins and stabbed the buttons, whistling softly as the whirring of the vending machine began. She watched as her bagged chocolate muffin was gently pushed towards the void. Then she glanced to her right, hearing footsteps.
"Dr. Hammond? Finished so early? I didn't know-" She gasped as she cast her eyes on the naked figure that definitely wasn't Dr. Hammond. "Oh god," she stuttered as she stumbled back towards her desk.

The man was pale with a stapled covered wound under his ribs. Mona shivered. Have we made a mistake? Then she glanced at his face. The wild brown, bloodshot eyes. The drool that leaked out the corner of his open mouth as he dragged his heavy feet towards her. A zombie?
"Oh-oh God. I'm not prepared. I-I don't want to die-" Her sentence was cut off as she collapsed in a heap.
The zombie strolled up, assuming a new posture, and looked down at the unfortunate woman. It then looked back at the man hiding in the corridor and gave him the thumbs up.

Keep emerged from his hiding place shaking his head. Locke grinned at him from beside the fallen receptionist.
"Wasn't that just amazing?"
"No, Dean. No, it wasn't."
Dean pouted and turned towards the main entrance with a huff.

The two of them stood outside, Keep in only a pair of pants and Locke in nothing. The darkness fully consumed them as the mortuary door clanged shut behind them. It was silent for a few seconds before someone spoke.
"So, Mr Unimpressed. What do we do now? I'm freezing my nuts off."
Keep ignored Locke's snarky remark.
"We find the police station that was closest to the place where we were supposedly 'killed'. Then we search their records for Brendy and the others."
Locke shrugged.
"Fine. Can we at least grab me some clothes first?”
In the gloom, Keep smiled.
“Yeah, I’ve got an idea.”

The pair walked for a good twenty minutes before Locke stopped.
“Hey, the shops aren’t even open around here.”
“I know. It should be just down the next street,” Keep said as he urged Locke on, the sadistic grin still plastered to his face.

The street was absolutely flooded with neon lights and massive advertising signs. Blow up dolls and whips lined the display windows, cheap perfume and diesel lingered in the night. Further down, a cluster of under-dressed women displayed their goods.
Locke paused and chuckled. “Nice one, Chris. Now let’s find a place that’s G rated.” Keep didn’t return the smile.
“Stand over there,” he commanded whilst indicating to a flickering streetlight a couple of meters away from them.
“You can’t be serious,” Locke giggled.
“Stand over there before I f**k you up.”
Locke raised his hands in defeat.
“Woah. Look,” he trudged over and stood under the street lamp. “I’m here.”
“Now we wait.”
“For?”
Keep didn’t reply.

For several minutes they waited, Keep observing a shivering Locke. Down the street, the hussies bickered and pointed.
“Hey honey,” one of them shouted. “You lookin’ for a good time?” She strolled up the street, greasy black bangs draped over bony, jutting shoulders. Her low-cut top crushed her massive breasts against her visible rib cage while her flimsy mini skirt rode higher with each step. A couple of steps away, she stopped.
“Babe,” she snickered, “You look a little cold.”
Locke’s pale face turned crimson as he covered himself. “You know,” she breathed through chapped, cherry-coloured lips. “I could warm you right up, for a small price.”
“U-uh, no thanks.” Locke stepped backwards and she followed, reaching out a dirty hand and running it smoothly over his chest. After she saw that he didn’t respond, she began to move her hand, inching ever closer to Locke’s groin when a hand roughly grabbed hers and she looked up, startled.
“What-”
But it wasn’t the cute boy that she had been about to get a hold of. It was another guy, equally as handsome. She felt his deep green eyes rake over her body and she shivered. This one was hot. “Oh, you too huh?” She removed her hand from Locke’s chest and made to stroke the new-comer’s face, but he saw it coming and dodged her hand.
“Sorry, Ma’am. We bat for the other team,” he stated and shot her a feminine wink. She gasped and snatched her hand back, turned on her heel, and returned to her squabbling pose.

