THE MORBID SEVEN RISE AGAIN Page #4

INT. ELENA’S ROOM - DAY

Elena gets out of bed. In the bathroom, brushes her teeth. Her eyes are constantly on the time. Her note pad is on the dressing table. She gets in the shower. She comes out and records the time. She dries up and goes straight in the cryogenics tank for rejuvenation treatment. Once out, she injects herself with fast chemical rejuvenation treatment. She makes a note how long it takes. She looks good in about two hours after the shower.

KITCHEN:

She walks in the kitchen and prepares a light breakfast; a boiled egg, toast and coffee.

BEDROOM:

Goes to her desk and goes over the times again. Altering, adjusting and scribbling. It’s noon and she drinks the rest of the cold coffee. Then she goes back in bed for another nap.

She gets up at three in the afternoon and heads to the shower and repeats the whole process of showering and treatment. She goes over the plan consistently looking at the times and refining them.

Very methodically, she re-writes the exact plan. Her eyes keep moving from the paper to the clock in front of her and she just fills in the times. 8.33, 8.43, 8.58, 9.00, 9.01, 9.05, 9.20, 9.22.

She takes out a fresh sheet of paper and writes - Fast Reversing Action. Beauty back to Horror in 47 minutes. Underneath, she writes the heading, “The Empire Strikes Back.” She ponders, crosses the word Empire and replaces it with Vampire. She is happy and taps her forehead three times.

She spends the rest of the day reading, ”Necrophilia in the 19th Century,” watches TV and then off to sleep.

INT. ELENA’S ROOM - NEXT MORNING - DAY

It is six-thirty in the morning. Elena gets out of bed. Brushes her teeth. Looks in the mirror. Straightens herself and looks confident.

She looks at the clock regularly but with apprehension.

The time now is 6.53 am. She gets in the shower, finishes showering walks out and straight in her Treatment Tank at 7.03.

Out of the tank at 8.33, fetches the fast-acting Facial Rejuvenation injection ‘FacieiRenovatioX934’ and injects at 8.33. Puts her makeup at 8.43. She is now ready and heads for the morgue at 8.58.

INT. MORGUE - DAY

It is two minutes to nine. Luther enters his office. He looks for Elena.

LUTHER:

Elena? Where are you hiding?

Few seconds before nine, the handle turns. Elena steps in. At exactly nine, the Grandfather clock chimes.

LUTHER:

Elena how nice to see you. I was worried. Feeling good now?

ELENA:

(unusual sexy voice)

Much better and ready to go to work.

LUTHER:

Your perfume smells heavenly today.

ELENA:

The reason it took a little longer.

She creeps in from behind Luther. She smells like a rose; her face as serene and beautiful as expected. Her hands are now on his shoulders. She gives Luther a gentle rub and then around his neck. Her hands smell of the most beautiful soothing lotion.

Standing behind Luther, her breasts push against the side of his head, she whispers in his ear.

ELENA:

What are writing ... Dear... ?

LUTHER:

My usual love letter to Simona.

ELENA:

Always with that expensive pen?

LUTHER:

Ah yes, Mont Blanc, a gift from Simona thirty years ago. Unlike her, this pen is in perfect shape.

ELENA:

Then, why are you waiting Luther?

LUTHER:

I don’t think this is appropriate.

ELENA:

You don’t think I am a praying mantis or a black widow spider, do you?

LUTHER:

No, no. Nothing like that.

ELENA:

Then enjoy life Luther. Life is short. Believe me, very short.

Overtaken by the scent of the woman and by her gentle movements, he stops writing and rests the pen still open on the desk.

Elena looks at the Grandfather Clock. It is 9.05. Overwhelmed by this largesse, he succumbs, looks up to her and ...

LUTHER:

Simona tells me she has broken the return-to-life problem so you could be in and out of the freezer in less than five years.

She undoes the top two buttons on her blouse.

ELENA:

Surely you don’t want to wait that long before you see what I have for you.

Luther looks at her, his body almost paralyzed. His eyelids move increasingly fast, almost twitching.

LUTHER:

Please no, no, not that. I can’t.

