Immortal Being

October Short Story 2025 - Sci-Fi - A. E. Costello

Immortal Being

I woke up in a body bag, laying flat on an ice-cold tray. I scrunched my face, and winced as a bullet squirmed its way out of my forehead, and skittered over my cheek. Ah, who killed me this time? It would take some time to remember my death, especially with a traumatic brain injury like a bullet blasting through the soft gray tissues of my mind the faster than the speed of sound.

I tried to sit up, and hit my head. Dammit. I’m inside a refrigeration unit. A morgue. Doesn’t seem like I’ve been embalmed. Or autopsied. The tickling sensation might have woken me up sooner.

I laid back down, and scooted, then began kicking. I broke open the door of the unit, and wiggled my way out of there. I tore open the body bag, and plucked off the toe tag.

“What the hell is going on?!”

The door burst open, and two people ran in at all the noise I was making, looked like the medical examiner and an assistant.

I was standing there in my death-day suit with the ruins of my body bag around my feet, and fresh blood running down my forehead from the bullet exit wound.

I put my hands up for peace.

“Stay calm,” I said slowly and clearly. “Everything is fine.”

The assistant screamed shrilly. “Zombie! It’s a zombie! Fuck, shit! Zombie!”

“I’m not a zombie,” I said as calmly as possible. “Clearly I’m talking to you with logic and sense, and not groaning numbly for brains.”

The assistant stabbed his finger at me. “Vampire! You’re a vampire!”

“Ang!” I made a buzzer noise. “Wrong again. You get a third try. Hey. I’m standing here naked. Can I get the clothes I was wearing please?”

The medical examiner said in a quiet stilted voice, “You came from the ER as a DOA. Bullet wound at the front…the entire back of your head was gone. Brains blown. And now you’re standing here-”

“Naked,” I interjected firmly. “I’m standing here naked. Clothes. Now. Would be nice.”

“Necromancer!” The assistant yelled in this triumphant way. “You’re a necromancer!”

“Totally wrong,” I said, trying not to fully lose my temper. “Necromancers raise the dead, they aren’t undead themselves. If I have to ask for clothes one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

The medical examiner said, “The bag of your effects were by your legs inside the refrigeration unit.”

He pointed. “Seems like you’ve kicked the bag over there…while destroying your way out of the body bag.”

I looked over, saw the wrapped plastic bag, and went over, opening it, pulled out my clothes and began to get dressed, ignoring the fact that my shirt was covered in brains and skull fragments.

“Okay wait,” said the assistant, staring at me. “I did my three tries, now you have to tell me what you are! A ghoul? A ghost? A lich? Or a wight?”

I stood up dressed and sighed heavily then said, “How about human?”

The two said together, “Bullshit.”

I had to smile.

“I’m human,” I said. “And I only ever lie about one thing.”

The assistant said, “About being human.”

I put a finger up. “About being mortal. I’m a human. I’m simply not mortal. Watch.”

I looked around with interest at the morgue room I had woken up not-dead in. Most times when someone has decided to off me, and I wake up not-dead, I tend to be alone. Crawling my way out of a shallow grave in the woods, or sitting up straight in an abandoned corn field. My favorite waking up not-dead was when I woke up with my head facing a bloodied axe leaning on tree stump with the reflection on a mirrored edge showing my legs, arms and torso in separate areas. That’s when I learned I can survive being decapitated and dismembered. My body just pulls back together like popping off a Barbie doll’s limbs then popping them back into place. Fun times.

Here though…here was quite new. Tools, all sort of tools. Cutting instruments, bread boards, and chemical test strips. Jars and containers. Waxed string to sew up bodies. Curved needles that looked like upholstery needles. Trays and pans and chain mail gloves.

Yet what I picked up was a sharp instrument I didn’t know the name of. Maybe a scalpel? But it didn’t look like the scalpels I’ve seen on medical TV shows. The handle was thick and black for a firm grip, and the blade was long, like a foot long, and it was also several inches wide.