Locke frowned.
“‘Other team’? What the f**k are you going on about-”
He paused when a very expensive car pulled up beside them. The tinted window buzzed down to reveal a large, overweight Asian man.
“How much you pay?”
Locke cringed inwardly as he saw the man eye him up.
“Uh-”
“Three-twenty an hour,” Keep said, draping his arm around Locke’s shoulders. The man’s eyes widened.
“Three-twenty!?”
Keep held out his hand.
“Hey, he’s good at both ends. That’s why he’s so expensive.” Locke’s head whipped to Keep, eyes narrowed.
“What the hell are you doing-” Keep smoothly covered his mouth with one hand and held out the other to the car.
“Three-twenty or nothing.”
The ‘customer’ scowled but soon enough, Keep’s hand was overflowing with crisp notes. He smiled lightly. “Ah, four hours, huh?”
Locke’s jaw dropped. “Well,” he said whilst shoving Locke into the plush leather passenger seat. “I’ll be waiting here when he finishes with you. Make sure you drive by.”
Wink.
Then he nodded at the man, slammed the door and disappeared.

Locke slowly faced the front as the car drove off, cursing Keep. So this was his plan, he thought between obscene swearwords. He glanced at the fat man beside him and the expensive clothes that he wore.
Alright then, Chris, have it your way, he thought.

At least the car was heated.

A few minutes later he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the large sweaty paw rest on his upper thigh. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
Keep going, Dean. Just a little longer, he told himself.
But then the hand began to move closer and closer to where it wasn’t wanted. Having tolerated more than he could endure, Locke finally gave up. He smacked the man’s hand away and turned on him.
“Do not touch my junk,” he snarled.
The surprised expression on the man’s face was replaced by anger.
“Shut up, I pay for you. You no choice.”
With that the man reached over again and took a firm grip on what he payed for. Locke bared his teeth and pulled back his fist.
“Don’t.”
Punch.
“Touch.”
Punch.
“My.”
Punch.
“Junk!”
The car swerved wildly onto the opposite lane as the man’s head smacked against the driver’s window, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Car horns blared as the car swayed dangerously close to colliding with an oncoming vehicle.

After removing the man’s hand, he reached over and securely gripped the steering wheel, righting the car. He muttered angrily to himself as he swerved the car around, the whine of a car horn echoing after him.
He buzzed down the window, flipped the finger and headed back towards Keep.

Keep stood back and grinned as he watched the helpless Locke being driven away. He furiously rubbed his arms and sighed as he felt goosebumps beneath his hands.
Hopefully Locke wouldn't get carried away, he thought as he leaned his bare back against the cool, mossy brick building behind him.

As time passed he ignored the jeers and comments of the women down the street. They disgusted him. Selling themselves for whatever reason was down-grading and he scowled in their general direction. But suddenly his gaze softened as he thought about Aislinn.

Keep had met his girlfriend on one cold and rainy night. He had been driving back to the gang with some Chinese when his headlights shone on her retreating form. He hadn't felt anything for her then, just his normal courtesy towards a woman walking in the rain, and he slowed down to a crawl.
Winding down his window, he called out.
"Hey, you okay?"
Her skimpy clothing was plastered to her body, long brown hair stuck to her face. Her dark eyes narrowed as she eyed him through the pouring rain.
"Fine," as she kept on walking.
"'You sure? Need a ride?" Her head turned in a shower of water.
"NO. I'M NOT A S**T. F**K OFF, A*****E!" She stormed off into the gloom, fists swinging violently at her sides.
Keep had sat there, car stalled as he watched her walk away.
Before she could get too far, he sped up and once again, drove beside her.
"Oi, just let me give you a lift-"
"F**K OFF."
Keep ground his teeth.
"I promise I won't try anything. Just let me give you a lift."
She paused and looked at him, biting her bottom lip. After a long thought, she climbed reluctantly into the back seat. As her door shut, there was silence and she awkwardly looked out the window until Keep spoke.
"So, where do you wanna' go?"
She shuffled closer to the door, her eyes on the handle.
"Don't try anything or I swear I'll-"
Keep laughed as he raised his hands.
"Hey, it's cool. Just a lift. That's all."
With her eyes still full of skepticism, she folded her arms.
"The mall."
Keep glanced back at her in the rear-view mirror.
"If I recall, the mall's normally closed at two in the morning."
She scowled back at him.
"Just take me to the mall."
"Do you have a place to stay?"
She looked up, surprised.
"What?"
"I said, do you have a place to stay?"
"Of course I have a f*****g place to stay!"
"I'll rent a hotel room for you, just for a week."
"W-What?"
The only reply she got was the car lurching forward.

