The timer dings next to my head pulling me out of a dream where I was trying to explain to my dog why it was not cheating to pat other dogs.

As consciousness slowly returns I look around; painfully white tiles, unfeeling little metal doors lining one wall, the overwhelming stench of industrial disinfectant.

Ahh yes, that’s right, time to let him out.

Fighting my way out of the uncomfortable chair I had fallen asleep in, Dr Kim was too tight fisted to buy anything nice, I made my way across the morgue to the array of drawers. Opening one I slide out the tray inside with an old mans body on it, a sheet covering all but his head.

Thumbing back the eyelids, nothing yet. I always set the alarm to wake me a bit before the 24 hour mark to avoid the almost bowel emptying surprise I got when I had the timing wrong. Nothing gets the heart started like being shook awake by a cold hand in a silent morgue.

Moving to the bench on the other side I begin laying out the clothes I had already picked out of our charity bin.

Mickey is not a snappy dresser at the best of times and he really doesn’t care what he wears. Hell, he would probably walk out of here naked if I let him. I thought for a moment about what would happen if someone saw a scarred naked old man leaving a morgue late at night. I laughed to myself. That would be fantastic.

Also, I don’t need to see anymore of his ding-dong than I already have. Which is already way too much for my liking.

There is a stirring sound from the tray.

“Evening Mikey.” I call out without bothering to turn around.

“Warbble-glub.” is what I get in return.

Like most old men he takes a while to get going after waking up.

I nod like I understood him and bring the clothes over and watch while he struggles to get upright. Hard to do on one of the trays, they were never designed for living people to be on them. Once he is dangling his legs off the side I hand over the clothes, “Here you go. What did you do this time?”

He looks at me, those icy blue eyes can freeze a man to the spot. I have seen it happen. I just glance at the new scar that has now joined the network of others covering his body. I take a moment to feel pride at a job well done. I also reflect that humans are insane, we can get used to anything.

Mikey snatches the clothes off me, well he tries to, it is like being assaulted by porridge.

I let him have the clothes and return to my desk and start the process of erasing the fact that a corpse showed up here. I should have done this when he arrived but Dr Kim, the head of the morgue, was the one who admitted Mikey and would have noticed if I did it right away.

Away a few minutes I had finished and so had Mikey who had gotten control of his voice back.

“Pint?” He asked.

“Pint” I agreed.

Sitting across from the now fully ambulatory Mikey I realised that the clothes I had picked for him looked absolutely ridiculous. I don’t really try to co-ordinate his fashion or anything like that but…His old face was drooping and disappeared into a shirt so ruffled that even a flamboyant pirate would saw ‘ahhh nah, little too much lace for me thanks’. The pants were closer to pantaloons, billowing out to flares that Mikey had stuffed into well worn steel-toed work boots.

Mikey didn’t care though.

We cheers’ed and he sunk half his pint in one go. I was much slower.

“Any idea what happened this time Mikey?” I inquired. I did look forward to our chats even if it meant that he had to die for them. There was something formidable about him, an unbending strength that had nothing to do with the fact that he kept coming back to life. I wish I had known him before his new life as a zombie.

He wiped the foam off his upper lip and sighed contentedly.

“Not sure, I was looking into that rumour of that new drug, Flake, coming into the streets. I think I was somewhere down in the docks area. Where did they find my body?”

“Yeah, down there. Stab wound, directly through the rib cage into your heart.” I answered. I remember when this used to freak me out. The first time he came back to life I was an intern at the morgue.

I was working late in the morgue by myself when a knocking sound came from inside one of the cabinets. I didn’t know much about working in a morgue back when I had started out but I was damn sure you were not supposed to hear ‘excuse me?’ coming from the tray with the corpse you had sewn up earlier. I had mustered all my courage and opened the door to the tray.

Coming face to face with the corpse of the old man I had worked on, well, I proceeded to bravely pass out on the floor.

That was how we met, neither Mikey nor I know what the hell is going on with him. His body is exactly like anyone else. Its just that now, no matter how he dies he always springs back to life after 24 hours exactly. It has become our routine as he has taken this new life, as it were, in stride.

He is not invulnerable, he does not have super strength, super speed, or anything else we can tell. He is still just a man in his 50’s with heart burn and a dicky knee that acts up when it rains. But he always comes back.

He settles his pint mug on the table bringing me back to the conversation.

“They must have known I was on their trail. Damn, maybe I can come up with a disguise and check it out.”

Ever since the first time it happened he has treated this new gift like he was an ageing avenging angel. He had no ties before and a shitty job working at a mortgage company. Now? He spends his time tracking down what he classes as ‘bad guys’ and takes them out. Not to dinner, he has learned a terrifying amount of ways someone can be killed.

Usually first hand.

But he is relentless. Sure they could kill him but he always came back for them. Again and again. He is called so many different names on the streets, mostly knock off superhero names. He has become the stuff of legends. Most of the gangs have cleared out and it is usually enough when someone finds out that Mikey is on their trail. No one wants to be constantly looking over their shoulder for an old man shuffling determinedly towards them.

“Thanks again. I best be off, need to keep it up now they know I found ‘em’ Mikey says as he finishes his pint. I watch him lever himself up, he was getting slower and older each time. Nodding his thanks to me he wanders out the door, a steel-toed, flamboyant pirate avenging angel.

Left alone my thoughts turned to the same place they had for quite some time now. Sure, he was doing good work. I think. But what happens when he dies of old age? Does he keep coming back just to die again?

I shake myself and raise my pint.

To Mikey, may he avenge forever.