The medical examiner and assistant exclaimed fearfully and put up their hands and waved them around, acting and sounding like I was about to attack them.

“Oh its not for you,” I said, facing them. “See?”

I sunk the blade into my chest, into my heart, until the grip bruised my skin. Then I pulled it right out, blood pouring from the injury, and I pushed my shirt up so they could watch. The ruptured skin spurted out a few more drops of blood but that stopped as the meat bubbled and pulled back together, the skin slid up closed and in seconds, the injury was gone.

“There, good as new,” I said, wiping the blood off. “A simple stab wound like that heals within seconds. Being shot in the head knocked me out for a few hours, seeing as it took out the back of my cranial cavity.”

The assistant yelled again, “What about that is human?”

“I’m The Healer,” I said, my inflection putting emphasis on the title. “I’m the Healer. I can heal any injury, got it? I heal so well that I can’t die. Well, far as I see it, I just haven’t found the right type of injury that I can’t heal from yet. Anyway, the guessing game was fun and so was show-and-tell, but I gotta go. I just remembered who blew my brains out, and I should be on my way. They’ll probably be coming here to check that the deed was done, and since it’s not, they’ll attempt their second try and well, I’d rather not be around for that. Tootles.”

I dropped the blade on the floor, and headed out the exit doors, not looking back. I needed new clothes, stat. I checked the pockets of my dirtied pants, my wallet was gone. Did I get robbed after I was faux-murdered?

“Jake Murphy.”

I slowly turned around at the sound of my name. And not one of my countless pseuds. My birth name.

Standing against the wall by the exit door looked like a fed, some girl boss in a suit. She flipped a badge at me, too fast for me to read it, only enough for me to see a fancy silver shield.

“I’m Agent Leila López,” she said, as if I cared. “I work with Sector 17. Would you mind coming in with me?”

I said, “Are you the people who blew the back of my brains out?”

“No,” she said dryly. “But you won’t have to worry about those people if you come with me. As a plus, I’ll get you some new clothes on the way.”

I shrugged. It’s not like I had anything else to do.

With some new duds, I hopped in a ride with Agent López.

“So where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To Atkinson Bio-Systems and Genetic Engineering’s head lab,” she said. “Sector 17 has been tracking your movements but now Atkinson needs someone with your…talents.”

I rolled my eyes. So experimentation.

I said, “I’m not interested in being your little lab rat, lady.”

Agent López said, “I’ll let the Chief Control Officer explain what he needs from you. But far as I know, it’s a job they’d like to recruit you for, not experimentation.”

“Recruit?”

I looked out of the window as Agent López turned down a lane to the science facility. I could see the words AB-SGE on the sides of the building. Agent López drove us into an underground parking garage.

“Let’s head up,” she said. “Chief Control Officer Halbert Godwin is practically salivating to meet you.”

“Salivating,” I repeated. “Like he’s hungry to devour me? Like I said, experimentation, dissection.”

“Just hear what he has to say.”

Up the elevator, down the hall, I noticed how white, crisp and clean the place was. It was also heavily guarded by men in riot gear holding either guns or electric batons. Even the grounds had dogs on chains with guards patrolling.

I said dryly, “This is just a science lab?”

“Genetics lab,” said Agent López, taking out an identification card, and coding in on the door. The pad flashed green. “There are somethings that are best kept on the campus.”

“Prisoners,” I said.

“Government property,” she said, in a correcting tone with a small smile.

Maybe I should get the hell out of here.

The door opened.

Inside was a giant machine to the right, and to the left a massive control panel. There were about twenty lab coats inside, all rushing about, with clipboards and tablets, talking to each other, and collaborating. Only one looked up, and immediately looked at me.

Chief Control Officer Halbert Godwin I assume.

He rushed over, making me brace myself, but all he did was put his hands out for a shake. I slowly did, and he clasped my hand with both of his and shook heartily up and down.

“Jake Murphy,” he said eagerly and grinned widely, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “The man, the myth, the legend, himself! Right in front of me! It’s a honor, sir.”