Both passenger and driver were silent for the majority of the trip until Keep pulled up beside a smart looking hotel.
The girl sat awkwardly in the car as Keep got out and rushed through the rain to the main doors. A few minutes later he re-appeared in the doorway, a bright halo illuminating his head like a crown as he gestured towards her.
She hugged herself, savouring the car's warmth before she stumbled out into the rain where she was instantly soaked to the skin.
When she finally made her way to the door, she felt a jacket being draped around her shoulders and she looked up, only to be confronted with a key-card and a receipt.

Keep thrust them into her dripping hands with a smile.
"A week. I ordered dinner for you, though I wasn't quite sure if you liked burgers," he added as he brushed his wet hair from his eyes."
She was speechless as he patted her shoulder on his way out.
She stood, dripping onto the plush, fluffy blue carpet as she watched him drive away.
Clutching his still-warm jacket closer around her, she searched for her room.

As Keep drove home, the rain pelted his windscreen as he thought about what he'd just done.
This had never happened with anyone else. It was just meant to be a lift. He wasn't meant to book a hotel room, and now he'd lost his favourite jacket. What was wrong with him?

A week later, he returned home from a tiring mission with a teammate; Zachariah Troy, to find a crumpled figure slumped on his doorstep.
Cautiously he lowered his luggage and crept forward.
In the glow of the setting sun, he managed to make out her features and nudged her with his foot.
"Hey, you're on my doorstep."
"Huh-Ah!" She clumsily got to her feet, steadying herself against his door.
The girl looked at the ground for a second before she thrust out her hands, in which she held his bundled jacket.
"Sorry, it's a little crumpled," she added shyly, scuffing her feet.
He accepted his jacket and unfurled it, folding it quickly soon after. Unfold and fold again. Unfold, fold-
"Hey, I was wondering.. If you'd like to, I dunno', go to a movie?" He looked inquiringly at her.
She was quiet before she burst out laughing. Wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye, she replied.
"Are you fully serious?"
"Well yeah, I am."
She was solemn as she bit her bottom lip.
"I dunno'. I don't even know you. You could be some kind of serial killer or something."
"Come on, please?"
She sighed.
"Fine."
Keep grinned and led her to his car.

As the days went by, they grew closer, able to recall almost anything about the other.
Keep found out that nineteen year old Aislinn Weatherly was from a violent family. After receiving countless beatings, her father had sold her to work on the street, which she explained, with shame tinting her eyes, had been less than pleasant.
The day she'd walked was the day they'd met.
A couple of months later, Keep asked Aislinn to move in with him. Although she was rather reluctant, he could see that she now loved him as much as he loved her.
That was two years ago and he cherished those precious moments with her.

He was violently jolted from the sweet past as a wall of cold, brownish water washed over him.
He glared through the droplets as the culprit reversed skillfully back to his side.
The door was flung open, a large, naked and clearly unconscious man tumbling out onto the cobbled street.
Revealed in the driving seat was a smart but loosely dressed Locke, an innocent look upon his face.

As Keep slid into the passenger seat he received a punch in the shoulder from Locke.
"F**k you, Chris."
"Hey, it got us cash, a car and some clothes. Deal with it," he said as he angrily held his hands over the heater.
"Say Chris, " Locke said slyly. "Who were you thinkin' about back there? I was pretty sure I saw a massive boner-"
"Drive, Locke."
Locke shrugged and pumped the pedal.
"That Aislinn hottie, aye?"
"Dean."
Locke snickered. "Yeah, yeah."

As they powered off towards the highway, their unfortunate customer sat up, groggily wondering where his car was and why the hell he was naked.

