“This is case number 55-8360, Robert Holt. The body is that of a malnourished and diseased seventy-two year old Caucasian male with grey hair and brown eyes. The body is 73 inches long and weighs 145 pounds.” Rita spoke into the microphone clipped to her lab coat as Morgan took notes. “Diagnosed with leukemia in March of 2017. Treatments of chemotherapy and blood transfusions were unsuccessful. Participated in drug trial, TCA-276.”
Morgan rubbed her eyes as Rita took a breath to examine the case folder. When she looked back towards the body of Robert Holt, the hand twitched against the table. Morgan wondered if she’d finished her cup of coffee as Rita picked up the scalpel.
Morgan stepped closer to observe the Y-incision being made, knowing Rita was going to have her perform the action on the next body. She’d barely pressed down, however, when a knock startled them both.
Rita turned towards the stairs with a frown. “That was too close to be the door.”
The knock came again and Morgan pointed. “It’s coming from in there.” One of the doors on the cold locker rattled as the knock sounded a third time.
Rita started to walk across the room, but Morgan grabbed her arm.
“What?”
“Don’t open that drawer.” Morgan’s eyes were wide and fearful.
“But what if- “
“No. We checked in all of the bodies. It’s not possible.”
Another door rattled, and then another, the knocking becoming more persistent.
“Wh-what do we do?” Morgan asked.
A low growl made them turn back to their table. The body of Robert Holt was sitting up, eyes open. As though in slow motion, he turned to look at them and reached out a hand. He overbalanced and fell over the edge, but he kept his eyes fixed on the two of them.
“Morgan, run!” Rita shoved her forward and they took off for the door.
Holt crawled after them and got one gnarled hand around Rita’s ankle. She jerked off her feet and landed hard on her knee, a crunch echoing around the room.
Morgan turned back and scrambled for anything that could be a weapon. She settled for a hammer and laid into Holt’s skull. She didn’t stop until a large crater formed over his eyes and his body dropped back down to the floor.
Rita was groaning in pain, holding onto her leg. “Oh, Morgan, just leave. Go get help.”
“I will, but I have to help you first.” She hooked her hands under Rita’s armpits and dragged her out of the room. She closed the door and locked it, then continued to drag Rita down the hall to the office.
The sound of knocking and growling was sill coming from the other side of the door.