Grossed out, I jerked my hand away from him.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Listen. I’m not signing up to be a lab rat, so let me out of here, Godwin.”

The CCO put his hands up peacefully.

“No lab rat, not at all,” he said with a grin. “How does interdimensional traveler sound?”

I stared at him, then slowly looked at the giant machine. In the center of the mass of cords, beams, and steel rods was a chair.

“What is this?” I asked lowly.

“Let me explain,” said Godwin. “Atkinson Bio-Systems and Genetic Engineering works in a secret division called Sector 17. Sector 17, underneath the leadership called The Secretary. Sector 17 has fingers in many pies of secret government organizations with working in different companies to gain research and skills, with genetic engineering only being one. Our part is to create genetically enhanced government superior soldiers.”

I crossed my arms. “And what do you need me for? To copy my genes for creating the super-healing gene?”

Godwin waved that away.

“We figured that out ages ago,” he said. “And it’s actually because we figured that out that we began working on another project. Interdimensional travel. The Chair.”

He pointed to the machine. “The Chair is a machine that cross dimensions. While we have confirmed the chair can cross the barrier, everyone or thing else that has made the journey has been torn to bits. Even our genetically enhanced superior soldiers can’t heal from it. You however…”

I said slowly, “I am immortal. I can survive the trip.”

Godwin nodded, looking a mixture of serious and grave. “You can either survive it, or find out the one way you can’t survive. I’ve gotten to read your case file. You’ve survived many, many things that humans should have died.”

“Hung, shot, dismembered and beheaded, run over flat, brains blow out, sure,” I said, crossing my arms again. “Now you said torn to bits. How small bits are we talking about?”

A nearby lab coat handed me a file folder with pictures. I flipped through it, and while I have a strong stomach, it felt like my brain was trying to protect me from what I was looking at.

I said, “Are these people and animals, or strawberry smoothies you poured all over The Chair?”

Godwin said, “This is a recruitment, Jake Murphy. You’re not being forced or experimented on. Everyone here agrees that this maybe enough force to actually kill you, The Immortal, may not survive a trip crossing dimensions. So it’s fully your decision. Do you want to do this?”

I stared at the smoothies then looked at The Chair. I’ve lived for so long, and tried to die for so long, that now confronted with an actual death, a true death, that butterflies began to flap in my stomach.

I said quietly, “Have you gotten any readings about the other dimensions?”

“Oh yes,” said Godwin, his eyes bright with excitement. “It exists. Many dimensions exist. We’ve plotted them. It’s an Expanse. We are just one out of billions. Jake, you’re the only Immortal here. What if you’re even from one of these Expansions? What if you meet someone like you? Imagine what we can learn from the new dimensions with each crossing? Cure for diseases, bio-enhancement, even weaponry. But again.”

Godwin breathed in and out. “This is wholly your decision.”

I chanced one more glanced at the strawberry smoothie pictures then back to the interdimensional chair machine. Did I want to chance it? Chance my immortality against seeing another dimension? I’ve tried and tried to die only to watch as my body pulled itself back together, as my eyes opened again and again. This could be my one chance I can taste the sweet relief of death.

“And if I don’t?” I turned back to the CCO. “What if I don’t die? What if I cross the dimension? Can you bring me back?”

“You’ll join the team.” Agent López stepped forward. “Become part of Sector 17. Work for the Secretary. You’ll be an elite member, the only one of us capable of riding the Chair. I can speak for the Secretary when I say we’ll get you whatever you want. You’ll be a priceless asset.”

I pointed to the back of my skull. “And the people who blew the back of my brains out?”

Agent López drew a line with her thumb over her neck. “Consider the matter handled, Agent Murphy. Do we have a deal?”

She put her hand out.

I inhaled, held my breath, then I shook her hand.

“Deal.”

Chief Control Officer clapped his hands loudly, and made me jump.

“We’re a go, people,” he called out. “Let’s rig the chair for Ride #18, let’s go.”

I said sharply, “18? You’ve killed 18 people?”