It was at least an hour before the pair arrived outside the hotel where they had been shot. The once bright, neon sign: 'Pete's Haven', now hung dark and hollow, yellow police tape cordoning off the main entrance.

Locke peered up at their floor from the drivers seat.

"You think our stuff will still be there?"

Keep shook his head, "Nah, doubt it," he said as he looked at the surrounding area. "Come on, there should be a cop station somewhere around here with some information."

A steady breeze whipped the exterior of the car as it powered through the city and it wasn't long before they pulled up beside a slate-grey building. Tucked between two towering skyscrapers, the police station stood out, a small one story with a subtle threats about drugs upon a couple of weathered billboards.

Parking their car a few blocks down, Locke killed the engine and grabbed a small emergency flash light from the glove box. Exiting the car, they walked casually towards the station, just a couple of good mates out for an early morning stroll. At half past four.

As they neared the building, Keep slowed to a crawl, parking himself against a rusting lamp post, his eyes sharp as he watched over the street as Locke slipped into an alleyway.

He circled the building, weaving his way through trash cans and used condoms before he returned to Keep.

"Give me a lift," he said as he gestured for Keep to follow.

As Locke pointed up to a open window a couple of meters above him, Keep lowered himself onto one knee, positioning his hands, palm up, on top. Stepping onto Keep's waiting hands, Locke reached towards the window which was just out of his reach.

"Higher, Chris," he muttered.

Keep grunted as he adjusted his limbs, Locke inching closer.

His hands grazed the cold granite as Locke took grip of the ledge, hauling himself up and into the black hole, his body ceased disappearing just short of his hips. "F**k, it smells like s**t in here," his dull muttering echoed out to the alley.

Outside, Keep stood, dusting his knees and hands.

"Unlock the door, if you can. Now would be good."

"Yeah yeah," Locke replied as one of his legs struggled in behind him. "Ah, f**k-"

Suddenly the remainder of Locke's body disappeared through the window, followed by a watery thud.

"...Dean?" Keep hissed at the window and after a few moments, Locke replied.

"Yeah, just f*****g peachy."

"Well if you had stopped pissing about, I would be inside by now."

"God damn, Chris, hold on for a sec."

Minutes later, Keep's ears twitched as he heard the sound of a lock being delicately flipped and further down, Locke's head protruded from a now open door, arm waving him over.

Keep wearily eyed the security cameras, their ominous red lights like cyborg eyes.

"We really should smash those," he said.

Locke shrugged as he rummaged through an aged green filing cabinet, the flash light held between his jaw and shoulder.

"S**t. Nothing. Just normal robbery cases and small time deals." He turned and surveyed the room, his eyes landing on a shiny brass plaque: "Chief M. Leatre."

Jerking his thumb towards the office, Locke weaved through the maze of cluttered desks, Keep close behind.

Painfully slow, they began to examine the room and having searched the drawers and cabinets, they found nothing related to their case. Closing one of said draws, Keep's eyes landed on the largest piece of furniture in the room. Despite the rest of the impeccably clean office, the large mahogany desk was littered with paper and folders.

Locke groaned as he skimmed over the contents of a folder, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder when he was finished.

"Oh, Dean, come on. We'll have to clean that up after," Keep sighed from his side, aiming the flash light over Locke's shoulder.

"This is so damn boring though," he whined.

"Grow up, Dean."

"F**k you-"

"Shh!" Keep's hand whipped over to Locke's mouth, muffling the rest of his unnecessary insult as he clicked off the flash light. Locke was silent as he tuned his ears. "Did you hear that?"

Locke shook his head. "Sounded like glass-"

Suddenly the office door was flung wide open, light pouring into the room via a strong beam of light. Having adjusted to the soft light of their own flash light, the two men covered their temporarily blinded eyes with raised arms.

"FREEZE," a deep male voice boomed out.

"Who the f**k are you?" Another male.

Keep and Locke hurriedly raised their hands to the air as they heard the safety of a gun being flicked off.

"Morning, Officer," Keep spoke, his squinting eyes not leaving the shiny envelope opener on the desk. "My friend and I can explain."