The Bloodless by Andrew Gibson

“Justice,” Jack yelled, “we have to get out of here, the system isn’t stable!”
                  “But I don’t understand what went wrong!”
                  “No time to understand, we’ll figure it out after our asses are booted to the curb!”
                  “No,” Justice refused to move, “I can stabilize it, probably just a faulty calculation in one of the light sequences!”
                  “That’s ridiculous! The calibration of the entire system is off!”
                  “I can fix it,” Justice reiterated but Jack did not hear him and started pulling on Justice’s coat. Finally Justice started to see that it was a lost cause and reluctantly started to follow Jack out of the lab. “Wait,” he yelled as they neared the doors. Justice tore away from Jack’s grip and rushed back over to the console. “I can do a manual power reset and everything should restore to a default status!” Jack tried to stop him but Justice was too quick. Once back at the controls Justice began manipulating the surface as quickly as he could.
                  “This oughta do it,” he yelled and pressed one last button, but that last button proved to be one too many. As soon as he touched the button on the screen a giant arc of electricity jumped from the console and lifted Justice into the air and threw him back, slamming him hard against the opposite wall. After he slid to the ground everything in the lab went back to normal and all the lights returned to their default settings.
                  Jack rushed over to where Justice’s body laid sprawled over the floor, smoke issuing from his ears. It might’ve been comical if blood was not also gushing from his ears and eyes. “Justice,” Jack yelled in vain. Jack put his fingers to Justice’s neck to check for a pulse and held them there for a few minutes, much longer than it takes to find a pulse. “DANIEL!”

 
    CHAPTER 3
    The Dead Shall Inherit the Earth
 
                  Justice woke up in the hospital anchored to a slew of machines. His memory was spottier than a college student who went on a booze fueled bender to celebrate the end of another mediocre semester. He looked around the room to find that he was alone but there must have been cameras on him because a few moments later a man in a white lab coat walked into the room. The doctor picked up the chart hanging on the end of Justice’s bed and looked it over.
                  “Welcome back,” the man said.
                  “What happened?” Justice asked trying to move. To his surprise he found it wasn’t that painful to move his body. “Have I been out long?”
                  “A few days,” the doctor said. He put the chart back in the holder, “we had you in a medically induced coma. You hit your head pretty hard.”
                  “Damn,” Justice said rubbing a hand over his eyes, “I had the craziest dreams.”
                  The door to the room opened again and in walked Jack Strayer who was looking majorly relieved. “Justice,” he said happily, “you gave us quite a scare!”
                  “Did I?”
                  “You sure did. Head trauma like yours is always scary, even if recovery is assured.”
                  Justice, now sitting up fully, rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, still looking slightly confused. “Did I die?” he asked.
                  “Close,” Jack said with a nervous grin, “but you know dying ain’t no easy task these days.”
                  “Weird,” Justice said, “I had the most vivid dream that I was dead for three days and you brought me back to life.”
                  “That is some dream,” Jack said, “but we’ll chalk that one up to the morphine-LSD drip we gave you. How do you