Chapter Four: Nightshift Ghosts
Lincoln was plagued by unanswered questions, the most pressing being his new role at Dr. Cook's morgue center. The job terrified him, and he struggled to understand how others worked so effortlessly in such a grim environment.
His mantra—"The job must be done now or never"—kept him going. Weeks into the role, he still couldn't identify any other motivation.
Two nights ago, his experience had been particularly terrifying. Sleep had become elusive due to recurring nightmares, possibly induced by working night shifts.
One early morning, a strange breeze swept through the morgue. It rustled window blinds and scattered papers. It stopped briefly, only to return with greater force. Alarmed, Lincoln woke his colleague Pete.
"Didn't you feel that?" Lincoln asked.
Pete responded dismissively. "It's just the spirit of a corpse who died young. It's said that souls of those who die untimely deaths wander in frustration."
Lincoln scoffed. "That's just a myth. There's no science behind that."
"Then explain the breeze," Pete challenged.
Before they could continue, an eerie sound, like a peacock's call, echoed from the corpse room. Objects shook violently. A hum followed.
"Oh my God, am I alive or dead?" Lincoln exclaimed.
"Dead men don't talk," Pete replied sarcastically.
Lincoln was terrified. "Should we go and confront the corpse causing this?"
"You haven't seen anything yet," Pete warned. "Ghosts visit this place regularly."
Lincoln fell silent, overwhelmed with fear. His clothes drenched in sweat, he undressed for relief.
"Even Mary handles night shifts better than you," Pete teased.
Lincoln said nothing but silently prayed for dawn. Pete recounted his five years at the morgue, sharing chilling tales of ghostly visits and unexplained phenomena. Lincoln refused to believe it but was clearly shaken.
Dr. Cook hadn't heard from Lincoln in days. He respected the young man for his energy and reliability. The last contact had been when Lincoln collected his salary and benefits.
Lincoln had long hoped to transfer to Dr. Cook's mall. After recent traumatic experiences at the morgue, he became desperate for a change.
He often wondered if Dr. Cook knew about the supposed ghost sightings at the morgue. Surely, he would have addressed it. If he hadn't, perhaps it was all fiction.
Rather than returning home after another horrifying night, Lincoln went straight to Dr. Cook's office. He needed answers and hoped to confirm whether the tales were true or simply hallucinations.
He knew showing up at Cook's home would be unprofessional. The mall was the best place to make his case—and perhaps finally secure the transfer he had always dreamed of.