“We’ve tested 17 times,” corrected Godwin. “And it wasn’t always human test trails. Now we don’t have to worry about it.”

He clapped my shoulder friendly-like. “We’ve got you now, Agent Murphy. Let’s get you cleaned up, and in riding gear.”

An hour later, washed, disinfected, and now decked in a bodysuit that wouldn’t look out of place in a sci-fi convention, I sat down in The Chair. They buckled my legs and my waist to the chair, and my collarbone and my head, and my arms. There was a button by my right and left hands that would automatically pop the restraints off to allow me to get out of The Chair. My ears and eyes had nodules, the control room would be able to see and hear what I did with a mouthpiece so I could talk back to the control room.

“Let’s get ready for the ride,” said CCO from the control panel. “Boot up the system. Full power. Five, four, three, two, one. Let it rip!”

The Machine’s rods and beams began to coil and twist, then the lasers fired off in brilliant colors of red, orange, gold and purple. The Chair began to burn very hot. The Chair vibrated like one of those twirl-a-whirl coasters I got on once, and never again since it made me want to be sick. My vision went white, and my skin peeled off my bones, my guts boiled their way to the surface out of my body, I tried to scream but my esophagus was twisted inside out.

Then The Chair landed with a thud on a grainy surface. After a seconds, my smoothie body slipped and slurped back together. My head lolled back and forth then I blinked open my eyes. I inhaled quickly, and from the sharp pain in my lungs, I wasn’t breathing oxygen, yet my immortal body simply healed from the poisoning and let me kept breathing anyway.

I looked up at the purple and blue clouds slowly roiling over the surface of this dimension. Then I looked ahead at the wide world and in fact, it really reminded me of an American city, like New York or London or something. There was tall towering skyscrapers and low slung buildings. There were bill boards with signs and giant television screens. Vehicles rushed along the streets and I saw highways way up in the sky, twisting around like a metal snake.

And there were people, but they weren’t human. Everyone else all had tails, fangs, and scaly lizard-like bodies. Their lips pulling back to bare their sharp teeth and their forked tongues flicking out as they made loud shrill hissing sounds. It was like when a cat hisses at someone, showing its teeth.

I said lowly under my breath, “Ah yeah, um, are you guys seeing this?”

There was no answer. The rough ride had torn apart my communications devices. Also the lizard people had gotten what had to be their military, because they were in matching uniform, holding what had to be guns, and what looked like sci-fi bows made out of metal strapped to their back.

The lizards slowly approached me, two had their guns out, and one was making a sign at me, holding the hand out palm at me then curled it backwards itself, like pulling me towards it.

Come here.

I don’t think so.

I realized then there was no return button on my chair. I had no way to signal to the control room that I wanted to come back. My comms was down, it shattered pieces somewhere along the way of crossing dimensions. And now I’m slowly getting surrounded by well-armed lizard alien-things.

For the first time in a long time, since the moment I realized I couldn’t die no matter what, I prayed.

God, if there is a God, get me out of here. I know I’ve always wanted to die, and I still kind of do want to die, but I don’t want to die like this. So please. Amen.

The Chair began to grow hot, and violently shake like twirl-a-whirl. I closed my eyes tight, and began praising intently. The lizards began growling and hissing again but with lasers of red, blue, orange and purple swirling around me, I disappeared from them, and reappeared in the control room.

I was a smoothie again, but my body slimed its way back into a human form, and I pressed the button to release itself from the prison of The Chair. I stumbled off it, gasping and inhaling. The science nerds pushed themselves around me, spraying me with disinfectant and holding clipboards and tablets and trying to talk to me.

I walked up to the CCO and grabbed his collar with both trembling hands. He put his hands up peacefully, grinning at me.

“Well,” he said, his eyes dancing behind his glasses. “How was the ride?”

I breathed heavily, my fists shakily clenching his collar.

Then I said, “Let’s do it again.”

The End.

I also like sci-fi, so I tried my hand at it. Hope you enjoyed, Storytellers!

Until next time,

A. E.