She loosens his belt, then undoes his trousers. Now she is on him. He is still in his chair. She looks at him, at the same she keeps an eye on the Grandfather clock facing her.

ELENA:

Listen, listen carefully, Luther. Tick... tock, tick... tock. Life is too short. Enjoy it before you hit the freezer.

LUTHER:

I cannot accept this, Elena. You coerced me, I am pinned down as if in a vice grip. I don’t have any more resistance to offer. I just have to accept and enjoy it.

ELENA:

Finally... We have been in this position for a whole fifteen minutes. The Grandfather tells me it’s almost nine-twenty. Tick... tock, tick... tock. Soon we reach Crescendo.

LUTHER:

Almost there, yes, tick... tock, tick... tock. Keep ticking Elena.

Exhaustion and satisfaction show on his face. But things change rapidly.

Her eyes bulge out of their sockets and her gaze locks on his face. His eyes are wide open. Then, her own eyes start to sink slowly in the back of her head leaving two deep black holes. Her fangs spring out. He tries to move but he is nailed in. He tries to fight but his strength is gone. Her mouth starts moving towards the left side of his neck. Her fangs sink in.

Luther struggles and continues the futile attempt; his arms swing violently at first then they drop to his sides. The tusks stay buried in his neck.

His eyes start to dilate, his body loses all its strength and then, she kindly and gently closes his eyelids. She gets up, cleans herself and tries to stop the bleeding from the pen wound in her back. She drags him to the far-end of the room and draws the curtains.

INT. MORGUE - NEXT DAY - DAY

Within 18 hours of his death, the corpses stir in their freezer compartments. They start to come to life. Distinctive ringing from their phones reach Elena’s ears. The telephone rings deactivate the locking mechanism on the

freezer compartments.

Elena is petrified. Dead silence. Handles start to turn but not in unison. Then the sound of rubber seals separating from the metal frames, the sound being exactly like the one you hear when a refrigerator’s door is opened.

Then corpses emerge, feet protruding first. She watches the whole morgue come to life. The corpses slide out carefully, with the exception of one. Within twenty-one minutes, all the seven were on their feet examining their new surrounds.

NARRATION:

First out was Zach Golding. He is the head of Golding Securities. He is from New York, dressed like a bank executive, fifty-five, died of a heart attack ten years ago. He looks around and takes a seat on the chair at the end of the row. Preferred date back in 2030.

He is followed by Nikola Petrescu, sixty years old, died of pneumonia 12 years ago. He is a grave digger from Bucharest. He sits two chairs up from Zach.

Next one out is Doc Garner from Fort Worth, Texas. He leaps out of a top compartment as if leaping out from a saddle. He died at age 41, gored by a bull in a rodeo mishap. He takes the next vacant seat. He is dressed accordingly; Stetson, a red colored shirt, neckerchief, leathers, and smarting his favored high-heeled boots with spurs and all. He takes a seat next to Nikola who looks to be the least fashionable up to that point ... and beyond.

Doc is followed by Eli Golding, Zach's twin brother. One could not tell them apart. He is in an immaculately tailored blue suit which is a perfect replica of the one his brother is wearing. Eli died of a broken heart six months after Zach had passed. He sits in the vacant chair next to his brother.

Next one to rise is Lazarus Heisenberg, died at the age of thirty-eight following complications from severe sexually transmitted incurable diseases. He boasted a count of 3750 conquests. The culprit or culprits could not be traced. He was Germany's best-known playboy and still retained his good looks despite the toll taken by the dreaded disease. He spent most of his money on medication including $240,000 at the Cryogenics Facility. And that was for the first year.

The next one to spring out has a touch of Belgian royalty. It is Baron Frederick von Garten. He looks magnificent in all his pomp and glory. Perfectly manicured hair, moustache and beard like that worn by Britain's King George V. He was thrown off his horse while practicing show jumping in Warendorf, Germany. He died at age forty-five.

And the last one to join the living is Elena’s husband himself, Novak Adamescu, died at age 40, in the car accident, resuscitated at 51 but looks and feels exactly 40 and without the disfigurements.

END OF VOICE OVER

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