But then there was another moan, and this time it was followed by a fit of coughing. Together, Claire and Bunny converged on the second level of shelves, four feet off the floor. Mallory pointed to the drawer at the far end. Claire pulled on the handle—and jumped back.
The body bag inside the drawer was moving.
Claire screamed, surprising herself, and after that, she stepped up and pulled down the body bag zipper. A bloody arm protruded from the bag. A body stirred within and then spoke.
“What kind of nightmare is this?”
Chapter 3
That morning, Cindy opened the front door to Lindsay and Joe’s airy three-bedroom apartment on Lake Street.
Martha was lying in the living room next to Joe’s big chair, where she had a clear view of the doorway. As soon
as she saw Cindy, she got to her feet and, with her tail wagging, trotted over to her. It took a couple of tries for Martha to get up onto her hind legs, so Cindy bent down to hug her and hold her up.
“Hey, Sweet Martha. Howsa good girl? Wanna go for a walk?”
Cindy grabbed a paper bag from the counter, found the collar and leash on a hook by the door, and took Martha for a slow but productive stroll on 12th Street. She knew there wasn’t very much traffic there, so it’d be a safe route for the two of them.
While they were walking, Cindy talked to Martha, reciting two headlines for a story she had to turn in in the next hour. She asked her which one she liked better, but Martha was noncommittal. After Martha did her business and Cindy bagged it, the duo returned to Lindsay’s apartment.
Cindy was pouring dog chow into Martha’s bowl, concentrating so she didn’t get kibble all over the floor, when the phone rang. She knew it was going to be Lindsay, checking on her. Ha! She reached for the phone.
“Linds?”
“No, it’s Claire. Oh, damn it to hell! Sorry, Cindy. I just speed-dialed Lindsay. I forgot. Force of habit.”
Cindy kept the phone to her ear as she filled Martha’s water bowl in the sink. When Claire explained why she had called, Cindy almost dropped the phone. She shut off the water to make sure that she’d heard her friend correctly.
“Say that again?”
Then Cindy said, “What? Ha. Good one, Claire.”
Claire’s voice came over the earpiece—loud. “I’m not making this up. Look, I’ve got to go.”
Cindy said, “I’m on my way. Jesus, Claire. I’m coming.”
“No, Cindy.”
“Yes, Claire. I’m ten minutes away.”
Chapter 4
The woman who had been logged into the morgue as deceased helped Claire and her assistants get her own body out of the bag. She moved into a sitting position inside the drawer. This, whatever it was, was very, very disturbing. In all her years as a medical examiner, Claire had never seen anything like it. The body in front of her had literally come back from the dead.
Was this a prank? A mistake? A true zombie?
She said, “Bunny, get my kit. Mallory, call an ambulance.”
The woman sitting in the drawer was naked, and blood was smeared all over her body. She was holding her left arm at her elbow and was wincing in pain.
Claire said, “My name is Dr. Washburn. May I help you? What hurts? Okay, now. Here we go.”
Claire peeled the woman’s hand away from her shoulder and saw a gunshot wound that went from the front straight through to the back. It was called a through-and-through. Because the woman was able to move her arm, it looked as though no bones had been broken. Thank goodness.
She asked, “Can you tell me your name?”
“I should wake up now,” said the woman in the drawer. “This has to be a dream. This is a nightmare for the ages.”